This is my first smut story and the plot is not actally mine. Probaly in this story Itachi is going to be very OOC. Sorry.


I groaned softly as I settled back at my desk, reaching down surreptitiously to massage one of my calves.

"Too many trips to the coffee machine again, Sakura-san?" My boss Itachi Uchiha asked.

I bit back a mean remark since it was him that wanted me to get coffee, but he was already back through her office door, letting it swing mostly closed as he settled in. I shook my head and shifted my massage to my sore feet. It certainly wasn't my fault they installed the coffee machine on the other side of the floor – and it wasn't Itachi's fault that he needed coffee five times a day.

I'd been Diane's assistant for almost a year now. I had needed a break from the medical field and my friend, Sasuke Uchiha had intrduce me to his brother who didn't want to take over his family business and decided to open a law firm. I got the job becasue I was one of the few that didn't dawn over him -thank kami I grew out of that faze- and also knew his brother.

Itachi also had two paralegals who worked for her, but I rarely saw them much. They worked on another floor of the office building where the law firm had its offices, and we shared them with two other such firms, so I basically only knew them as names on interoffice mail envelopes.

He practiced mostly as a trial consultant to larger firms. He still cut quite an imposing figure on the rare occasions when he actually went to a trial, though – tall, fit, dark hair, long legs, cold black eyes that seemed to turn red when angry – he was the very image of a ruthless, bloodsucking lawyer.

I thought he was actually a pretty nice woman, myself – quiet and private about himself, but always composed, and helpful. He was also one of the few lawyers I'd met that didn't treat their assistants like slaves – he wasn't one of those fruity saccharine types either. When he asked you to call her Itachi, it wasn't patronizing. When he asked you to get coffee for him, it was because he couldn't get it herself at the moment, being stuck on a conference call or coming in a bit late and needing to rush straight to a meeting.

Of course, by this point in my career with him, I'd barely gotten up the courage to call him anything at all. I'm what you'd call the shy type. Very petite from head to toe, bright pink hair, big green eyes, a forehead that was still too wide for a twenty year old, and a body that I worked hard on but seemed capable of attracting attention only from married men a quarter-century older than me. The fact that I hadn't been on a date with a boy since middle school didn't help with that at all. Because most guys think I'm too much of a workaholic.

Itachi, on the other hand, had girl from the ages of 8-70 that fawn over him, he was just that good looking. But I had heard from Sasuke about an arranged marriage but other then that nothing and he certainly wasn't going to talk about his love life with me. He was one of those people who you'd finish telling your life story to and then realize he hasn't said a thing about himself.

So far, my time working for him had consisted entirely of variations on the exchange I just mentioned, though – basic pleasantries, small talk, and the like. We'd had a couple of very pleasant conversations over coffee and bagels, and he took me out to dinner a few times with the rest of the firm to celebrate a particularly big account, so I hesitantly considered us friends – or at least friendly co-workers.

"Sakura-san?"

I looked up immediately when he called my name, and got up – wincing again at the ache in my feet and ankles – to see what Itachi wanted.

He looked up, her iphone at his ear and her desk covered with paper. "Sakura-san," he said, turning away his phone, "I can't find those files they sent over last week."

I nodded. "They're filed, I'll get search them." I stepped to the corner of his office where her laptops were kept, quickly clicking on a closet laptop to me. This wasn't unusual – Itachi was a very good lawyer, but he was also a very traditional person. He had no patience for computar files, so I kept the files myself, so that he didn't have to worry about keeping track of documents she hated dealing with anyway.

It's funny, looking back – we'd never actually discussed that, but I'd just sort of done it that way without thinking, and he'd never questioned it. In hindsight, that probably should have told me something.

I picked up the laptop, slipping it onto his desk.

"Yes," Itachi was saying into the phone, "I've got them right here." he gave me a grateful look. I blush, becasue hey, he was still very attractive "Yes, you were saying – about the land agreements?" he glanced up at me, and I nodded, flipping the laptop around and searching the document he needed. Another thing I did without ever having been asked.

I stayed there for the rest of the call, flipping to this page or that as I tried to follow half a conversation – I'd gotten pretty good at it. Finally, he disconnected the call and rolled his eyes.

"Idiot," he muttered. He shook his head, looking at the large wooden clock on his desk. "I've got a meeting in just a few minutes – make sure I'm not disturbed, okay?"

"No problem," I assured him, re-closing the file and laptop and returning it to its original position, slipping out of the office and closing the door behind me.

This was also common. A few times a week, clients – or prospective clients – would come by. Itachi's practice depended on these meetings – basically, they were sales pitches. Thus, especially after a call like the one he'd just finished, talking to some annoying mouthpiece somewhere, he'd take a few minutes to relax and get himself ready before the meeting, so that he could go in and blow their socks off. In other words, to make himself look so frighteningly competent and ruthless that the clients just wouldn't be able to imagine winning without him – and more importantly, unable to imagine losing with him.

Believe me, it worked – I'd sat in on a few of these meetings. I wouldn't be surprised if quite a few of her clients didn't hire him just to make absolutely sure their opponents couldn't.

I went back to my desk, sinking gratefully back down into my chair – a large, comfortable, swiveling and tilting thing. Itachi spared no expense on the office furniture, something I appreciated greatly because he had some really comfortable chairs.

These quiet times that Itachi spent before meetings were private – I'd always stop calls going to his phone, and make anyone who showed up to see him wait. His office had no windows, not even in the door, and he never talked about it, so I never knew what he did to compose herself for a meeting.

No doubt, had I thought about it, I might have guessed. One of my friends from college became a surgeon – according to her, it's much more common than most people think. Itachi did the same thing that any number of surgeons, pilots, athletes, performers, and other high-stress professionals do to relax when they really need to be steady and relaxed – masturbation. The surge of endorphins and other positive mood-affecting things that orgasm creates are more effective for calm and focus than just about any manmade drug could ever be – and cheaper, too.

So, this particular day is the day that the inevitable finally happened. A faulty latch on his office door, of all things, changed my life. I heard a slight click, and saw his door inch open, as happens with latches that don't quite fit right anymore. My desk sits just outside his door in our little corner of the floor, so I saw it immediately. Without thinking, I got up to close the door again, and, quite by accident – I swear – glanced in through the two-inch-wide crack of open doorway.

My composed, oh-so-private boss had his chair swiveled sideways and leaned back, his pants were halfway down his legs and one of his hands was down in his boxers. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed, and his lips slightly parted. If it hadn't been for the visible movement of his hand between his legs – and the death grip his other hand had on the arm of his chair – I might have thought he was asleep.

Now, before anyone judges me prematurely, I did exactly what any good assistant would do. I set a world record for the slowest, quietest closing of a door in the history of mankind, and crept back to my desk, where I sat perfectly still, waiting to see if I woke up. If it hadn't been for my eyes being open wide enough to actually roll out of my head if I'd so much as sneezed and a huge blush on my face covering my face from forehead to chin, no one walking by would think anything odd had just happened.

Two minutes later, Itachi left his office and went to the meeting – head to toe a calm, confident lawyer. Fortunately for me, he didn't look at me as he went – I hadn't managed to get my eyes back to their normal size yet. After a lot of thought, I realized nothing was changed. He obviously hadn't seen me, and nobody else had to know. I could pretend it hadn't happened. All right, so I was a little bit naive.

Days when Itachi had meetings took on a whole different perspective for me. He'd close his door for his private time a little before that day's meeting, and I'd suddenly find myself totally incapable of concentrating on anything. I carefully kept from thinking about what he was doing – if I thought about it, I pictured it, and that certainly didn't help.

For the most part, it wasn't even that I was aroused by the whole idea – mostly, I was confused. I don't know I was suddenly so interested by him particular him being my boss – I'd never looked at him through that particular lens. Slowly, over the weeks that followed, I found ways to excuse thinking about it. I mean, like any single girl, I needed my relaxation too, and since I hadn't had a relationship in a couple of years I can certainly be forgiven if my mind happened to fix on the only sex-related thing to happen to me in a while. If what I saw happened to pop into my head when I was taking care of myself – usually near the end – that's only natural, since my brain had to be seeking any clear image to focus on. This made perfect sense to me, and I resolved not to feel badly about it.

I realized I was in trouble about two months after my accidental spying, when I realized that I had been sitting at my desk, waiting for Itachi to come out for a meeting, and had been contemplating ways I might tamper with the door handle to get it to pop open again. I stared at it, willing the door to slip open, and give me just one more glimpse. I told myself that I just needed to see it once more, and that would satisfy the curiosity that had been raging in me.

Finally, after Itachi had left for a meeting one day, I went into her office to file some things, and caught sight of something dark-coloured under his desk. Of course, thinking like the idiot I was that something had slipped off the desk, I knelt down to get them – and found myself holding a pair of his boxers. Even that might not have been enough to doom me – but then a smell caught my nose. A smell I had not experienced in far, far too long. I could smell him on those panties, and that sensory addition to the image in my head sent a quiver through my breast – and parts beyond – that I hadn't felt in a long, long, time.

I quickly replaced them under the desk, slunk back out to my own desk, and wondered how long it would take to get the delicious, musky smell of my boss out of my nose. That night, I found some of the strongest, spiciest, hottest food I could at a takeout place and breathed so deep I half-wondered if I were trying to actually scour my sinuses completely down to the bone. After that, I tried to erase the whole thing from my mind – and might have been able to, if not for my upstairs neighbors.

One day, Itachi had a meeting scheduled with a huge client – a major downtown firm, the sort that could be a cash cow for our little firm for years, if we made the right first impression and nailed the first job they gave us. Itachi had been stressing the meeting for two weeks – he'd been as short-tempered as I'd ever seen him and I could see dark rings under his eyes. His emails -even though he hated them- to the paralegals got more and more demanding and frustrated, and he wasn't talking to anyone. To top it all off, on the day of the meeting where we expected to be hired – or not – the offices above ours were remodeling their offices. Saws, drills, hammers – you name it.

I was sitting at my desk. The meeting was in five minutes. Itachi hadn't come out of his office, and I was worried. I hadn't put two and two together, or anything – don't worry, nowhere in this story is anyone going to accuse me of being terribly perceptive – but I thought that maybe he had fallen asleep...afterwards. That's happened to me several times, so I know how easy it is to drift off after a well-needed orgasm.

I'll never know what I hoped, subconsciously, might be going on, but before I could think, I was up, and knocked lightly on her office door. There was no answer.

I knocked again, slightly harder – still no answer.

So, yes, thinking that I could explain it away if I caught him asleep with his hand down his boxers– or die of embarrassment, whichever – I opened the door.

Itachi wasn't asleep. Fortunately for me, he had her eyes closed, and he wasn't listening for the door to open. He was leaned back in his chair, unlike last time where her hand was inside his boxers, his boxer lied on the floor and his whole length was out. Boy was he big. Probaly a 12 inch- She quickly shook her head. Not the time she though.

Her hand working furiously. His head was back and eyes closed – but his expression wasn't the satifed look of a man who has just had an orgasm, or even the straining look of a man who's very close to one. It was the frustrated, desperate look of a man who simply cannot quite get there.

I stared at him, thoughts I'll never remember racing through my head – and then the power saw on the floor above screamed again, and he actually groaned in frustration, shaking his head. I realized the problem immediately, having been there many times myself, and my mind slammed into one of those walls that we are all sometimes presented with in our lives.

I had two choices, and just two. If I did the ethical, professional thing and left him alone, I kept my job safe – but we risked losing a huge account, the kind of blow to a reputation from which lawyers sometimes don't recover. Nobody wants to hire the consultant that the big boys didn't think was good enough. If Itachi went into that meeting stressed, tired, angry – and now sexually frustrated – and tried to impress a dozen or so veteran lawyers...

One choice was good for me. One might be good for him. Again, it was probably one of those hints that I chose the one that was good for him and potentially disastrous for me, but...oh well. My brain, I fully admit, was turned off. Itachi was the best boss I had ever had, and I dared to think of him as a friend. I had to help him – and I only knew one way to do that.

I walked into his office, closed the door very softly, walked around his desk – and before he even knew I was there, I knelt down, carefully not touching him, leaned in, and just ran my tongue over and between his desperately moving fingers.

I have no doubt that, had he not been as close as he was, as desperate as he was, or as frustrated as he was, I would have either been kicked in the face, fired, arrested, sued, or all of the above. However, Itachi was way too close for that. Him fingers, like the rest of him, froze at the first touch of my tongue, in shock – but I didn't waste any time. The flat of my tongue pushed her fingers aside, and took half of his length in my mouth – that was all it took. What his fingers could not accomplish, thanks to stress and a power saw, my warm, wet, soft tongue, combined with surprise, managed beautifully.

He frozen shock turned directly into rigidity, and his body stiffened. I heard a choked gasp, and then my mouth was flooded was flooded with a salty liquard. She didn't want to know what he would do if she spit it out so she swallow and resist the urge to taste more. His breathing stopped for a good fifteen seconds as some more continued, and then he went limp with a sigh of suddenly released breath.

I took him out of my mouth and leaned back on my knees, glancing up at his face – I'll never know how I had the courage to do that.

His head was still back, but his eyes were wide open and a little bit red, staring straight up at the ceiling. His lips were parted, breathing still shaky. He slowly raised his head to look at me, and those cold black eyes mix with red were wide with shock, and I saw a ting of red on his cheeks.

I couldn't bear to meet that gaze, so I licked my lips clean, stood up – without touching him – and walked out of his office, opening the door and closing it behind me as though nothing at all had happened.

I knew two things for sure at that point – I would need a new job, and I would never forget what he tasted like.

Two minutes later, exactly the time at which the meeting was scheduled to start, Itachi opened his door wearing his usual expressionless face and walked past me without a glance, striding off to the meeting.

I figured I now had until the meeting ended to pack up my things and run for my life, but I couldn't make myself move. Belatedly, I thought about the penis that I had just sucked, my mind whirling to process the sensory data, since I had not gotten a clear look, as absurd as that seemed. That sweet-salty tangy scent that I knew would haunt my dreams. A taste that made me want nothing more in the world than one more lick.

I sat there dumbly, reliving the experience over and over in my head, wishing I had an office with a door, for a long time, unable to move or think clearly. My thoughts waffled constantly between shock at what I had just done, fear of my career ending, and an arousal that had me throbbing and squirming in my chair