Sandra joined our company in 1993 as the new accounts payable manager. I was then 43, she was a year younger. I was working in IT. There were around 50 employees in total, so it wasn't a large company.
Sandra was a small woman, about 5'1. She had blonde hair in a bob, a trim figure, very small tits and an arse to die for. Facially she was not beautiful. Some would say she was ugly. I wouldn't go that far.
I could see that when she was younger she would have been attractive, pretty even. The years and the effects of smoking had taken their toll. She had wrinkles around her lips from drawing on her cigs and her teeth were somewhat tobacco stained.
She had a wicked sense of humour and wouldn't put up with bullshit. "Rough diamond" is a fitting description, because despite the rough exterior she had a heart of gold. She worked hard and was good at her job. I never saw her walking slowly, she always seemed in a hurry.
I quickly got to know her quite well. Every day she would call into my office with invoices to sign off. She often had a funny or flirty remark. 'Can I have your autograph please?' she'd say as she passed me the invoices to sign off. Saying it in a mock simpering way, batting her baby blues at me like I was George Clooney.
One time she said, 'This company is on my case every bleedin' day, it's long overdue. So I'll make a deal with you. You sign it right now and the rest of this week I'll undo an extra blouse button before I come into your office.' That was followed by a wink. That sort of thing, just banter, nothing more to it. On that occasion I signed it, but she didn't keep her side of the deal. When I complained, her reply was simply, 'Sucker!'
Our normal working day ended at five o'clock. Most days I'd work until six, six-thirty. Sandra worked late on some days. She caught the bus to and from work, actually two buses. One from the main road that ran past our business park. It was a ten-minute walk to that bus stop. That bus took her to the city station. Then a bus from there to the town where she lived with her husband Tony.
The entire journey would take her just over an hour. By car, it would only take twenty minutes. One day she was leaving at the same time I was, we said goodnight as she walked past me.
As I was getting into my car I saw her walking as fast as she could to catch the bus. I watched the fascinating movement of her bum in her jeans.
'Sandra.' I called out, 'I can give you a lift as far as the motorway, if that helps?'
'Yeah, it would, thanks.' She came trotting back.
It was going to get her halfway to the city and cut down her journey time. During the drive I told her to let me know when she was going to work late, and to call me when she was ready to leave. I told her that it would be doing me a favour, because sometimes I was so engrossed in work I didn't notice the time.
That then became the norm. Sometimes her bus would be in front of us, 'That's my fucking bus, try to overtake it will you?'
Usually I succeeded. I was then rewarded with a view in the mirror of her arse in skintight jeans as she ran back to the bus stop, frantically waving at the driver to wait for her. That was her normal attire. Skin tight jeans, white blouse and black leather biker jacket. If she had any important meetings she'd wear a skirt and tailored jacket. Sometimes jacket and trousers. Her legs were also fantastic.
One morning I saw her walking into the estate and I pulled up to save her the ten-minute walk. She ran up to the car door and opened it. Instead of getting in, she leaned in then gave me a sultry look and said, 'Looking for a good time sir?' I just laughed and so did she, but I felt the beginnings of an erection.
Sometimes after work I'd hold the door open for her as she got in the car. If she was wearing a skirt, she seemed to deliberately make sure I got a good look at her knickers. One time after she'd flashed me she said as I got in the car, 'Did you just look up my skirt?'
'No!' I lied, feeling myself blushing.
'Why not?' she asked with mock disappointment, 'I wouldn't have minded.'
Again, I started to get erect. At the time my marriage was going through a really rough patch, nothing to do with Sandra. Sandra was a good listener. Her marriage wasn't so great either. Our work relationship had reached a level of trust where she also felt able to open up. Tony was constantly trying to persuade her to have a MMF threesome with a mate of his. She suspected that Tony knew his mate would reciprocate and then let Tony fuck his wife.
He also wanted her to persuade Natalie, a friend of hers (Natalie played around and Sandra had mentioned that she did to Tony) to join the two of them in a FFM threesome. Sandra at that time wasn't interested in threesomes.
His business took him all over the UK, and she was sure he had a woman in every port. She also knew he visited massage parlours. The idiot had left a UK directory lying around, with some parlours ringed in pen. He'd even rated some with a score out of ten, proving he'd been there. What a twat! She didn't want a divorce, mainly for financial reasons, so she was prepared to put up with him.
With my marriage it reached the stage where we decided we weren't going to resolve our differences. Until such time as the divorce came through, and the marital home was sold; I rented a house closer to work. It was in the next town to where Sandra lived. When giving her a lift I could then get her much closer to home and significantly shorten her working day.
However, that didn't happen. She worked on a bit later than she had been doing. She said it was because she could do with the extra money and Tony was used to the time she got home after working late. After I started to give her a lift home, she worked a little later. Now she could work even later still, but get home at the normal time.
My divorce finally came through. I was then waiting for the house we had to be sold.
About twelve months after moving out I met another woman, Kate. She was an attractive brunette, a single mum in her late thirties with a young daughter the same age as my youngest. I started seeing Kate regularly. She didn't drive, and so I would drive to see her. Eventually we progressed to the point where, more often than not, I would spend the night at her place. I didn't move in, I always took an overnight bag. I always went home after work to either stay at home, if I wasn't seeing Kate, or pack a change of clothes.
Kate and I both had the same model and colour of Nokia phone. One evening Kate was working until very late. Her daughter was with her dad overnight. Kate left a key in the garden and told me to let myself in. She arrived home around nine. When she arrived I told her to put her feet up, and I'd make us a bit of supper.
I was pottering around in her kitchen when my phone buzzed with a message. I picked it up, not realising it was her phone...
still in this warm snuggly bed feeling naughty x
The message was from someone called Greg. Greg was an ex-boyfriend she'd mentioned. I took it through to her and said, 'You've had a message from Greg, I picked up your phone by mistake.'
She read it and went bright red, 'He must have sent it to me by mistake, it must be meant for someone else.'
She put her phone down and carried on watching TV. I just hovered.
'What?' she asked.
'Aren't you going to tell him?'
'Tell him what?'
'That he sent it to you by mistake.'