The Nina File

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The tongue is a marvelous thing — firm, pliable, strong, delicate … perhaps the most versatile organ in the body, after the hands and the brain, of course. Right now, I was watching a colleague of mine stick her tongue out and alternately touch her upper and then lower lip before reaching for her nose.

Nina was a 20 something, 5 foot 6 inch temp working as my boss’ assistant and she had a predilection for tight tops and form fitting skirts and 3 inch heels. Today’s vision was draped in a tight red shirt with a deftly subversive, low cut “V” that showcased her firm, b-cup tits — she had a knee length black skirt and black leather boots that laced up the back. Her shoulder length, strawberry blond hair was pulled back in to a simple but sexy ponytail and she wore a fashionable pair of D&G glasses adorning the bridge of her regal nose. She had big, hazel eyes and Jessica Alba lips. She looked like she’d stepped out of an office themed porn flick.

She was standing over my shoulder, her slender arm resting around my neck and she pointed out some discrepancies in the report I’d filed a few days earlier. Nina was aces at reviewing and revising reports, and the speed with which she did it was almost supernatural. I realized that if the brain was the ultimate erogenous zone, I was going to have to work twice as hard to seduce hers. The lady was a genius.

But I’d never noticed her touch anybody in the office before — and she was trying to touch the tip of her nose with her tongue.

“I’ve got tissue in a drawer,” I told Nina as I tapped my desk. “But I gotta tell ya, that was spectacular.”

“What?” Nina asked, jerking her head back a little, resting her hands on her curvy hips. She furrowed her brow and glared at me.

“The whole ‘tongue to nose’ trick. Spectacular!”

“What?” she asked again, touching the tip of her lovely nose and realizing it was wet. “Oh, shit … don’t tell me I’m doing that again!”

“Again?” I inquired, enjoying the way she blushed. I noticed her nipples had hardened and poked through her tight shirt. They looked long and delicious.

“That’s none of your business,” she snarled before I even asked her to explain. “Just fix the report by Friday, ok?”

“Your wish …” I started but she darted back to her desk by the boss’ door. She’d walked quickly and her skirt had tightened around her bottom and her buns looked smooth and firm. Nina sat down and slouched a bit in her seat, hiding behind a folder, obviously embarrassed by what I’d noticed.

I wanted to know more.


The name’s Zeke Holland — Ezechiel, for those who matter. Restructuring at my former job prompted me to seek new employment, and a recent break-up followed by a failed romance with my roommate at the time were all the push I needed to jump a plane and “go west,” as they told the young man. So, although I wasn’t so young, here I was in Alberta, working for an ad company, trying to make the tar sands a palatable resource. I worked on the logistics side of things, analyzing budget expenditures. My functions led me to meet Nina.

I’ve already told you about her — total hottie, as the kids say these days. As for me, I’m leaner and firmer than I was. My middle aged paunch slowly melted away under a regimen of tennis, swimming and working out, but my receding blond hairline had not grown back. Not much more for me to do during the cold winter months since I wasn’t the snow sports kind of guy. But my time with Dannie, my old roommate and lover, showed me the importance of regaining a healthy body weight.

Dannie once described me as a cranky army sergeant with soft blue eyes. I was hoping Nina would feel the same way. That I was 15 years her senior was going to be a hurdle, though.

I also had a bad habit of kidding myself — should I follow my dick and humiliate myself by chasing the office bombshell who could have her pick of the litter, or should I act my age?

But then again, new city and new environment, so maybe time for a new me.


Friday came along and the report had been handed in and I was in the employee lounge, wasting time away, hurtling birds at green pigs when I caught sight of Nina walking by — she wore tight jeans, her traditional heels and a tight tee sporting a Flames logo. I wondered if she was a puck bunny.

A weird impulse grabbed me: I switched off the game I was playing and dialed the mobile web address of this streaming vid site I knew. I pulled my headphones from my pocket and plugged them into the smartphone’s jack and started a video. I glanced over the edge of the screen and noticed Nina walking by a few more times, curiously watching at me as I shifted in my lounge sofa.

Finally, Nina walked into the lounge and gave me an odd “once over” before tapping my foot with her sexy shoe. I popped one of the ear buds and looked up at her. I felt a rush of heat surge through me and my hardening cock twitched as I met her eyes.

“Hey … Can I help you?” I asked. canlı bahis The neon lights in the ceiling flickered.

“I just wanted to tell you — the boss was impressed with your report.”

“Thanks. Did you tell her about the errors you pointed out?”

“She knows I look over every report,” Nina said while sitting down next to me. She crossed her legs and stretched her arms across the back of the sofa. “She likes the way you write. Tone, context … You’d think you were a pro. It makes for interesting reading.”

“High praise,” I retorted. I proceeded to continue with me experiment — I put the bud back into my ear and increased the volume and let the moans of classic Hyapatia Lee fill my ears and the sight of her nubile tongue sinking into the pussy of a lovely Colleen Brennan as they relived Chaucer’s naughty classic.

Without thinking I stretched my legs and rested the phone on my waist and enjoyed vintage porn under Nina’s watchful eye. I don’t know how much time went by as I got my fill of classic professional fuckers until I felt a delicate hand on my shoulder. I glanced up and Nina was staring intently at the screen, her tongue slipping out of her mouth and reaching for her nose.

“That’s not … appropriate,” Nina said, her voice more a whisper than a reproach.

“This?” I pointed at the screen. “Just a hobby. And my lunch time is my free time, right?”

I felt her fingers dig into the hard muscles of my neck. “Next time, leave your hobby at home …”

“Noted. By the way, you’re doing the nose thing again.”

“I know.”


Since it was Friday, it was also happy hour at the local drinking hole. A little place called McCauley’s, about 2 streets from the office. I’d heard through the grapevine that Nina was going to make an appearance, something she did every few weeks or so. I’d planned to stop by after work, but I’d fallen behind and five extra hours later, I debated walking into the bar or not.

The joint was part Irish pub, part honky tonk — it was warm tonight and music seeped from the opened door. Music and the smell of stale beer and drowned dreams. It’d been casual Friday so my faded blue jeans and black shirt were à propos for a sortie on the town — so armed I entered the bar. A cold Molson draught would be good.

An eclectic group of patrons populated the joint, spread out about the tables, the bar and the small dance floor. Amidst the revelers, I recognized some workmates, there were also some biker types and jocks haunting the more secretive corners of the establishment. Ladies were also out in full regalia — seductive and vindictive were the young ones and lonely and reflective were the older ones. I surprised myself at such a reflection — I sauntered up to the bar and screamed in drink-speak my order. The barmaid, a lovely young blond with big glossy lips and an equally large bust, slipped me a 12 oz. glass of Molson beer and I slipped her the money and a generous tip as she generously let me stare down her halter.

I started to walk around the bar — it’d filled up a bit and some weird Hank Williams/Lady Gaga hybrid was luring partyers to the dance floor. I stopped and shook hands with colleagues who’d braved the late evening crowd and that’s when I saw her.

Nina stood surrounded by three young bucks, each dressed in loose jeans and graphic covered shirts. Their handsome faces were adorned with cleverly trimmed beards and their hair wore the disheveled look so popular these days. I had a five o’clock shadow and my hair was a close-cropped buzz cut. I watched her as she danced — she was beautiful under the colorful light but she was obviously drunk by the way she clung onto one of the guys. He was clinging on to her ass. That’s when I noticed one of his companions slip something into the glass resting next to her purse. Shit …

I just acted. I slammed the glass of draught on a table and beelined for the dance floor. The guy who slipped whatever it was in her glass held it to Nina. She was about to sip her drink when I got to her. She noticed me and smiled — the smile on the guys’ faces faded, though. The guy holding her glass stopped smiling all together after I grabbed his wrist and twisted it sharply downwards. He yelped in pain and dropped the glass as his momentum carried him into an arm lock and I shoved him face-first onto a table. He grunted in pain and I fought the urge to break his wrist. The old training kicked in and when I felt a savage grip on my right shoulder I glanced down for a split second and recognized the leather bracelet worn by the guy Nina’d been clinging too.

I felt like I’d stepped out of my body as some deep anger inside me boiled to the surface. As the hand on my shoulder started to twist me around, I twisted my hips sharply into his movement while bringing my elbow up — this broke his grip and gave me an opening: my arm straightened but my fingers curled inwards and my hack connected with the side of his nose and his upper lip. bahis siteleri His head jerked backwards and blood flowed from his split lip and I hoped he swallowed a few of his teeth. My hand continued in an opposite arc and connected with the awkwardly bent hand of the guy I held against the table. I felt bones give way beneath my blow as his grunts became moans.

I couldn’t believe I was turning into some half-cocked knight in shining armor for a woman I barely knew but desperately desired. I turned to face the third guy and my eyes met Nina’s. Shock pierced her drunken stare when she assuredly read the coldness of my gaze. Even the third guy hesitated for a split second when he met my eyes before he took his shot. It was already too late — I crashed my foot just below the knee of his farther most leg, causing him to lose balance. I rushed forward, grabbed the back of his head and pulled it down sharply while lifting my knee. They crashed together and he howled as his nose and cheek bone broke after three swift knee lifts.

The entire altercation lasted a few seconds and by the time the bouncers arrived I’d grabbed Nina and I was leading her past a crowd of flashing cellphone cameras. I tried my best to shield our faces till I was confronted by a rather large bouncer.

“Those guys,” I pointed at the moaning heap I’d left. “They’re using mickeys and GHB. Call the cops!”

Our eyes locked for a second and the bouncer must have sized up the way I was holding Nina — his brow furrowed. “C’mon man,” I pleaded, “I’m taking her home. That’s all.” He nodded and signaled us to go while making hand gestures to coordinate his team.

Nina was dazed as we crossed the street towards the parking space where my 2002 Corolla waited. I lead her into the passenger seat and dashed around to the driver’s side. One I got in the car I started to shake as the adrenaline rush of the violence died down. I found a water bottle and took a deep swallow, allowing the cool flow take the edge off.

“Shee-it,” Nina said as she opened her eyes wide as she tried to clear her thoughts. “This guy just went ape-shit Rambo in there and those guys just went poof!” her words were slurred and her booze reeking breath filled the car.

“Did you see..” she started before trailing off, realizing I was in the car. “Zeke? That was you.”

“Hey, Nina. So, where do you live again?”


Nina’s apartment was of the one bedroom variety. It was finely decorated with art deco prints on the walls and an assortment of boxes and trunks and vases. No pictures though — it gave the place a boutique feel to it, though the oddly cohesive clutter imparted a strong sense of Nina-ness. I compared her lack of pictures with my own lack of mementos. I felt she hadn’t lived long enough to have made any lasting memories and I’d lived long enough not to need to reminded of them.

“Zeke?” Nina shouted from her bedroom, located in the middle of the floorspace. “I need …”

I put down the Heineken she’d given me on the small, two seat kitchen table she had and rushed to her room. Nina was lying face down on the bed, obviously too drunk to disrobe without help. I paused a moment, transfixed by the way the curve of her back led into the soft, voluptuous rise of her buttocks. She’d managed to get her shirt off and sported only a black, lacy bra and the way she lied on the bed crushed her usually subdued breasts, making them seem much more prominent. I was amazed … and aroused to see that Nina had a long tattoo down the left side of her body: a series of red roses with interlocking stems stretching from her arm pit, down her side till her hip.

“Little help?” she mumbled, her face half buried in her blankets. The room was like the rest of her apartment, sparse but organic. The walls were turquoise and they matched her blankets.

“With what?” I asked as I lingered on her perfect ass. Nina proceeded to try and point at her rear. “With your jeans, I reckon?” She gave me a thumbs up.

I hesitated. I felt like I was being invited to step on a land mine — a beautiful young woman, my boss’s right hand was lying half-naked on her bed and was asking me to make her more naked. Perfect set-up that could blow up in my face. But then again … What the hell!

“Just want me to slide them off?” Thumbs up again.

I stood next to her, but decided to take my time with this. Nina hadn’t removed her shoes so I kneeled and cupped her black pump and slipped it off. I admired the elegant proportions of her foot and her lovely red painted toenails.

“Hummmm,” she moaned as I ran my fingernails across the arch of her foot before kissing the tips of each of her toes. Nina giggled when she felt my tongue touch her foot. I pecked her heel a few more times before standing up and caressing her calves and thighs till I reached her hips, waiting on the edge of her ass.

“I think you like that,” I whispered while rubbing her hips.


“Lift your hips.”

Nina bahis şirketleri did and I slid my fingers under the waistband and I wriggled her tight denims off, one inch at a time. Her buttocks were milky white and smooth and she wore black, lacy panties that matched her bra. I watched as her ass crack was revealed beneath the sheer material. My breathing became hoarse as I exposed her thighs that I’d just felt through denim and now saw and caressed with the lightest brush of my fingertips. I finally pulled her pant-legs off and I saw all of her.


My cock was like a stone menhir in my faded jeans as I looked down upon Nina’s vulnerable form, but I didn’t feel strong. Despite all the adrenaline and violence from the fight I had earlier tonight – I felt humbled.

Nina sighed as she rather clumsily shifted around onto her back — she had a little rose tattoo on the inner edge of each breast. I moved around to the other side of the bed and threw the comforters aside and she slid beneath them.

“I think you’re gonna sleep now,” I said.

“Zeke, you … started a fight because of me.” Nina’s eyes were closed and her breathing was calm.

“No. I started it because of what those guys were going to do to you.”

She managed to support herself with her elbows and looked up at me defiantly. “Maybe I wanted them to!”

I took a step back and let my eyes caress her body. “I’m sorry I interrupted your fun, then.”

“Wait,” she sad as she reached out and grabbed my arm before I could turn around to leave. “Please wait. I just … I’ve had guys fight over me, but never one fight for me. It’s weird.”

“Then all the more fool them,” I said, kissing her hand.

“I … like the way you touch me,” she whispered, reaching up and cupping my cheek “Touch me again, please.”

I bent over and kissed Nina’s forehead, letting my hand roam between her perky tits and down her stomach. When my lips found hers she opened her mouth timidly and I caressed the rose tattoo on her left side. Our tongues danced a bit before I pulled away and then kissed her forehead one more time.

Nina was falling asleep.

“Goodnight, Nina,” I whispered in her ear.

“G’night … Z, you wanna fuck me?”



I slipped out of her room.


I woke up to the smell of freshly brewing coffee and to the sound of sizzling bacon and eggs. Who the hell was in my apartment? I sat up in bed and payed for it by a sudden pain in the back of neck. I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t even in my apartment. I rotated my neck, stretching and getting my bearing’s and realized I was still in Nina’s apartment. The empty cans of Heineken at my feet explained why I didn’t go home. What had I hoped to accomplish by sleeping on her sofa? I looked around for my shirt but couldn’t find it

Self-conscious about going around bare chested, I stood up, a bit dizzy from the beer and felt my mouth water at the scent of the cooking breakfast. I walked towards her kitchen, enjoying the feel of the cold hardwood floor against my bare feet. Nina was standing in front of a modern stove — her reddish-blond hair was loose down and across her shoulders and was longer than I expected. Her legs were bare and she was barefoot — and she was wearing my shirt.

“Zeke, hi,” she said without turning around. She was busy flipping the eggs.

“Hey, Nina. I think I owe you some beer.”

“No shit, Sherlock. FYI, when a girl’s wearing your shirt and cooking you breakfast — beer ought to be the last thing on your mind.”

“Right,” I muttered as I took a seat at the table. A beer would probably steady the racing thoughts I was having right now. “I have to ask — since you’re wearing my shirt … Did we ..?”

“I asked myself that same question as a matter of fact,” Nina said as she poured me a cup of coffee and prepared our plates. I noticed she was wearing her D&G glasses. “But since I was still dressed,” she winked at me as she placed a plate in front of me. It smelled delicious. “Well, kinda still dressed — and when I found you on the sofa, I was pretty sure I was still a virgin.” We both laughed at that remark while we went about picking at the salt and pepper ans spiced our eggs. “It was kind of chilly and your shirt was the first thing I threw on.”

“Hum — okay. By the way, the eggs and bacon are basically spectacular.”

“Hi praise,” she said, sucking on a piece of bacon.

“That’s my line,” I said, savoring the steaming Colombian blend.

“Yeah,” she said, suddenly pensive. Things got quiet and we just ate.

“Penny for your thoughts,” I asked after a few minutes of silence. It wasn’t awkward — it actually felt very comfortable and natural, sitting quietly with Nina.

“It’s just … I felt like there was something happening between us last night. Something hot.”

“There was — is, something happening,” I took another swill of coffee. “Why d’you think I got drunk last night?” I was still eating despite the turmoil in my head and my groin. “You drive me crazy and it could have been so easy … but after the fight? I didn’t know what I could do.”

“You wanted to protect me?”

“Maybe I wanted to protect myself.”

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