Not Prim Or Proper

Company outings are usually just an excuse to take an afternoon off from work, but occasionally they can get interesting, especially when people lose their inhibitions.

***

Chapter One: Unrecognizable.

"I don't usually drink," said the woman in the passenger seat, and the voice was just as slurred as it had been when she said the exact same sentence a half hour ago.

"I know," I replied, keeping my eyes on the road and being extra careful, because even though I had very little to drink and would pass any breathalyzer test, the last thing I wanted to do was to have to do stupid human tricks on the side of the road for a state trooper. Not when I had something much better in mind. "You told me that before."

"You must think I'm a slut," she said, and even though the word 'must' came out as 'musk', I knew what she meant. "Going back in the woods with you like that."

"No," I assured her. "If I did, then I guess I would be a slut too."

"That's okay," she said, patting me on the thigh and giving it a little squeeze. "Guys are supposed to be sluts."

At the red light, I glanced over at the woman beside me, and although I had worked with her for the last five years, she was unrecognizable to me. The petite blonde who was always so prim and proper in the office had vanished about a half dozen beers ago, and had been replaced by a somewhat dazed and disheveled version of Ms. Diane Romano.

Her blouse was rumpled, and it was lucky that it was a loose fitting top because otherwise it would have revealed that her bra had been nudged up and was no longer doing what it was intended to do. That was my doing, I'm afraid, but it wasn't entirely my fault. My hand was invited under the blouse of Ms. Romano by the lady herself back in the woods, and what kind of man could refuse that kind of invitation?

Finding myself driving Diane Romano to her house on a Friday afternoon was not something I had planned on doing when the day had started. What had started as an innocent company picnic at a charming local spot that specialized in clambakes and the like had become something far more interesting, and how it came to pass that I was pulling into the driveway of the beige raised ranch of the office manager is a story in itself.

**

Chapter Two: Picnic table confidential.

"I'm 55," Diane Romano had announced to me at the picnic table, and the information startled me for two reasons.

The first reason was that I hadn't asked her age. She had simply blurted it out when I returned to the table with a couple of cups of beer. The others in our group were up dancing to the usual standards like the Electric Slide and the Chicken Dance, and when Diane passed on dancing, I was happy to stay with her.

The second reason was that I had figured her to be at least 10 to 15 years younger. She had a very young looking face, with only the slightest signs of age showing around her eyes and neck, and she had a very petite and girlish figure. One that I had admired from afar at work ever since I had started there.

Ms. Romano ran the office, while I was pretty much a grunt in the warehouse despite being a foreman, and although our paths would sometimes cross, there was something about the relationship between the office and the warehouse personnel that suggested that we laborers weren't exactly as good as the office folks were in the social order of things.

I guess that was what these outings were intended to do; break down the walls and have us all intermingle. Diversity is our strength and all that jazz. For me it had been a welcome afternoon off from the daily grind, and a couple of years ago it had become very interesting for me as I had found myself in the nearby woods with one of Ms. Romano's staff.

Something about alcohol that breaks down the inhibitions of some people, and it certainly had that afternoon. Why else would a married woman with four kids drag me back into the woods and practically rip off my clothes before screwing me like an animal? What an experience that had been!

"Well, you don't look it," I replied, while my eyes took in the view from across the table.

Diane's blonde hair was cut short, and she wore glasses that were apparently designed to make her look as plain as possible. The short-sleeved blouse she wore was shapeless, and her arms were pale and slender, as were her legs, exposed in the shorts she wore. She wasn't so much skinny as she was tiny and petite, and since at work she always wore clothing that pretty much covered her from neck to toe, seeing these little peeks of flesh were a revelation of sorts.

"Diane? You okay?"

The voice came from behind me, but I didn't have to turn around to know that the voice belonged to Rachel Berry, one of Diane's staff members. I tried not to cringe as my worlds began colliding, while Rachel moved to the side of the picnic table.

"I'm fine," Diane said with a wave of her hand. "Go do the Hustle, or whatever that is."

"Okay," Rachel said as she cast a somewhat scornful look at me while trying to show concern to her boss. "Join us if you want."

"Sure," Diane said, and after Rachel had left Diane muttered one word. "Bitch."

"Ouch!" I said.

"She's probably jealous," Diane said, giving the revelers out on the concrete dance floor a look of disdain. "Maybe she thinks I'm trying to get you to do what you did to her a couple years back here."

I jumped a little at that, since Rachel was the woman that had taken me back to the woods here that day, and I was stunned to learn that Ms. Romano was aware of the incident. I hadn't said a word to anyone about it, so there was no one else that it could have come from.

"Didn't think I knew about that?" Diane said with a giggle, and the sound seemed out of place coming from her.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Can't say as I blame you though," Diane said looking at Rachel dancing with the others. "I was going to say something like what's she got that I don't have, but that's obvious, isn't it."

I knew what Diane was talking about, but liked the way the conversation was taking a more interesting turn, so I decided to see how drunk Ms. Romano was.

"You mean the accent?" I said innocently, referring to the remnants of the southern accent Rachel had, but Diane shook her head and gave me a knowing look.

"You know what I mean. The boobs," Diane said, nodding over to where Rachel was doing her best to garner the attention of the rest of the dancers by shaking her considerable bosom around flamboyantly. "Must be nice to have breasts."

"Breasts are nice, but a tad overrated," I suggested.

"I don't have any," Diane said, stifling a burp. "Breasts. I'm flat chested."

"You don't look it," I said, and although the blouse she was wearing made it hard to tell, I knew she was small on top. "Besides, what's that saying? More than a handful is a waste?"

"You've got big hands," Diane said, reaching over and taking my right hand in her two hands, rubbing it while glancing around to see if anybody is watching. "Even if you didn't, I still don't have a handful. More like a mouthful."

I felt Diane's foot under the table, rubbing my calf with her bare foot, her toes sliding up and down as she let go of my hand.

"A mouthful you say? Now that sounds interesting," I said, enjoying the way she was childishly teasing me.

"It does?" Diane said coyly. "Well, you haven't seen them yet, so maybe you're just being a gentleman."

"I always try to be a gentleman," I said, and that was a way to try and counter what people might expect from a guy that was 6'4" and about 260 pounds. "At least in public, that is."

"How about in private?" Diane said, continuing to rub my leg with her little foot.

"I try and keep my private side private," I answered.

"So I notice," Diane said, returning her look at Rachel dancing. "I guess that you aren't going to give me any details about you and Miss Piggy out there. She said that you really made her squeal. Get it? Miss Piggy? Squeal?"

Diane laughed at her own goofy joke, which she felt needed explanation for some reason, but her laugh was so infectious that I joined in.

"Funny," I offered in response. "I have nothing to say about Rachel except she's an asset to the company."

"She's more of an ass than an asset, but she had plenty to say about you."

"Is that so?" I said dryly, curious but not wanting to ask what, but since Ms. Romano started gabbing there was no stopping her.

"She said you're hung like a horse and you were the best she ever had," Diane said.

"What brought on that conversation?" I asked.

"A couple of girls talking after happy hour," she replied.

"Was there towel snapping and a tickle fight involved?"

"Is that all guys think about?" Diane slurred, but was grinning when she said it.

"Pretty much."

"Well, there was no towels or tickling," Diane said, and grinned wider.

"You have talented toes," I said, changing the subject, as Diane's foot continued making long sweeps of my calf.

"I love your legs," Diane said. "They're so hairy. You're hairy all over."

Diane's eyes went to my arms, which were covered with thick black hair, and to the neckline of my T-shirt, where hair sprouted out wildly.

"Lucky me," I scoffed. "The Sasquatch look isn't all that popular these days."

"I guess that means I'm even more dated than I feel, because to me there's nothing sexier than a big hairy guy like you," Diane said, and then blushed as she looked around to see if anyone had heard her. "Oops. Did I really say that?"

"Maybe it was the beer talking," Diane said.

"In that case, maybe I should get you another," I offered. "Because I like what it's saying."

"It's not nice to tease an old lady," Diane said. "Although I enjoy hearing it."

"If I see any old ladies, I'll keep that in mind, but right now I'm talking to you," I replied, not bothering to mention that I had always much preferred older women anyway.

When we looked at each other, I think we were both surprised. Diane was surprised that I wasn't fooling around when I said that, and I was surprised at her being interested in me. Frankly, I look at most women and fantasize about what they would be like in bed, but prim and proper Diane Romano was so out of the realm of imagination that I never had entertained the thought with any seriousness until now.

"I'm going to get rid of some of this," Diane said as she tipped her cup and rose unsteadily to her feet, nodding toward the isolated building that housed the bathrooms on the other side of the facility. "If you would like to continue this conversation, Mr. Brown, you could always wander casually toward the bathrooms after a few minutes, and meet me behind the building."

Diane smiled a crooked grin and made a few stumbling steps before righting herself and heading for the bathroom, pausing in the middle of the dance floor to do a couple of exaggerated dance moves to the delight of her co-workers.

"Damn," I muttered to myself as I watched the tiny woman disappear into the ladies room.

This was crazy on every level. 55, even if she didn't look it, was more than twice my age, and as for Diane herself, the woman was so tiny that I couldn't picture myself with her. I was afraid that I would crush her accidentally. All of this combined to have me in a trance, and I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice Rachel leave the dance floor and come over to me just as I was about to leave and meet Diane.

"I see you've got your sights set on more exotic game this year, Mike," Rachel said, inviting herself to join me. "Going for the vintage models? I think you might be barking up the wrong tree there, my friend. Not even you could melt that Ice Princess."

"We were just talking," I said.

"Looked like you were doing most of the listening," Rachel said. "She hasn't been with a guy since her husband left her seven years ago, or didn't she tell you that yet? What are you going to do? Meet her back in the woods where you took me?"

"Hardly," I said, wanting to end this conversation so I could do exactly what Rachel implied. "I think Ms. Romano said she was leaving. And anyway, as for the woods, I think it was more like you taking me back there, wasn't it?"

"Who knows? Who cares?" Rachel said, leaning forward to rest her jugs on the table as she leaned over. "Frankly, I don't think she could handle a man like you. There's not much to her, and you would rip her in two. If you aren't going back there to meet her, how about we go back and reminisce? You know I can take it. It was good, wasn't it? You and me?"

"Of course it was, but look - you have a husband and kids," I reminded her, and while I love women, I didn't really enjoy being part of any cheating, no matter how big and full those breasts of Rachel's are.

"Not here at the picnic I don't," Rachel said, and after she squirmed in her seat I felt her foot land on my crotch under the table. "I still think about that, don't you? I haven't cum like that since - hell - never."

"I think we should just keep it at that. A memory," I offered while my second game of footsie in ten minutes continued under the table. "Chances are it wouldn't match the last time if we did it again, you know?"

"Not from lack of trying on my part," Rachel said, and pouted when I pulled her foot off of my lap. "And I know you've got what it takes on your end."

"Thanks, but I've got to go to the can anyway," I said. "Maybe we'll dance later."

I excused myself and weaved my way through the crowd to the bathroom, wondering whether Diane has gotten tired of waiting, or maybe just passed out. Maybe she was just kidding around, but as I quickly took care of business, I knew there was only one way to find out.

***

Chapter Three: Act like nothing is up.

As I exited the bathroom, I tried to act like nothing was up, and that probably made it worse, but everybody was busy doing some other stupid dance and looking like fools, so I was as subtle as possible as I spun around the back of the brick building and into the woods.

There was a bunch of paths that wound around the nature preserve that surrounded the picnic grove, so after I pondered the choices I headed straight ahead, only to hear footsteps behind me. Diane.

"Thought you got cold feet," Diane said, leading me down a path that was a little more overgrown that the herd trail I had been going down.

"Not me," I said, letting the diminutive woman weave her way around some downed trees and into a little clearing not bigger than a phone booth with a decaying tree stump in the center.

"While I was waiting I found this place," Diane said, and got up on the stump on shaky legs, putting her hands on my shoulders for support. "Look! I'm almost as tall as you are now."

"I see," I said, looking at Diane almost at eye level instead towering almost a foot and a half above her.

"What kept you?" Diane said, her hands on top of my shoulders and her fingers kneading them softly.

"Rachel came over just as I was getting up."

"I know, I saw her with her boobs hanging on the table and saw you looking at them too. What did she want?"

"Just talking," I said. "She wanted to know if I was meeting you back here. I told her I thought you went home."

"Good," Diane said, biting her lip as she leaned closer to me, the floral scent of her perfume overcoming the scent of beer. "What else did she say? She told you about us, I assume?"

"Us?" I asked. "Me and you?"

"Never mind - never mind," Diane said, shaking her head quickly and almost losing her balance.

I caught her before she toppled over, and as I pondered exactly what that last comment of Diane's meant, she fell forward and kissed me. A sloppy kiss that made up for in passion what it lacked in precision. Her tongue found its way into my mouth, and as it found mine, Diane's hand came down and grabbed mine, pulling it under her blouse.

It was warm under the fabric, and Diane's skin was moist and smooth, her stomach flat as it slid upwards. I could feel her ribs as it moved upwards, and when I came up to her bra, my hand squeezed the cup and kneaded it gently.

Padded bra, I thought as I squeezed the quilt- like fabric. Very padded. Either than or falsies, and when I slipped my hand under the elastic of the underside of the brassiere, I was hoping for nothing to fall out.

Nothing did, so when I eased the harness up over her chest, my hand cupped what was the smallest breast I had ever felt. Maybe the size of a lemon, I thought at first, but after massaging the tiny bud I reconsidered. More like a lime, and not a very large one either, although the nipple attached was certainly womanly.

At that moment, I realized what it was that attracted me to this woman, although it wasn't something that I could ever say to her. The short blonde hair, the blue eyes, and the petite body all were shockingly similar to an old girlfriend. My first girlfriend back in seventh grade, and there's no way I could make that sound to Diane as complimentary as I really meant it.

Diane's eyes were open during all of this, I discovered when I opened mine as our lips parted, and while Diane's eyes were foggy, I could see the self-doubt she was experiencing. As for me, I had no doubt as to how I felt.

"Warned you," Diane whispered. "Thought I might as well get that over with right now, so you know what you're getting into. I saw the way you looked at Rachel, and I'm as far from that as a woman can be."

"You're beautiful," I whispered back, letting my other hand join the party and vigorously knead her little titties. "They're beautiful."

Diane gave me a cynical look, and as she did I felt her hand slide down to my shorts. If she was looking to find out whether I was serious about what I had said, it didn't take her long to find out.

"Oh shit, Mike!" Diane gasped as her hand followed the bulge that extended over to my hip, and as he hand started feverishly pulling on my semi-turgid organ, her eyes rolled back in her head a little. "Miss Piggy wasn't lying about this thing, that's for sure."

With Diane perched precariously on the stump, we groped each other like animals for a minute, and just before I was going to suggest us finding a better place, we both heard the sound of someone going through the woods on a path nearby.

Looking at each other like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar, we moved over and tried to peek though the trees to get a glimpse at who was walking though.

"Rachel," we both whispered simultaneously, and had to stifle giggles as we ducked back into our spot.

"Jealous little pig," Diane said, and while I was tempted to ask which one of us she was jealous about, I bit my tongue, preferring to let the possibilities amuse me for a time, and while my mind entertained thoughts as to why Rachel was staggering around back there and what her intentions were, it was clear that we couldn't stay back here and no matter how much of a buzz Diane had on her, she knew that this is the way careers are thrown away.

"Do you want to come to my place?" Diane asked. "Take advantage of my drunken state?"

"I don't like to take advantage of women who don't know what they're doing."

"I know what I'm doing," Diane mumbled. "Just needed to get up the courage to do this. Okay?"

I nodded, and that is how I then ended up climbing the steps of the raised ranch, following the petite and shapely legs of Diane Romano as she led the way.

****

Chapter Four: Alone for real.

After Diane closed the front door behind me, she went back to being the wild and crazy woman I was with in the woods. She was tearing at my t-shirt while we walked down the hall, ending up in her bedroom by the time she yanked it over my head.

Diane's face moved forward, where my nipple was right at mouth level, and as she fished around trying to get my belt off, I tried getting her clothes off. By the time my shorts hit the floor I had managed to pull her blouse over her head, but Diane went to her knees fast in front of me.