China Doll

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A sexy secretary with a mysterious secret.
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I stared at the flickering computer screen and watched the spreadsheet in front of me curl together like day-old gravy. It was like a slow leak of gray matter was collecting in puddles across my desktop. Two million dollars in savings needed to be squeezed from a budget already gutted beyond recognition and I had a better guess why the Mona Lisa was smiling than I did for finding the missing money.

I know it sounds like I'm whining. From the outside looking in, executive life can seem pretty sweet. There's the country club membership, the corporate jet, the client schmooze events at five-star-resorts. Things could be worse, for sure. But peel back the flashy exterior and it can be a pressure cooker on the inside. The markets are more cutthroat than ever, eating bigger chunks of its young each day. All of us are expected to do more with less, do it faster, and, oh yeah, do it with a fucking smile too. I shouldn't forget the action item for replacing my beer-drinking-buddy's job with a half-priced Indian three oceans over. Most days it feels like one big corporate gang bang where guys like me are the lubricated guest of honor.

The door to my office cracked open and my temporary secretary, Mei Lin, peeked inside. She was just finishing her first month on the job since arriving on assignment from our Tokyo branch. The company had started a new employee exchange program, swapping personnel between international divisions to strengthen our "global diversity". In Mei Lin's case, she was here to fill in for Diane, my long-standing secretary who was on extended sabbatical taking care of a newly arrived granddaughter.

"Excuse please, Mr. Handee," Mei Lin said.

He voice was tiny and hesitant. I motioned for her to step inside. "Come in, Mei Lin . . . it's alright."

She stepped forward, bowing slightly as she approached my desk. Immediately I noticed something peculiar. It was her eyes. Large, dark, and almond shaped, they were normally bright and expressive, but today they were puffy and strained, like she had been crying.

"Your business person not on time," she told me.

"I'm . . . sorry?"

Her brow furrowed as she formed her words. "Your business person . . . Mr. Preston Sinclair . . . he not here."

I looked at the clock. "Preston's not supposed to be here for another fifteen minutes."

More confusion on her face. That part was normal. Mei Lin barely spoke English, something that was carefully masked on her transfer documentation as 'acceptable to function on a foreign assignment'. I took that to mean she could stumble through daily conversations and stumble we often did.

I tapped the face of my watch. "Not time, yet, Mei Lin. The meeting is at four."

I held up some fingers for emphasis.

She shook her head. "No . . . he not here . . . he not coming here."

"Ohhhh . . . you mean he cancelled?" I gave a 'no more' motion with my hands. "He's not coming at all?"

She smiled encouragingly and bowed again. "Yes, please . . . not coming at all."

I removed my glasses and squeezed the bridge of my nose. I'd counted on Sinclair to help with the missing pieces of this financial jigsaw puzzle I was trying to solve and finding him missing in action was only making a difficult situation harder.

"Figures," I answered. There was a moment of silence as I weighed my options. "I really need that data he's got."

Mei Lin stared at me, her hands laced in front of her, but said nothing.

"Oh well," I continued. "Just have to make do, I guess. Thanks for telling me."

I went back to work, but felt her presence linger. When I looked back, she was standing at the edge of my desk and watching me.

"I go now," she finally said, starting to turn away.

"Mei Lin?"

She paused, then turned back, her puppy-dog eyes pleading. "Yes please, Mr. Handee?"

I hesitated before addressing the obvious. I really didn't have time to play Dr. Phil. With Sinclair blowing me off, the job in front of me was looming. Still, I could tell the woman had more to say.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

No sooner had my sentence finished that she broke down in tears. Even on my best day, which this definitely wasn't, I'm not good with weeping females. I reached to the credenza behind me and grabbed the box of tissues, pushing it across the desk. "Here . . . sit down."

She took a tissue from the box and sat in the opposing chair. Chauvinist that I am, it was hard not to notice how her knee-length skirt rose when she crossed her legs. Her business attire for the day was a form-fitting, lavender skirt, pleated all around. It cupped her narrow waist, then flared slightly across her hips. Her blouse was a lighter lavender, the top two buttons unfastened to reveal a slender neckline and a wisp of cleavage. While it was a professional and unassuming look, it definitely tugged at my imagination in a variety of inappropriate ways.

"Mr. Handee," she said between sniffles, dabbing her nose and tugging her skirt to cover her exposed knee. "Why nobody like me?"

"Not like you? Why do you say that?"

"None of ladies talk to me. I try and be nice and they not talk back . . . seem mad at me and I no do anything for them to be mad at me?"

So that was it. I suppressed a smile. Being liked wasn't Mei Lin's problem, but I could see how she might feel that way. The men in our office, particularly my executive peers, quite liked her. My little 'China Doll' doll, they liked to call her. It wasn't worth trying to explain that she was from Japan and not China. I've heard more than a few water-cooler jokes about how tasty she would look in one of those cute little schoolgirl uniforms so popular in Asian adult videos.

While I'd guess her age between twenty and twenty-five, she had a young face laced with innocence combined with a rocking little Asian body that appears barely legal, baby-smooth skin, and ass-length raven hair that swings two and fro as she hurries about the executive halls. She was definitely admired—actually, lust would be a better description—but admired all the same.

While the male executives lusted, the female executives sneered, and I'm sure that was the source of her isolation. Simply put, women in our office can be catty when they're jealous and many were just that. They didn't like the attention Mei Lin drew from the men, which led to quick branding that she possessed more empty sex appeal than professional competence. I didn't think she noticed, but obviously I was wrong.

I spent the next few minutes trying to reassure her. I knew the language barrier between us only made for limited understanding, but she seemed to sense my sincerity.

"You're doing a great job, Mei Lin . . . we're lucky to have you here. You just keep doing the best job you can do and the others will come around. I promise."

She smiled, stood up, wiped her tears, and came around the desk to hug me. Not only did she look good, but she smelled wonderful.

"Thank you, Mr. Handee," she said, her arms hugging my neck, my nose nestled against the opening in her blouse. "You always be so nice. I go back to work now."

Her perfume stayed with me as she pulled away. "You're welcome," I said.

I turned to my computer so she wouldn't see me blush and was faced with the murky spreadsheet.Sinclair, you bastard, I thought to myself. He'd pay for blowing me off. "What a day," I whispered under my breath.

I closed my eyes, squeezed the side of my neck, and leaned my head in a stretch intended to break the gathering tension. At this rate, I wouldn't be home until after midnight.

Expecting Mei Lin to leave, I was startled when she returned and her hands began massaging my shoulders. Her strength was even more surprising. The woman couldn't weigh ninety pounds soaking wet, yet her fingers dug into me like they were banded in steel.

"Mei Lin help Mr. Handee feel better," she said.

In her country, the cultures and business climate are dramatically different than the United States. Males are dominant and I suspect shoulder massages were all but commonplace in her home office, if not part of a secretary's core job duties. How could I explain that life in the states was different? Very different. In fact, it could be pretty easy to misinterpret what was happening if somebody walked in and saw us like this.

I placed my hands on hers. "Mei Lin . . . that's very nice . . . but really, not necessary."

Once again, my words weren't registering. Her fingers only moved lower and her grip tightened.

"Sitting tight, Mr. Handee."

I chuckled at her misuse of the language. In truth, as irregular as the moment was, she was doing a damn good job of unwinding my stress. It seemed her job training extended to massage techniques, as she alternated with her elbow to apply pressure points that were painful at first, yet sent tingling sensations down my spine that left the surrounding muscles noticeably limber. As much as I needed to stop her, I kept buying a few extra seconds, as it felt too damn good. The more I gave in, the more I rationalized. She initiated the moment. It wasn't like I coerced her. For that matter, it was just a neck massage . . . no inappropriate lines being crossed. If she could help me to loosen up, I might actually find the missing money. A 'win win', if ever I heard of one.

"Feels good, Mei Lin . . . thank you."

After a few steady minutes, her hands slowed, then stopped. With one palm still on my shoulder, she stepped to the side and stared down at me. "Mr. Handee like more?"

It was a question I allowed to linger, my gaze traveling up her pleated skirt and across her perky breasts as I considered all the inappropriate ways to answer. When our eyes met, she had a knowing smile, as if she could read my lecherous thoughts.

I cleared my throat and tried to remain composed. "That was very beneficial," I said. "I feel like a million dollars . . . or that I might find that two million I'm looking for."

Her head tipped to the side and her long hair fell across her chest as her brain worked to interpret my words. "You like?" she repeated.

I nodded vigorously. "Very much . . . very good." I took her hand in mine and stroked her fingers. "Very strong hands," I said.

She thought for a moment, then looked inquisitive. "You like . . . more?" she asked.

I laughed and gave her hand a squeeze. Her flesh was warm. "I'm okay now. Strong hands. Very helpful. Thank you."

Her expression changed. Gone for a moment was anything forced. I still detected a smile, but more genuine than before, with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

My heartbeat quickened when she leaned down and placed her tiny hand on my crotch. Her almond eyes met with mine. "Mei Lin help Mr. Handee to not sit so tight?"

My cock twitched and began to swell. I delicately lifted her fingers as my heart raced. "That's not . . . I mean, very nice of you to offer, butnot what I meant."

She hesitated, then looked at me seriously. "Mr. Handee always nice to Mei Lin. Mei Lin want to be nice to Mr. Handee. Help him not sit so tight. Help him feel nice."

I laughed nervously. "Well, that's a very generous offer, but I need to pass."

She pushed her hair over her shoulder and walked to the door. I swallowed hard as she turned the latch into a locked position before returning to where I was seated.

"Mei Lin . . ." I said.

There was no reply as her thighs brushed against mine. Before I could say anything further, she dropped to her knees and shuffled towards me before spreading my legs.

"Mei Lin—" I whispered again, the words catching in my throat.

She looked up at me and smiled, pushing me back into the chair before her fingers loosened my tie.

"Mei Lin help Mr. Handee feel nice," she said, staring up at me with those innocent brown eyes.

My tie hit the floor and I took in a sharp breath. Her palms returned to my shoulders, ran down my chest, and settled on my belt buckle. One hand began unfastening while the other massaged the outline of my cock. I was fully erect, struggling to think of something other than how delicious her mouth looked.

"Not a good idea—" I finally managed.

"Not good?" she said, feigning concern. "Mr. Handee not like Mei Lin either?"

I inched my ass slightly off the chair as she traced the outline of my erection with her fingertips, draining my willpower. "I like you very much," I said.

She smiled again. "Mei Lin like you too."

Was I out of my mind? That was an easyyes. But at that moment, I was so overcome with a twisted blend of tension and desire that thinking straight seemed impossible.

I began to itemize the situation: late in the day; office almost empty; Sinclair canceling our meeting.What the fuck? It added up to a calculated risk, as impromptu as it all started. I leaned across, grabbed the box of tissues, and pulled it to the edge of the desk. Mei Lin smiled. Through all the false starts, we were definitely communicating now.

I licked my lips and studied her features as she continued stroking me through my pants. Her cheeks were high, her lips glistening under a coat of wet pink gloss, parting to reveal a gorgeous, white smile.

"Mei Lin helping Mr. Handee to not sit tight?" she asked again, this time more playfully.

My eyes fluttered and I smiled. "About to . . . about to help a lot . . ."

With her lower lip pinched in her teeth, she dragged down my zipper and slipped her fingers into the opening of my trousers, inching deeper while attempting to fish out my cock. I loosened the last few buttons of my shirt to create an empty space that exposed my stomach—a space that would hopefully catch any happiness before it spilled into a hard-to-explain stain.

Keep the pants on . . . take them off . . .? There needed to be a plan should my office door suddenly spring open. Odds for that happening were low, but still, I stood a better chance at recovery if I stayed dressed than if my pants were tangled around my ankles. Truth be told, if somebody did walk in, I'd be busted in a way that couldn't be explained.

Fuck it. If I was going to bet my livelihood on a moment of indiscretion, I might as well be comfortable.

"Just a second," I said.

I forked a thumb in each side of my pants and shoved them downward to a mid-thigh level. Mei Lin caught on immediately, shuffling back on her knees and untying my shoes before removing my socks. She stood up, grabbed the cuffs of my suit pants and walked backwards. After removing my boxers, I was naked from the waist down. It was a delightfully sinful moment, sitting there exposed and stroking myself while I watched her neatly fold my pants, socks, and finally the shoes. It was like having my own, private geisha.

Once finished, she returned to her place between my legs. She nestled closer, her head tilting curiously to the side as her eyes fell to my cock, now fully engorged and pleading for her attention. She moved my hand aside and replaced it wither hers, using her long, red fingernail to tickle and tease the sensitive head before wrapping her fingers around me and squeezing.

Her hands were so small that it made my erection throb. I held on to the chair handles while she slid her clenched fist up and down my length. Like the shoulder massage earlier, she seemed practiced. After a few seconds of delicious stroking, she slid her thumb across the tip, masterfully spreading a layer of pre-cum across the spongy knob and down the sides before pumping me faster. I held my breath in a weak attempt to stay quiet, but I was proving unsuccessful.

"Good?" she asked in that same tiny voice, the squeaking sound getting louder as her wet palm rode up and down my shaft.

I nodded, clutched for breath, and then gasped.

"More, Mr. Handee?"

I covered her hand with mine and slowed her down. She looked at me expectantly. Leaning forward, I caressed her cheek, then moved lower and unfastened the top button of her blouse. I didn't want sex. I just wanted to see more of her delicious body when I came. Her gaze fell to my hands and she watched what I was doing, saying nothing. Still, I sensed her hesitance. My heart was beating wildly when her eyes returned to mine.

"I just want to look at you while you do this. Nothing more. Just look . . . you're so beautiful. Do you understand?"

She said nothing and picked up where I left off, working the buttons of her blouse downward, one after another, until the matching lavender bra hidden beneath came into view. Her breasts weren't overly large, but her frame was small, making them appear crowded in her bra. Resting between her cleavage was a small half-moon pendant dangling on a spaghetti-thin gold chain. It was a sensational view.

I watched as she finished unbuttoning the blouse, first pulling the tails from inside her skirt, and then unlacing her arms. She tossed the top to the chair where my clothes were folded before reaching behind her back and working loose the clasp of her bra. She braced her arm across her chest to hold her bra in place, hiding her nipples as she slid off the shoulder straps, one after the other. Her shyness was only fueling my desire.

"You're a beautiful woman, Mei Lin," I said, stroking my erection as I watched her.

After a few seconds, my cock still in hand, I leaned forward and slowly caressed her arm before gently tugging it away and removing the bra to reveal her chest. Her breasts were full and natural, with delightfully plump nipples that were larger than I expected. She was blushing as I playfully tossed the bra behind me and out of view. We laughed, breaking the tension.

I leaned back in the chair and worked my hand faster, drinking in her nudity. She played along, running her fingertips over her mouth before making wet circles around each areola. The whole eroticism of the moment was leaving me crazy.Was this turning her on as much as it was me?

She moved closer and her breasts brushed against my bare legs. Her hand replaced mine. This time she was all business. Nothing gentle. No teasing. She had a grip on my shaft and pumped my cock with both hands, one holding the base, the other stroking, then both stroking together. Her tits jiggled with the pounding motion as her eyes stayed locked with mine. I wanted to speak, wanted to convey how fucking incredible it felt, but the sentences wouldn't form. I could sense the warmth start to gather as my orgasm approached. My knuckles turned white as I squeezed the chair handles.

"Going to come," I managed, having no clue if she understood.

She processed my message. Only a few more seconds to eruption and, without warning, she slowed down, staying off my climax. I gasped, then laughed, as my need for release reached a fever pitch. She giggled at my frustration and, I'm sure, enjoyed the spell she had over me.

"Let me touch you," I said.

She said nothing in return. Without warning, her head fell to my lap and I felt her warm, wet mouth take me in.

"Oh, fuck—" I gasped.

Her motion was at first slow and methodical as she sucked, the thick shaft sliding effortlessly between her cheeks. Then she tightened her mouth around me, drawing me deeper with increased friction. After a few seconds, she came up for air and looked up at me with those almond eyes as her tongue swirled around the head and she pumped the shaft. A thick strand of pre-cum stretched from her bottom lip to my cock. Before I could speak, I was back in her mouth, her head rising and falling against my lap, my erection appearing and disappearing between her cheeks. Her lips closed tighter and locked around the sensitive head as I felt her tongue slide back and forth, tickling until my legs shook with pleasure.. The approach of my orgasm began a new ascent. Building. The temperature climbing. My breath growing more shallow.

"Mei Lin . . . stop . . . can't—"