Kanti is our senior accountant and is impressively good at her job. Being from India, her English can be a little difficult to understand, especially when she gets excited or upset. She stands about 5' 6" and is remarkably skinny. Her breasts are small, which fits her small frame perfectly. She has medium-dark skin, high cheek bones, a well-defined chin with a dimple in the middle, and sunken brown eyes. Her hair is dyed a reddish-brown color. I can tell because her gray roots appear from time to time. She's about the same age as me and also married. One final note, I've wanted to have sex with her for as long as I've known her.
About a month ago, I made the decision to retire from the engineering firm at the tender young age of 58. I have been with the firm for 35 years. Since my last day is today (and this narrative is my last unofficial act before I turn in my laptop), the party was held yesterday afternoon. There was plenty of booze and a buffet of finger food. It was bittersweet as I spoke to each of the nearly 50 people in attendance, some of whom I had worked with for as long as I had been with the company.
As time flew by and the crowd thinned, I noticed Kanti sitting near a corner of the conference room nursing a glass of red wine. She was wearing sandals on her feet and a long. sleeveless dress that extended down to her ankles. As I sat down next to her, she straightened up her posture and looked at me with a smile on her face.
"Are you happy to be retiring?" she asked in her thick accent.
"Very much so," I replied, "but I will certainly miss some of the people here. I'll certainly miss you, that's for sure. Heck, you and I worked on a project when we were both of a rather junior rank. Now look at us."
"Those were fun times."
"I'll say. Remember that supplier issue we had? You were tough as nails on those guys and threatened to call in a government audit. That woke 'em up. We should have had celebratory sex after that one," I said in jest. Hey, I'm retiring, so what can they do to me now for a little sexual inuendo?
Kanti, however, appeared to completely disregard the comment as she looked at me steadily with her slightly inebriated brown eyes and asked, "didn't you recently get a new love seat in your office?"
"Yeah," I said, stunned by the change in conversational direction, "the one that was in there when I took over the office was worn out. Why do you ask?"
"Do you ever wonder why it was so worn out?"
"I hadn't given it any thought, actually," I said as I quickly saw the new direction in our conversation. "What's your theory?"
"The last occupant of your office seemed to have a lot to celebrate," she said still looking me steadily in the eyes. Then her eyes began to sparkle, and her lips drew up into a devious smile. "Don't you have something to celebrate?"
My mouth went dry, and I completely lost my ability to talk.
"Maybe," she continued, "we should celebrate that victory over our supplier now. It's never too late, is it?"
I looked around and noticed a couple of people still talking in a corner across the room. I didn't think any of them would even notice if I left, let alone care, so I stood up and offered Kanti my right hand. "Would you like to accompany me to my office to continue this discussion?" I asked hoarsely. Her smile seemed to broaden as she placed her left hand, with prominent wedding ring, in mine. She stood up, I escorted her out of the conference room, and we made our way to my office.
I opened the door and, stepping inside the office ahead of her, turned on the lights. My desk is directly in front of the door, a leather love seat is against the wall on the left, and a small table with two chairs is on the right. Kanti's hips swayed as she walked over to the desk, turned around, and rested her small, but firm, ass on the edge of my desk. She folded her arms across her small chest and continued to smile in that wicked way as I turned and locked the door.
When I turned back around, Kanti was in the process of removing her dress. She had pulled the hem above her knees and the hem was continuing the climb as the material bunched up around her thin waist. Oncer her beige granny-panties were exposed, she grasped the hem and whisked it up and over her head, revealing a beige tank top undershirt with no bra. Her nipples were clearly poking through the wispy material. I walked up to her as she tossed her dress on the small table and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Her lips parted and accepted my tongue.
After pulling her up into an embrace and playing tonsil hocky for a few seconds, I started kissing down the side of her neck, saying as I moved, "I've wanted to do this for years."
