Part 1 : A surprise visitor at the office
Some poetic licence taken with the events, but the backbone of the story is true. Names have been changed, of course. The tale is in three parts and develops into something I would never have imagined possible.
The millennium was a good time for me. Life had been utterly dull for over a year before Josie came into my life. Before, there was solitude, endless nights alone, worry over my job, and a deep depression. Now, all was sweetness and light. The world looked beautiful, and even my staff commented on my sudden change in mood. That is to say that, whereas before I had been professional enough only to command their respect, suddenly they were inviting me to join in their group get-togethers after work. We worked in Central London and lived all over the place in commuterland, hundreds of miles apart, so group socialising only ever took place after work rather than at each other's homes or local towns.
What had brought about my change of mood and appetite for socialising was meeting Josie. I was in my forties and she was a couple of years older than me. She had been brought into my life by my departing lodger, a much younger woman. That was part of Josie's mystique. She attracted younger people because of her remarkable, ageless beauty and her youthful attitude to life. Her husband was 15 years her junior. The only hint of her age, when you got up really close, were the faint laughter lines around her fine eyes. She also kept her hair quite short and styled, where a younger woman would probably leave it somewhat wild and less kempt. That made her stand out in a crowd. Men's heads turned to follow her.
Josie came with baggage, of course. She was married but separated. She had caught her husband in an affair which had knocked her self-confidence. The underlying reason was their relative ages. She had married a man much younger than her, who was now exploring the delights of an even younger woman. His mistress just had to be an absolute stunner to best Josie in the beauty stakes, but I suspect that he was simply blind to the good fortune he had gained through his marriage. It had been her second marriage, the first being to a controlling man she had met when only eighteen. That experience had destroyed her self-confidence and helped mould her compliant personality.
Now, I tend towards monogamy, despite having a healthy libido. I value honesty and loyalty although I don't try to impose my views on others. I also never date married women, because I don't want to be responsible for breaking up a marriage. Josie was to be the exception, partly because she was separated and had been in need of a male friend to snap her out of her despondency, but also because she was uncommonly attractive for a woman of any age. It helped that her morals aligned with mine which made it easier to trust each other.
Josie was so outstandingly attractive that it raised my stock no end with my team the time she came to my office unannounced, escorted up by a beaming security guard from the reception, revelling in being in close contact with such a beautiful woman. My team remarked afterwards how gorgeous she was, with the distinct inference that I must be batting way above my average.
They were right. I'm nothing special to look at, but I have a quite 'feminine-friendly' or perhaps, more accurately, a compassionate side to my nature. Some women see that empathy and are attracted by it. Josie also seemed not to realise just how attractive she was, tending to dwell on her perceived blemishes and failing to appreciate the overall package.
"Look at the crows' feet lines round my eyes. I'm getting old. I need to bathe in moisturiser now to keep my skin wrinkle free." Never mind that most women would give their eye teeth to look like her, and other men clearly liked what they saw.
The next twenty four hours after her unannounced arrival at my office were to show a side to her character I had not seen before, which confounded a great deal of my assumptions about her. But in a surprising way. I would not be disappointed.
She beamed at me now as she stood just inside the entrance to the main office.
"Such a nice man, that Ahmed. He insisted on showing me up to here personally, just so that he could see your face when I walked in. I've come to take you out of work early, to find somewhere fun for us to eat." Ahmed was the security guard whose duties included manning the reception desk downstairs.
Josie was in ebullient mood. "I've brought a friend. You'll like her. We've been shopping. Retail therapy, she calls it. Take your essentials and leave your briefcase in your office. You'll have your hands full this evening."
At this point I should state that Josie has a perfectly proportioned if petite body, from her slender legs and finely rounded bottom, to her toned back and exceptionally firm natural breasts. Her natural blonde, trimmed, landing strip matched perfectly with her hair, both of which were complemented by her toned belly and firm, rounded tits. But amidst all that perfection, it was her grey blue eyes that melted me. They sparkled with an openness rare even to beautiful women.
She frequented a gym, and it showed. Now, I am a man that prefers a woman with an hourglass figure, but I made an exception for Josie because she was simply so all-round beautiful.
Although she was the complete package my team could not appreciate that, because her figure was that day disguised by a stylish, unbuttoned coat against the likely Autumnal evening chill. All they had to go on was her face, but it was enough to persuade them of her beauty. Yes, I was a lucky man.
We left the main office, arm in arm, with a sense of many pairs of eyes following us, no doubt speculating on what she saw in me. I was to be faced with a barrage of questions the next time the team took me to the pub.
The lift deposited us in the foyer to be met by an equally interesting younger woman leaning over the reception desk, chatting to Ahmed. She was not wearing a coat, which allowed me to admire in profile her pronounced bust and rounded bottom, more my usual type of woman. She turned as we approached. Josie introduced her.
"This is Bruna, my friend.
"Sorry we took so long, Bruna, we were chatting upstairs."
Bruna smiled as she shook my hand.
"Bruna?" I enquired with raised eyebrows.
She smiled. "It's short for Brunehilde, a legacy of my Germanic father. Some say it suits me, but I prefer Bruna."
Josie explained her presence. "Bruna and I thought you could reward us for our heroic retail therapy by finding somewhere exotic or interesting to eat. We are in your hands."
Ahmed had his eyes full, flicking from one to the other of the women, appreciating each in equal measure. Bruna was a couple of inches taller than Josie and of shapely physique. Yet, somehow, it neither made her look big or overweight, nor did she eclipse Josie. She was a remarkable looking brunette with dark eyes and an appealing face, and a body to die for, if one did not aspire to be an anorexic catwalk model. That much was obvious from her clinging brown and gold, mid-calf dress, above tall brown boots.
I smiled and looked for Bruna's coat, which was draped across the back of a visitor's chair. Its sandy coloured camel hair material looked good draped around her sumptuous body once I had helped her on with it. She gave Ahmed a silent thanks for entertaining her. Charming.
I held open the exit door for my escorts for the evening. When we were outside, they each slid an arm through mine, carrying their shopping bags in their free hands. Off we walked across Shepherds Bush Green towards the Tube, me racking my brain for somewhere to take them. I knew plenty of interesting eateries around Leicester Square but wanted to be seen with these two stunners on my arm, so headed for Piccadilly. For many the Circus (a glorified roundabout by origin, now mostly pedestrianised) is the emotional heart of London, the iconic venue of revellers on VE Day, and the bright colourful tapestry for a multitude of neon signs which outshone Time Square at that time. This was before the days of LED displays which, in my opinion, lose much of that neon magic.
It was Autumn so the days were drawing in. It was early yet for the West End truly to come to life, but the dazzling lights sent a frisson of pleasure through both my suburban companions. As we walked arm in arm around the circus and into Coventry Street, tourists and locals alike paused and stared at the arresting sight of a smart-suited man with a beauty on each arm, their elegant coats unbuttoned and flapping gently in the autumnal breeze. They may have speculated on what backstory accompanied that scene. In truth there was no backstory -- yet. All that was still to come.
Did I mention that Bruna was wearing tall dark brown leather boots with Cuban heels, over (I assumed) matching stockings? Josie, by contrast was dressed in her customary short cotton dress which, I suspected was as usual, the sum total of her clothing under her coat. The long legs of the petite blonde in heels, and the auto-erotic vision of the booted brunette, must have caused a quandary for onlookers to know which way to focus their admiring stares.
I mentioned that I am most attracted to women with hourglass figures. Bruna was just such a woman. Yet, she did not affect me as I would have expected, because Josie had stolen my heart. She had spellbound me with her looks and sunny personality, then bowled me over with her willingness to please me in the bedroom, as well as many secret public places, even on heritage steam train rides (but that's another story). She was light and easy to carry. I could hold her upside down whilst her mouth satisfied my cock and I munched on her delightful pussy in a vertical soixante-neuf. That's another story, too.
Bruna had lots of questions for me, although I was sure she had already been fully briefed by Josie. Nor did Josie appear to mind her interest in some of the more intimate aspects of my life. I would have to say that Bruna's interest seemed more prurient than flirtatious. I suspected that Josie had told her things that suggested she was missing out on having a man in her life. Their relationship was interesting, to say the least.
By now, I was so caught up in their sparkling company that I had quite lost my sense of direction. As we crossed Leicester Square, we were heading away from my intended destination which was to be down the side streets off Charing Cross Road. At the corner of Leicester Square, we arrived at a very touristy, but attractive Italian restaurant.
"Let's go in there," Bruna decided.
I shrugged and smile, knowing that despite the touristy prices, the meal would be cheaper than my intended restaurant, designed to impress with its classy style and gourmet food.
It was early yet for West End diners so the restaurant was mostly empty. We stood near the bar and waited to be seated. An effusively beaming older man bore down on us and with a practised air of efficiency, discreetly took in the complete statistics of both women in milliseconds. He must have liked what he saw because his beam morphed into pure delight.
"Where would the senor and senoras like to sit? Ah, I have just the place."
He had indeed. The one round table by itself in the window, bounded by the side wall of the restaurant on one side and two glass walls fronting the street and the entrance lobby. You could say it was a goldfish bowl. It reminded me, curiously, of the window areas in which prostitutes sit in Amsterdam. I relieved the ladies of their coats which the maître d' gladly accepted, and ostentatiously sniffed to appreciate the scent of their mingling perfumes. He might have been savouring a fine wine or a gourmet aroma, given the pleasure registering on his face. He handed the coats on to a junior waiter and pulled out two chairs for the ladies in turn, carefully ensuring that they would be seated either side of me and that we would all be facing the window and the pedestrianised streetscape of Irving Street and Leicester Square.
The wine flowed, but mostly for the two women. Although I had commuted in by train, I knew that I would fall asleep on the journey home if I drunk too much, and I wanted to avoid that. This was going to be an evening to savour. Even before the food arrived, the conversation flowed. Josie was the social cement that could make most disparate personalities gel, finding the common ground for cordial discussions.
