A sharp-dressed, slender man runs at great speed through a dark part of the city, besieged from all sides by rough-looking big, muscular men, armed to the teeth, the bullets and throwing stars flying all around him.
He dives into a narrow alley, losing part of his pursuers in the process, but still hears footsteps behind him. Suddenly a viciously grinning man appears with a sawed-off rifle in front of him, the weapon already pointed at him, so going straight is not an option. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees an even narrower alley, and just as the deafening gunshot hits, he takes a dive. It is dark in the alley, pitch dark, but at the end he sees a door, light shining through the cracks. He decides to gamble that there are not still greater horrors behind that door and jumps towards it in a smooth movement. It turns out to be unlocked, he quickly steps inside and under heavy panting closes the door behind him, breathing a sigh of relief.
He is welcomed by a sultry voice near his ear, and soft, bare arms wrap around him.
'Finally, Mr. Bond, you're late, we've been waiting impatiently for you.'
He looks around in amazement and sees a room full of busty, scantily clad, mostly blond ladies. Am I in Heaven? he thinks in bewilderment, he has to be, he loves this type of woman.
'No time for martinis, unfortunately, Mr. Bond,' he hears the voluptuous lady whisper in his ear, 'we've lost so much time, we have to get to work right away.'
'Ooh,' it sounds disappointed from a sofa in a corner of the room. A half-naked strawberry blonde lady pouts.
'No, Martine, I said martinis, you'll get your turn with Mr. Bond.' A delighted look immediately appears on Martine's face, he notices.
His hostess beckons one of the other ladies, a chubby blonde with wide hips and large, firm breasts in a tiny dress. 'Brenda, if you'll take care of Mr. Bond's needs, you'll remember what he likes from the briefing.'
'With pleasure,' Brenda lisps, pushing him into a waiting chair and crawling on top of him, nearly drowning him in her cleavage. She's just sat down on his lap, fiddling with his fly, when he wakes up with a feeling of panic from a noise that sounds like a gun being cocked.
He looks around confused, he's sitting in his office, a bit slumped in his leather office chair, behind his heavy mahogany desk, he feels a hell of an erection. He sees that one of the secretaries has just entered, notepad and pen in hand. Her name is Martine, he knows, very pleasing to the eye, curly blond, busty, always cheerful. She looks a bit like Marilyn Monroe in her younger years.
'Ah, Martine,' he says, still a little shaken, and still half in the dream, 'will you be going to sit on my lap and take notes?' It just pops out, he puts a hand over his mouth, this is só wrong!
'If you wish,' she says cheerfully, not a trace of embarrassment or offence. She turns and closes the door carefully. Then she walks over to him and, much to his amazement, crawls onto his lap, pad and pen at the ready.
'Oh my!' she exclaims pleasantly surprised, 'you have your own pen, I can feel.'
He pinches himself, is this a continuation of the dream he had just now? Ouch! Obviously not. What is happening here?!
'Martine, what are you doing, it was just a joke.' She looks at him sweetly.
'I was told this is the only way to ask for a raise here,' she lisps coquettishly, and seeing him about to protest, she quickly continues, 'and besides, I really like older men, like you, I can't help myself.' She looks at him seductively.
That's right, she can't help it, it's just the way it is. She knows it's probably some kind of father complex, but that doesn't change the fact that she's always been particularly attracted to men like Mr. De Bruin.
She puts her arms around his neck and starts kissing him, he feels a mobile tongue slide between his lips and into his mouth. With the aftermath of the erotic dream still in his system, it completely disarms him. He pulls away for a moment: 'Is the door...?'
'It's locked,' she whispers, 'there's even a "do not disturb, meeting in progress" sign on the door.'
De Bruin takes a sigh of relief and returns to the exciting sensation of her tongue in his mouth. The erection started in his dream has now grown into a huge boner. He is now 55 years old, but nothing like this has ever happened to him before. Life is full of surprises, it turns out, even such pleasant ones as this one.
Martine has meanwhile started to undo his trousers; she reaches into his boxer shorts and pulls out his cock. She is impressed, it is certainly a force to be reckoned with. De Bruin holds his breath for a moment as Martine softly starts stroking his glans with her finger.
Martine pulls away from the kiss and leans back a little to give him a chance to unbutton her blouse. She sees the admiration in his eyes as the blouse slides off her shoulders to the floor.
'Is this a bit of a sturdy chair, by the way?' she asks with a mischievous look.
'I would think so,' he laughs, 'it was expensive enough.'
'Good,' she says, and in one quick movement she has maneuvered herself onto the seat on her knees, she is now straddling him, her breasts level with his face. She takes his hands and puts them behind her back. He finds the clasp of her bra and unhooks it, then, in a deliberately slow movement, slides the bra off her shoulders, revealing her breasts.
He is silent for a moment, they are beautiful breasts, firm and round, the smooth, white skin, the nipples protrude jauntily. He buries his face in them, a moan of pleasure escapes him.
