THE FOLLOWING STORY IS TRUE. ALL EVENTS AND BEHAVIOR ARE FAITHFUL ACCOUNTS OF PAST EVENTS, ALTHOUGH NAMES HAVE BEEN ALTERED TO PROTECT MY POSTERIOR AND KEEP ME OUT OF COURT. WRITER'S LICENSE AND HUMBLE DISCRETION HAVE BEEN USED WHERE AND WHEN I FELT IT EXPEDIENT TO AVOID ADVERSITY OR TO ENHANCE EPISODE INTERVALS.
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Even before he spoke, I could feel him behind me.
His greeting was cheerful and friendly, perhaps even almost too friendly. I realized he could, from his standing position slightly behind me as I hunched forward over my computer terminal, see far down my blouse. Never one to tease, I bent slightly further down, thus assuring him of a clear view of my black-bra clad cleavage.
Recently hired from another Air National Guard Unit, David came into our caretaker force from a flight maintenance section. His command of an office full of females was a pleasant change for him and gave him ample opportunity to indulge his voyeuristic proclivity. Though our Civil Service classifications were equal, he seemed a bit autocratic. I was quite complimented he singled my charms as worth investigating but did not intend to allow him dominance.
We talked of nothing particular other than the work related computer screen before me, each tactfully avoiding observation of the display upon which he was actually concentrating. (Would he panic and run screaming down the hall should I guide his hand inside my black lingerie? Or would he, as I secretly desired, caress my nipple with tender strokes until it responded to rock hard attention?) I squirmed in my chair and hoped he would interpret it as discomfort from my lengthy time seated. Actually, I was trying to relieve the tingling wetness developing between my legs.
All too soon David wandered on and my fantasies returned to the boredom of my day. The memory of sitting in his recently acquired sexy red sports car earlier in the week kept me wiggling in my seat for the rest of the afternoon. The limitations of what we might do in the cramped two-seat cockpit taxed my imagination but did nothing to relieve my anxieties.
Quitting time arrived with a mass exodus into a humid June afternoon of low clouds and drizzling rain. With only slightly soaked hair and a clinging dress, I ground my car's battery to death after only couple of quick turns of the key. Cursing my own procrastination, (the battery had been weak for some time) I ran back into the building to phone for help.
"Please leave a message after the tone" echoed in my ear from our home phone telling me my significant dildo was not on site sixty miles away. I tried his alternate haunt, his mother's apartment on the outskirts of the city and received another irritating, recorded brush off. My mother-in-law was on a summer cruise so I resigned myself to interminable calls until my wayward spouse answered one or the other of the phones.
David found me dejectedly cursing both my unfaithful steed and my wandering hubby as I slowly began to dry from my recent dousing. Only when I noticed his eyes repeatedly straying to my chest did I realize how wet both my outer and under garments had become. Looking down, I could clearly distinguish the dark areolas of my breasts. Already stiffened by the cold my nipples rose to truly elevated dimensions. Concern oozing from every pore he asked, "Troubles, Susie?"
When I explained my problems, he immediately offered to drive me home. The attractiveness of that idea foreshadowed my concern at being alone with him. Exactly which of us I didn't trust was a question definitely worthy of investigation. The sixty-mile distance, which I assumed would temper his offer, did not discourage him at all. Obviously, speaking of his sports car, he assured me, "I love playing with my new toy!" When I mentioned the much closer apartment, he said that would be acceptable also, though he would have preferred the lengthier drive. Either way, he absolutely would not take no for an answer.
Sports cars are not made for ladies in skirts (or perhaps they are)! Impossible to enter and exit in a dignified manner, they certainly offer opportunities for maximum exposure. Not that David was crude enough to stare, but I felt he examined both my undergarments and my navel as he assisted me into the depths. The feeling of energy that throbbed from the metal up my legs and thighs as we jaunted down the freeway was absolutely erotic! Conversation was difficult over the pervading thrum of the omnipotent engine but I didn't mind at all. My voice would have strained anyway had I tried to speak while attempting to ignore my excitement generated by both the vehicle and our isolation together. Each time the gearshift moved, and David enjoyed gear control, his knuckles would brush my bare leg. Had he suspected how much I wanted him to caress the inside of my leg he would have creamed his pants.
The men had never met, but had spoken on the phone, so when Leo's car was parked at the apartment David accompanied me inside. I had, quite innocently, mentioned David several times in idle conversation with my spouse. Always quick to pick up on my hidden dreams Leo had been surreptitiously cataloging my comments in his ever-evil little mind. There are times I wish my dear husband wasn't quite so proficient at hearing what I don't say!