I T
Amber was winding up another long day. Utility clients were so much work; the code was so old and she had to review it line by line. Not the most exciting work she ever did, but the pay was great and the contract was long and open-ended – just what an IT consultant looked for in a client, she smiled.
At 43, she was the oldest in the entire IT department. She had been hired for her knowledge of ancient languages - COBAL, Basic – more than her ability to write for newer platforms. Amber had gotten into computers when she was just nine – long before programmers made six-figure salaries, long before computers were cool. It was precisely this "ancient" knowledge for which she was so well-paid today.
Something caught her eye; there was a strange recurring pattern going on here that made no sense. It was not a redundancy of any sort – the pattern was the same, but the code had no operational function. It was like ....an envelope within the code lines. The opening and closing was the same – the pattern she had noticed – but the "contents" between were different. It looked cryptographic ... but that made no sense in the middle of a customer database. Curious, Amber pulled out a CD with some cryptographic algorithms she used sometimes for secure communications with clients. Since Don, the CIO, was the only one with access to this code, Amber thought she may have discovered some communications he may have had with a previous consultant.
It took all of 10 seconds of number-crunching to break the code. As she read, she realized she was going far beyond the bounds of her consulting contract. "This is Don's diary", Amber thought. Reading further, Amber began to blush... "My eyes can't leave her swaying hips... she knows I am watching and loves it"...."She wants me to fuck her full breasts... she knows she is giving me a look at her huge tits every time she comes in to ask a question"... "the idea of jacking off in my private bathroom while she waits for me is exciting".....
Beginning to feel like he had written this about her, Amber checked the exact time and date the entries were made - hmmm... over a year ago. Ahhhh, so "she" wasn't her....Who was it, then? Who was it that had him so hot? What woman had him so enthralled, so distracted that he had to record his feelings?
"If I could just find someone like her, I'd spend everything I had – every hour, every dime, every waking moment on her....thinking of her, pleasing her, pleasing me...." "Soooo... she isn't real", Amber thought. "This perfect woman of his is a fantasy character, a figment of his imagination."
Of course it was. No woman was that perfect for ANY guy. One day he would wake up and smell the coffee. They always did. "Too bad Jenny Thompson is still married to that jerk. She's the one – she would have been perfect" .... It must have been his high school reunion; yes, he was 38. He probably saw her at a reunion and ....
"I know she's out there – I just need to get specific about what I am looking for. What did that corporate coach say? (Amber chuckled "Corporate coach...this guy makes waaaaaay too much money") 'Visualize it - Expect it – Welcome it.'" Amber shifted in her seat, stifling a grin.
The next entry was a ....a project proposal? "Fantasy affair". The idea of couching a fantasy in engineering terms seemed so.....cold. Something, however, was oddly arousing about approaching such a personal matter in such an organized way. "It's weird", Amber thought, "but I understand it.....probably why I have such a hard time with the whole "feelings" thing.
His fantasy was simple: an affair with a co-worker Of course it had to be the perfect affair (he was a computer guy) - one no one would suspect, one in which there was no "losing party", as he so artfully put it. "Parameters – (1) Mutually and equally vulnerable" (2) "Mutually critical needs for discretion" ("My god, he even writes his fantasies like an engineer", Amber mused). "Necessary Tools", "Budget Resources", "Level 2 and Level 3 expectations" ("Please don't tell me he wrote a mission statement", she cringed). A romantic geek....
Don's necessary tools included lavishly expensive lingerie - no choices from Victoria's Secret. "House of Dior". Mmmm, Amber thought, now those are MY kind of tools. Amber loved lingerie. Maybe it was the dry nature of her work that made her so conscious of what she wore that no one else ever saw. But Dior.....their silks were mere wisps. Just thinking about such delicacies (they were tactile delicacies) brushing her skin made her flush a bit and do a bit of fantasizing of her own.
What if I started doing some of these things?, she thought. Would he even notice? He said he would....
That evening on her way home from work, Amber stopped for some Italian take-out. Although she ate alone regularly, there was still something about sitting down in a nice restaurant alone that seemed more than just ... by herself. Walking out the door with her penne pesto in one hand, the lingerie specialty store across the street caught her eye. "Exactly where 'she' would shop", Amber thought.
Dinner and two glasses of red wine later, Amber's thoughts returned to her discovery. Lounging in her robe after her bath, she began to wonder what Don was doing tonight. Her thoughts wandered to what he would be doing if he were with his ....his....what should she call her? Maybe she should name her. What is the perfect name for the perfect woman in a perfect affair? She took a large swallow of glass number three, holding it in her mouth while she thought. She began to notice the way the taste of the wine changed as it warmed in her mouth. She sensed the velvet texture of the garnet-colored liquid lolling on her tongue. As she reclined on the couch, she did a sense-check, noticing the golden glow of the candlelight, the gauzy sounds of Sade, the warm yeasty aroma of the breadsticks, the finish of the pinot noir she had just savored, and the light/heaviness of her silk-lined terry robe. She observed the pale flesh of her thigh where the folds of the heather gray robe parted....She was ...at this very moment, lusciously ready to be picked. Loosening the sash, she let her fingers explore her full breasts.
She was overdue for expression, she knew. The warmth of her shower merely relaxed her, brought her milk down easier. Her brown nipples were relaxed. Her hands moved easily over her skin, enjoying the silky touch she gave herself twice a day. Sitting up a bit, Amber began the slow, rhythmic stroking of her left breast, rolling the fullness down to her nipples. She loved the weight of her breasts when they were so full...Mmmmmm.
A spray of milk surprised her with its volume and distance, droplets falling to her robe and thigh. Wow, she thought, it is really coming in. Reaching for the clean wine glass reserved for this purpose, she began to express her milk into it. Creamy droplets, yes, but also a surprising amount. Her nipple hardened with the continued gentle attention it received. Looking down as she massaged, she felt a true surge of pride as she beheld her breasts. They were full and lovely, the slight tracings of the blue veins on her pale skin complementing the rich brownness of her aureolae. Each nipple was distended and firm.
Setting the glass aside for a moment, Amber considered her reasons for inducing lactation at her age. It was a crazy idea that came out of the blue one day at work....
