Jayne's Intro.
Though not critical, I strongly suggest that you read this long, seven part story in chronological order. Not only will you then see how I drifted towards my lesbian lifestyle and why that was, but also the reasons why I did that.
Most of all, though, do enjoy my story,
Love
Jayne x
Having spent most of my career in the ad industry I'd kept up with my contacts after retiring in my early-forties although I'm still not sure why I did that, retire that is as I have regretted it ever since! I was, however, able to keep my hand in and stop myself going insane or turning to drink or random sex by handling some freelance projects from home and having odd spells of basic copywriting in a couple of agencies. Having missed the fervid, highly-charged atmosphere and the camaraderie and banter of agency life I really enjoyed those periods of going back to work albeit usually for only short periods.
"So how was your week?" I asked Jessy a young art director I'd been paired with on a few modest sized account for an agency that was run by a guy who used to work for me.
"Fucking awful," she replied, flashing me a lovely smile that rather worryingly reminded me of Lindsay who had a month or so ago moved in with her longer-term lover and now business partner causing our regular sessions that I thought of as a hair wank and two blow jobs, to end. I'd had three or four meetings with Jess and I'd impressed her with my copywriting that, for such an oldie, she felt was very on the mark and up to date, rare praise indeed from such a youngster!
Jessy was truly gorgeous. She had long, corn-blonde hair that she often wore down or, as it was today, in bunches and sometimes in pigtails which made her look much younger than the early twenties I had been told she was.
Around six one evening, when she slid through the door into the Creative Director's office that I was using for the time I was in the agency, a surge of unwanted lust ran through me and I gulped when I saw what she was wearing. Mike, the CD an old work colleague and near lover had mentioned that the kids in the agency were becoming more and more outrageous in their get ups, "We seem to have got a group of particularly tasty young birds in there all at the same time and they try to outdo each other. It's like going into a fucking brothel," he'd told me a while ago.
"Is there any other sort"? I quipped back.
"What?" he replied clearly not getting my joke.
"Oh never mind and in any case what do you know about brothels?" I asked to which he didn't reply.
She was wearing a thin, pale blue with orange markings skirt that came to mid-thigh and had a slight flare so that when she moved or bent over she almost flashed her knickers and certainly showed most of her gorgeously long, tanned legs. On top she was wearing a simple, white, cotton blouse through which the outline of her bra could be seen. It had buttons all the way up the front, with one more undone at the neck than there really should have been hence, giving occasional glimpses of the deepish cleavage between her quite full breasts. She was wearing the blouse outside the waist of the skirt with some of the lower buttons undone, thus occasionally giving flashes of her bare waist and tummy. Around her neck she was wearing one of those highly fashionable at the time, very long multi-string necklaces with beads, little squares and round pieces of what looked like glass and other bits and bobs attached to it. As she moved it rattled and some of the necklace slid inside the blouse and some stayed outside often resting on one of her boobs with some of the hanging things slipping between them. Her long, dangly earrings matched the necklace and as they also swayed around there was a lot going on when I looked at her. Her legs were bare but unlike many youngsters she was wearing heels, albeit not very high ones like mine.
Considering she was working in the creative department of the agency where there are few if any rules and certainly no dress code, she was dressed smartly and quite conservatively whereas I was wearing a white silk tee shirt under a pink, vee-neck, cashmere sweater with tight blue jeans.
"Drink?" I asked.
"Lovely, yes please. So that's what you bigwigs do behind closed doors after hours is it?" She smiled as I poured two glasses of wine and walked across the office to where she was sitting on the long couch and handed it to her.
"Oh you'd be so surprised Jessy what goes on in here," I said smiling down at her as she looked up at me with her face just about level with my lower stomach, I couldn't help thinking.
"Would I?" She replied seriously as she looked straight into my eyes.
"So why was it so fucking awful?" I asked propping myself on the edge of Mike's huge power-desk with my legs stretched out before me pointing at where she was on the sofa.
Since my husband had finally persuaded me to agree to have sex with a woman as he watched which I hadn't done as it was down to him to arrange it, I had become more interested in my bisexual persona that had lain dormant since my late and early-twenties before I met him. After we'd been married a while I had rather foolishly told him about my girly escapades when I was at uni and then when I Iived in the US for a year or so. Regularly, but infrequently since then, he'd raised the topic and for several years now he'd been onto me as we had pillow talk after sex to go with one as he watched. My refusal and saying that I was only into men now didn't deter him but was probably the reason why he changed and asked me to have sex with a guy as he watched and about a year ago, he finally wore me down and I'd half agreed to do that. He hadn't come up with a woman, though he did with a guy which didn't come off, but he had rekindled my interest in the bisexual side of my sexuality and I'd had two flings with women since then without his knowledge.
"Oh I broke up with my boyfriend, had a smack in my car and had a massive row with my mum."
"Oh dear, that sounds tough," I said walking behind the settee where she was sitting to the bar and picked up the wine bottle, "You still live at home then?"
"Yes, with a forty grand student loan to repay I need to for a year or so, I only get a fucking pittance here until I finish training and, hopefully get a permanent post."
"Yes they do that on purpose to test the grads sticking power, or so HR says."
"It's bloody terrible for my sex and social lives, living at home."
"Yes it must be."
"I have had more shags in more bedsits and been half undressed in the backs of more cars in the last year than when I was at uni," she laughed adding quickly, "Just joking boss."
As a vision of her half undressed on the back seat of a car, as I had been several times in my teens swept into my mind I replied, "I'm hardly your boss Jess, I don't even work here," as I topped up her glass looking over her shoulders from behind and down her slim body and legs where her skirt had ridden well up almost to show her panties. 'God she's so attractive and so fucking sexy' filled my mind as I ogled the lovely sight and wondered if there was any chance of something happening between us. Mentally slapping my hand I tried hard to push such thoughts from my mind but as I looked down at her from behind and sipped my wine, I failed completely to do that. In fact, the failure was so poor that as I looked down at her the blouse and skirt seemed to vanish and she was sitting there in her underwear!
My mind again went back to those early times with Melissa and a couple of others at uni before I was married and to that amazing sexual education and experiences I had with them. Until Lindsay, my ex-hair-stylist, had surprised me during some pillow talk by telling me that pretty much all the younger women who worked in the salon had done something with other girls and, of course, with my current enhanced interest I wondered what Jessy had got up to? As an afterthought, I also wondered about my daughter Sara who was now in her late teens and having left school with great A level grades was about to go travelling during her gap year.
