Chapter 1: Colin
"Solid"..... "Dependable"...... "Helpful"....."Honest" ...... "A good friend." Words and phrases that were commonly used to describe me for virtually my entire youth and a good part of my working life. "Smart" It was just society's way of saying I was invisible to those from whom I sought attention and "BORING" for the rest of them. Everyone's friend and "go to" guy.
Who am ...erm.... pardon me...... who WAS I?
My name is Colin, and up until a couple of years ago I was an average kind of guy, not stunningly handsome, but not ugly either. Physically I was, well, average with a developing paunch as I rapidly approached my middle aged crisis. Married almost 20 years to a woman who's beauty had seemed to fade almost as quickly as our dreams of early retirement when the financial melt-down that was the catalyst for my metamorphosis took hold. I was a mid-level manager at the Head Office of the city's second largest bank, not high enough to enjoy the executive perks, but high enough to have the respect and authority over our predominantly female staff.
We had an eclectic mix of people working at the bank and our fair share of 'eye candy'. I was fortunate enough to be regarded as the friendliest, approachable and most helpful manager in the building. My ability to intuitively find solutions to problems solidified my reputation as the "go to guy" and I was proud of my impartiality and professionalism in dealings with my staff, colleagues and clients.
Now, before I go on, I must offer up some mitigating circumstances as to why such a mild mannered bank manager transformed into a self confessed monster. Sometimes things just happen and you get swept along unable or unwilling to control events. Call it fate if you will, but just as the recession bit deep I found myself assailed from all sides. At home the wife always seemed miserable and our sex life became non-existent. The increasing pressures of work kept me away from home more and more as both clients and staff found themselves over-extended at a time when there seemed to be less and less money to go around. I often felt as though I had been the only person in town to have invested and spent prudently as I helped all around me to re-structure or re-finance their debts. It was particularly harrowing when dealing with staff who had the added pressure of knowing they could be fired should they find themselves unable to meet their financial obligations – typically insane bank logic to fire a person who is already struggling financially!!
One such case of poor, or unfortunate, money management was a floor supervisor named Mrs. Louise Jenkins. A married, 37 year old, statuesque, 5 foot 7 inch, slender brunette who carried herself with such an air of stand-offish superiority that she either intimidated you or, if you were I, gave you a raging hard-on. She was sexy in the way that a mature woman can exude sexuality. She dressed alluringly yet professionally in fitted blouses and skirt suits where the hem always stopped tantalizingly just at or above the knee and walked in 2 or 3 inch heels as though she had been born wearing them. Indeed, some of my less politically correct male colleagues had termed her a 'MILF', and I had to concur. Although Louise was a woman to be admired in the general sense, she had issues, of which I become only too well aware of.
By the early part of last year I had had the rather unpleasant but necessary task of meeting with Louise and Mark, her husband, to discuss their mortgage and burgeoning credit card debt. Mark had lost his job about a year earlier and the truth was that, unless he found a job, they could no longer afford the plush four bedroom up-market house that they had become accustomed to. I had seen a side of Louise I never knew existed at that meeting, a sense of desperation driven by embedded pride as she haughtily demanded my help. I did what I could, but I was honest with her and told them both that unless there was a remarkable turn-around in their situation, foreclosure proceedings would be likely within the next six months.
So, it came as no surprise when Senior Management red flagged Louise's accounts for my attention about 5 months later. With the housing market dead and no sign of a job for Mark, I arranged to meet Louise, informally, in my office, after banking hours. She had been overly stand offish since our first meeting which hardly helped her cause. After all, I did sympathise with her situation, but the bank was quite rigid in these matters.
When Louise walked into my office she looked both imperious and ravishing at the same time. Head held high on her slender neck which was decorated with a tri-gold necklace that hung provocatively above the hint of cleavage exposed by her open collared white blouse. She wore a trademark fitted grey, pin-stripe, knee length skirt that I knew had a 3 inch slit to the rear that showed just a little more of her toned firm legs as she walked on black 3 inch Aldo pumps. Despite my empathy for her situation, I just couldn't help but think how damned sexy she was as she sat in one of the chairs on the other side of my desk. She must have already been wound up tighter than a spring because, after the usual pleasantries all I did was say, "So Louise, tell me what is happening. Truthfully."
It was like the flood gates burst open. Her eyes welled up with tears. Her facade crumbled before me as she regaled her plight and pleaded with me for my help, bent over in the chair, sobbing as she held her head in her hands. I was stunned. In essence, Mark couldn't find work, the house was valued at less than what they owed on it and to make ends meet and pay her sons school fees she had been maxing out her credit cards. She knew the rules and was terrified that she would now lose her own job.
After what seemed like an eternity, with me unsure of what to say, Louise raised her head and, despite her running mascara, a steely look in her brown eyes fixed on me, drilling into the very core of my soul as she said, "I cannot lose my house, I just can't. I won't." Her chest heaved as she regained some of her haughtiness before continuing, "I'll do anything. ANYTHING."
I didn't know what to say and then it happened. She rose up from her seat and came around to my side of the desk, swiveled my chair round and, placing her hands on the arm rests of my chair and leaned menacingly into me. I am ashamed to confess that I was so intimidated at that moment that I almost peed in my pants.
"I've seen the way you look at me Colin. And I know that if I have you on my side then everything will work out, won't it?" All I could do was mutely nod my agreement.
Louise then slowly dropped down on her haunches as her hands went to my belt buckle and, before I could even think of protesting, she had my pants open and had my rapidly swelling cock in her hands. It was like a sordid dream come true and I felt sure that I must be dreaming.
As she lowered her mouth toward the now throbbing head of my cock her eyes looked up at me and she said, "I'm only doing this because you can help me, right Colin?"
"Uh-huh!" was the sum total of all I could say. I was so lame.
Louise then took me in her warm, welcoming mouth and proceeded to massage and stimulate my shaft with her tongue and lips in a way that I only ever thought happened in porn stories. Let me quickly clarify that up until that moment I had been resigned to a life-long membership of the "even a bad blow job is better than no blow job" club of which 95% of the members seemed to be married guys like myself. The wife had never really enjoyed giving head and, pardon the pun, sucked at it.
Louise, however, took a firm grasp of my shaft in her right hand and synchronized a gentle masturbatory technique with her uncanny ability to make almost my entire shaft disappear in her mouth as she sent incredible ripples of pleasure along the full length of the underside of my cock with her tongue. There was no grating against teeth, the pressure of her lips seemed to pull my foreskin back as much as the ministrations of her right hand. I was being overwhelmed by the sensations of the best blow job I think I had ever, ever had.
Looking down at her as her head gently bobbed up and down in my lap I could see a tantalizing flash of inner thigh as her legs had parted ever so slightly to allow her to lean in more to swallow my cock. I was rushing head long into an incredibly intense orgasm and reached a tentative hand toward her beautifully lush hair when, without missing a beat, she suddenly batted my approaching hand away with her left hand. At this stage however, I was not to be denied.
