Cathy Modeno had been married for fifteen years - she had gotten married right out of the private high school her parents had sent her to a young preacher that her parents had introduced her to.
Fifteen years later she was happily married and looked even better than she had in school. She had been to skinny back then, except for her breasts. The rest of her body had caught up as much as it could; her belly had the slight curve of mature womanhood, and her ass and hips had finally rounded out, but her big DD cup breasts, which had been that size since she was fifteen, were still the most prominent feature of her body.
Thus it was that she wore very modest dresses, like the one she had on today. She had been at her neighbors before coming into the church this afternoon, and her new neighbor had gotten her drunk. She barely made the drive up here, but she had hours of work to do. Surely she would be straightened out before she had to leave; at the moment she knew she could barely walk straight, and her mature body felt hot and flushed for some reason.
Cathy was thirty-five, but she would have passed for twenty-five any day. She had long black hair, tied almost always in a bun, and she was wearing a flowing dress that buttoned up the front all the way down to her trim waist.
The dress was modest enough, and she always kept it buttoned all the way to the base of her slim throat, as she did all of her dresses and shirts at all time. The only stab she made at dressing chic was the underwear her sister always sent her; today she had on a white bra, silk half cups, and white silk French cut panties.
Wearing the underwear, instead of the stodgy stuff her mom sent her, made her feel dirty. She did not like to think about what else it made her feel.
Cathy was a six inches over five feet, and the dress, modest as it was, could not hope to conceal her impressive bust line. She was barely tanned, and she had a heart shaped, delicately boned face with high cheekbones and almost almond shaped eyes. Her body, when she allowed herself to look at it, was like something out of a dirty magazine.
She almost hated her large breasts, their size was bad enough, but their sensitivity and the way they made her feel out of control and wanton the few times her husband played with them made her feel cheap and wanton. She could nearly achieve orgasm just by pinching her nipples hard enough. No matter how much she begged, though, her husband Bob would never pinch or squeeze them hard enough.
She looked up as the door swung open, and the handyman was there. Cathy came around the front of the desk, trying not to wobble as she walked, and she tried just as hard not to slur her words.
The handyman at the church had always intimidated her - he was as old as her father, but in excellent physical shape, with a hard, well defined body and a ruggedly handsome face. He had been bald for as long as Cathy could remember, but it did not detract from his powerful presence.
That presence, as always, made her somewhat uncomfortable today. She smiled at him, and failed to notice that his eyes, cold blue chips in his tanned face, were staring at her chest.
She failed to notice or remember that she had unfastened a good portion of the buttons at the front of the dress when she was moving the chairs. She had thought she was in the church alone, after all, with no one to see, and she had been sweating.
"Hi, Taylor," she said, smiling up at him, still not noticing that his cold blue eyes met hers for just a second before flicking back downwards.
Taylor - that was the only name the big handyman answered to, and no one knew if it was his first or last name - realized Mrs. Modeno was more than a little drunk. He could smell the alcohol plain as day.
He stepped a bit closer to her; his eyes went once again to her chest. He had known the woman had some big breasts but he had never guessed they would be this large! Her dress was undone far enough where he could easily see the upper portion of her bra, and it was more like a bra a stripper or porn star would wear, pushing her big, heaving tits up and out for his inspection.
Taylor returned her greeting, thinking all the time. He had been secretly lusting after this little stuck up bitch for the better part of five years, ever since she and that lame dick husband of hers had come here.
But she never gave an inch; she always dressed more than properly, and spoke to everyone in a proper method. He had never even suspected she drank alcohol until today.
Taylor liked this job, but he liked fine pussy better. What he was about to try could get him fired, but he shrugged his massive shoulders. He could get a job just about anywhere, and he had the military retirement in any case.
Cathy blinked at what Taylor said, not believing her ears. "What did you say to me?" she asked, backing up a step and bumping into the desk behind her.
