It was the cat that gave him the idea - and the opportunity. It was a cream and chocolate Siamese, a thoroughbred; elegant, pampered, well groomed and beautiful. Just like its mistress, Delphine Fraser.
There were eight of them at the dinner table, Christine, Jeff's wife, was diagonally opposite him at the far end of the table, listening to their host Geoffrey Fraser, while he amused her with tales of life in the embassy. She was enjoying Geoffrey's descriptions of the underside of diplomatic relations, laughing at his sardonic observations on foreign customs.
Directly opposite Jeff, June Hemingway was listening to Nigel Starr's stories of his early acting 'career' with a provincial repertory company. To his left, Nigel's unexpectedly mousey girlfriend, Georgina Smith, and Gerald Hemingway, a West Country antique dealer, were deep in a discussion of Japanese netsuke.
Which left him with the undivided attention of Delphine. She was telling him risque tales of her girl's public school, of her classmates' -and her own - obsessive interest in anything in trousers.
She was finely boned but big-busted, the full curves of her breasts shown off to their best, snuggling in the low cut neckline of a soft, loosely knit woollen dress in a shade of cream which almost exactly matched the colour of the cat. She was not wearing a bra. The dark circles of her nipples showed through the dress and her breasts jiggled heavily as she moved. He fancied that lower down, below the slight swell of her stomach, he could make out the dark triangle of her pubic hair, but the wool was knitted tighter there and it may have been his overoptimistic imagination. On the other hand, the wool was tightly stretched over her delectably curved arse and there was no trace of the tiniest of ridges outlining the edge of her knickers.
He could well imagine Delphine Fraser dispensing with that particular item of underclothing. She was mischievious and basic enough for anything. She had already leaned across him to ask Gerald Hemingway his opinion of her necklace. It was an open invitation for Jeff to ogle her tits, though the thickly bespectacled Gerald took it seriously enough, peering short-sightedly at her pendant. Jeff had ample opportunity to study her breasts, naked and no more than inches from his face, with their rounded fullness and their big, brown circles and button nipples. Her black hair covered her eyes as she stayed leaning forward for Gerald to complete his examination.
Under the table she had pressed her knee into his thigh and her hand lay lightly over the back of his on the stiff white table cloth. As Gerald leaned back after his examination and delivered his considered opinion, she teased Jeff by holding the pendant in front of her breasts and breathing a suggestive: 'You like?'
"Gorgeous," he replied, and then in a soft aside to her, "and the necklace."
She laughed, giving her hair a shake, her brown eyes twinkling in delight at his compliment.
"Thank you," she said and her hand gave his a conspiratorial squeeze before withdrawing,
