PLEASE NOTE
1 References to Dan's wife's disability are intended solely as an explanation for his reluctance to stray, and is NOT implying that disabled people are incapable of having a good sex life. Please don't shoot me down over this issue.
2 It's been a long time since I wrote any stories and it's taking some time to get back into it. Please also bear this in mind if submitting comments. I've titled this as "Ch 1" in the hope that others will follow before too long.
3 Spellchecked for UK usage.
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"It's not really cheating..."
Her soft voice had been reassuring as she unzipped his trousers and slid her long fingers inside, and although they both knew that it wasn't really true, he had latched onto them to excuse himself. With each occasion and with each new step, he silently repeated the mantra.
"It's not really cheating..."
When alone and troubled by shame and guilt, Dan called to mind Rose' gentle, reassuring voice, and repeated the words over and over. With each repetition he almost came to believe it...
For a long time after his wife Linda's accident, he had no libido at all. The shock of it all, the massive change in his role, and the amount of time and numerous ways which he now spent caring for her hit him hard. Linda was now confined to a wheelchair and although she still had all her mental faculties, she was physically very limited in every other way. Not that he resented caring for her. She was his wife of twenty-six years. Although she had bad days, Linda worked hard to be as positive as she could. Everyone was impressed by her attitude and determination and told them both so.
Dan wished that he could be more positive himself. He had paid for a series of counselling sessions, and gradually he managed to be more stoical and not to dwell primarily on his challenges. It was no easy fix, and he had better days and bad days. They still enjoyed quality time together and laughed (and cried) together, and he would still class their relationship as good.
But as his own state of mind improved, his libido started to return. Although Linda still enjoyed being intimate, sexual activity was very limited. He wasn't resentful against her, but there was no denying the frustration that he felt. He shrugged his shoulders and assured her it didn't matter, of course. Their sex life had previously been good but rather conservative, and after sixteen years sex wasn't easy to discuss or to experiment with.
He had never been immune from looking at women, of course, but he now watched certain female television presenters and actors with new interest and intensity. A lady in her thirties a few doors away often drew his gaze, too. He had resumed masturbating on a regular -- now daily -- basis. Three or four junior colleagues in the accountancy firm of which he was a partner also drew his eye.
He was very cautious concerning them, however. He had no intention either of making a fool of himself or of getting drawn into an affair. He had always maintained a high level of professional behaviour and had always avoided anything more than a fleeting glance at female colleagues. He still strove to act in a professional way, but he did find his glances becoming brief rather than fleeting, and sometimes becoming discreet gazes rather than quick glances. Nor did he ever fantasise about them or masturbate with them in mind. He really didn't want to go down that road, not only because it might it lead to acting indiscreetly, but because he genuinely felt it disrespectful to them and a betrayal of their trust.
Rose was part of his team. She was hard-working, thorough, and very personable. She was always cheerful, too, and well liked both by colleagues and clients. She was in her early thirties and slender, (he found out later, a dress-size 10). Her build was similar to that of Linda when in her thirties. Rose's breasts were small but high-mounted and pert, and in perfect proportion to her slender body. She wore dresses rather than skirts, and although she was too professional to dress provocatively, her dresses were always quite short, reaching just to her mid thighs. They weren't figure-hugging, but they fitted closely enough to be discreet and prevent views inside its hem when she was going up or down stairs.
When seated, her short dress hem rode still higher, revealing more lean, well-toned thigh and soft looking skin. Dan genuinely tried hard not to look, especially when they were alone in his room and looking through a client's account or having their monthly one-to-one meetings, but he found it almost impossible not to glance at least. Rose never seemed to notice his fleeting looks. Or, if she did, she seemed not to mind. Either way, she never mentioned it or made any attempt to adjust her dress for the sake of modesty.
To be truthful, Dan had begun to find the mere fact of being alone with her intimate, then arousing. Rose's mother had died suddenly a year or so earlier, and he had done all he could to support her through it. It had hit her hard, and Dan's soft spot for her had grown. Perhaps the intimacy of having her cry on his shoulder (metaphorically) had laid the foundation for what followed. Since then, her soft voice and slim figure, pale eyes, her minimal make up and tied-back blonde hair began to intrude increasingly upon his thoughts. So did her sunny disposition, and he began to enjoy their one-to-one time together more than he really should.
Despite his misgivings, sometimes in private he found himself imagining her in her underwear, trying to picture the tops of her little orbs above a lacy bra, imagining the tops of her bare, lean thighs, and her crotch under matching tiny panties. He felt ashamed when such thoughts first arose, and tried to drive them away. It seemed a betrayal of her trust and of her genuinely nice personality. But the thoughts kept returning. He flushed with embarrassment when he caught himself wondering fleetingly whether she shaved or trimmed her pussy hair or whether she left it natural. From the fact that she kept fit at the gym, he guessed that she probably at least trimmed it.
The fateful day began like any other. He had a one-to-one meeting booked with Rose at ten-thirty. All the partners held these with each staff member of their team. They served as catching up sessions to ensure that any work or workplace difficulties were aired and addressed. She knocked on his office door, slid the sign on the outside to "Do not disturb", and greeted him with her usual sunny smile. She was wearing a grey pinafore dress and white polo-neck top underneath. He swept his eyes over her high-mounted pert breasts, her slim arms and her flat stomach.
The weather was mild, and Rose' legs were bare (she always wore black tights in cooler weather). As she sat down, he watched her dress glide up her thighs. He felt flushed, the intimacy of being alone with her arousing him again, and, to his horror, he felt his member begin to stiffen as his curiosity about her underwear came to mind. The harder he tried not to glance at her lap, the more difficult it became to avoid doing so. And the harder he tried not to think of her sexually, the more aroused he seemed to become. They began to talk through what she was working on that week.
"Are you okay, Dan?" she asked softly after a few minutes.
He looked into her piercing but kindly, pale eyes and at her soft looking lips that bore just a tinge of pink lip gloss. Her question took him aback. He sensed that she had rumbled his straying gaze.
"Er, yes, Rose, yes, thanks. I just find it a bit warm in here, that's all."
"You could touch as well as look, if you like?"
A bolt of shock hit him, and a wave of shame swept over him. As if it wasn't bad enough to be caught looking at one of his staff, he was being confronted, and by the very person in question.
"Sorry, Rose?"
He hated himself for resorting to the old trick of playing the innocent, pretending not to understand, but he had to play for time. To make matters worse, he felt his face flush with embarrassment, confirming his guilt.
