Katerina was hard to like when I first met her. Bossy and controlling, she brooked no argument about how our meetings were to be conducted. Organisation is a good thing but this woman had every second of the meeting planned. You spoke when it was your turn, everything was timed, the agenda must be followed.
Her clothing was elegant and in its own way so was her English. It was crisp and precise. There were the standard cases of unusual grammar and her Russian accent was thick and pronounced. I made my usual jokes to the others about her authoritarian tendencies being a Cold War hangover, and we laughed about her inflexible approach to business.
In those early days, she held no appeal whatever. In time, I would come to crave her body. Her accent would have me tingling. Her bossiness would make me hard. All I wanted to do was fuck her tight little body over and over.
Unfortunately, she was married.
The first meeting of our discussion group was held on a Sunday afternoon. It was a voluntary business training session, a kind of mastermind group. We met in a coffee lounge. Later, I told everyone that I couldn't face another. I thought Katerina was faintly ridiculous and out of her depth.
I missed the second meeting and the third. The fourth was cancelled at the last minute. So by the time the fifth meeting came around, I hadn't seen Katerina for nearly two months and I had convinced myself that this meeting would be my last.
But Katerina and I were the only ones there. I was sitting by the door waiting when she arrived. In the distance I saw her swinging down the street. She was wearing black leggings and a tight top that highlighted a pair of firm breasts. She wiggled as much as she walked. Sunglasses masked her eyes and she suddenly didn't seem so stern and austere. This was not like our first meeting!
We moved to a table outside and as she sat I caught a tantalizing glimpse down her top, a white shirt with buttons. The top button was undone and there was the hint of a firm, rounded breast, the suggestion of cleavage, the inviting allure of a black bra strap.
As we talked, I found my eyes drawn to the roundness of her breasts. I took in a pair of tits which were simultaneously pert and slightly large for her body. As her chest moved in gentle synchronicity with her breathing, I was reassessing my attitude to this Russian control freak.
And then I realised I was turned on by her accent. Suddenly, it was sensuous, sexy and suggestive. Alone with her, she was somehow different. With each other's undivided attention, she was infinitely more alluring, more human. She even smiled. As her lips parted a cute little dimple formed on her chin.
Then there were her fingers. Slim. Slender. Painted dark. So sleek and feminine. I watched as she wrote notes of our discussion. I watch female fingers all the time. I imagine them holding my face and stroking my cock. I imagine them wrapped around my balls. Now I was imagining Katerina holding my balls. Would she break them?
I was flattered when she told me she wanted my advice. When she stood and moved to one side to take a phone call, I noted the concave curve of her back which accentuated the roundness of her ass. She looked slightly cheeky, a touch provocative, a bit naughty. By the time she sat down again, I was conscious of a stirring in my groin. She spoke again and the accent suddenly seemed so damned sexy. I imagined her whispering dirty thoughts in my ear. My god, was this young woman giving me an erection? In a coffee lounge?
The rest of the meeting is a blur. I didn't want it to end. I had started mentally undressing her. My eyes were drawn to those firm, pert tits and that black bra. The thin strap snaked up over her shoulder and I could see myself pulling it down as I kissed her neck.
I began looking at her lips. A small mouth, but delectably red lips. I saw myself kissing her, our tongues wrestling, her breasts crushed against my chest, my hands clasping her firm, tight ass.
I looked into her eyes, too often and too long, I suspect. I was transfixed by the greyness of her eyes, the immaculate eyelashes, the curvaceous black eyebrows.
My head was swirling now. I had not expected this. Here I was with someone I had derided, a woman I had ridiculed, a woman I had thought was a bitch. Yet I was excited by her now, aroused by her accent, enticed by her body. Alone, I was making her laugh and seeing a side of her personality that I had missed before.
The coffee lounge was closing for the day but we hadn't finished. She lived nearby and we needed a computer so she suggested we go to her place. Surely it could not be this easy?
I watched her hips swinging in front of me as she walked up to her front door and inserted the key. The black leggings were perched sexily around her waist, visible to me through her white shirt, courtesy of the afternoon sun. My eyes dropped to her legs and noted the end of the leggings several inches above her ankles. Her skin sparkled. Gliding back up, I imagined the shape of her ass. With her arm raised to the keyhole, I glimpsed her ass and saw her tits in profile with just the hint of a nipple. My dick twitched and the head began to gently throb. I was willing it not to get hard, not yet.
"What's your husband's name?" I asked her.
"Valery," she replied. "He's interstate until Tuesday."
My heart jumped at that last statement and my eyes darted around the room. A grey leather sofa caught my attention.
We sat at her desk, side by side. My right knee bumped her left. Her left arm brushed my right. I could smell her perfume: understated, sweet, intoxicating. I was conscious of her black hair cascading around her face. Her fingers looked so sexy as they manipulated the keyboard and brought the screen to life.
