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Archive-name: Working/

Archive-author: Nikolai Alekseivitch Kingsley

Archive-title: Merseya's Gifs

  ... that week i was going around to all the company's PCs, updating

the  network  software;  at  one  point  i  found myself alone in the

manager's  office  with  his  secretary,  Marseya.   She has a lovely

precise,  British  accent, which contrasts in an interesting way with

her  exotic  asian  looks;  dark brown shoulder-length hair, her lips

ever  pursed  on  the  edge  of  a  smile.   Her dress-sense... neat?

neatness isn't quite the word (although it would have been impossible

to  describe  her  as  untidy)...  fashionable?  i can't see her as a

slave  to the  dictates of others when it comes to clothes; all i can

say is  that  what  she  wore accentuated her slight figure in a very

attractive way.

  She  stayed  with  me while i was installing the updates, asking me

about  myself  as we waited for the software to de-compress.  i was a

bit  wary  at  first...  if she was a social climber, then she had no

good reason to talk to me (scum-bag that i am :-)... in retrospect, i

suppose  it was because she was one of the world's very few Genuinely

Nice People.

  i ran into a problem;  it seemed that the hard disk was almost full

and  the  temporary  working  space  required  by  the software as it

decompressed  wasn't  available.   `that's  a  60  meg  hard disk,' i

thought  to  myself,  `it  can't be full of word-processing documents

already; they've only had it for two months.'

  `Is  something  wrong?'  she  asked, her beautiful face shadowed by

concern.  I started looking around the hard disk, trying to find what

was taking up so much space.   There were one or two games, as usual;

she  admitted  that  the  manager played them sometimes during lunch.

However,   taking  up  almost  twenty  megabytes  was  an  impressive

collection  of  GIF files, some of which i recognised by their names;

`3GIRLS.GIF', `COUPLE2.GIF', `HORNY.GIF', and so on.

  `Are these his as well?' i asked with a wry grin.

  `Those are mine.'  she replied evenly.  I raised an eyebrow.

  `Imagine  that.   Can  you afford to lose about a dozen of them?' i

was surprised at her rueful expression.

  `Is that really necessary?  Can't we upload them to the fileserver,

or put them onto floppies,  or something?'   I like the `we' part,  i

thought.  Very conspiratorial.

  `We can't  access  the  server until the new network software is in

place...  and the new software won't be in place until we free up ten

megabytes  of  disk  space.   Do  you  have any blank floppies?'  She

spread her empty hands.

  `You  know  what  the  supply  department  is  like.  Oh well,' she

scowled,  `I shouldn't really have them on here anyway.' I started up

a  directory  utility,  allowing her to select and delete files which

she felt she could do without.   She freed up six megs,  but couldn't

decide which of the fifty-odd files that remained should go.   `Could

I  look  at  them  again?   It would help decide which ones to kill.'

Suppressing  a smile that threatened to turn into a lascivious smirk,

i nodded,  ran  my  handy-dandy  GIF viewer (don't leave home without

it!) and loaded the first file.  for a moment, i forgot to breathe...

two very attractive girls in a black marble bath-tub were caressing a

third,  sitting  on  the  edge  with  her  thighs  wrapped around the

water-spout.   All  three were naked; i didn't have to look very hard

to  see  that the third girl was Marseya.  `No, i'd like to keep that

one.' she murmured.  I could understand why!

  The  second  was  a  close-up  shot  of Marseya's face, showing her

draining  the  last  drops from a bottle of Perrier.  Her eyes burned

with lust,  her  tongue  caressing  the circle of the bottle's mouth.

  `Ah... next...'  i said, clearing my throat.  She smiled.  The next

two  files  had become corrupted somehow; i could just make out naked

figures  contorted  into vaguely tantric yoga positions.   We deleted

them and continued.

  The  next  one  was  in clip-art resolution - black and white - and

while  it  was  rather nicely Floyd-Steinberg dithered, i had to move

back a few feet from the screen and squint before i saw the image.

  `Is that YOU?'


  `Doesn't that hurt?'  she slipped her arm around my shoulder.

  `At  first...'   I  took  a  deep  breath and passed on to the next

image.  After seeing the clip-art image, i didn't think that anything

else  could shock me... which was a pretty naive attitude to have.  i

could  only  stare  at  the screen, feeling the pixels slowly burning

holes in my retinas.   She knelt down next to my chair,  and i became

acutely aware of her proximity, the arousing aura of her perfume.  it

reminded me of something.   i realised that i was still sitting there

with my mouth open; i turned to her and said,

  `i never would have suspected that...'

  `that someone like me would do something like that?'

  `... that  someone like you would allow yourself to be photographed

doing something like that.   You don't strike me as someone who would

even think about bestiality,  much less...' i gestured at the screen.

Marseya's  face  lost  all traces of emotion,  becoming a blank mask.

the sudden change made me feel that i'd  slapped her across the face,

causing her to retreat.  she said, quietly,

  `You must think i'm some sort of pervert.' and she got up to leave.

i  grabbed  her  hand, forcing her to look at me as i put on the most

serious expression i had.  i said,

  `Not  at  all.  This looks a lot like my GIF collection, actually.'

some animation returned to her face.

 `You collect GIFs?  Like these?'  i smiled.

  `If you'd like to drop in to my place tonight, i'll show you.'  she

returned my smile warmly;  i felt a surge of something inside me that

was more intimate and somehow more noble than plain lust;  it was the

feeling of  two  wanderers meeting,  finding  that  they had the same

destination and that they were no longer alone.

         -           -           -           -           -

  that evening, i rushed about my room, picking clothes off the floor

(where they'd been lying for days) and stuffing them into the clothes

basket.   i  kicked the bedclothes into a heap,  then decided to make

the bed, to try and show that  i wasn't a complete slob.  i put on my

`motivation to make the bed' CD  (The Butthole Surfers'  `Hairway  to

Steven'),  and  got  to it.  The music was so loud that i didn't hear

Marseya come in through the unlocked front door.  i was singing along

with the CD;

  `Whaddaya  know  about reality... i AM reality...' when, out of the

corner  of  my  eye,  i  caught a glimpse of her, leaning against the

doorway  and  smiling.   i stared at her for a moment, biting my lip.

she  was  dressed  casually;  a  Country Road windcheater with ragged

cuffs;  a pair of faded denims and scuffed Reeboks.  when compared to

the  icy  Secretarial  Standard  Image that she presented at work, it

didn't  look  scruffy,  but rather, more personal, comfortable; as if

the way she dressed at work didn't express her real personality.  and

besides,  i found myself very attracted to the way the denim followed

the  curves  of  her thighs and hips.  i tried not to look like i was

staring at the subtle shifting  of her obviously unrestrained breasts

underneath  the windcheater as she  regarded the room,  taking in the

`Eraserhead'  and  Skinny  Puppy  posters,  the uneven stacks of CDs,

videotapes and floppy disks,  my personal computer  which took up all

of the wide desk.   I presented her with a chair, inviting her to sit

in front of the PC, gesturing with exaggerated servility.  she smiled

sweetly, accepting the glass of moselle that i offered.

  i  had  prepared  a `slideshow' of GIFs that started out with soft-

core  `cheesecake'  and progressed steadily into the areas that she'd

hinted at earlier.  in lieu of a second chair, i kneeled down next to

her, and started the show.  i was somewhat surprised when she took my

hand,  holding  it  between hers as the images marched past, and even

more  surprised  when,  as the first of what i called the `really raw

images' appeared,  she pressed my hand between her thighs.  i glanced

at her;  she  was  completely entranced with the image on the screen,

and  probably  wasn't even aware that she was rubbing her crotch with

my  hand.   i wasn't going to point this out - in case she decided to


  i  watched  her intently, noting her interest betrayed by tell-tale

flickers of her eyes as the GIFs became less `vanilla'.   i could see

a  tiny  reflection  of  the screen in her eyes, just large enough to

show  sufficient  detail  to  determine which GIF she was looking at.

eventually,  she got to what i considered to be the most explicit GIF

in  the  collection;  a  naked  young girl with long bronze-red hair,

kneeling  underneath  a  huge  black stallion, grasping its monstrous

erection and kissing the end.  she gave a start when it flashed up on

the screen,  and  suddenly  realised  that  my hand was firmly wedged

between  her  thighs  and  under  the seat.  for a moment, she didn't

move,  as  if  trying  to think of a polite way of backing out of the

situation.   Almost  as if in a dream, i found myself reaching around

her  waist  with  my  other  arm, hugging her to me, pressing my face

against her side,  moving up to press my lips against the soft warmth

of her breast.   Keeping one hand over mine, squeezing it between her

thighs,  she  stroked  my  face with the other, running it through my

hair,  down  my  neck,  slipping  it under the collar of my shirt and

massaging  my  shoulder.  i felt her heartbeat, heard her sigh as she

drew  a  deep  breath,  feeling  her ribs expand, gently pushing back

against my face.   i moved my other hand underneath the waist-band of

her windcheater,  stroking  her side, cupping her breast and trapping

the  nipple  with  my  index and middle fingers.  at the same time, i

slowly  ran  the  thumb  of  my  other  hand  along  the  rough denim

jeans-seam  that  was  drawn up between her buttocks.  she shuddered,

drawing another deep breath.

  i slowly levered the reclining chair back, bringing her face almost

level  with  mine.   my  lips  moved up over her breast, nuzzling her

collarbone,  delicately teasing her pulsing throat with the tip of my

tongue.   she sighed faintly in time with the rhythmic motions of our

hands  between  her  legs (which were becoming slower as she lost the

will  to  resist  clamping her thighs together), her sighs muted to a

soft  humming  as  our  lips met.  playfully, i dug the knuckle of my

thumb  into her; she gave a start, her breath tickling my cheek.  she

drew her legs up,  turning on her side to face me,  putting her other

arm  around  my  neck;  the  reclining chair wobbled unsteadily for a

moment,   her  eyes  widened   as  she  felt  her  sense  of  balance

disappearing,  and  the chair toppled over on its side,  spilling her

over on top of me.

  for  a  moment,  she  kneeled  astride  me,  too  surprised  to say

anything.   Then we both  began laughing, which gradually degenerated

into  muffled  snickers  as  we  kissed again.  She lay on top of me,

holding  my  arms  outstretched flat against the floor, slowly moving

her  lips  against  mine.   her warm, wet mouth occasionally twitched

into a smile as her laughter threatened to erupt again.  i managed to

slide  my  arms  down  to my sides, break free of her hold and run my

hands underneath her windcheater and along her back, hugging her soft

body  to mine.   She made the most sensuous sound i have ever heard -

somewhere  between  a  moan  and  a squeal - and brought her knee up,

pressing it against my crotch.   My hands wandered over the exquisite

texture  of  thin  denim  stretched over her thighs, the folds in the

material  where it rippled along her hip, the insistent resilience of

her  rear.   We  were pressed tightly together, hardly moving at all;

her  fingers slowly entwined themselves in my hair; i undid the brass

stud at the front of her jeans, then traced her spine along her lower

back,  down  underneath  her  behind and nestled three fingers in the

damp warmth there.   My  erection pressed against the smooth cylinder

of her thigh, through two layers of denim.  she pressed back, my lips

sensing her smile as she noted the immediate reaction.   In return, i

slowly pressed my middle finger  past the lips of her vagina, causing

her to arch her back,  angling her slit so that i could slip all four

fingers  into her and pressing  her breasts against my chest.   While

she held my head still with one hand, clutching a handful of my hair,

her other  hand  fiddled  with the stud on my jeans, flipping it free

and  then drawing the zipper down.  She then thrust her hand down the

front  of  my  underpants,  grabbing  my erection and my aching balls

together, slowly squeezing.

  at  this point,  we decided that it would be a good time to get the

rest of our clothes off and move to the bed.


august 1991


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