Back in the early eighties just before I joined up with my friend Rich in his telephone services company, I had an office job at a local securities firm. It was a relatively menial job, getting files and miscellaneous paper work but it did put some spending cash in my pocket. That was the main priority at the time. Come to think of it, some things haven't changed. What was a change for me at the time was having to actually get dressed up for a job. Dress shirt with collar, dress pants, tie, the whole nine. That was certainly a change. Prior to that, my idea of dressed up was a clean T-shirt. Another big change for me was having a female boss. Oh yes, that was a change.
Helene Cohen was an older woman. An attractive older woman I might add. She was always impeccably dressed, the way you would expect of a successful woman in a managerial position. One look and you could tell this woman was never inside the local K-Mart. Her hair was always impeccable. Her nails and makeup always perfect. That would be the word, perfect. She was full figured in a way middle aged woman often are. A very good way I might add. Those impeccably tailored business suits never wrinkled because her full hips strained against the fabric as she walked. If I close my eyes, I can still recall that sway as she moved. The kind of movement that made a young man's mind go into overdrive. The kind of movement that made me want to just reach out and grab her perfect full-figured behind. And those thighs. Did I mention her thighs? Imagine if you will a middle-aged white Tina Turner strutting down the aisle in an impeccably tailored business suit. Instead of a microphone she carried a manila envelope. But all eyes were on her just the same. I know mine were.
It is no secret guys like older woman, and younger woman I might add. But older women always had a special allure. I recall an incident where a friend of mine from high school would not get in the car with my mother after she offered to give him a ride somewhere. He told her he couldn't trust himself. My mother and I can still laugh about it. So, I knew I was not the only one. There was always something very mysterious about an older woman. Perhaps it was because at that time I had yet to experience one. I think though, it went well beyond that. Helene Cohen represented a world a young man like myself could only dream of. From the Mercedes 450SE she drove to the designer handbags, she represented a world of wealth, luxury and intrigue that was so foreign to me at the time. She had no doubt experienced so much more than this young man had at the time. What knowledge did she posses? An experienced, sexy full-figured woman with incredible butt and thighs. Did I mention her thighs?
I never really did find out how old Helene was. I was all of nineteen at the time, so 25 would have been an older woman. I would have to say looking back, that Helene had to be in her mid-thirties. Approaching her sexual peak if I recall what Masters and Johnson wrote. Since I was about nineteen, that would have made us perfectly matched. Not that that thought ever entered my mind. Heck, she was just an attractive, wealthy, experienced, impeccably dressed older woman with perfect thighs. Did I mention her thighs?
Helene spent most of her time in her spacious and tastefully furnished office. She was manager of various site services and the file room fell under her jurisdiction. She had a relatively prestigious position in the company. She was certainly the highest level woman in the area and it seemed like she had all the male low-level managers groveling at her feet. Almost literally, so it seemed. I know I would have groveled at her feet, had she asked. She also had a reputation for being a bit tough at times, which may have accounted for some of the groveling.
I never did find out her marital status. There were a lot of rumors. There were always rumors about Helene, but I really don't think anyone really knew anything for sure. It was rumored that she had broken up with her husband. There was the rumor about her having an affair with a senior vice-president in the company, that being how she got her job. Always rumors. She was just the kind of woman that stayed on men's minds. Put men's minds into overdrive. They never really knew anything about her so they made up things. She was the type of woman that every heterosexual male in the office imagined being with at some point. I know I did. I know I was not the only one.
I can distinctly recall one day in what seems like a so very distant past, yet so fresh in my mind. Helene walked up to me or shall we say sauntered up to me with a file in her hand. She held out the file to me before speaking.
"File this for me, please." She said in her seductive voice. Her speech and mannerisms were befitting of a woman of her stature.
I paused for a moment and tried to look her in the eye. I could not help but glance down first to her full bosom straining against her tailored designer suit, then down to those shapely full-figured hips. I stopped to take in those thick thighs which seemed to be miles of silky, soft white flesh tapering into shapely calves which ended in perfect pedicured toes stuffed into designer heels.
"Huh?" She caught me off-guard. Really didn't take much.
"File this for me, please." She repeated. She smiled as she said this. Her perfectly applied red lipstick sparkled under the overhead florescent lighting.
"Yes, Miss Cohen." I stammered.
"Helene. You can call me Helene." She grinned a sly grin as she spoke.
"Yes Helene." I said, trying to be calm as I took the folder from her soft, delicate hand.
