Jeremy gulped as he walked up the brick path to his boss's front door. He'd been having a morning muffin and coffee while reading the review of the Friday Night Football game when the phone in his pocket had begun to ring.
"Jeremy, its Rachel, do you have the Spencer file with you?" he heard his new Section Head say when he answered.
Rachel had been with them for a month. He wasn't sure how old she was, certainly older then his 23 years, because her teenage daughter had just left home to go to Uni. He'd thought she was a real hardarse but hadn't quite worked her out yet. She looked all prim and proper, always wearing a variety of suit jackets and skirts with white or pastel blouses, which hinted at a pretty impressive rack for a woman with such a small frame. And yet there was something about her. Maybe it was the stockings she wore. Not plain ones like the other women wore but ones with black patterns woven through them or coloured. Like she tried to look all cool and respectable but there was something simmering underneath.
And then there was that conversation he had overheard when he was in the storeroom. Rachel had been in the adjoining room talking on the phone.
"Sorry, can't do it Jill, Gordon is coming to visit this weekend"
"Well just because we're not married anymore doesn't mean he stops being Chloe's father."
"Where he usually stays, at my place."
"No, not on the couch."
"Because just because we can't stand to live together doesn't mean we don't love to fuck. If he hadn't been so good in bed I would have divorced him long before I did."
Jeremy couldn't believe it; round the office she had already attracted the nickname Ice Queen. He had gone home that night and as he lay alone in his bed had thought about Rachel, her ex and what she was hiding under those austere suits. He soon found himself fantasying about her and what she would be doing with her ex that coming weekend. He soon substituted his face for the unknown ex and began to wank off as he imagined what they might be up to. It had become an often-repeated fantasy, replacing the one with the woman he meets in the fruit section of the supermarket.
And now here he was, walking up to her front door on a Saturday morning. His balls tightened involuntarily.
As I approached the front door it was obvious from the amount of empty paint tins and building refuse that a loss of renovating had been taking place. When Rachel opened the front door he was shocked by the change in her appearance. The usual sombre professional business suit had been replaced by a man's old flannelette shirt tied off at the front and a pair of raggedly cut off denim jeans that would have done Daisy Duke proud. From 9 to 5 to The Dukes of Hazard, he thought.
"Come in Jeremy", she said, a slight smile on her face. As she turned and walked away he couldn't help but notice the gorgeous arse projecting from the back of the short-shorts.
"Who's the dancer?" he inquired, referring to the many dancing trophies around the walls.
"Oh they're my daughter's," she replied. "Unfortunately you can't be a professional dancer with a body like this," she said, making an indication to the well filled shirt. "I still teach class occasionally, when the regular can't make it."
As he followed her, taking in the strong curves of her calves and thighs she turned to indicate a paper covered dining table. Leave the file there please and come and help me with something.
She led him into what must have been the master bedroom. A step ladder was in the doorway and beyond that he could see a large bed had been pulled out from the wall and sat centred by the door.
"I'm painting." She explained unnecessarily. "I just need to finish this wall off above the doorway, but it's a wobbly old ladder. Will you hold the ladder for me?" she enquired.
