The Nerd Herd
by Sommer Marsden

I stared at the error message and tried not to scream. I hit the mouse again. Clicked randomly over the screen. Put my head down and gnashed my teeth. Nothing. The computer was completely useless. And me with a deadline.

I dialled my cell, fighting back the tears that threatened. I wasn’t worried I had lost today’s work. I had just backed up my data on CD before eating my lunch. I was worried that I was staring at a two thousand dollar paperweight and not a back-up computer in sight.

“Deb!” I barked, “What’s the name of those guys you use? The computer guys. The Geek something?”

“Uh-oh,” my best friend giggled. “Problem?”

“I have just suffered a terminal fatal error or something and my computer is frozen. Now what’s the name of the company?” I was doing my best not to yell.

“I take it you have a deadline for your edits?” More snickering.

I think I growled.

“OK, OK, hold on. The company is the Nerd Herd and the number is …” I could hear her pages ruffling. “Ah! Well, I should have remembered that. The number is 1-800-NRD-HERD”

“Thanks,” I sighed and hung up. Hell, even I should have remembered that from their commercials.

I made the call, tried not to scream at the operator as I explained that this truly was an emergency and I needed someone here immediately and not a moment later. Then I sat back and chewed my fingernails waiting for my own personal nerd to arrive.

What they really needed to do was get a bunch of hunky men and send them out on calls. They could call them the Steam Team. I was busy coming up with stupid names for a roving band of handsome men when the doorbell rang. I reminded myself to add “Go out on a date” to my to-do list.

I steeled myself to not giggle at the impending nerd in the required outfit. The company actually made their employees dress as they are portrayed in the televisions ads. Poor thing, I thought, as if it’s not bad enough to actually be a nerd, let alone be forced to dress like a cliché.

I flung open the door and nearly gasped. Yeah, he was dressed like a nerd. Too short black pants, white socks, black lace-up shoes. He even had the short sleeve, white button down and the pocket protector. And the glasses, with tape! But oh Mother Mary, he was the furthest thing from a nerd I had ever seen. I read his name tag. Tony. Tony was my own personal nerd. With big biceps and deep brown eyes and lips that made me want to …

“Ma’am?”

“Yes!?” Damn. I sounded like I’d been sucking the helium out of a party balloon. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m sorry. Come in, um, Tony. The computer is in the den.”

I pointed a finger, seemingly frozen on the spot, and he followed my asinine directions to the den. It was only after his perfectly formed ass rounded the corner and he was out of sight, that I realized I was still in giant grey sweatpants, a yellow tank top and my wildly abused fuzzy bunny slippers.

I groaned out loud when I saw my tank sported a coffee stain.

“Ma’am, are you OK?” he called.

And a gentleman, too. Double groan.

“Fine!” I yelped and then I bolted upstairs. I threw on my low slung jeans and a T-shirt that said GEEKS LOVE ME. Then I reconsidered. Then I figured, screw it.

He was working on my computer when I entered. “These things really aren’t as bad as the computer indicates,” he said without looking up. Then he did look up. His eyes grazing first the juvenile print screen and then the braless breasts underneath. “That true?” he asked, indicating the slogan.

I stuck my chest out further and said, “For the most part.”

What the hell was I doing? Was I that desperate for male attention? I did a mental review. Last date two months ago. Last sexual encounter, sadly, two and a half months ago. Yes, I was that desperate. On my own terms, obviously. Tony fit my terms.

I took a step toward him and tried to breathe deeply. I couldn’t keep my eyes still. They skittered over his broad shoulders that strained against his too tight T-shirt. Dark hair cut short and neat. Nice jaw with just a hint of stubble. The stubble sealed the deal.

I was pleased to note that his eyes were just as busy. Skimming the small swatch of skin that was exposed between the waistband of my jeans and the hem of my T-shirt. I watched them run languidly over my hips and travel down my long legs. The look in his eyes felt as intense as if his hands were on me and my white cotton thong got a quick and sudden bath as my body responded to that look.

“How long do you average per job?” I asked, my voice a little breathy.

“About an hour and a half.” He gave me a smile that sort of made his top lip crinkle just a bit. My nipples went hard.

“How long is this job, do you think? Roughly speaking?” I moved closer to him.

“Less than an hour,” he said. He looked up at me from my own computer chair, then spun the seat so that our knees nearly touched. That smile started to blossom just a little more.

I noticed he wasn’t lagging behind me in the arousal department because those snug geek pants sheathed a beautiful bulge. He caught me looking and gave a soft laugh. He patted one broad thigh and stared me dead in the eye. I laughed, too, and then settled onto his lap before I could reconsider. Had I lost my mind? Apparently, so, but what a way to go. I couldn’t resist rubbing my ass against his cock as I shifted to find a comfortable perch.

“Now that is just fighting dirty,” he growled and cinched me tight around my waist, big hands splaying over the naked skin of my belly. It was my turn to growl.

His lips found the back of my neck and he kissed a trail down to my nape. I shivered then jumped in his arms as his hand slid beneath my waistband. His long lean fingers hovering just an inch or so shy of where I really wanted them to be.

“Now who’s fighting dirty?” I sighed and wiggled my ass again. Pushing and grinding against his erection.

“You win.” His fingers found my clit and stroked lightly. I sort of puddled in his arms. How could I have forgotten to do this? How could I have neglected myself so terribly? The questions vanished as he slowly circled my clit again and then, sliding his hand down further, hooked two big fingers into my already twitching pussy.

I splayed across his lap like a hussy and whimpered.

“That feel good?” he chuckled.

“Huhhhhhhhh,” I said. Whatever the hell that meant.

A few more delicate and deliberate strokes and my body demanded more. I yanked open my top desk drawer, found a foil packet and slithered out of my jeans. I opened the packet. Tony reached for it.

“No,” I said and turned on his lap. I freed his cock and tried not to whoop victoriously. His cock was long and broad. The perfect tip nearly purple. It strained against my hand. “Enthusiastic, isn’t it?” I laughed.

Tony could only nod because I couldn’t resist taking one long stroke against his skin with my fist before I rolled the condom on. I turned in the chair, my knees braced inside the leather arms and sank down onto him as slowly as I could bear.

He groaned and shoved my shirt up, sucking first one tightly beaded nipple, then the other. “You are the best customer ever,” he sighed and we both laughed.

It wouldn’t take much. I could feel my body coiling for release. Each time I sank down on him, I grew tighter. Each movement more pleasurable. He was with me, too, I could feel his body jerk up to meet mine as his big hands roamed my ass. He gave me a brisk slap on my ass cheek and that did it. My pussy clenched and groped for each last blip of pleasure it could grab as I came. Moisture wet my thighs with each spasm. Tony thrust up against me, smacking me once more. He kissed me as he came, his tongue as demanding as his cock. His big hands anchoring me to him.

We sat together panting as he feathered his nice long fingers over my nipples. I shivered. Then rested my forehead against his. He surprised me by giving me a long slow kiss before I grabbed my jeans and slid them on.

“Love that T-shirt,” he said gruffly as I pulled it over my breasts.

“If you come back again, I’ll wear a different one for you.” I couldn’t help but smile.

“What’s that one say?”

“Nerds Rock My World.”