Over the next couple of weeks, I dated several men and had sex with two of them. One of them was a jerk that didn't even try to make me come and just left satisfied with himself. The other one took the time to make sure I came, but the orgasm just wasn't as good as the ones that Laura and Nancy had given me. Of course, Laura had given me a hard to beat orgasm – three in a row, actually – that nearly blew my legs off. I was worried Laura would come back too soon, and as fascinated as I was by her lovely body, and even by the prettiness of her private parts, I still didn't feel the lust for her that I knew that she felt for me, if that makes any sense. Maybe sex just wasn't my thing. I finally decided not to date anybody for a while.
Then my thoughts about my social life were severely curtailed by professional concerns. One of the attorney's at my firm got assigned a high-profile criminal case and I got assigned to him. It was more than a little thrilling to work on a case that one could read about in the papers every day. The firm was short of paralegals at the moment, and this was way too big for me to handle alone. I had over two hundred and sixty cardboard boxes full of files to research and two weeks to do it in. I explained to the attorney that I wasn't super woman, and he commiserated and explained that expense was not an object – I was free to hire outsourced help – there would be much padding of the legal bill.
I managed to find two freelance paralegals to supervise, but I still had too much work to do in the limited amount of time, so I put out an advertisement for a college student; preferably pre-law to personally assist me. That's how I ended up hiring Lisa, a local student who was actually an English major, but willing to work. I explained how I wanted her to keyword documents, and gave her a list of keywords to look for, and then I told her how to briefly document decisions, legal rulings and so forth. I also explained that to save time from going to and from the office we would be doing most of the work at my apartment where I had set up my dining table as an 'at home' office.
I was delighted at Lisa's intelligence and energy and we worked well together the first few days, but I found something distracting about her and couldn't put my finger on what it was. I knew it must be related to her appearance because I found myself often looking at her. She was a big girl, tall and wide at the shoulders with big hips and judging from how she filled out her jeans, she had meaty thighs. Part of what distracted me was I couldn't decide whether or not she was a little fat – her clothes definitely made it hard to tell.
She always wore a sweatshirt or a tee-shirt that was several sizes too large and jeans that fitted fairly loosely. She didn't seem fat but her jeans were certainly filled with ample buttocks and thighs when she bent over or did anything else to tighten them. I never could get a good look at her waist because of the baggy shirts. Her face was on the pretty side with a strong nose, beautiful green eyes, long lashes and a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her grin was infectious. Her hair was shoulder length and a light brown – a little darker than mine, and wherever skin showed she seemed tanned. Her hands were large but still feminine, and her smile was dazzling – highlighted by even white teeth, full lips and engaging laugh dimples. She was a good four inches taller than me – a big girl.
It was the third day that my distraction became sexual in nature. We were both working at my dining room table when Lisa finished off a box of documents. She rose and set the box on the floor and stooped to lift another. Her shirt rode up and her jeans rode down, and I got a good look at the small of her back and the crack of her ass. Her waist showed no fat, only muscle and a tan that was perfectly even down to the cleft at the top of her buttocks where the skin suddenly paled – bikini marks. My breath caught in my throat and I felt warmth spreading in my groin, as I contemplated the roundness of her bottom.
Hardly the most flattering view of a woman, but it stunned me. I knew she was only nineteen, which made me feel like a dirty old woman (I was twenty-seven), but I felt a sudden rush of lust for her. My fingers trembling slightly, I glanced at the clock – nearly nine – we always quit at nine. I cleared my throat, "Um Lisa, you can consider yourself still on the clock until 10 tonight, but I'm exhausted. What say we take a break and have a glass of wine in the living room and relax a little. You'll be getting paid for it."
She straightened, put her hands on her hips and grinned, "Ms. Stonewell, that sounds like a wonderful idea!"
"Please," I tried grinning back, "From now on, just call me Betty."
I hurried to the kitchen, my heart pounding, and poured two glasses of wine. What was wrong with me? I felt like the victim of an adolescent crush. I breezed back to the living room where I found Lisa sitting on the couch and leaning back, her hands rubbing the back of her neck. I sat down beside her and handed her a glass, then kicked off my shoes and propped my feet on the coffee table. We each took a couple of sips of wine before Lisa spoke.
"Mind if I take off my shoes, too?" she asked, untying her tennis shoes.
"Take off your socks, too," I suggested, "Naked feet are happy feet." She grinned and did. I noticed she had pink toenail polish, although she wore no nail polish on her fingers. Her fingernails were clipped neatly short, the way I wore mine.
"You know something, Ms – uh, Betty?"
I grinned at her, "What's that, Ms – uh, Lisa?"
She giggled and blushed slightly, glancing at my legs (I was wearing a two piece dress, a matching blouse and skirt, and the skirt had a dangerously high hemline, so she was seeing most of my legs), "You're so beautiful and sexy and petite that you make me feel like a cow. Is there a course I could take on dressing better?"
"Mmm," I answered, "In the first place, you're plenty sexy as you are, and in the second place, you dress fine for work. Of course you don't want to wear jeans to a dance or a nightclub."
She shrugged, "I don't know about the sexy part, but that is my problem, knowing what to wear. Like you choose your colors so well. That dark red dress you're wearing really makes you look hot! It goes great with your shade of blond hair and your barely tanned skin. It even goes well with your brown eyes."
Regretfully, I felt she wasn't coming on to me. She was just asking honest questions about fashion. "I'm glad you think so, but actually I'm sure there are places to get advise about such things." I noticed her rubbing her neck again, "Would you like for me to rub your neck a little?"
