It's Tuesday at 12:07PM. The phone rings. It's him. Mr. Fahrenheit or whatever. And you answer with a smile already on your lips. "Well hello Sir... you're seven minutes later than usual. Something holding you up?"
He chuckles at you. "From my favorite kitten? Nothing could."
You enjoy casual conversation with him. You're familiar with each other now. And it's nice to chat a little with someone you're comfortable with before getting to work.
You enjoy his calls. Mr. Farenheit calls at noon sharp on Tuesdays and Thursdays, your usual business days. You've come to expect him. It's rare that he's even a minute late.
"Well, I'm glad you called. I was starting to worry.." You realize you sound like a girlfriend a second too late, so you quickly add, "What'll it be today, Sir?" in your chipper tone.
"Hmm, I don't know. Any ideas?" he asks, but your mind is blank too.
"Nothing comes to mind...want something new?"
"Yeah, I like mixing it up...wait, kitten? Wanna do something edgy for me?"
That makes you nervous. You gulp. "Depends on what it is."
You hear Mr. Fahrenheit's grin in his tone, which makes you even more nervous. "I'm gonna sit in a public place. I want you to finger that cute, gushing pussy open and moan in my ear and tell me allll about what you're doing, and what you want me to do to you, all the details, and I'm going to pretend I'm having a normal business conversation. Got that?"
Your heart rate rises a little. He knows now that you actually cum during your calls, and just how to get you going, but he's never asked for exhibitionism. "You want me to try to get you in trouble?"
"Hah. No, kitten.. not at all." Mr. Fahrenheit's tone is so light, but it turns dark very quickly on the next phrase. "I just want you to beg for me while I take care of some business. You can do it, can't you? Be a good girl?"
You don't know about this. It's new. But you know you can handle it. "Okay Sir, I can do that."
"Mm, that's my lady. Ready? Put your fingers on your tits. Start there. Ask my permission to do anything else."
You obey, describing what you're up to. "Yes, sir.. I'm sliding my hand up my stomach, and pushing my shirt up -bra too- to sit on top of my breasts. Now I'm rubbing the underside of one, it's sensitive and delicate there, you know?"
"Always a good place to start," he adds. You hear a door shut, and he continues. "I'm out for a walk, got something I need to do before I forget. Go ahead."
You take a breath. You steady yourself and your nerves before continuing. "Okay. I'm moving on to my nipple now, rubbing a nail over it gently until it's puffy and stiffens, and it hurts when I squeeze it. But a good kind of hurt."
"Good, yeah, that sounds good," he says, keeping up his end of the conversation. You hear him getting out of an elevator, walking on some pavement, and someone calls out to him, though you can't hear. He pulls the phone away slightly and says, "Good afternoon!" but that's all you hear before he's back. 'Sorry, where were we?"
You feel dirty already. He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be out in public. "I'm still rubbing on my nipple, and pulling a little," you inhale through your teeth, "That feels good, but ow."
He chuckles. "Good.. good job. Now move on."
"To the other nipple?"
"Mm.. how about something lower?" he says. His voice is so casual that he could very well be talking about equipment prices. But you can only imagine the heat in his eyes.
