Carlotta’s Colourful Christmas

posted in: Mind Control, Operation, Stories | 1

Magical TF Mind Control

by Downing Street


“Well, Mr. Biggerman, I suppose you know why I’m here,” Carlotta said. She set her briefcase beside the chair.

The tall man behind the desk nodded. “Unfortunately yes, Ms Exquisito. Your office called less than an hour ago. Am I being sued personally, or just the store?”

She handed him a sealed envelope. “The suit names Biggerman’s Department Store, of course, as well as yourself as owner and manager. The seven employees bringing suit were all dismissed in October and November of this year. They are claiming wrongful dismissal and failure to negotiate a proper settlement.” Carlotta kept her tone cool and professional. She was contemptuous of this man, as she was of most men in positions of power.

Biggerman, however, seemed more concerned than intimidated. He was a dark- haired, lanky man in a well-cut blue suit. He was young — too young in Carlotta’s opinion to be running a tradition-rich clothing store like Biggerman’s. He had inherited the store when his father, Henry Biggerman senior, passed away. He needed a haircut.

He spread his hands. “I had to let some people go,” he explained. “Including some good people. We have been going through a major restructuring at Biggerman’s. I have tried to assemble staff that are a good fit to the new store image.”

“Yes, I had noticed,” Carlotta said dryly.

It was impossible not to notice the changes at Biggerman’s since Henry junior took over. The store had always been an upscale fashion outlet. It catered to women who appreciated the cachet of designer labels and Italian shoes. Biggerman’s offices were on the floor above the store. Walking to the elevators to deliver the notice of suit, Carlotta had been struck by how much her favourite store had changed.

Stylish, conservative suits like the one she was wearing had become difficult to find. In their place was a variety of flashy, feminine finery clearly designed for pleasure, not business. There were fashions on the racks that violated city ordinances. Hemlines ranged from high to very high to panty- flashing. Even though it was snowing, the shoe section was still featuring a variety of high-heeled, platform sandals, along with an array of sexy boots.

For the Christmas season, the store had set up an open-air lounge along one wall. Husbands and boyfriends could relax there while their partners shopped. A red-suited Santa Claus held court in one corner. He was accompanied by no less than six attractive young helpers. Santa made jokes and gave away little gifts. The eye-popping elves served drinks and snacks and smiles. They distracted the men from thinking about how much money their wives were spending. The girls were all dressed in scanty versions of traditional Christmas attire. The scene would be better named the Temptation of St. Nicholas, Carlotta decided scornfully.

Despite Carlotta’s disapproval, there was no denying the store was busy. The Christmas shopping season was in full swing. There were customers everywhere, looking at dresses, arguing about jewellery, discussing make-up, trying on shoes. Cash registers were singing.

The ladies were being assisted by a cohort of young, pretty sales assistants. These had largely replaced the serious, educated “wardrobe advisors” that had long been a fixture at Biggerman’s. Evidently the same turnover had occurred in the upstairs offices. It was this exchange of exuberance for experience that led to the lawsuit Carlotta was pursuing.

She had jabbed the button for the elevator and waited impatiently. The store was playing mood music, mostly syrupy instrumental versions of traditional Christmas songs. In the old days, Biggerman’s would never have stooped to muzak.

Carlotta’s irritation was making her demeanour even colder than usual. She didn’t want this case, especially not this close to Christmas. The senior partner had been persuasive. He had pointed out that the dismissals were flagrant sexual discrimination, another instance of men casting women in a purely sexual role. That argument always worked with Carlotta. It was like waving a red flag before a bull.

Biggerman had lived up to her preconceptions. When she entered the office he had looked her over with a brazenness that she seldom saw and never tolerated. Carlotta was aware that her youth and beauty were not what many people expected in a lawyer. Perhaps she would have to remind this smarmy bloke that she graduated fifth in her class.

Biggerman was still trying to explain his way out of the situation. “You must understand,” he said patiently, “these employees were let go for reasons of. . .. business planning. It had nothing to do with their qualifications. I am steering a new course with this store. I have to be sure my staff are all part of a unifying team.”

“Unfortunately, my clients do not see the situation that way,” Carlotta rejoined. “They believe they were dismissed because of their age or their appearance or their unwillingness to tolerate pervasive sexism. They believe that, given their evident qualifications for their positions, that these grounds constitute wrongful dismissal. Speaking as their lawyer, I am inclined to agree.”

Biggerman’s brow furled. “Did you come here today merely to annoy me with this lawsuit? Or do you have some further business?”

“Yes, I do. I would like to see the employment files and performance reviews for each of my clients.”

“Do you expect me to voluntarily provide you with that information?”

She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Of course I do. Under the law you are obliged to keep such records and make them available for inspection by an employee or his or her agent during their employment and for a period of not less than six months afterwards.”

Her adversary was momentarily taken aback. “Well, Ms Exquisito, you certainly know the law. I’m very impressed.” He thought for a moment. “You know, we could use a sharp young lawyer on our staff here. You have the background in corporate law, and you go the distance for your clients. I like that. If this suit were not between us, I could offer you an excellent position right away.”

Carlotta drew herself up straight, throwing back her long black curls. “Are you trying to buy me off?” she demanded.

“No, no, of course not, nothing like that.” He waved a hand in denial. “We can settle this little matter first. Then maybe we can talk about your future. I think I can offer compensation, well, at least twice what you are earning now.”

The shapely lawyer got to her feet. “Mr. Biggerman,” she said icily, “you may abandon your flimsy attempts to influence me. I assure you I am not interested in working for you, now or in the future, in any capacity. Now, will you show me the employment records, or do I need to return with a court order?”

Biggerman backed off at once. “Whoa, there’s no need to be combative. I meant no offense. Of course, of course you can see the records. You can count on my full co-operation. I’ll have my assistant show you where to find what you need.”

He punched a button on the phone. “Trina baby, would you step in here a moment?”

Without waiting for a reply he turned back to Carlotta. “All our records are kept only as computer files. I had to do something with my computer science degree. You will have to read the records on screen and take down whatever notes you like.”

The office door opened and Biggerman’s assistant stepped in. Trina was an attractive, top-heavy blonde who looked to be in her mid-twenties. She was wearing a red, tailored jacket over a black jersey that made no secret of her generous endowments. The black vinyl mini below it was far shorter than what Carlotta considered appropriate, never mind the red polka-dots on her tights and the red slings. She made Carlotta’s tan pantsuit look like a nun’s habit. Like the rest of the staff in Biggerman’s office, Trina was wearing a red velvet cap trimmed with white fur.

“Yes Henry?” she said brightly. There was a big Santa Claus pin on her jacket, over the right breast. That ought to keep Santa jolly, Carlotta reflected sourly.

Biggerman said: “Trina, this is Ms Exquisito, a lawyer representing some of our recently released staff. Please show her how to access the personnel files for those employees. Use the computer we set up in the extra room.”

“Delighted to meet you,” Trina said, advancing to shake hands. There were rings on most of her fingers. “Please come with me, I’ll get you set up.”

Carlotta shook hands. She turned back to Biggerman for a moment. “This shouldn’t take very long. When I have what I need I’ll be in touch concerning the details of the claim. I hope we can work this matter out satisfactorily.” She didn’t bother hiding her condescension this time.

“Oh I’m sure we can, Ms Exquisito,” Biggerman replied, grinning broadly, “I’m sure we can.”

Carlotta hid her puzzlement over that remark. Picking up her briefcase, she turned to follow Trina’s swaying derriere out of the office.

They passed through the outer offices. A cohort of young women was buzzing about a warren of cubicles like bright-coloured bees around a honeycomb, carrying out the tasks needed to run a major department store. The air of the office seemed lively and upbeat. Carlotta had expected a sombre mood, given the recent shake-up in the staff.

At length Trina and her lawyer companion arrived at a nondescript door, which Trina opened with a passcard. “This room is mostly used for storage,” she apologized, “but you should find everything you need.”

Indeed the room looked quite serviceable. Stored furniture and files had been pushed to the back, creating an open space in which a computer sat on a portable stand. A tall window allowed in such natural light as was forthcoming in December. An executive chair waited for her in front of the computer. There was even a leather sofa along one wall.

“I’ll sign in for you,” Trina said, “so you can access the files under my name.” She bent over to type on the terminal, a dangerously revealing stance, given the length of her skirt. “There you go,” she said, straightening. “The files are in alphabetical order. Is there anything else you need?”

Carlotta surveyed the room. “What is all that for?” she asked, indicating the small table laden with spirits, chocolates and candies.

“Oh, that. Mr. Biggerman asked me to put out some Christmas cheer for you. Help yourself! There’s some cold things in the fridge over there.”

“Biggerman is trying to butter me up. Thank you Trina, this will be fine. I expect to be finished in a few hours.”

“Come find me if you need anything,” the busty blonde replied. Her red-dotted nylons shimmered as she sauntered out the door.

Carlotta watched her go, shaking her head. Obviously Biggerman liked his eye candy light and bubbly. Was it any wonder this chap was being sued? She sat down in the big leather chair in front of the computer. She pulled her laptop out of her briefcase, set it up in her lap, and began the tedious process of transcribing information from the files.

The work didn’t go as quickly as she expected. There were a lot of records to sift through, most of them irrelevant. The mood music was playing in here too, seemingly even louder than outside. It was persistently distracting. Carlotta found her attention drifting to the banal tunes pouring out of the ceiling. She had to concentrate on tuning them out.

The black-haired beauty flipped to another page on the computer. She yawned hugely. Sighing, she leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling. Was there no way to turn that music off? She looked back at the computer again, waiting for the urge to return to work. The monitor seemed soft and far away.

Hang it, this is making me sleepy, she thought, her eyes drooping. The chair was soft and inviting. I’d better get back to work, she told herself, before I fall completely asleep. Before I fall asleep…

Fall . . . asleep.

Sleep. . .

Carlotta’s head lolled forward as slumber overtook her. Her chest rose and fell with each gentle breath. The cursor on her computer blinked patiently. The piped-in Christmas music played on and on.

“. . .coming along in here?”

“Whu? Huh?” Carlotta’s head snapped up. She looked around, blinking. Trina was smiling in the half-open doorway.

“Oh, I, I’m doing fine,” Carlotta improvised quickly. Had she fallen asleep? “I must have. . . I think this is going to take a little longer than I — what time is it?”

“It’s a little after four. You’re welcome to stay until closing time if you like.”

Carlotta looked down at her laptop. The screen was black. It had automatically turned itself off. She would have to reboot to get started again. Something about that felt odd.

Black screen. Reboot

“No, no thank you,” the young lawyer decided, some of her usual sharpness returning. “I think that is enough for today. I can come black, er back tomorrow to reboot — to uh, finish.”

“Not a problem. You know where my desk is. Come find me and I’ll let you in.” She waited, still smiling, while Carlotta gathered her things and left the room.

Carlotta was still puzzled as she took the elevator down to street level. Her route through the store took her past the shoe department. She stopped in front of a pair of black slouch boots with tall vamp heels.


These must be the style this year, she reflected. The exaggerated heels looked wobbly. Not stable on ice. She already had a functional pair of


She reached out and stroked the soft material. These certainly weren’t practical. She really needed to get back to the

Black Boots

She looked around for a sales assistant.

Standing on the snowy street, searching for a cab to take her back to the office, Carlotta wondered why she felt so good. She was enjoying that satisfied, nearly smug feeling a woman gets when she knows she has shopped well. Yet she had done nothing of the kind; instead she had impulsively spent too much money on a pair of glamour-girl boots that didn’t suit her and she didn’t need.

The loose-fitting boots were constantly sliding down her legs. They ruined the line of her pantlegs. The thin heels had proved as tricky to negotiate as she had foreseen.

The moment she put the boots on, she simply had to own them. She asked the cheerful sales assistant to clip off the labels so she could wear them home. Her shoes were in a bag under her arm. She raised her hand to flag down a taxicab.

Carlotta was wearing her new boots when she arrived back at Biggerman’s the following afternoon. She was secretly glad for the snowy weather; it gave her an excuse to wear boots to the office. The lithesome lawyer had matched the boots with a sedate charcoal business suit. They looked a sight better with a skirt than under slacks.

She pushed through the revolving doors at Biggerman’s. The store was crowded with Christmas shoppers. Smiling clerks in elf costumes were helping well- heeled women choose the right dress, shoes, and eye shadow. Gold jewellery and platinum charge cards caught the sparkling Christmas lights.

Although it was early afternoon, Santa’s lounge was already occupied. Several men were enjoying a pint while their partners shopped. An equal number of women, burdened with bright-coloured shopping bags, were taking a break. Leggy helpers in their scanty Christmas outfits were keeping the booze flowing.

Carlotta passed by the dress section. A mature woman with the look of an executive about her was trying to decide between two leather skirts, both of which looked quite short for the office. “Gosh, I can’t decide,” she murmured to the salesgirl, “I guess I’ll take both of them.”

At length Carlotta arrived at the elevators. She closed the doors with some relief, happy to be away from the bustle of the store. Unfortunately, the elevator provided no relief from the pervasive Christmas music. Carlotta used the brief elevator ride to pull up her new boots.

The office at Biggerman’s was as lively as ever. Carlotta found Trina and asked to be let into the back room again. The bright-eyed secretary was wearing boots too, tight white ones that looked good with her white sweater and filmy dark nylons. In between she wore a metallic black miniskirt that demanded absolute confidence in the perfection of her thighs. She opened the door to the back room and signed in on the computer.

“There you go,” she said, as Carlotta took her place in front of the computer. “Are you sure you don’t want a holiday snack? It’s a pity to let all that go to waste.” She gestured toward the untouched treats on the coffee table.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Carlotta said formally. “I expect to be finished here quickly. Yesterday I. . . uh, something came up. Is there no way to turn that music off?” She pointed with her eyes toward the ceiling, where saccharine Christmas tunes were pouring out of the speaker.

“Sorry,” Trina returned, “the music is piped into the whole office. I rather like it!”

Carlotta sat down. She opened her briefcase and pulled out her laptop. “All right, I suppose I can put up with it for a few hours.” She smiled briefly. The music wasn’t Trina’s fault. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Cheerio,” chimed Trina, as she left the room.

Carlotta turned on her laptop computer. While she waited for it to boot up she looked over at the table of confections. There were two boxes of expensive chocolates. She chose a piece and slipped it into her mouth. Unexpectedly, the centre was liqueur. It was delicious.

She picked out another, then rolled her chair back in front of the computer. She admired her new boots for a moment. Despite the flimsy high heels she liked them a lot. The loose fit gave her an excuse to fuss with them all the time. Well, best get at it. Tuning out the Christmas music as best she could, she began transcribing employment records from the computer.

Drowsiness seized her within minutes. She stifled a yawn. She shook her head, trying to wake up. The work was so boring. She yawned again. The computer screen was going all blurry. I’d better not fall asleep again, Carlotta decided.

Better not sleep. . .

Not . . . again.

That was her last complete thought before her head slumped forward on her chest, eyes closed.

Carlotta slept placidly. Her dark curls shifted a little with the rise and fall of her chest. Outside the window, a few white snowflakes drifted downward onto the street. The room was silent, but for the velvety tones playing endlessly from the overhead speakers.

Some time later she lifted her head, blinking. She looked about her. The computer was still showing the last employment record she had been reading. Her laptop had shut itself down again. It was growing dark outside.

She had fallen asleep again. It looked like she had missed a good two hours. How had that happened? She hadn’t read more than a few pages before she dozed off.

The last thought lingered in her mind. She hadn’t read. . .


Carlotta paused for a moment. Well, she wasn’t going to get any more done today. She closed her laptop and picked up her black briefcase.


She paused again. She spent a moment pulling up her new boots. They came right up to the knee. The high heels put her weight forward onto the narrow toes. She headed off to tell Trina she would be back again tomorrow.

Riding down in the elevator, Carlotta still felt odd. Imagine falling asleep at her desk two days in a row. She needed to get more sleep.


Yes, that was it, she needed more red.

The elevator door opened. Now that the workday was ending the store was busier than ever. Everyone from secretaries to directors was pouring in to do their Christmas shopping. Carlotta made her way down the aisles impatiently. This fiasco with the computer had cut into her workday.

She really needed to dash right back to the office.


She really needed to flash red and black in the office.

Lost in thought, she continued toward the door, slower now. Something caught her eye. Hanging on a mirrored wall, among the hundreds of other dresses and suits and things, was a red dress. It was a sexy, Christmas-party kind of dress with a criss-cross top. Carlotta wandered toward it.


She stopped in front of the dress. She set down her briefcase. She ran one edge of the dress along her fingers. It felt soft, like velour, but stretchy. Maybe some new synthetic fabric. She would never wear a dress like this. It was too flashy. She was too much of a feminist to parade around in something that announced the suitability of her body for —


To a party maybe. Once. But not on the street. Certainly never to the office. It was too tight. She looked at the hemline again: and too short.

“Hi! May I help you?”

Carlotta looked up to find a salesgirl smiling at her. The girl couldn’t be more than twenty years old. She wore green tights and red booties below a short, green-and-red tunic. She looked like a horny pin-up artist’s vision of what Santa’s elves should look like.

“Uh, no, uh, no, I, I don’t think so, thank you,” Carlotta stammered. She was still holding the edge of the dress in one hand. The girl’s cap was a pleasing colour. “I was only looking. I don’t need –”


“Do you have this in a size six?”


Back in her office the next morning, Carlotta pondered her mood. She always had trouble dealing with Christmas. How else could her new red dress be explained? She wasn’t given to whims like that.

The stretch-fit minidress certainly did flatter her figure. Carlotta’s figure was worth flattering. She had garnered a good deal of attention when she walked into the office that morning. One of the senior partners had politely hinted that the firm favoured more conservative styles. Carlotta had improvised something about not wanting to change for a party later. She watched his eyes flick down to the swell of her bust as he talked.

The dark-haired lawyer set down the papers she was working on. She wasn’t certain why she had decided to wear this dress to the office. The conservative suits in her closet were boring. She crossed her knees idly, watching the hem slide up her nylon-covered thighs. Hadn’t she lectured one of the paralegals about showing too much leg a couple of weeks ago?

Technically though, Carlotta reasoned, she wasn’t showing that much leg when you allowed for the boots. The day before, standing in the changing room at Biggerman’s, she had been surprised and delighted to see how fine she looked in the little red dress. Yet something bothered her. Her brand new slouch boots didn’t match the dress. Not exactly. Without really knowing what she was looking for, she had wandered off toward the shoe department.

Back in her office, Carlotta looked down at the glossy fashion boots on her legs. Her new boots were classic leather side-zips with pointy toes and narrow heels. Like her dress, they were warm, cheerful red.

This was so unlike her. The first pair had been expensive enough. She bit her lip. The combination of short dress and tight boots made her legs look terrific.

The excitement of her spontaneous shopping expedition, coupled with the long, longing looks from the taxi driver and her building doorman, kept Carlotta from dwelling on her impulsiveness. When she arrived at her flat and slipped out of her sexy dress, she discovered that her panties were damp. She explored the cause of that and soon decided, panting, that a relaxing few minutes on the bed was called for. Or maybe an hour.

That wasn’t like her either. But great balls of fire, did it feel good.

This morning, Carlotta the lawyer was a melee of conflicting emotions. She was still basking in vain satisfaction with her new outfit. It warred with her sensible, feminist side that argued she was wasting money and bending her principles. Thrown into the mix was irritation that she would have to visit Biggerman’s one more time to finish those stupid personnel files.

As she stepped carefully up the icy sidewalk toward the department store, Carlotta’s agile mind arrived at a hypothesis. She was sleep-deprived. That explained everything: her naps in front of the computer, her unsettled mood, her impulsive behaviour. She had been pushing herself hard lately. She would sleep in all this weekend; that should put things to rights.

Feeling better now that reason had prevailed, she pushed through the revolving doors into the store.

Biggerman’s was bustling, as usual. Carlotta was growing accustomed to the crowds. She made her way to the back of the store. She was determined to get up to the offices and get this business done with.

She did stop a few times, to look at dresses and some neat tights. She liked the ones in red. While she was using the mirrors by the changing rooms, she overheard another conversation. A rich-looking woman, aerobicized and tanned, was discussing fashions with a teenage girl in the uniform of an exclusive private school.

“Honey I can’t wear this,” the woman said.

“Come on Mom, if we both wore the same outfit to the party, we’d like, match!” The girl was bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Yes but I simply cannot wear this!”

“Why not? You look great in it Mom.”

“Why not! For one thing, it’s much too short. Even shorter than those things we bought last week! And this top, it’s. . . it’s made for someone. . . younger.”

“Hey, no way”, her daughter rejoined, “it’s made to fit everybody. See, the cups are built in. You just pull this up, like this, and then we tighten the back –”

“Whoa, not so tight!”

Her daughter fastened some hooks. “It’s supposed to be tight. Here, take a look Mom.” She spun her around to face a full-length mirror.

“Oh! My, that is. . . flattering, isn’t it dear. But I couldn’t –”

“Daddy will be there, Mom.”


“At the party. He’ll be there with that other woman he’s taken up with. Don’t you want to let him know what’s he’s missing?”

“Fiona, really!”

“Every man in the room will want you, Mom. Daddy will see.” She was leaning over her mother’s shoulder, whispering in her ear.

The woman watched herself in the mirror. “I, I don’t think that’s. . . uhm. . .” She flexed a shapely ankle back and forth. A sly grin spread slowly across her face. “We’ll have to get the right shoes then, won’t we dear,” she told her daughter.

They were eagerly discussing accessories when Carlotta moved away.

Santa’s lounge had a good crowd of shoppers and loungers, all celebrating the Christmas spirit by downing Christmas spirits. Carlotta watched as a leggy elf-waitress stopped by a table to place another pint of bitters before a leering patron. She was wearing a top and shorts in deep red with white fur trim, along with patterned nylons and black boots.

Carlotta shook her head. Women like the waitress offended her. How could she work in that skimpy outfit, being ogled by every man in the place? It wasn’t becoming. It was


There was something special about that outfit she was wearing. She watched the girl saunter away. Of course the shorts were much too short for —


She did like the boots. The heels would be awful for someone who worked on her feet all


Carlotta looked down at her own new boots. She liked them even more than her first new pair. Yet there was something subtly wrong with this outfit. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She seldom wore skirts at all, much less fashion boots. She continued on toward the elevator.

Biggerman was discussing something with Trina when Carlotta arrived at her cubicle. He was leaning over her shoulder, pointing to things on her screen. The conversation was punctuated by bashful giggles from Trina.

He looked up as Carlotta approached. She had a couple of packages in her hands. “Ah, Ms Exquisito,” he said, “how pleasant to see you again. Merry Christmas.” As he spoke his eyes roamed boldly up and down the young lawyer’s full curves. Carlotta was carrying her coat over one arm.

“Merry Christmas,” she said civilly, pulling her coat in front of her. Biggerman was taller than she remembered. He still needed a haircut — and a lesson in manners. “I haven’t quite finished copying all the employment records for the sacked workers. I’ll need to see the files one more time.”

Biggerman smiled. “Of course, of course,” he returned affably. “Trina will let you in, as before.” He clapped a hand possessively on the pretty secretary’s shoulder. Trina was wearing a tummy-bearing short sweater along with black hip-huggers. She still had a silly Christmas cap on her head.

She turned and smiled at Carlotta. “Come on, I’ll get you started. Are we all finished for now, Henry?”

“For the moment, yes. Better let Ms Exquisito onto the computer. Wouldn’t want her to slip into a black mood.”

Carlotta blinked. She felt flushed. She let her coat fall to her side. Let Biggerman stare. She was hardly showing more than all the miniskirted girls in the office.

“Have you found everything you need?” Biggerman asked, seeming concerned. Are the facilities adequate?”

“Uhm, yes, quite adequate,” Carlotta replied. “If I could get started I could finish this today.”

“Have some wine while you work,” Biggerman suggested. “I’ve put out a rather pleasant red.”

Carlotta felt her colour rising. The room was warm. She ran both hands down her hips, smoothing her snug-fitting minidress. She wished Biggerman would stop staring at her. It was distracting. And very pleasant.

“Th-thank you,” she said. She tried to ignore his gaze on her cleavage. “I’d breast get started.” She felt her nipples stiffen. Unconsciously, she straightened her back a little, thrusting her chest out. She was suddenly glad she had worn her sexy new dress.

Trina sprang to her feet. “Come on, I’ll let you in.”

Relieved and disappointed to be away from the owner’s attention, Carlotta fell in beside her. Trina’s tight black pants hung so low on her hips they threatened to reveal a second cleavage. They flared out long at the bottom to almost cover the silver platform sandals on her feet.

Sandals in winter? Carlotta wondered privately. That’s not very


She found herself contemplating the sway of Trina’s behind beneath the low- hung pants. That girl sure is built, she thought admiringly. Little tingles ran up her spine.

Trina let her into the back room and signed on to the computer. Carlotta noticed that the bottle of red wine that Biggerman had mentioned was sitting on the table of treats, already opened. It was an excellent label.

“Henry asked me to open it early, to let it breath,” Trina explained, rising from the computer. “Sure you won’t have some?”

Carlotta looked at the bottle. The wine was a Burgundy. “No, I came here to . . .”


“Oh, well, why not. It’s Christmas.”

“That’s the spirit,” Trina agreed. She found two tall wine glasses. Carlotta filled them both. “Merry Christmas!” Trina cheered. They clinked glasses and drank together.

“Well, I’d best get back to work,” the shapely secretary decided. “Let me know if you need anything.” She took her wine glass with her and headed out the door. Carlotta found herself watching her derriere again.

Pull yourself together girl, she chided herself. Stop being jealous of other women’s asses. She took a long drink, refilled her glass, and sat down before the computer. She popped a couple of liqueur-filled chocolates into her mouth. That’s probably not a good idea, along with the wine, she reflected, even as she sucked on her third candy. I have to stay alert today. No more sleeping on the job.

She bent down to work. The elevator music was as annoying as ever. She forced it out of her mind. She sipped her wine, carefully transcribing notes to her laptop. It was important to stay awake. She was determined not to fall asleep today.

No sleep today.

No. Sleep. Today.
Sleep. . .

She didn’t even notice when she dropped off.

There was something on her shoulder. She batted it away, but it came back. She turned her head and looked at it groggily. It was a hand, feminine and wearing many rings. “-lotta we’re closing now,” came Trina’s voice.

She looked up, shaking off sleep, to find the secretary bending over her. “What? Who? I was — oh, not again.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had all that wine,” Trina suggested gently.

Carlotta looked over at the table of treats beside her chair. The wine bottle was more than half empty. Had she done that?

“I, I don’t quite remember,” she said weakly, getting to her feet. “What time is it?”

“It’s about five. We close the offices now. Course the store is still open for hours. Can you come back tomorrow?”

Carlotta’s brain felt fuzzy. She tried to remember something. It kept slipping away. Her gaze fell on the silly cap on Trina’s head, with its long red crown and white trim.


“Yes, uhm, I, I suppose I’ll have to,” she conceded. She closed up her laptop and picked up her packages. “I haven’t been very efficient these last couple of days.”

Trina waved a delicate hand. “Who is, this time of year. There is so much going on. What with parties and shopping and more parties, who has time to work?” She giggled prettily. “Hey, looks like you’ve done a little shopping yourself. Looks sweet.”

“Thank you,” Carlotta replied uncertainly. “This isn’t my usual style. I got caught up in the Christmas spirit — or something.”

“Hey, why don’t you leave your computer and stuff here? You’ll be coming back tomorrow, right? Why carry them all the way home and back again? They’ll be safe here.”

The lovely lawyer hesitated. “Uh, no, I probably should work this evening,” she began, “I have a lot of –”


“I, I have a lot of . . . oh why not.” She set down her computer and briefcase. She picked up her coat and the few things she had bought on the way in.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” Trina said cheerfully. “Maybe we can spend a few minutes doing some last-minute shopping.” She grabbed some candies from the table. Her low-riding slacks outlined the half-moon cheeks of her behind.

Carlotta demurred. “No, I really should get home, I — oh, thanks.” She accepted the chocolate that Trina offered. It was cherry.

The two women took the elevator down to the store level.

Late the following morning Carlotta was pacing about her office, too agitated to work. What was going on here? What was wrong with her? She had been asking herself these same questions all morning. She looked down at her feet for a moment as she paced back and forth on the carpet.

She was wearing new shoes. They were narrow pumps with tall heels. They had platform soles, more than an inch high. They were nothing like anything Carlotta wore, especially to work. The shoes were pure, glossy


They were the perfect colour. Carlotta loved them, loved what they did to her ankles, her legs. She had wanted them the moment she tried them on at Biggerman’s the day before. The fact that she had always considered high heels impractical, uncomfortable symbols of female subjugation simply didn’t matter.

Maybe the shoes were a cover. Maybe she was trying to distract herself from her sudden infatuation with boots. Maybe she didn’t want to face the odd fact that she had bought four pairs of expensive boots in three days.

She glanced over at the white boots sitting beside her desk. They were stretchy, vampy things with platform heels like her new shoes. She couldn’t decide between them and the patent black lace-ups. She had bought both pairs. Why had she done that? She didn’t need


They were sexy, sure, but why buy another


She only knew that the long black boots were splendid and she couldn’t be without them.

Shoes and boots were not the only things Carlotta had fallen in love with. She had intended to indulge Trina’s shopping whim only for a few moments before heading home to dinner. In fact it had taken them several happy hours to get out of the store. With only a little encouragement from Trina, Carlotta had experimented with styles and fashions she had never considered before.

The wine she had evidently drunk instead of working didn’t help her self- control. Nor did the additional spirits they had shared in Santa’s lounge when the sexy secretary decreed that they needed a break. Carlotta had meant to abstain, but the cute red-and-white outfit on the waitress had distracted her.

Carlotta held her head in her hands for a moment. What had come over her yesterday? She shook back her hair. She could feel the weight of her new gold earrings. Another impulsive purchase.

She sat down in her chair. She was supposed to be drafting a letter to Biggerman’s former employees. She was in no mood to talk to clients today. How could she explain to the sacked women that not only had she not negotiated a settlement for them, she hadn’t even assembled the file? To make matters worse, she had foolishly left her briefcase behind, along with her laptop computer. All her notes for the case were locked up in Biggerman’s storage room.

The act of sitting down pulled the hem of her new dress even higher up her thighs. She ran a hand down one leg. She had no business wearing fishnet stockings to the office. This was entirely inappropriate. They were


They contrasted so sharply with the white of her new shoes. Carlotta had never worn stockings before. The feel of the garter straps against her leg was a constant reminder that she was doing something a bit wicked. She felt a tingle up between her legs.

Trina helped Carlotta buy so many new things she had trouble carrying it all. Fortunately, Biggerman’s had a delivery service. The pretty clerk at the service desk talked her into opening a charge account too. Carlotta had been distracted. The girl’s halter-top was red with white trim, like her little miniskirt. Carlotta wasn’t even sure what her credit limit was.

Eventually Carlotta found herself in a taxicab taking her back to her flat. She was wearing one of her new outfits, a tiny black dress, saucy red nylons and her new black boots. It was the closest she had come yet to the perfect Christmas ensemble. Unexpectedly, the way the driver was appraising her in the rearview mirror was more exciting than annoying. She left her coat unbuttoned.

Sitting in her office, Carlotta stirred from the memory. She pressed her legs together. What the hell was happening to her libido? She had flirted shamelessly with the doorman at her building. She let him enjoy a good look down the gauzy top of her minidress. She took her overcoat off immediately, improving his view of her ass and red-stockinged legs as she sauntered away.

By the time she got to her flat, Carlotta was tingly all over. She threw her coat aside and unfastened her boots. Then she padded into the bedroom and wiggled out of her daring new dress. She looked at herself in the mirror. The red stockings were only part of a lacy red underwear set. She could see her erect nipples poking over the top of the half-cup bra.

It was too much. With a sigh the shapely lawyer reclined on her bed, one hand already slipping down to enjoy the warm, moist welcome that her pussy offered. The other hand found her breasts, and made them shiver. In a few minutes she was bucking and gasping helplessly. In a few minutes more she came. In another few minutes she came again. And again. And again.

Back in the office, Carlotta crossed her knees, pressing her thighs together. She had never felt so oversexed. Rising that morning, after yet another hand job in the shower, she couldn’t resist trying out one of the new outfits she had bought the day before. It was wildly inappropriate for the office, but she convinced herself that somehow Christmas made it all right. She couldn’t help smiling as she pulled on her stretchy white boots. She tossed her new shoes in a bag and headed off to work.

Her arrival was an event. Everyone she met stared in surprise. Men forgot what they were doing. Carlotta’s new dress was shiny red, set off with sparkly white snowflakes. Coupled with the black, fishnet nylons and white boots, the skimpy dress transformed Carlotta from stylish professional to Miss December from a very popular calendar. As she made her way down the corridor, still learning to balance on the outlandish heels, she could feel the admiring eyes locked onto her. She had barely set down her purse before a senior partner called her into his office.

It was Mr. Burnham, one of the few man she genuinely admired. He was fiftyish, with just a touch of grey around the temples, distinguished in his expensive silk suit. He began the conversation bluntly: “Carlotta — what the blazes are you doing! Coming in here dressed” — he gestured vaguely in her direction — “like that!”

Carlotta’s cheerful disposition wilted under her superior’s ire. “I, I uh, I don’t know, I guess I thought, uhm, it would be all right,” she responded lamely. “It’s like, for Christmas,” she added, as if that explained something.

Burnham was not impressed. “I don’t care if it’s the second coming! My god Carlotta, this is a law office. Have you lost your senses?”

He was looking her up and down as he spoke, disbelief apparent on his face. Did his eyes linger where her legs finally disappeared beneath the hem of her dress?

Carlotta was awash in conflicting emotions. She was mortified, standing before Burnham in her flashy outfit, being dressed down like a summer replacement who didn’t know the rules. Yet there was an undercurrent of sexual energy in the room. She felt like a lovestruck schoolgirl trying to win the attention of her favourite teacher.

“No, please, Mr. Burnham, it’s not like it seems,” Carlotta blurted, still trying to sort out her emotions. She took a step toward him. Her slinky mini telegraphed the sway of her hips. “You see, it’s almost Christmas, and I’ve been, uhm, doing a lot of thinking lately, and . . .” She had no idea what the end of the sentence was, or why she was still approaching Burnham like a stalking panther. His attention on her body was as stimulating as a hot shower.

Burnham took a half-step backwards. He raised a hand. “Carlotta, is this –”

Carlotta kissed him. She slid both arms around his neck, holding his head between her hands. The kiss was long, wet and ardent. She used her tongue, her lips, her body.

When she finally let him go they both gasped for breath. Burnham’s eyes were wide in shock. “M-Merry Christmas Mr. Burnham,” Carlotta whispered. Drawing a deep breath, she turned and hurried out of the office. She was steamy with arousal, and desperately afraid that she would do something foolish if she stayed. She rushed into her own office, closed the door and leaned against it, trying to cool down.

She had been hiding in her office ever since, too agitated to work, too embarrassed to leave. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting so irrational? It was like she was possessed by a demon of lust. This was more than psychological angst over the holiday season. It could hardly be sleep- deprivation either, as she had believed earlier — especially since she seemed to be napping every afternoon in front of Biggerman’s computer.

She stopped for a moment. Could there be a connection there? Her naturally quick mind assembled the facts: she had started acting strangely only after she had started her case against Biggerman’s Department Store; only after she began transcribing employment records from the store’s computer; only after she unexpectedly fell asleep every time. Biggerman had a degree in computer science. It was too much to be coincidence.

Biggerman had done something to the computer.

Brainwashing? Carlotta was familiar with the concept of subliminal suggestions, famously inserted in advertisements in the 1960s. She knew there were rumours that more powerful techniques had been quietly developed and researched over the intervening years. She had even scanned a few websites devoted to the idea of people controlling others with hypnotism and drugs. She had always dismissed such accounts as mere stories. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Perhaps Biggerman had inserted subliminal suggestions into the computer program. Maybe they ran in the background while Carlotta read the files. Maybe he was flashing commands across the screen too fast for her conscious mind to see — but not too fast for her unconscious mind to absorb. The suggestions would be associated with pleasure, to make them more readily accepted. The most powerful source of pleasure was sex.

It all fit together. The question now was, what to do about it. First, she needed to put a lid on her libido. The thought of wicked, subconscious thoughts being planted in her mind was itself exciting. Carlotta uncrossed her knees. She ran a finger along one leg, right at the edge of her high hemline. She was breathing quickly. If the intent of the subliminals was to make her constantly horny, they were working all too well.

Something had to be done about Biggerman. She couldn’t let him


Damn but her legs looked fine in these stockings. Her fingers were still flitting along the edge of her dress. They were underneath the hemline now. She had to get a grip on herself before


She adjusted her stocking clips as an excuse to keep her hands under her dress. Then they moved over to her mauve, French-cut panties, to see if they were really as wet as they looked. Trina had been amazed when Carlotta said she had never worn that style. She had about a dozen now.

The telephone warbled. Irritated, Carlotta pushed a button with her free hand. “Yes?”

“Ms Exquisito,” came the voice of her assistant, “Mrs. Bumwiggle from the Biggerman case is one the line. She wants to –”

“Tell her I’ll call her back later. I’m busy right now.”

“Are you sure? She says they’re just about to leave for Christmas holidays, and if you could –”

“I’ll call her back!” Carlotta snapped, and rang off.

Reluctantly, she brought her wandering hand to heel. She pulled down her dress. This had to stop. She couldn’t let Biggerman get away with his sleazy attempt at manipulation.

Still, she had no real evidence to bring against him. Her theory about subliminal seduction was so fantastic that no one would take it seriously without proof — and a sudden urge to jill off in the office wouldn’t do. Maybe she could smoke him out: she would confront him head-on with her suspicions and intimidate him into backing off. She smiled grimly. It was time to remind Biggerman that Carlotta had graduated fifth in her class.

The thought of visiting Biggerman’s Department Store again sent a little thrill through her. She ignored it. It was harder to ignore the warm contentment that enveloped her when she pulled on her white stretch boots. She threw on her coat, then spent a few minutes fussing with her hair and make-up before heading out onto the street.

So great was Carlotta’s resolve to confront Biggerman that she hardly stopped to buy anything on the trip through the ground-floor store. Instead, she asked a sales clerk to set aside a half dozen items so she could look at them later. She did buy a new pair of boots. White platform boots were too blatantly sexy for her meeting with Biggerman. Her new black booties were much more serious — except perhaps for the narrow, pointy toes, gold filigree decoration, and pencil-thin high heels whose impracticality for walking Carlotta discovered only after she had eagerly handed over her charge card.

The store office was as lively as ever. Cheerful Christmas tunes poured out of the speakers in the ceiling. Office workers in festive garb smiled and said hello as Carlotta wobbled down the hallway toward Biggerman’s office.

Trina was at her desk. The woman looked even more fetching than usual in a silver minidress and transparent platform slides with silver straps. Blonde hair tumbled down from beneath a red Christmas cap.

“Trina,” Carlotta said bluntly, “would you please start up the computer in the storage room. I have to finish those files today.”

“Of course, Carlotta,” Trina said good-naturedly. She got to her feet as Carlotta turned toward Biggerman’s office. “Oh, wait, you can’t–”

Carlotta burst into the office. “Biggerman, I want to talk to you. Now.”

Biggerman was sitting at his desk, working at his computer. He was taller than Carlotta remembered; better looking too. He would be quite presentable if he would just get a haircut. Carlotta would be happy to do the job herself. She could imagine standing over him with clippers and a comb, shaping and styling those unruly locks while she leaned over his chair in her abbreviated smock. . .

Biggerman said: “Ms Exquisito, how good to see you again. Please, come in. Have a seat.” His eyes roamed blatantly up and down her curvy figure.

Carlotta remained standing, though she would have been grateful to get off her unsteady heels. “Biggerman, I want you to know that I’m on to you. I don’t know how you are doing it and I don’t care. Whatever you are doing to that computer will cease immediately.”

“Uhm, excuse me?” He did a good job of looking nonplussed.

“The computer,” Carlotta explained. “The one that I have been using these past few days. You have done something to it, trying to influence my behaviour. Subliminal suggestions, I suspect.”

“What? Are you serious? Where did this idea come from? I think you need to calm down a bit. My word, you’re practically seeing red.”

A ripple of arousal swept through the young lawyer. “I, I don’t need to calm down,” she returned. “I need to complete our business without any underhanded skull-duggery on your part. There are embedded messages on that computer, aren’t there? You have been trying to throw me off balance.”

“Embedded messages? What an idea.” He chuckled softly. “Well, I guess you’ve caught me red-handed.”

This time the arousal was a wave of sweet desire breaking over her like a comber onto a Hawaiian beach. It was the same sensation she had felt in the law partner’s office, but even stronger. Blood rushed to her face, and other places. Damn that man for being so handsome!

“This is n-no joking matter,” Carlotta insisted. She swayed a little on her narrow heels. She could feel her nipples stiffening. “I know you’re doing, like something. You’re degree. . . computers . . . making me sleep.” She gestured vaguely.

“It sounds to me like you could use a little sleep,” Biggerman replied. “I’m having trouble following you. Can’t you just lay it out in black and white?”

Tsunami! Carlotta mewled out loud. Her knees buckled. She grabbed the back of a chair with both hands to keep from falling. “Please!” she cried out. “Stop the. . . computer thing. I, I need you — I mean I need to. . .” She shuddered with lust. Her pussy was lubricating.

Biggerman looked concerned. “Good heavens, Ms Exquisito, are you all right? You look pale. Do you need a drink?”

“I –” she gasped. “I. . . You. . . I, I want . . . need. . . I have to go!” She turned abruptly and nearly trotted out of the room, teetering comically. Biting her lip, she tripped across the office toward the back room.

The door was open. Trina was bending over the computer, signing in. Carlotta keened again at the sight of the blonde’s trim legs, decked out in satiny nylons, revealed to the edge of her silver panties by the scanty dress. Carlotta had never felt attraction toward women. Right now her pussy was too overheated to discriminate.

“Oh, there you are,” Trina said brightly, when she saw Carlotta. “You’re all set. Help yourself to anything on the table. There’s more –”

“Yes yes yes, that’s fine, now please, I have to get to work!” Carlotta interrupted her. She grabbed the secretary by the arm and dragged her to the door. Trina tried to say something else but Carlotta was already shutting the door in her face. She turned the lock. Then she threw herself down on the sofa, pulled down her wet panties, and used her fingers to feed her suddenly cock-starved pussy.

Relief was exquisite. “Ohhhhhhh, yes!” she cried out loud, “yes, yes, yes, fucking Yes!” She spread her legs until one bootie landed on the floor. She was using both hands now, spreading her labia with one while the other plunged into her needful cunt. “Biggerman, you sexy stud,” she wailed as her hips thrust upward. “Sexy handsome stud, sexy stud, fucking sexy stud, fucking stud fuck me senseless you sexy stud!” Then intelligible words became impossible as orgasmic bliss swept over her.

Some time later, Carlotta was sprawled limply on the deep sofa, basking in the glow of her second climax. She hummed along to a familiar tune playing on the overhead speakers. Reluctantly, she turned her attention to finishing transcribing the employment records from the computer. She straightened her clothing, after pulling her useless panties off completely.

Only then did she remember that she hadn’t resolved the issue of the subliminal messages. It wasn’t safe to use the computer until she knew for sure they were gone. She was too embarrassed to go see Biggerman again, after transforming into a bitch in heat in front of him. What to do?

She thought about it. She poured a glass of wine and took a big swallow. She still felt contentedly sluggish from the hand session. She helped herself to a couple of candies. They were both filled with liqueurs. She lifted one leg and admired her new bootie. She loved the way it shaped her calf. She adjusted a lace stocking lazily.

What to do about the computer? Carlotta refilled her wine glass. If she didn’t use the computer, how could she finish the case? She looked at the tray of chocolates, hesitated, then chose a piece of fruitcake instead. It was made the traditional way, steeped in brandy. If she did use the computer, she was convinced she would fall asleep again.

It was a conundrum. She needed to use the computer, but she certainly didn’t want to fall asleep again. She drank wine and nibbled fruitcake, snuggling deeper into the plush couch. She watched snowflakes drift downward outside the big window. She didn’t want to fall asleep again.

Snowflakes drifted down.

She didn’t want to fall asleep.
Snowflakes. Sleep.

Carlotta slept. The empty wine glass slipped out of her hand. Instrumental Christmas music streamed endlessly out of the speaker in the ceiling.

“Car-lawwwtt-ah,” a sweet voice sang. “Come on sleepyhead, wake up girl.”

Carlotta opened her eyes. She blinked. Trina was sitting on the edge of the sofa, looking down on her. “Looks like somebody was having a private party,” the secretary said.

Carlotta shook herself awake. “Trina, I, I’m so sorry. I must have, uhm, dozed off.” Her panties were lying on the floor beside the sofa. Something about Trina’s dress distracted her. It was


so terrifically sexy. The stretchy, abbreviated dress showed off her generous chest and splendid legs at the same time.

Trina brushed a bit of black hair off Carlotta’s face. “That’s okay, honey, you probably needed the rest. The rest of us been having a Christmas celebration in the office.” She giggled shyly. “I’m a little drunk.”

“Me too,” Carlotta replied. She didn’t remember drinking enough to feel this way. She was uncomfortably aware of the nearness of Trina as she sat beside her on the sofa. Her left leg was brushing against Carlotta’s hand. Worse, the way she was sitting, Carlotta could see right up under the hem of her dress. Her bikini panties were


the perfect complement to the dress. There was a saucy boldness about wearing panties that matched. It meant she knew she was going to be flashing them all day, and planned for it.

My god, she’s turning me on, Carlotta thought dimly. She tried to sit up. “I’d better be going,” she explained nervously.

Trina gently pushed her back down. “What’s your hurry? It’s well after five. Everyone else has gone home. There’s just you and me here.”

“Yes, but –”

“Shush. Here, have a candy. There, isn’t that delish? You know, you were in such a hurry earlier I never got the chance to tell you how much I love your new outfit.”

“Uhm, uh, th-thank you,” Carlotta replied, rallying weakly. “It’s really not what I normally wear. It’s too —


“– it’s, uhm, I like it, but. . .”

“It’s divine, dear. It flatters you. You have such perfect legs.” She let one bejewelled finger slide up Carlotta’s thigh.

“Uhm, Trina, I, I think maybe we should, uhm–”


“We should have our own little party,” Trina cooed, bending close. “Just you and me.” The finger reached the hem of Carlotta’s dress. It didn’t stop.

“No, wait, I, I don’t think this is –” Carlotta flailed about weakly. Her hand landed on Trina’s leg. It didn’t want to leave. Carlotta whined in heat and confusion. Trina’s nylons glittered with


The luscious lawyer shivered with lust. She was trembling. She couldn’t seem to stop the advance of Trina’s hand, or her own. Trina’s thigh felt warm beneath her fingers.

“Christmas is a time for sharing,” the busty secretary explained, leaning closer. “and loving.” Her hand crept still higher.

Carlotta was squirming. “I, I, I’m not sure we. . . we should. . . we . . . Ohhhhhhhh!” Trina’s questing fingers had discovered the absence of panties.

“Oh, baby! You are a sexy thing, aren’t you,” Trina whispered, before her descending lips met Carlotta’s in a firm and hungry kiss.

Carlotta returned the kiss, desperate for more. She had never felt any attraction to women before. Now Trina’s fingers were stroking artfully in and out of her seeping pussy, her tongue was dancing in her mouth, her big, sexy tits were rubbing against hers and sexual pleasure was pulsing and flashing in ever cell of Carlotta’s body.

The two women coupled rambunctiously on the big sofa, fighting off clothing, touching and stroking and kissing everywhere. Carlotta felt her peak approaching. She wiggled her hips in time with Trina’s eager pussy-lapping. She couldn’t remember when Trina’s tongue had replaced her fingers. “Oh god!” she cried out, stiffening. “oh god oh god oh god oh god Oh God Oh God OH GODDDDDDDDDD!”

A few minutes later, when Carlotta had stopped twitching, Trina slid back up to face her. Carlotta was damp with perspiration, out of breath. Her lover kissed her tenderly.

“Your turn,” she said.


It was very late the next morning when Carlotta slid one dainty foot out from underneath the rumpled sheets of her bed. Her leg was still encased in the red mesh stocking she had tried on before going to bed the night before. She couldn’t quite remember if she had consciously gone to bed, or merely collapsed in happy exhaustion after a long evening of sex and booze and shopping.

Eventually, she decided she had to get up, even if it was Saturday. Normally, Carlotta worked nearly as hard on the weekends as she did during the week. This week was far from normal. Carlotta felt like her mind had slipped its tethers to reality, and was now floating away on fanciful breezes. Christmas was just days away and she still hadn’t found — something.

She threw back the covers and got to her feet. Along with the stockings she was wearing a red garter belt and a blue “baby doll” nightie. Carlotta liked the feel of silk against her skin. It was a pity there was no one around to see her in it. She stepped into a pair of high-heeled slides instead of her old slippers and shuffled over to the en-suite washroom for a shower.

Later, as she sipped her coffee in the kitchen, the shapely lawyer reflected more soberly. There was a serious problem here. She was acting more and more out of character. Sex was constantly on her mind. Worse, it was getting hard to tell when she was normal and when she was possessed by the goddess of party girls. Her closets looked like a wardrobe for an adult film. Yesterday she had had wild, sensational sex with a woman. She sipped her coffee, confused.

What about her theory that Biggerman was to blame? He couldn’t have rigged the computer, because yesterday she hadn’t used it. Instead, she had lazed on the comfy sofa all afternoon, drinking and dozing and playing with herself. She blushed at the memory, then giggled. It must be something else.

She squirmed in her seat. It was so hard to concentrate. Despite the romp she had put it through yesterday, her pussy was tingling with excitement. It begged to be touched. It wanted something to slide into it — and not just her fingers, that had pleased it so recently in the shower, but something long and warm and firm, preferably attached to a man.

What she needed was a good screwing. She needed to be spread, to be filled, to be pumped with hot man-meat. Her previous lovers, long since eclipsed by her career, seemed so inadequate now. She needed a bigger man.

She shook her head, trying to shake off the spreading tendrils of lust. Her silver earrings flashed. Why was she all dressed up on the weekend? Because it was Christmas, she reminded herself. Naturally she wanted to wear her festive Christmas outfits. Right? She tittered again. She was having trouble thinking straight. She was constantly losing


She loved these boots. They were shiny and tight and black as jet, with tall, slender heels in the back that shaped her legs. She must have bought them yesterday. She and Trina had celebrated their consummation with a whirlwind fling through Biggerman’s Department Store that was half shopping trip and half public spectacle. Carlotta finally discovered her credit limit when she had to visit the service desk to have it raised.

Carlotta finished her coffee, leaving lipstick marks on the cup. She looked at her watch. It was nearly noon. She needed to use this weekend to get caught up. She was falling behind on her caseload. Never mind that she had barely started on her most recent case. Yet somehow she had left both her laptop computer and her briefcase locked up in a back room at Biggerman’s. She had been in no condition to remember such details yesterday.

She was remembering now though. It worried her. Her laptop had all sorts of confidential files on it — including all her notes concerning the Biggerman case. She had left it in the offices of the very man she was suing! This was serious! A breach of confidentiality like that could


This little outfit was the dandiest thing for the holidays. It was a sort of one-piece lounger, a top and short-shorts combined into one. The material was some space-age fabric, soft and sleek at the same time. It hugged her curves as faithfully as paint, while putting the full length of her well-shaped legs on display. Maybe it was a bit risque to wear anywhere but home


It felt so liberating to slip into something clingy without underwear. She loved the way the thin fabric outlined the shape of her boobs.

Carlotta spent a few minutes admiring herself before returning to the problem at hand. With a body like hers, surely she could attract a big-hosed fireman to put out her bush fire. Wait, that wasn’t the problem. There was something very serious going on with this Biggerman case. She was no longer certain how he was doing it, but Carlotta remained convinced that Biggerman — that arrogant, handsome, sexy man — was messing with her head.

Thinking about Biggerman made her feel warm. She had to get into the office and get her computer back — quickly, before someone discovered it and compromised her whole case. The problem was how to get into the office on the weekend. She crossed her knees, bouncing one booted foot up and down pensively. If only she knew some way to


The dark-haired beauty admired her long legs for a moment. Her nylons were semi-opaque, with black stripes stitched up the legs. Tiny silver specks sparkled with every movement. Carlotta ran a hand across one thigh. “Fuck but I am one hot looker,” she whispered.

She had an idea! She had overheard one of the sales clerks talking about putting receipts in the safe. The safe was upstairs. So, at least some sales staff must have access to the upstairs offices.

Here was a way out of her predicament. She would visit Biggerman’s Department Store one more time. She would ask one of the clerks to accompany her upstairs. She could retrieve her laptop, then never go back again. It would all be proper. She just needed to visit the store one more time.

Carlotta got to her feet and paced about. The fog in her brain had not diminished. Was this the rational thing to do, or was she just finding excuses to return to the store? There would be men at the store. Her nipples tingled. Dammit, why was it so hard to get her mind off sex in the morning was marvellous, her lover making her late by flinging her onto the bed, rumpling her work clothes, spreading her legs against her token protests so he could plunge into her receptive cleft with his long, stiff shaft…

She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing the images of male tumescence into the background. She was an experienced lawyer with intelligence and common sense. She graduated fifth in her class. No matter that she was horny enough to hump a flagpole, she wouldn’t let herself be distracted by


The fir trim on her playsuit was the perfect complement for a Christmas outfit. She wandered back toward the bedroom to change. As much as she loved this get-up, it was hardly something she could wear


Oh! Those long satin gloves would set this off perfectly. She pulled them on, carefully working the fabric smooth over her fingers. Then she stepped into the en-suite to change her lipstick to a closer match. That done, and her hair combed perfectly, and a few more minutes admiring herself in the mirror, and she headed off for the store.

Now remember, Carlotta reminded herself, this is strictly business. Get in, get your things, get out. No shopping. No looking at computers. She was standing on the sidewalk outside Biggerman’s. Last-minute shoppers came and went around her. She was as nervous as a schoolgirl before a big date. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she pushed the revolving door and entered the store.

The store was crowded. Christmas shoppers filled every aisle and gathered around every clothing rack. A cacophony of voices filled Carlotta’s ears. The atmosphere in the store was festive, as if everyone had spontaneously decided to have a party. Above the hum of the crowd the leggy lawyer could barely hear the calming music drifting down from the ceiling.

Santa’s lounge was already busy. Carlotta admired a waitress as she bent low to offer a tray of snacks to a table of patrons. The girl succeeded in spellbinding both the men at that table and the table behind her. Isn’t that a coincidence, Carlotta reflected, her outfit is just like mine. Lucky girl, to have all those men wanting her.

It was very warm in the store. Carlotta shrugged off her overcoat and tossed it over one arm. Instantly a clerk appeared to take it away. Carlotta demurred — she would only be here a few minutes — but the girl’s cap was


God, everybody is looking at me, Carlotta thought proudly, as she ambled through the crowd. I’m a fucking man-magnet. If I make the right moves, maybe I can line up a. . . No! Stop that. She was here to pick up her things, not pick up a man. She concentrated on finding a sales clerk.

That turned out to be a difficult task. The throngs of shoppers were keeping the sales staff occupied. Carlotta found one cute thing practically in the arms of a rich-looking young man. He was grinning foolishly as he inspected no less than five vinyl miniskirts, each in a different bright colour, spread out before him.

“Of course we sell gift certificates,” the pretty girl chirped. “Any denomination you want.” She ran a finger along the hem of one foot-long skirt. “Why don’t you get some for all the girls in your office? That will save you having to make all those decisions.” The man was already reaching for his wallet.

Carlotta found herself admiring one of the tiny, shiny skirts. Would they still have that in her size? When she collected her thoughts, the clerk had already disappeared into the crowd, leading her dazzled customer to the service desk.

She was increasingly nervous. The colours everywhere were overwhelming. She had to get out of here soon. She looked around to find


A few moments later she was in the lingerie department, admiring body shapers, wondering which one would best display her tits. There was a man looking her over. She sidled toward him, smiling.

No! She pulled up short. She wasn’t here for that. She had to retrieve. . . something. . . oh, yes, her laptop computer. She was becoming befuddled. Find a sales clerk. Quickly.

She saw the distinctive red cap that all the salesgirls wore, and headed toward it. Now if she could make it to the girl before


Oh look at those darling pants. They were skin-tight around the hips, so low- slung they were almost falling off the mannequin. The soft fabric was paper thin. It was clearly planned to tease with the outline of the wearer’s bottom. Or, I could wear them with dark underwear, Carlotta thought gleefully, and really put on a show. Oh look, there’s even a top that goes with it. That’s so —

She dropped the top as if it had scorched her. What was she doing! She looked around. The sales clerk was nowhere in sight. Shoppers teemed around her. Voices and laughter filled the air, mixing with the gentle music from above. At least three men of different ages were staring at her. Desire was clearly written on their faces.

She looked down at herself, in her tight red one-piece, sparkling, striped nylons and high-heeled boots. She brushed back her hair with one red-gloved hand. Her own appearance was turning her on. She wanted to approach all those men, get their phone numbers, arrange a hot date, or better yet, drag them into a changing room and go down on them right there. She was almost hyperventilating.

She had to get out. She had to leave before she lost all control. Never mind trying to retrieve the — whatever it was. Resolutely, she turned and headed for the door. She began to push her way through the crowd, crying apologies at the people she shoved aside. She had to get away before



She stopped short, drawing in her breath. Oh, sweet. The perfect pair of boots. The ones Carlotta now realized she had been unconsciously searching for all this time. The half-dozen pairs she had bought in the last week were approximations, sexy stand-ins for these perfect boots. These were the real thing. Carlotta’s panicked resolution to leave melted into a blank, distant smile. She changed direction and drifted into the shoe department.

There was a slow deliberateness to Carlotta’s stride as she stepped off the elevator at Biggerman’s upstairs offices late Monday morning. Partly, that was because the towering heels and high platforms on her new boots strongly discouraged a hurried gait. Partly it was because Carlotta was still gliding through a velvet fog of sexual arousal.

Most of the weekend was a blur. She remembered picking up her new, perfect boots, and then wandering off to buy some new outfits to go with them. She was wearing one of those outfits now.

The tight velour shorts were crimson, with a fringe of white fur around each leg and a wide, black belt around her hips. The matching bra top had long sleeves fringed with more fur. A fancy bow knot in the middle of her chest strained to hold the top together. Carlotta’s new boots were tall, tight and black. Bright silver trim outlined the three-inch platforms and endless stacked heels. Shiny hose glistened on her legs.

Carlotta had tried to get some work done on Sunday. She wasn’t very successful. Her overwrought mind kept returning to visions of sex. Eventually she decided that another go round with her fingers was called for. That session gradually extended into a long, lazy, lustful afternoon trying on sexy clothes and plumbing herself with a pair of vibrators she didn’t remember buying. Somewhere in there she had ordered pizza. She still wasn’t certain whether she had really given a hand job to the gawking delivery boy, or just dreamt about it.

Now it was Monday, the day before Christmas. As she made her careful way down the corridor, Carlotta’s head was in the clouds. Thoughts of sex and men and sexy clothes and men and her beautiful, fuckable body and men and sex and more sex were dancing around in her head like pretty, twittering birds. She wanted to make love to everybody. She hadn’t dared to show up at the law office, for fear she would jump one of her co-workers. She was maintaining her mental balance by clinging to one resolution: she must get her laptop and briefcase back.

Carlotta’s comely curves, advertised by her provocative outfit, attracted men like six-year-olds to a toy store. It wasn’t helping her resolve any. From the moment she stepped out onto the street that morning, the face of every man she passed lit up like Scrooge discovering the true meaning of Christmas.

By the time she tottered into the crowded department store, the lithesome lawyer was already biting her lip. She was exquisitely aware of all those men staring at her. Wanting her. They all had cocks too: long, hard, pussy- pleasing shafts she could vividly imagine plunging deep inside her. Once, a young man began asking her about gifts for his girlfriend, evidently mistaking her for a salesclerk. For some reason that felt good too. She directed him toward some racy lingerie before continuing on her way to the elevator.

There wasn’t much work getting done in the office. Everyone was celebrating Christmas eve. Although it was barely noon, many employees were walking around with drinks or treats in their hands. Still reeling from the excitement in the store, Carlotta made an effort to ignore the revelry going on around her.

A pretty secretary appeared. She had the regulation red cap on her head. “Hey there,” she cried, grinning. “Merry Christmas! You’re the lawyer, right?”

“Who, me?” Carlotta giggled. “Oh, wait, yes, uh, I am. I came to –”

“How about a drink?”

A drink was exactly what she needed. Carlotta snatched the glass of champagne from the girl’s hand and downed it in a few gulps. “Thanks,” she said, gasping, as she handed back the empty glass. “I needed that.”

“There’s lots more,” the girl said cheerfully, as Carlotta shuffled away.

She arrived at Biggerman’s office. Trina was there. She was wearing a pink minidress that was little more than an extended sweater. She was sitting at her desk, legs crossed casually, sharing a drink with a young co-worker. He was leaning on her desk lamp and looking down her cleavage.

“Trina, I, I need you — need you to help me,” Carlotta said. The young man looked up as she spoke. Carlotta felt the strong drink and the man’s happy stare hit her at once. She put one hand on the wall to steady herself. She felt giddy.

“Well, hey there, Carlotta,” Trina said. “So glad you could make it.” She got to her feet gracefully. She wore white platform sandals with tall wedge heels. “And just look at you. Girl you are wicked!”

Trina held Carlotta by the arms. She looked her up and down with approval. The man nearby had finally torn his eyes away from her legs and ass, only to have them lock onto her cleavage. Carlotta’s top presented her orbulent breasts like precious Faberge eggs on a red velour cushion.

“Tim, stop staring,” Trina said playfully. “Carlotta already knows she’s beautiful.”

Carlotta’s head was spinning. She was all too aware of what she and Trina had done a few days earlier. The man Tim looking her over with obvious sexual interest was heating her up further. She tried not to look at his crotch. She failed.

“Please,” she whimpered, “I’m here for my… my brieftop… and my lap dance… I mean, my laptop. My briefs case… and comp –”

“Oh, look,” Trina interrupted, pointing toward the ceiling, “Mistletoe!”

Quite suddenly she kissed her. The kiss was hot and urgent, on the lips. Trina was still holding her arms. Carlotta struggled vainly. She made little sounds in her throat. Trina used her tongue. She pressed her chest against Carlotta’s. Tim was still watching. Carlotta felt her whole body tremble.

Eventually the sex-bomb secretary let her go. Carlotta rocked back on her high heels. “You know what you need?” Trina cooed. She reached up with both hands, pulled the floppy red cap off her blonde curls and set it down on Carlotta’s head.

She adjusted the cap a little. Carlotta stood still, too stunned to react. “There now, you’re perfect,” Trina pronounced. She turned the other woman around. “Henry wants to see you,” she told her. “Don’t worry about your things, I’ll go get them for you.” She knocked on the door, then opened it and stuck her head in. “Carlotta is here, Henry.”

The door closed. Carlotta found herself standing in Biggerman’s corner office. A part of her mind registered absently that this was the only place in the building where Christmas music was not playing.

Biggerman had his feet up on the desk and a tall glass of champagne in one hand. Instantly Carlotta was struck by the animal handsomeness of the man. Virility and masculine self-assurance seemed to radiate out from him. With his defiantly uncut hair he reminded her of a long-maned lion overlooking his harem of well-serviced females. She felt herself moistening the thong beneath her short-shorts.

“Ms. Exquisito, how lovely to see you again,” Biggerman said. “And merry Christmas to you. Care for some champagne?” He looked her up and down, from the outrageous boots on her feet to the silly red cap on her head, and all the delicious, half-bare curves in between.

Carlotta shook her head, resisting the pulse of excitement his attention provided. Her breasts heaved beneath her halter-top. “You, you can’t do this to me”, she stammered. “I’m like, a barrister, not one of your. . . I won’t let you make me . . . I graduated fifth in my class!”

Biggerman swung his feet to the floor. “Yes, I know, very impressive. I’ve looked at your profile. I was hoping that we could discuss my offer of a position here. Have you had a chance to think about it? I could use a smart, dedicated lawyer on staff.”

“Who, me?” Carlotta said dully. “Work… for you? Oh. I, uhm, no, I don’t-” She didn’t feel confident to elaborate. She was rampantly horny. “I, I’m leaving now.” She turned toward the door.

Biggerman seemed surprised. “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. I was hoping that by now you would be . . . more agreeable. You’re tougher than I thought. You’re going to continue with this lawsuit then?”

Carlotta had one hand on the door. Her fingernails were the same shade as her shorts. “Lawsuit? Yes, the lawsuit. Yes, have to finish. I’m here only to… pick up… something…. my stuff.” It was hard to think.

Biggerman studied her. “Well then,” he said carefully, “all I can do is wish you the best of the season. And may I say — you look wonderful in red and black.”

“Ohhhhhhhh, godddd,” Carlotta swooned as a blast of sexual heat lanced through her. Bells went off in her head. She swayed on her high heels, nearly fell over. Biggerman steadied her gently.

“Easy there, girl. You’re turning as red as your shorts. I’m afraid you’ll black out.”

The dark-haired lawyer could only quiver in delight as another rocket of pleasure exploded in her brain. She moaned out loud and would have fallen had not Biggerman been there to catch her. He lead her to a sofa along one wall of the office.

Carlotta made a last attempt to protest. “No. no, please… I have to… oh god I feel so good… but please let me… mmmmmmmmmmm… so good…”

“You shouldn’t go anywhere for a minute or two. Here, settle down here for a moment.” He slid onto the sofa beside her. “You know, that outfit you’re wearing has all the Christmas colours: red, black, white and silver.”

Carlotta screamed out loud as the orgasm hit her. Her body shook and shivered in ecstasy. Pleasure circuits lit up, overloaded, and short-circuited.

When her eyes opened again, many seconds later, they were still glassy with lust. Carlotta had forgotten about the lawsuit, forgotten why she had come here. The intensity of her climax had driven every other thought out of her brain. She only knew that she was dying for sex, and the man most capable of satisfying her urgent need was sitting right beside her.

She flowed into Biggerman’s arms. She kissed him desperately. “Fuck me, you big handsome brute,” she begged, between kisses. “Fuck me right here, right now. Please! Screw me until my brains run out my ears.” She was tearing at his clothing. She tried to unbutton his shirt and unzip his fly at the same time. It went faster when Biggerman helped.

“Oh yes yes yes, drill me with that,” the lust-mad lawyer cooed when she saw the lump in his boxers. She was all over him then, kneeling on the couch with her face directly over his crotch as Biggerman lay back on the leather sofa. “I want you! I want your cock, your gorgeous big cock, I want it in me and never stop, I want, I want . . .mmmmmmmmmmmmm.” She slid her lips down over his shaft and began to suck hungrily.

Carlotta’s head nodded up and down, up and down, as she earnestly sucked Biggerman’s rod. The man lives up to his name, she thought wildly. The formerly feminist lawyer was an erotic sight, kneeling there on the couch with her ass stretching her shorts and her boobs falling out of her top. Glossy nylons shimmered on long legs. Seven-inch, silver-limned heels capped off her boot-clad feet.

She felt Biggerman stiffen. She pulled her lips away, panting.

“No, please,” she gasped, “not yet. I need you in me. Need you to fuck me.” She was already fighting with the belt on her crimson shorts. They slid down her legs and off, revealing her red T-thong and crotchless nylons. The thong was nothing, a mere target for his wang. Carlotta shuffled forward until she was astride him, then lifted herself up on her knees. She grasped his cock with one hand. “Oh yesssss,” she sighed as she impaled herself on him. “Fuck — me — with — that!”

Biggerman was more than willing to oblige. They bounced and gyrated happily on the big couch. Carlotta groaned and sighed and shouted encouragement to her lover. Biggerman tugged on the bow knot holding her bra-top together. It dissolved in his hands. Her bouncing boobs tumbled free.

“Look at you babe,” Biggerman grunted. “Your titties are all red.”

Carlotta felt her cunt muscles spasm around his cock as the orgasm overtook her. She let out a cry and fell forward, shaking in delight. She saw Biggerman stiffen beneath her and a moment later felt the eruption of his climax inside her. For a moment she lost consciousness.

Some time later Carlotta was flopped on the floor between Biggerman’s legs, languidly kissing and licking that man-sized member that had done so much for her. She was still wearing her black boots and her Christmas cap, but little in between. Her nylons were ripped. She was thinking, in an unhurried way, that if she could get Henry hard again he might be up for a third go. Or was it a fourth? It hardly mattered. Carlotta had come so many times in the past couple of hours she was sure her brain was permanently fried.

Biggerman poured himself a glass of champagne from the bottle chilling by the sofa. “So, my little Christmas trinket,” he said amiably, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to work for me? I can pay you a fair bit of silver.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmm,” Carlotta sighed as the keyword triggered a shiver of delight up her spine. She worked her tongue around his cock. “Mmmmmm, sounds yummy, baby” she murmured. “I’ll be your little sexpot lawyer. Your legal beagle babe. Make those busted bitches go ‘way.”

She tittered girlishly. Biggerman twitched. Another fuck was definitely a possibility.

“Can you do it, sweetmeat? Oh, oh man you have a great tongue.”

The lustful lawyer looked up at him adoringly. “Course I can, honey.” She kept her fingers busy where her mouth had been. “I graduated fifth ‘n my class.”

Biggerman grinned. He tossed off the last of the champagne. “Well then, consider yourself on the payroll. Now come here so I can give you your Christmas bonus.”

He slid down to join her on the deep-pile carpet. Carlotta spread her booted legs and her new boss slipped into her easily. They were both well-lubricated from the previous bangs. They fell into a steady, unhurried rhythm, the urgency of earlier calmed a little. Carlotta closed her eyes and savoured the fucking. Gentle Christmas tunes played endlessly in her mind. The music danced around the colours in her head: black, red, white, silver: rapture!рекламное агентство

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  1. Rebkka

    Love bimbo stories especially when Miss Goody learns sluttiness feels so good.

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