The solicitor sat behind his desk, a big man with a ruddy rounded face and a slight film of perspiration coating his forehead. He looked greedily at the young girl seated opposite him, his cock stiffening by the minute as he dropped his gaze to her bare legs. He took in the vast expanse of exposed thigh, the darker gap at the top where her short skirt ended and at the tight white triangle of her little panties beneath. He started back to reality and looked up to her face, her knowing smile and look, her coal-black pupils sparkling with mischievous devilment. He reddened, his face flushing at being caught looking up her skirt. "I am your father's solicitor," he said quickly to help cover his embarrassment, "I cannot advise you to act against him." She crossed her legs casually, ensuring that she paused in the leg crossing long enough to afford him a good glimpse of her panties. Serena tilted her head to one side slightly, her eyes wide and moon-like, a helpless and little-girl-lost expression on her face. Her tone of voice changed to a childish pitch, imploring and vulnerable, dripping with innocent nativity. "But you could perhaps advise me if I gave you a hypothetical scenario, a similar one to mine but with people that don't actually exist, couldn't you?" He swallowed and loosened his shirt collar; his gaze firmly fixed beneath the hem of her little skirt. "Yes," he croaked and cleared his dry throat, "yes I could do that." "Splendid," she said with genuine glee and uncrossed her legs again. She shifted forward in her seat, preparing to speak again and allowing her knees to part sufficiently. "Then advise me in exactly the same way - hypothetically of course." He was trembling, his hand shaking as he fiddled with his pen, his gaze flicking back again and again to her thighs and the hem of her little skirt. He began his explanation, moving his point of focus as he spoke, up to her jutting breasts and the little bumps of her nipples so clearly visible through her tight top. Up then to her mouth, to the full red-painted lips, glossed and succulent that stood out as the focal point of her pretty face. Whenever she spoke he felt that her mouth moved in mimicry of oral sex, a sensual action so visually profound as to cause cocks to jerk to hardness. "Senor Orlando?" she prompted. He started back to the present, flushing red once again under her knowing stare. He wanted to stand but the bulge in his trousers would have been too obvious, he chose instead to remain seated and to wriggle through his embarrassment. "And so," he stated firmly to compose himself, "in order to gain full control over your future inheritance and other funds destined one day to be yours, you would I'm afraid, need an order signed and dated by your father." Serena stood, slowly and casually, and then approached the desk. She placed both hands firmly on the top and leaned forward to give him clear sight down the open neck of her blouse. "But you could help me get that, without him knowing of course," she whispered in a low and secretive tone filled with unqualified suggestion, "couldn't you?" He gave a low groan of appreciation and felt a blob of pre-lubrication ooze from the eyehole of his cock. He sat transfixed by her silky and firm cleavage, her neat little orbs pushed up and together by her black lacy bra to create a most inviting valley of sheer temptation. The heady scent of her perfume drifted up to fill his nostrils to add further to the pounding ache in his cock. He shook his head slowly at her request, his eyes though still boring down hungrily into the firm valley of pleasure being displayed to him. His tongue flicked out and over his dry lips, snake-like and eager to come into contact with her warm youthful body. Slowly, Serena straightened up and half sat on the desk, her little skirt riding back high up her leg almost to her hip and to expose the whole of her thigh. She gently took the pen from his hand and began playing with it, holding it at one end with her left hand and running the fingers of her right hand slowly up and down in a wanking action. "You would like to help me wouldn't you?" she suggested in a soft velvety tone that made his ball-sac firm in reaction. "I then in turn could help you." He watched the red painted nails of her fingers sliding back and forth, the long, elegant and delicately slim fingertips grasping lightly the shaft of the pen. He could just imagine her doing the same to his cock, of wanking it for him, could imagine the warmth and delicate touch of her little hand on him... "Couldn't you," she prompted again. "Yes," he said weakly without averting his gaze and then tensed as he came in his pants.

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