300MIUM-1221 (Under The Suit, An Obedient Career Woman With Beautiful Legs) The Contrast Of Sexy Legs And Black Stockings Is Irresistible In This Doub

You first saw her in the conference room — early afternoon, a soft glow from the tall windows falling across the table. The project was routine on paper, but the moment she walked in, something shifted.

She was from the client side — Misaki, they called her. Sharp, composed, with a calm presence that contrasted the usual stiff energy of corporate meetings. She had a subtle confidence, flipping through the project briefing with graceful efficiency, her voice clear and measured when she asked questions.

You noticed the small things: the way she always clicked her pen twice before speaking, the slight curve of a smile when she listened intently, how she stayed calm even when discussions grew tense.

That day, the meeting dragged past 6 PM. Everyone was tired. Hungry. People began shuffling papers, ready to escape.

She lingered.

So did you.

“Long day,” you offered as you packed up.

She smiled. “Too long. I skipped lunch. I might faint in the elevator.”

It wasn’t a flirt. Just honest. Real.

“Want to grab dinner? There's a quiet place two blocks down — not fancy, but good food.”

There was a pause, a small calculation behind her eyes — then a nod. “Sure. I’d like that.”

You sat across from each other at a ramen shop that smelled of soy and nostalgia. The place was nearly empty, warm in its dim simplicity. The fluorescent corporate world felt far away.

She loosened her blazer, tucked her hair behind one ear, and leaned in just a little as she spoke. The tension of the office had melted from her shoulders.

She told you she used to be an architecture student, but somehow ended up managing spreadsheets and teams. You told her you once wanted to be a writer before buildings took over your life.

"You still could be," she said gently, looking into your eyes.

Maybe she meant it.

Dinner ran long. You didn’t check the time. You just talked.

When the bill came, she reached for her wallet.

You stopped her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Chivalry?"

You shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe I just enjoyed this more than I expected."

The walk back was quiet. City lights shimmered on wet pavement, the air thick with summer humidity. The office loomed up ahead.

You both hesitated.

She looked up at you. “I don’t feel like going home yet.”

You met her eyes. Something real sat there — not flirtation, not just curiosity, but something deeper. Something rare.

“Want to come to mine?” you asked.

You expected silence.

But she just said, “Yes.”

Your apartment was small, neat. She took off her heels at the door, stepped inside like she belonged. You poured tea, unsure what to say.

But it didn’t need words.

She walked up to you slowly, then placed her hand gently on your chest, her eyes never leaving yours.

No rush. No performance. Just closeness. Warmth.

She kissed you, soft and deliberate.

Clothes were shed gradually, like layers of the day peeled away.

Later, in the quiet dim of your bedroom, her head resting on your shoulder, she whispered:

“I haven’t felt this seen in a long time.”

You brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Me neither.”.~