Skin-flick slut

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I looked down sheepishly; Phil kept leering at me from behind the desk. He was making me really nervous; I was quite used to being leered at, but this time it was a guy offering me a job. Not that he was bad looking – on the contrary, he was pretty gorgeous and had a nice body, and looked great in that casual suit, I'd been attracted to him from the second I walked into the room. But he was being really obvious about it; I could tell he wanted me to know that he approved of me. He let his eyes slide over my body from top to bottom, starting at my ankles and running slowly up my bare legs – I usually don't wear pantyhose to interviews. Then, he'd slowly stroke my upper thighs with his gaze, making sure I was watching as he examined my pale, bare flesh. I crossed and uncrossed my legs nervously, feeling my thighs rub sensuously together; every time I did, I could see him trying in vain to get a glimpse of my skirt. I was wearing the shortest decent skirt I owned; I always wore it to interviews because I knew what kind of effect it had on the interviewers. It was made out of thin, clingy silky material so that it showed a lot of the outline of my upper thighs – and occasionally when I walked it would sway up dangerously close to my buttocks. But for now I was sitting down, and Phil couldn't see a thing. I had to admit, though, it sort of turned me on to have this good-looking guy trying to get a glance up my skirt. After stroking my pretty ass as it pressed against the seat, Phil would look slowly over my midriff and my breasts, which stretched out through this tight Oxford shirt. He'd examine them closely, making my nipples feel all tingly as he looked; I could feel them getting hard after a while and knew that he had noticed from the tiny smile he gave me.

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