Jane looked like a porn star secretary. It was the glasses. I spent many happy office hours imagining her taking off those glasses, swishing her shoulder-length blonde hair, slowly unbuttoning her blouse to reveal her big breasts fighting against the lacy black bra beneath. Crawling onto my desk (pen holder on the floor) and her skirt hitching up. A smooth thigh over black stockings. That fantastic cleavage in my face, wanton green eyes that were moments before safely hidden behind glasses.
We flirted playfully. We sent jokey emails back and forth. She'd ask if her bum looked big in a new outfit and wiggle her ass at me. If I had some amusing mail Jane would lean behind me to read it, her left breast pressed against my shoulder. Claire would suggest that Jane's tits were getting bigger and ask my opinion. It was all Claire's fault. Claire was a big girl with an astonishing bosom. Now she was an outrageous flirt, but not especially sexy, and married besides. Jane was married too – to a soldier, for fuck's sake. Claire would drop hints about their adventurous sex life and Jane would blush and deny it too much.
After work one cold Friday in January Claire suggested we three go for a drink. It was freezing out, the bar was warm, and we were soon on our second pints. I sat sandwiched on a bench between Jane and Claire, a warm thigh pressing on either side. She was telling us that Mark, her husband, was in Germany for a fortnight and looking a bit down.
"---'ll keep you company," said Claire helpfully, reading a message on her phone. "Sorry! I've gotta go. You two have fun!" And with that she was gone, but not before ordering a couple of large whiskies that soon arrived at our table.
We staggered out of there at 9.30 and agreed to share a cab. In the back we sat close and my hand fell quite naturally on her thigh. When we got to hers she suggested I came in for a coffee. My dick was immediately semi-hard. I paid the driver and followed her into her house.
