An Unlikely Affair

It was Rick's first day of a new contract. After being introduced to his colleagues, he set up his laptop, and while the flood of essential reading materials entered into his email in-tray, he got himself a foul tasting cup of coffee, returned to his desk and and was ready to get to work.

Which first meant surveying the office talent.

First impressions were not good. He sat opposite his boss, Karen, the Finance Manager, who was physically terrifying: powerfully built, short hair, square jaw, at least 120 kilos. He filed her: 'lesbian dominatrix'.

The other females in the large room which housed both the Finance and HR teams mostly didn't meet what he considered acceptable; they seemed to be collectively: middle-aged, unattractive with varying levels of plumpness, and badly dressed. He filed these as 'untouchable'.

There were three he saw as having potential. The first was Mary: PA to the Finance Director, 40-something (so pushing his personal boundaries, which were anything plus or minus 10 from his 35): curvaceous, Irish (great accent), but married with 4 children, and somewhat officious and distant. She was filed 'the yummy mummy'.

Potential no 2 was Sally: accountant, 30-something, prettier and slimmer than Mary, with long hair, and an athletic body. She ticked all the right boxes, but there was this slightly wild, mad look about her, sparking pings on his warning radar – he filed her 'the bunny boiler'.

The last was Scarlett; 50-something, so not usually on his hit-list. But there was something about her. She was at the other end of the office with the ladies in HR. She very trim for her age – with maybe only the hint of a little tummy. Behind her thick rimmed 'secretary' glasses, she carried a slight cynical smile, which Rick fantasised could hold all sorts of sexy secrets. Her platinum grey hair was moulded into an attractive business-like bob. She was well dressed: a prim white blouse, a surprisingly short grey skirt rested on slim, shapely legs which were covered in finely derniered black nylons.

'Stockings or tights', he wondered. He filed her under: 'the submissive librarian'.

"My God, he fancies himself," Scarlett thought as the new boy openly raped with his eyes every female in the room. He was a pretty thing, a nice bit of office candy to look at across the room: milk chocolate complexion; short curly hair; tall, strong looking and an athletic build. When they were being introduced, he flashed her with what he probably thought was a winning grin.

She filed him: 'the arrogant little prick' and went back to her work.

+++++++++++++++

That night in his hotel bed, he felt the urge to masturbate. He went through the women in the office in his mind, and put off by the probable personality traits of 'the yummy mummy' and 'the bunny boiler', felt a familiar stirring when he considered Scarlett, 'the submissive librarian'.

At precisely the same time, Scarlett thought of the 'the arrogant little prick', thoughts which soon turned illicit, and she felt an unfamiliar longing in her loins. She turned over and her arm crept round her snoring husband's paunch, and with a little difficulty found and fondled his penis. It rose as he slowly awakened.

'Not Saturday is it?' Charlie mumbled at this very rare treat. With a quick peck on the lips, he clambered on top of her, and as was now their custom, he entered her without any hint of foreplay. He felt her hand move to pleasure herself as she usually did, while he ploughed heavily into her. He could not see her face in the dark as he quickly grunted out his fulfilment. If he had, he would have noticed a distant look in her eyes.

+++++++++++++++++

Over the next few weeks, Rick settled down into his new role. His assignment was to analyse the HR and Finance departmental processes. It was dull stuff, but there was a lot to do to keep him occupied.

He flirted alternately with 'the yummy mummy' and the 'the bunny boiler'. They were both disappointments. Mary was very focused on her work and refused to flirt back. On the other hand, Sally became very interested; and started asking him questions like: 'did you ever want children?' Radar pinging loud and clear, he backed off.

He didn't flirt at all with 'the submissive librarian'. He would admire her from across the room. The more he saw of her, the more he felt she was the diamond in the departmental rough. She seemed very quiet and private and kept herself to herself. He realised he knew almost nothing about her. She slowly evolved into a challenge. A total long-shot he told herself.

One day he saw her approaching his desk, aiming for the coffee machine behind him. He decided she was very well put together for a 'granny'. He openly admired her form, her curvy hips, her pert breasts, her feminine gait as she walked smartly towards him, heels clicking; her thick rimmed glasses planted at the end of her nose – very much doing her 'librarian' thing. Their eyes met, and they held each other's glances for just a bit too long. Her face went vermillion and she angrily averted her gaze and walked past.

'Bingo', he thought.

'Shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit,' she silently taunted herself, as she poured herself a glass of water, feeling his eyes boring into her back. Weeks of fantasising about 'the arrogant little prick' from afar, and patently ignoring him when he gazed in her direction, all thrown away by a stupid flush. What will he think of this silly woman now?

Then he was next to her.

"Hey Scarlett." The introduction was effortless, both charming and flirtatious. He looked into her eyes, peered down her cleavage and back up to her eyes again in one easy glance. She crimsoned again. "I stay at a hotel during the week and wondered if you could recommend any nice pubs or restaurants."

She felt thoroughly wrong-footed. 'The arrogant young prick' was being very presumptive. She would take him down a few pegs.

"I really don't know of any... excuse me," she moved to get by him.

"Then maybe we should find somewhere together one evening," he persisted using his silly, cheeky, flirty smile.

She reddened again. This was pathetic.

"Not sure my husband would approve," she said icily, pleased with the curt put down.

"Well don't tell him then", immediately came back the smug rejoinder.

"I'm old enough to be your mother," she hissed.

"Then there is no harm in it, is there," came back the smug grin.

'Will he never give up?' she asked herself, and was working out her next put down, when she stopped herself and reassessed her tack. She took her time to respond, looked into his eyes as if thinking about it, then said in a measured voice:

"If you insist. Rustico's in the High Street. Tomorrow night", she whispered as she squeezed past him. "And bring your wallet because you're paying."

+++++++++++++++

Scarlett was on the toilet at the posh Italian restaurant. It had been a surprisingly successful evening so far. 'The arrogant little prick' had showed that, while being insensitive to a point of exasperation; he had a brain, a sense of humour, and beneath the boyishness, a maturity beyond his years. On top of that, he really was very gorgeous to look at, and she was quite taken that he was making a play for her despite the age difference. They had shared a bottle of red, which was a bit too much for her, as he blatantly flirted with her all evening.

He couldn't stop looking at her legs, and after the second glass, she said to him that he was being obvious leering at her like that. He had responded that he loved all parts of the female form, but legs were his favourite. Especially legs clad in nylon, and then boldly inquired if she was wearing stockings or tights. She refused to say.

She had asked him all the standard questions; did he have a significant other? He didn't hesitate to say he was married. Why didn't he wear a wedding ring? He said he didn't wear jewellery. What would his wife think of this little date? He asked the same of her husband. They had both told their other halves (truthfully) they were going for a meal with a colleague. He was being coy, so she got to the point, and asked him what he expected out of the date. He winked and smiled his silly, boyish grin, and said:

"Oh, don't mind really, anything from 1st to 4th base would be nice."

So there she was on the toilet, with her knickers round her ankles - thinking. In fact she had made up her mind as soon as got up from the table. It was too good an offer. One last fling before she went back to the monotony of monogamy; her lovely, but unexciting husband and her middle finger.

She took ten minutes in the toilet and his estimate of a touchdown had plunged from 50 to 5%. He had paid the bill, and when she came back, he wondered how she would go about letting him down. He didn't expect the line from her favourite film:

"Alright big stud, take me to bed or lose me forever."

+++++++++++++++

They almost never made his hotel room. Once she sat in the passenger seat of his car, he leant over, took off her glasses, held her head in his hands and kissed her tenderly on the lips. She responded in kind. Their lips opened and she felt his tongue slip in. Timorously, she let her tongue dart back. Encouraged, his hand started to caress her legs. He started at the ankles and slowly inched up. Up, under her skirt; higher, until he came to the stocking top. He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper "good girl."

He couldn't believe his luck. It was all going to plan. The 'submissive librarian' was like putty in his hands. Just wish she wasn't so... so unsubmissive...

...as she grasped the bulge threatening to break through his trousers. She pushed him back into his seat, and surprised both of them at the speed with which she undid his belt, unzipped his trousers, pulled them down and extracted his throbbing cock from its prison.

"What a lovely thing," she mused aloud, before engulfing it with her mouth.

He emitted a sigh, as she started to work his member. Careful not to bite, she took it slowly, head first, then worked down. Impressed, he lifted his bottom off the seat to give her more to work with, and she took it all. She skillfully masturbated him with her mouth, sucking him as he had never been sucked before, until to his amazement, he was eventually fully deep-throated. She held it there. Her mouth fully impaled, she gently squeezed the base of his cock with her lips, while she caressed his balls. After a while she slowly eased her way back up maintaining the pressure all the way to the top.

She repeated the procedure, two, three, four, five, six times; and then out of the blue, he came.

She did not know how she managed it, but she swallowed the shock ejaculate without gagging. She sat up, and sluttily wiped her mouth, before calmly adjusting her hair while she considered her conflicting emotions. She was pleased she had not lost her touch in that department; she was dismayed that the young stud had shot his load so early; she was embarrassed at her dismay; but most of all, she loved the look of shock on the face of her 'arrogant young prick'.

True, he was stunned, but in a different way. This little flight of fantasy of his had just resulted in the best blow job of his life, and the night was yet young.

+++++++++++++++

They landed on his bed, in an ungainly heap. The pervert had insisted she kept on her stockings, suspenders and 'heels' (as he called them). He had been visiting too many porn sites, she decided, and she just didn't get why anyone would want to wear shoes in bed.

He kissed her everywhere. Nowhere was sacred. He spent an eternity on her legs, caressed the fabric, kissed her shoes and worked his way up, teasingly nuzzling her mound before moving further up licking and caressing her breasts, her nipples, her arms, her fingers; he kissed her long and deep. And then, as she lay there, both aroused and frustrated, he went down on her, licking her outer labia, tonguing her vagina till she was gushing with her juices; then lapping her clitoris, with fast quick, hard flicks of the tongue. She planted her legs over his shoulders and lay back. His hands moved up and caressed her breasts and her nipples, while he continued his ministrations.

Her instinct was to use her hand, to help him out as she did with Charlie, but she didn't have to, he was doing it all for her. Then she started to worry she would come prematurely like he had earlier, and so hauled his face away, kissing him and throatily urging him to "fuck me!"

He entered her swiftly, and to the hilt. He fitted so perfectly, like a sword in its very own scabbard. She felt totally full. It felt totally right. She kissed him deeply, relishing the erotic taste of her juices on his mouth. They started slowly, fucking rhythmically, caressing each other, mouths constantly touching, breathing each other's air, flicking each other's tongues.

It was like they had been making love to each other all their lives.

He moved his hand down back to her clitoris, rubbing hard this time. That took her by surprise; it was how she did it when she wanted to make herself come. He fucked her as he rubbed her, and her orgasm built up. She submitted to his attention; kissed him, wrapped her legs round his, raking his calves with her heels; pushed her vagina against his hand, and then she came. Long and hard. The first time a man had given her one for... too long.

He slowed down the pace with long deep stokes of his penis. He knelt back onto his knees while still inside her, looking at his cock entering her slowly, she lifted herself on her elbows and joined in the voyeurism. Despite her orgasm, she became even more aroused watching the long dark cock easing into her contrastingly white body. She looked at his body - so different to what she was used to: his thrusting pelvis, trim waist, muscular chest, powerful shoulders, and then into his eyes. He was looking back, and they smiled at each other as he continued his love-making.

He then took over fully; placing his hands under her bottom, he thrust into her harder and faster, he sped up till he was pile driving into her. She could do nothing but hang on, submit to his power, pinned down by his cock, while keeping his weight off her body. He just kept going, faster and faster, harder and harder, all the while kissing her deeply, wetly. She was amazed at his stamina, and equally amazed that she could feel another, unassisted, orgasm building inside her.

The alcohol, his power, the stockings, made her astonishingly aroused, she wanted to be his whore and so she spoke like a whore:

"That's it, fuck me, keep fucking me harder, fuck my cunt, fuck it!"

And then they came together; she quietly; he with a long, loud, animalistic moan.

+++++++++++++++

Scarlett looked at him, as he lay there; a dark Adonis in his post coital slumber. She had a problem, and she didn't know what to do. What do you do when you are suddenly presented with the best sex in your life by totally the wrong person?

+++++++++++++++

Spring came, turned into summer, and they were still having sex. What was supposed to be a one night stand, had become a love affair. Ridden with a mixture of her guilt and exasperation with his carefree attitude to the relationship, Scarlett had called it off on an almost monthly basis.

Once she did it at their desks, using the office Instant Messenger:

Scarlett: I think we ought to call it a day.

Rick: It's only 10.30, but I am up for a quickie ;).

Scarlett: No, not that... us.

Rick: FFS. Not again.

Rick: That's a new one for me. Dumped by IM.

Rick: Out of interest... Why?

Scarlett: Your holiday with your wife last week.

Scarlett: You posted your pictures on Flickr.

Scarlett: You had your arm round her.

Scarlett: She seemed so happy.

Rick: Tends to happen on holiday.

Scarlett: I didn't realise you were so... married.

Scarlett: Can't deal with this.

Scarlett: Well... what do you think?

Rick: Good Bye Scarlett.

By mid-day they were having a blazing row in a coffee shop.

By 1pm, they were in his hotel room: fucking their brains out.

+++++++++++++++

It was decided that Rick and Karen, his 'dominatrix lesbian' boss, had to go to the US Head Office in Houston to continue his work there. He dreaded it. He wasn't very good with women he wasn't attracted to.

Ahead of the trip was an office summer party. It was decided the team would go to a club in Mayfair – the Dover Street Wine Bar, a jazz cum night club, which is a favourite of middle-aged high rollers and significantly younger gold diggers.

Partners were invited, but neither Rick nor Scarlett told their respective other halves. They had planned a discreet liaison at a nearby hotel after the party: a going away present for them both.

+++++++++++++++

OK, she wasn't a 'submissive librarian'. That fantasy had been well and truly destroyed. No one knew, and he was only beginning to appreciate her frightful temper when wronged – what was the saying about a woman scorned?

He didn't understand why the affair had made it to its 8th month. They were really quite different. He would ask her what she had been up to on the weekend, and she would just say: "well you know, nothing much, tick-tock." When she asked him about his weekend, it was all about parties with his army of friends; football, watching or playing it; and drunken sessions with his mates in the pub. His life was a breathless whirlwind of activity, with no time for family, garden, house, children, or indeed his wife. He couldn't figure out why she was so jealous all the time: his wife, his 'constant leering' at other women, her suspicions when he told her about his partying - 'doesn't she realise this all comes with the territory?'

'Cow,' he thought as he dressed himself in his best and rather leery Ted Baker shirt. 'She's got me round her little finger, not the other way round'. 'She should be grateful she's got me at all,' he convinced himself.

But he secretly enjoyed the verbal combat, and the fact she was no air-head, and intelligent while feminine, and... oh so sexy. And then he started to think about the sex, the greatest sex he had ever had, the perfection of the coupling, her incredible oral skills, his insane attraction to her body... and as he thought about it, he felt a familiar stiffening in his trousers, which had now become a Pavlovian reaction when the words 'Sex' and 'Scarlett' were in close proximity.

'Cow,' he repeated, he was now in a very bad mood because she literally had him by the balls.

+++++++++++++++

Scarlett dressed carefully for the party. She was in her bedroom, and Charlie was looking on.

No way was she going to wear stockings, not even for 'the arrogant young prick'. It was too hot, and her husband would smell a rat, as she never made much of an effort for him.

She exchanged her glasses for contacts, wore a floral dress, and unwisely chose large hooped ear-rings and 6" white stilettoes to go on her bare feet. She had nicknamed them her 'Essex shoes'. But Charlie, who was no dullard, spotted the look she had pulled off.

"'You dressing up for someone?"

"Don't be silly."

"I thought you said those shoes were slutty?"

"They're summery, they go with the dress."

She was clearly in a foul mood so the inquisition ended there. 25 years of childless marriage had been a long, sometimes painful learning experience for Charlie. He loved her dearly, and recently, the sex life had improved significantly. He just wished she would stop telling him to 'keep going' and fuck her harder' when he was done.

+++++++++++++++

The party was wild. It would go down in the annals of departmental history. It was a hot August night, and some combination of the weather, release from a very hard year's work and copious drink put everyone in a very sexually charged mood.