Who was it who said that you can't always judge a book by its cover, and you can't always judge a lady by her outward demeanor. Take Lady Penelope. She might appear to be just another classy MILF, who could fill out an evening dress and sit across from one, while sipping Champagne and thrusting her huge bosom out for all to enjoy. But if she decided to invite you into her boudoir, be prepared to unleash a feverish nymphomaniac. Nothing was exempt. Oral, anal, group, and on occasion, a little bondage.
Although her best assets were her super-hot pair 34 DD breasts, she also had a pair of willowy legs and a lissome figure. Women like her loved to be desired by men. And the younger the better.
Her Ladyship wasn't born a wanton slut, the passage of time saw to that. Penny needed sex on a weekly basis, and if her needs were not met, the busty blonde could become cantankerous at the drop of a hat. The esteemed fifty-one year old noblewoman prided herself on her looks and refined upbringing, and thanks to her late husband, she was able to lead a life of leisure. Apart from her duties administering her household, that being the palatial Williamson Manor, and organising affairs of the estate such as arranging various events and banquets, she sought one thing. Sexual gratification on a regular basis.
With this concept in mind. Penny spent a small fortune on her ensemble of skirts, dresses, lingerie, heels, and stockings.
These included expensive and sophisticated clothing that never deviated from her aristocratic lifestyle. Slinky and suggestive dresses with plunging necklines and incredibly short hemlines were among her favourite attire. Her clothes embodied everything about her. Financial power, independence, and sex appeal.
Whatever the occasion, whatever the time of day, Lady Penelope Ward-Williamson was up for grabs.
x
"Elizabeth? Send them in."
She pressed the white button on the intercom and went to stand by the large window of the airy office.
"Yes, M' Lady."
Christopher Mitchell's body tightened as he walked into the office, leading him to button up his well laundered jacket. He could smell cigarette smoke and Earl Grey tea as he composed himself.
Already he had a bad feeling about the hastily arranged meeting, and being fifteen minute late was not a wise thing to do.
"Late as usual, Mister Mitchell. Sit yourself down."
The young trainee businessman sat on one side of a solid mahogany desk and smiled weakly. Her Ladyship's greeting was much more on the chilly side as she glowered at him.
"Mister Chambers."
The blonde indicated an empty seat beside the other.
"My Lady."
George Chambers seated himself next to his despised colleague and adjusted his red striped necktie. Both men knew that only one of them would leave the office this bright morning still in the woman's employ.
In their minds, she and they looked two generations apart.
Penny turned to face them, her back to the window, and crossed her arms. The bright sunshine silhouetted her statuesque form perfectly.
At five feet ten, the blonde bombshell looked staggering for her age. Her long hair was pinned back in an elegant chignon at the back of her head, and she wore a string of large pearls around her pale neck. Her cream coloured jacket had a lapel-collar, high shoulder pads, and long sleeves. Her Ladyship had left it unbuttoned and had it secured around her trim waist only by the removable bow. Thus, her hefty bosom was clearly visible for all to see. Her matching mini skirt had a tailored, crossover design, with an invisible back zip fastening. She stood tall in a pair asymmetric pointed heels with a four inch stiletto. Her mere presence left the two men panting, searching the room with wide eyes in order to focus on anything but the ravishing goddess before them.
"Elizabeth? Hold all my calls for the next half hour."
"As you wish, My Lady."
Ignoring the men, Penny perused the contents of a manila folder in silence.
After an uncomfortable five minutes for the two men, she raised her blue-grey eyes from the folder and closed it, tapping the cover with long scarlet nails. The look on her face was not one of good cheer.
"I do so detest coming to this building and having to involve myself in financial matters and the like. Which is precisely why I employ people like you to do my bidding. Luckily, I have one of my dearest friends dropping by house later for a well-timed visit. That will cheer me up no end."
A cloud momentarily covered the sun and cast a shadow across the room. They were meeting in a private office on the twentieth floor of Number 20 Fenchurch Street in the City of London. The commercial skyscraper was affectionately known as The Walkie-Talkie due to its distinctive shape that resembled a two-way radio handset.
It had been leased to Her Ladyship in order for her to run her business interests pertaining to affairs of her Estate.
She was a company director, having started several business interests with her late husband. Although she considered herself to be a back seat driver.
Both anxious fellows visibly gulped as they watched her pull her shoulders back so that her huge breasts strained against the front of her jacket.
They had joined her employ as part of an internship, where the young students might benefit from the professional learning experience. Hopefully giving them the opportunity for career exploration and development.
"Gentlemen. I am most displeased with both of you."
After a year, the pair of them, now aged nineteen, had gained valuable work experience, working twelve hours during the Spring and Summer.
In the beginning, they had both made a good impression. Always polite, smartly dressed and willing to take on any tasks. They had a youthful enthusiasm, and had handled small, tedious, and repetitive duties with a positive attitude, As time went by, it had become known to the others that they were becoming too casual. Deliberately avoiding menial tasks, keeping poor time, and openly flirting with the female members of staff, instead of working.
"What to do with you two."
Lady Penelope toyed with a lock of her strawberry blonde hair as she cocked her head and stared at each of them in turn.
Mitchell intrigued her the most. His thick brown hair had an errant lock that kept falling across his face. He was six feet two, and had chosen to wear a grey jacket and black creased trousers. She remembered the day when she had interviewed him almost a year ago. How green he looked. All fixed grin and pasty-faced. What the passing of time does to a boy. Now he had those bedroom eyes and set jawline that signaled a certain maturity.
"When I assign you your positions, I fully expected you to give your very best. Not the day after. Nor the next week. On time, every time."
Chambers and Mitchell looked at each other furtively. They were in trouble and they knew it.
They began to feel heated. This office was always several degrees above below the temperature of the general office space.
Her Ladyship sat back in her chair, openly glaring at them while she fidgeted with a pen in her hand.
