The sun was peeking through under the blinds as I read Kelly's note. I lay there reflecting on the events of the previous night. Kelly. We had made love. Had sex. I'd had sex with a woman. When I had kissed her in the car at the car show, that was as much love as it was sexual. But this was pure lust. She had fucked me. Actually, that's how it felt – she had been dominant with me like a man, and I had enjoyed letting her take control, controlling me, fucking me. Little Kelly! And I had enjoyed it. I loved it. My hand slid down to my between my legs as I remembered the feel of her touch, her tongue...
Driving to work, I thought about all that had happened over the past few weeks. The car show. Then there was the following Saturday night when I exposed myself like a cheap slut to Roger. Then there was Ron feeling me up at the beach. Then Rich at that asshole Jem's function, where I was a car show slut for the second time. And then, last night, Kelly. Reflecting on my behavior of late, I almost couldn't recognize myself. I had done things I would never have remotely considered only weeks earlier. What was happening to me? And now I had had sex with a woman! Did this mean I was bi-sexual? Maybe I am. Who would have thought...
On the whole it was a disconcerting feeling. But at the same time reliving all those experiences sent a tingle through my body. I was enjoying myself. I was enjoying life. I thought my life had been fine before, and it had been. But now it seemed to have taken on a whole new dimension. I felt sexual in a much deeper way than ever before. My pussy was shaved. I wore g-strings. I was wearing one now.
I parked my car in the basement car park. I saw up the row of cars Kelly getting out of her car – she had arrived at the same time. She saw me and came over.
"Hi Anne!" she said with a lovely, breezy grin. "How you feeling this morning?"
"Bit tired, but pretty good." I smiled as I pulled my bag and papers from the front seat.
"Me too. Last night was sooo good!" she said. I was leaning against the car, and as she spoke she leaned into me, kissing me hard on the mouth and wrapping one arm around the small of my back. She slipped her tongue between my lips. I couldn't help but respond to her silky touch as our tongues darted around one another. Right there in the car park, I let her. Oh yes, last night had been good!
I heard a car coming. I panicked, pushing her away, gently but firmly. Luckily there was no one else around – pretty much everyone else would have been at their desks by now.
"Kel, not here!" I whispered.
"Um, guess you're right there! Hey, sorry I had to leave last night, but you were out like a light, and I didn't want Rick to worry."
Rick. I'd forgotten about him. I always seem to forget about him when Kelly is around.
"Did you tell him?" I asked, as we headed for the elevator, the sharp click clack sound of our heels on the concrete floor echoing around the basement as we walked.
"Oh yeah. But don't worry, he's OK. I had full permission. And the idea of us together was a major turn on for him – we had great sex when I got home!"
Was that a pang of jealousy I felt when she told me that? Oh dear...
"Glad to hear it," I said. "But we better get inside or we'll both be late."
Work was too busy for any quiet introspection concerning the interesting developments my life seemed to be taking. The day over with, I went straight home. I was dog tired. I nibbled on some leftovers from lunch and went straight to bed.
Nothing like a good night's sleep. I must have slept more than 10 hours. The weather forecast had been for a hot day, and already at 7am you could feel it. I sat up and stretched. I felt good. Rejuvenated. I grabbed my yoga mat and went out onto the balcony. I was nude, but I hardly gave it a second thought. I leaned over the balcony and watched the passing parade, such as it was – an old man walking his dog, two guys jogging and a teenage schoolboy waiting at the bus stop. What a sight I would have presented had any of them glanced in my direction – naked girl, tits hanging over the balcony, although my bare pussy would have been obscured behind the railing. But none of them noticed.
I laid the mat down and went through my poses. Glancing across at the building opposite, it occurred to me that anyone in probably the top three floors of that apartment complex would have a bird's eye view of my naked form, if they only went across to their window. That knowledge was slightly disturbing but, I had to admit, slightly tantalizing at the same time. Was anyone watching me, I wondered?
Thursday. Today I was booked in for a meeting with Luca concerning his company's marketing strategy for the rest of the year. Personally I didn't like him, but his company was a very big client and, in any case, he was a pretty effective, no nonsense operator. We did work well together, even if I didn't like his arrogance and propensity for sexist remarks, and I was pretty sure he would approve of the plan I had devised.
This would be one of those long lunch meetings, with Luca, my boss, James, and myself. For a change we opted for an al fresco lunch in the city centre. It was nice to get out in the open air, enjoy a glass of wine and some great food over business. Luca was already there when we arrived. He stood up and we all shook hands. I felt his hand go around to the small of my back as he escorted me into my seat, playing the gentleman. Only a gentleman wouldn't let his hand stray down to the top of the lady's ass like he did. I didn't say anything.
I have to concede he is a good looking guy. Tall, dark complexion, jet black hair, chiseled features, and always dressed in immaculate Italian suits. Luca kept eyeing me off like he normally does. It didn't faze me. Nor did his leering and commenting on the various good looking women who walked past put me off. I just left it to James to meekly go along with his male bravado. If only Luca knew what I'd been up to lately... But the important thing was that out of the meeting we got an agreement to proceed, which kept the income stream flowing very nicely indeed. A job well done.
"Thanks Anne, James," Luca said as we all stood up to leave. Again I felt his arm go around my back, as he 'helped' me out of my chair. Only this time it was higher up, around where my bra strap was. Then his hand snaked around as I swiveled to step out of the chair, till it rested on the side of my breast for just a brief moment. The gall of that guy, I thought – and James had seen the whole thing! It was embarrassing but there was no way I was going to make a scene.
"I think there are some good things there," he concluded as his hand slipped down off my breast. "I'll be recommending that we go ahead." He was a pretty smooth operator, I had to admit – he'd copped a feel, but it wasn't overt; it looked like it could have been an accident. It wasn't, of course; I knew it – I felt his fingers gently push into my nipple as he made contact with my boob.
Whether or not James knew, I couldn't be sure. But he was pleased. On the way back – we'd taken my car – he complimented my work.
"It was an unusual proposal, Anne, but a good one, and I think he could see it. Well done."
"Why thank you, Mr Sheldon," I said. I liked to call him by his surname from time to time, in a kind of mock formal way. "I think you've got to try to think outside the square sometimes, especially when it's a product like washing detergent, basically something that's not very sexy."
Not very sexy. A funny thing to say. Well, maybe not in this industry, but it felt like a funny thing to say to my boss.
"Well, maybe his product isn't sexy, but I think he finds you sexy. Then again, I think he finds anything shapely in a skirt sexy."
We both laughed.
Later, back in the office, Wendy phoned. She and Roger were going for drinks after work, and wondered if I wanted to join them. I didn't have anything else on. It would be interesting to see them again after what happened last time with Roger, I mused to myself. But this time I would try to be a good girl...
I met up with them at the Red Oak, a trendy little wine bar in the fashionable part of town. I spotted them sitting at a table near the window. Roger was dressed in a business suit, but it looked like Wendy must have had time to get changed – she was wearing a short, deep blue skirt and blouse, with big thick high-heeled boots. Not unlike the ones I was wearing last time I saw them, I smiled to myself.
"Hi guys," I said. "Gee, love the boots Wen!"
"Thanks Anne. But you were the inspiration for them – Roger took me shopping last Sunday."
I wasn't quite sure what was meant by 'inspiration', and Roger's nervous cough when she said it frankly had me a bit worried. Surely she didn't know about last Saturday night?
"Yes," he said, "yours looked so good that I just had to get Wendy a pair like them. Doesn't she look fantastic?"
It was almost like the poor guy was backpedaling. She's certainly put the fear of God into him. She didn't know, that was clear. I relaxed. She wasn't ever going to know.
As Roger took a call on his cell, Wendy and I got to chatting. Mostly about fashion, those girly things I don't get to talk about in work hours. She was very happy with the boots, and they did look good. She looked great. I hadn't realized what a good looking woman she was before – she'd never been a snappy dresser, but here she was looking pretty sexy, though in no way overstated. Cool, and hot. In my ultra conservative business wear, I felt positively dowdy by comparison.
Wendy had great legs, something else I'd not noticed before. I found myself almost stealing the odd glance at her creamy white thighs and knees - as a redhead, she had ultra white skin - just about where the tops of her boots finished. As I loosened up under the effects of half a glass of wine without any dinner, at one point I was surprised to find myself almost fantasizing about how it would feel to touch her knee, feel the smooth soft skin of her thigh...
Wendy is one of those touchy-feely kind of people. In conversation she'll touch your arm or hand as if to emphasise her point, but it's not a sexual gesture in any way. It's just how she is. She was doing it now, occasionally even grabbing my knee when she got particularly animated. A couple of times in the conversation I returned the gesture, touching her bare knee as if to emphasise a point I was making, when in reality I was just, well, I was touching her bare leg. God, I was basically flirting with her...
Eventually Roger hung up. It sounded like he'd been on a business call.
"Rog," I said, "I can't believe you're taking work calls after 8pm on a weeknight."
"No, wasn't work."
"Jeremy?" Wendy asked. Roger nodded.
"Oh God," said Wendy, rolling her eyes. "Not that again. Jeremy is Roger's little brother," she said, turning to me to explain. "He'd getting married next week, and guess who's got the job of organizing the Stag night?
Roger looked up meekly.
"Yeah, I've been trying to get a stripper-"
"Spare us the details," Wendy cut him off. "We don't want to know, just remember: don't do anything you shouldn't, Mister."
Her tone wasn't cross; more one of hectoring resignation. That boys will be boys, and it was Roger's duty as the big brother to put on the night, but not to step out of line. I was getting the feeling more and more that she was keeping him on a very tight leash. Well, that's their life, and if it works for them, where's the problem? It's not as though I was qualified to comment on successful relationships, given my single status.
Soon Wendy got up to go to the bar to order a fresh round of drinks.
"So, Rog, what's with the buck's night?" I asked.
"Yeah, I almost wish I hadn't agreed to it. It's become a bit of a pain. Jeremy can't decide whether he wants to have a stripper or some models serving drinks. Actually he wants both, but he can't afford both, and I'm certainly not giving him any more money. I just said to him then, buddy, you'd better make up your mind, because if you leave it much later it'll be no girls, period. I mean, it's this weekend."
