OK, first two apologies. One for each of my unfinished stories on here. I will finish them, I promise you. I even have some of it written, but real life has intruded in a dramatic and brutal way recently. So I have been more than a bit distracted. That aside, the lack of other updates on wonderful stories and bt wonderful writers on her has been a bit contagious. So I've neglected our lovely girls in the same way we all have I guess. But life has stabilised a bit now. Enough anyway for me to start daydreaming along the lines of 'what if...'

What if's are what starts me off. So here is a new story, which I hope you will like and more importantly for some, should provoke me into finishing Dirty Girl and Letter to Emily, my sadly neglected other projects. Anyway, enough of my inner angst, here is a dollop of Naomily angst and other emotions. Warning for a bit of heterosexual nonsense (not too explicit!) at first. Emily is paddling up that Egyptian river which Naomi Campbell usually makes her own territory. But she is about to be surprised...

Comments and reviews welcome as always. Criticism too, if it's constructive. Be gentle with me guys, its been a hard road back!

Oh, and if you haven't yet had the extreme pleasure of hearing a new song called 'Cartwheels' by a sisters band called Ward Thomas, you really need to. Such a beautiful song from a pair of girls from the UK. Beautiful song, beautiful women, what's not to like?

Emily

"Christ Em...yes...just like that, Oh fuck that's amazing babe" the man whispered hoarsely above her. Emily winced and tried not to think of the £150 she'd just wasted at Toni and Guys. Meaty hands scrabbling in her chestnut locks were undoing a whole 2 hours work by the stylist. She winced again as the man seated at his desk grunted low in his throat and gripped her head tighter. She'd done this enough times to know the signals. Her knees were hurting, despite the thickness of the office carpet and she was pretty sure at least one of the buttons on her silk blouse was gone. Bloody men and their obsession with tits. The fact that she was in this position at all was because she didn't want to leave Richard's office looking like she'd just been bent over his enormous desk and roundly shagged. She knew that her boss's PA was only at lunch for another 25 minutes, so a blow job seemed the sensible and least unpleasant option.

Not for the first time she thought sadly as she used her tongue and lips to finish him off as quickly as possible, wondering why the hell she let him use her like this whenever he felt like it. It's not as if they were in any kind of relationship, was it? OK, he'd obviously made it clear he fancied her, right from when she was a junior sales executive on probation, up until the drunken Christmas party when she finally let him have her in the hotel the whole company stayed overnight in. It could have been excused as a one off then...a mistake, blame the alcohol and that line of coke she scored off Darren in bought ledger, but a year later, now she'd been promoted to National Account Executive (not actually because of what she was doing now, but because her sales figures were head and shoulders above her colleagues) she was still doing it. In her heart, she knew that today's brief internal phone call for her to go to his office for a 'meeting' was a thinly disguised order for her to loosen her top and let him have some instant satisfaction. It was undoubtedly due to the recently departed Isabel, reporter for the Economist, with her soft hair and unfettered tits. Richard was always horny when the fragrant scribbler left him agitated and unsatisfied just by her presence. So Emily Fitch, National Accounts Executive with Jupiter Investments had the job of scratching her boss's itch instead.

He groaned above her again and she braced herself against his thighs with both hands, eyeing the fresh plastic cup of iced water she'd judiciously placed on the edge of the desk before kneeling in front of him.

A minute or so later, cold water consumed rapidly and the missing blouse button hidden under her blue work suit jacket, she was facing away from him as he rolled back in his leather chair, zipping up and sighing happily. She tutted as she reapplied crimson lipstick to her cupid bow lips. Her hair was unsaveable really, but she used brush and spray to rescue some of the expensive job her stylist had worked on not two hours ago. She could see him grinning dopily to himself in the large mirror as she fussed over her appearance. Men, she thought again with a trace of bitterness. Fucking pussies all of them. Led by their dicks, manipulated as easily as a mule. As Richard tapped at the laptop on his desk, already setting up a new deal presumably, she made a sour face at herself in the reflection.

"What are you fucking doing" she whispered almost inaudibly to herself.

Her conscience answered with cold logic.

"Banging your boss on command, like you have all year...way to go Emily" it jabbed at her.

A weird sensation of falling swept over her, something she was staring to get used to. Ever since she left Uni, it seemed she'd played this part to perfection. Get a highly paid job (and the £45,000 she was currently earning was the most money she had ever seen go into her current account in her life) keep on pushing wads of unspent cash into her escape fund and in a year or so, maybe two, drop the buttoned up pretence, drop out of the corporate world she suffered in silence and take a plane to Greece, buy a small bar/restaurant and live out the rest of her youth in the pursuit of sun and solitary pleasure.

Not the sort of pleasure she had just given Richard, she thought grimly as he continued to ignore her, tapping away at the keyboard, her presence almost certainly already forgotten. Maybe the sort of pleasure she had pushed firmly to the back of her mind for several years. The sort of pleasure she had briefly enjoyed at Uni...the sort of pleasure the blonde called Sarah had..."No", she chided herself silently, we're not going down that road today. It was unpleasant enough that she had just allowed herself to be used as a handy receptacle for her boss's second hand excitement, there was no point in reopening old wounds, was there?

Katie was meeting her for lunch and that would have to be her sole pleasurable experience of the day. Even if that meant enduring yet another hour of her sisters way too gynaecological descriptive powers. At least Katie was open and honest about her wants and needs. At least one of her mothers 'pretty twins' was happy in her work (and play) Emily would put on her game face, pretend to be excited for her older sister and fabricate an actual relationship with Richard that Katie would enjoy hearing about.

Twice now, Richard had allowed himself to be paraded as a fake 'older lover' Once at Easter, when her Dad held a barbecue at the new Fitch house, once on her birthday, when she knew a man would be essential to stop her mother and sister wondering yet again about her single status. Jenna had never got over catching Emily with Sarah in the dark conservatory three Christmas's ago. The resultant fallout had estranged them for almost a year and it took a mighty effort on Emily's part to convince her mother that snogging her so called friend was a one off, the result of too much mulled wine. Yeah, right...

Sarah had never forgiven her for the abrupt way she had helped her mother and sister usher her out of the Fitch house...on Boxing Day of all days. The relationship (because in her heart of hearts, she admitted that was what it was becoming) had not survived another 24 hours. When they returned to Uni, Sarah had moved rooms and never spoke to her again.

That was when the shell she had built around herself had started to harden. And now, years later, with her dream job and fake relationship with her married boss, she was as far from that happy place as it was possible to get.

Just one small problem, she supposed, putting the final flourish to her makeup, she was actually desperately unhappy. She hated sex, not just the recent oral demonstration she had given Richard, but any sex. Nasty, messy and exhausting. Those were the words she used to herself when she was being honest...which wasn't often.

She spun on her expensive black heels (a present from Richard when his wife was out of town), a carefully crafted serene smile on her face. Time to reappear as sweet, willing Emily. Richard hardly looked up from his screen in any case. Her job here was done...he was never one for small talk after sex anyway. The hotels they stayed in when he could get away were there for one purpose. After that, there was always a call to take, and email to answer.

"Right...I'm off then Richard...see you at the office meeting at 6?" she said brightly.

"Err...no, not tonight Emily" he said without looking up..."Melanie has her parents over for a meal tonight. Gavin will be holding the staff meeting. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Her face flushed both at his words and the sensation of being dismissed. Bastard, she thought bitterly, does he have to make me feel even cheaper than I already do?

But she kept the fixed smile on her face as she nodded at the top of his head and made her way across the carpet to the double doors. Unlocking them she started to walk out. At least Richards PA would still be at lunch, the walk of shame wouldn't be quite as painful. The boss had this floor to himself, so she would take the lift to the ground floor, then back up to her 5th floor, just in case anyone was watching her movements.

His cough stopped her.

"Oh Em...do me a favour, will you hun?...Lindsay in HR is off today, can you do the induction for the new girl in accounts?"

He pulled a slim brown folder from a small pile beside him.

"She's a post graduate student from your old Uni...be nice for her to have something in common with the first person she meets here. Let me see...oh yes. Naomi something or other.."

He stopped reading and looked up at her with an amused twinkle in his green eyes.

"Well...assuming she isn't the actual..." he chuckled faintly "Anyway...her first name is Naomi. Make her feel welcome and show her round the building? Her line manager will be Tony Stonem, so maybe you could give her a gentler introduction to the company. I'll have to have a word with Mr Stonem anyway, his last assistant Angela left under somewhat obscure circumstances, he really must try to keep his staff a bit longer..."

Emily kept her smile, but inside she was cursing.

Tony fucking Stonem was a 'legend' by his own admission. Richard knew as well as the rest of the staff that the reason he lost his assistants on a regular basis was because he was a serial seducer. Angela was just the latest to fall for his charms, only to find out she was a passing fancy. He'd already moved on to the dark haired girl in the post room. Emily hated men like Tony even more than she hated what she had become. She had no doubt the grapevine was fully aware she was fucking Richard. It was just self preservation that kept the gossips off her back. It didn't help her self worth to know that however.

So now she had to baby sit another prospective victim. If she knew Tony Stonem, this one would be tall and blonde too, probably with striking eyes. He had a type. Poor bitch, she thought dully even as she cheerily nodded her assent. Oh well, at least Stonem would leave her alone a bit longer. Even his ego hadn't been big enough to take on the alpha male in the Jupiter pack...

She took the lift down to the ground floor, checking again that no evidence of her recent indiscretion was visible on her clothing or skin. She shuddered at the thought, then stood to her full height before the doors opened.

XXX

Standing in the lobby, also checking her appearance was the person she was about to chaperone. The tall blonde chewed on her lip as she waited. She needed this job, she reminded herself, really needed it. Education is a wonderful thing and she'd spun it out as long as she and her mothers bank account could stand. But with a first in Economics and English and a post grad business diploma to add to her proud mums wall collection, there really wasn't anything else she wanted or needed to study. It was time to join the wage slaves earn some cash, save up enough for her planned round the world trip and get the fuck out of this shitty town.

The lift doors opened and a smartly dressed woman her own age stepped confidently out. She had time to note the expensive shoes and suit, then the beautifully cut dark hair before a pair of expressive brown eyes regarded her doubtfully.

"Fuck, she's beautiful"...was her first thought, closely followed by "I would really, really like to get to know her"

But years of experience dealing with attractive but unobtainable straight girls gave her enough control to cover her interest in the small figure in front of her. For fucks sake Naomi, she scolded herself, she's almost certainly straight, way above my pay grade, and by the looks of it, might even be my new boss.

Going up in the lift with Emily Fitch, it didn't take long for reality to bite. She wasn't going to be her new boss, but by the clipped and uber detached way she spoke, she wasn't likely to be anything else either. Not in this life.

She listened to the scripted monologue as they ascended the building. Oh well, she though, at least she's pretty...

Shortish intro, just to see if anyone is interested. No bolt of lightning yet. No coup de feudre. But it's Naomily...there's always hope, yeah?

Feel free to comment, flame or switch off now!