Kate's Christmas Job

As the bus jerked and I stumbled, on the pretext of helping me up, the city gent placed a hand under my armpit, ensuring to get a good feel of tit. Sadly he eased off which was a shame. As we reached his stop outside the train station, he pushed past, one final feel of my arse with a firm warm hand. We exchanged knowing smiles and he was on his way, doubtless to relive the episode till his dying days. I'd bet good money he'd be on this same bus the same time tomorrow. Maybe I would too, maybe I wouldn't.

* * *

Mark says... Typically, I awoke with the hangover from hell whilst Gary awoke to the sex kitten. Still hard at it, his bed in the next door room creaked painfully. Finishing off with a flurry, both screeched till I was forced to rise and seek solace in the bathroom. However, I didn't make it, intercepted by my flatmate who looked like he'd just run a marathon. "Mate, I won't be coming in today," he wheezed, eyebrows elevating.

The thought of the lucky bugger shagging that gorgeous piece of arse all day long did little to alleviate my headache. At least Kate offered consolation, as a result of which I showered for an extra five minutes, shaved carefully and applied my best Calvin Klein aftershave. Who was I kidding?

Even with the aid of analgesics, I was feeling no better by mid morning, head thumping, throat dry and hands clammy. After constantly being disturbed in my office, I sought solace in the boardroom. With no meetings booked and being the sole keyholder, I could hide myself away undisturbed for a few hours and feel sorry for myself. Adjoining the photocopying room, it was surprising just how thin the walls were in these modern offices. I could hear the whirr of the machine, people talking to themselves and some even humming Christmas tunes. After half an hour I heard the first conversation, ears pricking up. It was Kate and Kirsty. Kirsty spoke first. "You do realise every bloke in the office has the hots for you?"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Kate replied modestly, if a little untruthfully.

"Sooooooo..." Kirsty mused playfully. "Any you particularly like?"

From next door my attention was drawn raptly.

"Ooh, now that would be telling," Kate teased.

"Jason's cute," Kirsty suggested.

"Nah, too young," the temp dismissed.

"Ken's nice in a fatherly sort of way."

"Nah, too old," Kate countered, before stopping sharply, reminiscing. "Oh gosh Kirsty, you will NEVER guess what happened to me on the bus this morning."

She proceeded to tell her colleague about an incident involving a dirty old man groping her on the bus which caused my eyes to bulge, not so much at the nature of the anecdote but of the relish with which she imparted it. And what a delicious thought. Maybe I needed to get the bus more often. It was almost enough to help me forget the hangover.

"Okay, what about Gary then?" Kirsty persisted as the photocopier churned out paper.

I heard Kate giggle. She then moved closer and lowered her voice. It meant that I had to creep closer to the wall to eavesdrop. Swearing her colleague to secrecy, Kate proceeded to confess to the car-scratching incident.

"Oh Kate, you are such a bad girl," Kirsty gasped. "Mark and Gary are so up each other's arses that I'm amazed you're still here."

My brow creased at the accusation.

"In fact, I can't believe Mark even let you come back today. Oh my God Kate, you didn't, did you – no,not with Mark?"

Phew, I wish, I thought, and what a thought!

"Kirsty! I'm not that sort of girl," the temp protested, before adding teasingly: "Though I probably did deserve a good spanking."

In the next room, I blew hard. Why on earth hadn't I thought of that at the time? Imagining Kate spread across my knee was driving me crazy with lust.

"Sooooooo...do you like him then?" Kirsty fished.

"Who, Gary?"

"No, silly – Mark."

Kate made no reply. I wondered what that meant. That she didn't deny it offered hope, though she wasn't exactly declaring her undying love. Having finished their copying and appraisals of the men in the office, the pair wandered back to their desks.

I made a brief appearance after lunch, feeling a little better but far from good. Secreting once more in the boardroom for the afternoon, I enjoyed a snooze until five o'clock arrived. Sneaking back to my office, I busily set about fast-tracking the day's tasks. At half past five there was a knock at the door and Kate walked in. "Can you sign my time sheet, please Mark?" she requested.

I smiled. "So, Kate, how are you finding things here?" I enquired, boss-like.

She smiled back. "I really like it. And no mishaps today like yesterday."

We both chuckled, eyes engaging briefly before looking away. I couldn't get the image out of my head that she, damn her, had planted, of being stretched across my knee as I spanked her lovely little arse. It was most disconcerting. I sent her on her way, regretful after at not having suggested a drink or something. It was the ideal opportunity wasted.

An hour later I was on my way home, thankful after a damp bus journey that was nothing like Kate's to see Gary's note disclosing he'd be out all night. The place to myself, I spread out on the sofa and watched three hours of trash TV. It was nice doing nothing, my last early night that week. Tomorrow a few of us were being taken out for a meal by one of our suppliers, on Thursday I was at a conference that would doubtless degenerate later into a heavy drink-up and Friday was the office Christmas party.

A real shame Kate couldn't go, head office decreed it was for full-time staff only. In any event, our prescribed table limit of sixteen had already been reached. No bad thing, Coxmore Country Club rarely failed to throw up nice surprises, year in, year out. For although WE were a predominantly male group, many different organisations filled the other tables. We got to mix with groups of nurses, supermarket checkout girls and hairdressers, all of whom naturally enjoyed a favourable female: male ratio. Once the meal was through and the tables moved aside, it tended to be a free-for-all. Having been in a relationship the past three parties, this year I had a lot of making up to do. And I figured that even if I didn't happen to get lucky on the night, there was always Kate to look forward to the following Monday. Life actually felt good for the first time in six months.

Wednesday went by unspectacularly. The meal in the evening was so-so without ever threatening to become one of the great nights out from history. And at least it was free.

Thursday was similar, until deep into the afternoon when Kirsty came to see me. "Mark," she began, all doe-eyed innocence and pouting lips as I glanced up, entreating her to continue. "Do you think Kate come on the works do tomorrow?"

Hmm, I wish, I thought, bearing in mind that as each day that passed she seemed to grow lovelier and lovelier. "You know it's for permanent staff only," I responded. "Besides which our table is already full."

"Couldn't we squeeze her in?"

Again, I bloody well wished we could but we couldn't. "Sorry Kirsty, but no."

"Ah well, worth a try," she shrugged and did an about-turn.

Fate tends to work in the strangest ways and I'd barely got back to what I was doing when the phone rang. I'd hardly seen Gary all week, and here he was on the line. He was going to take off the rest of the week, he disclosed, adding sheepishly that he wouldn't be able to make the party. I exhaled hard. For Gary to miss THE event of the year, it must be love. Putting the phone down, I rubbed my chin. The company would lose its £50 fee if Gary didn't go, but I couldn't just allow Kate, a temp who'd been working with us for less than a week, to step in. Quickly I fired off an e-mail to the department:

"Gary's still feeling poorly and has dropped out of the party. Anyone have any suggestions?"

A dozen replies came back in double-quick time, all proposing Kate's name.

I wandered out into the department and explained to everyone why, in theory, it couldn't be Kate. But what if she paid the £50? Someone suggested. Sadly, as Kate was quick to point out, she couldn't really afford that much money. In seconds, Jason had organised a whip-round, collecting £40. All eyes on me, I donated the extra tenner. To everyone's joy, Kate would be going to the party.

* * *

Kate says... Friday dragged by, especially as I worked through lunch in order to leave early. I could hardly believe how generous everyone had been and probably owed quite a few favours. As Kirsty and I were the only girls going, she suggested we get changed at hers. I arrived with a bottle of wine to get the evening off to a good start though Kirsty was one step ahead, with a bottle already chilling on my arrival. So we put mine in the fridge for later and made a toast to enjoying yourselves and having loads of fun. "You know Kate," observed Kirsty with an awkward smile. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you before."

I returned the smile and assured her that there were millions of girls around just like me. A sigh met my words. "Well, none I've met," she mused.

"So, do you meet many girls when you're out and about then?" I enquired, fishing for information.

She blushed but said nothing.

"Look, I'd better be getting showered," I pointed out, glancing at the clock and necking the wine.

"Um Kate," she mouthed. "Don't lock the door. I've, um, some fresh towels to drop in."

The steaming shower felt wonderful on a body that had been ravaged by the elements all week and chilled by the glass of wine, imparting an immediate rosy glow. Lines of soapy gel caressed my skin as it descended, licking at my breasts and swirling at my feet as the week's fatigue was washed away.

Through the glass, thick with condensation, I watched the door open and Kirsty creep in tentatively. Turning off the flow, I brushed the excess water off the edges of my breasts and squeezed the ends of my hair before surprising Kirsty by retracting the shower door and stepping out to stand naked before her. I could see the lump in her throat and hear her breath quicken. Conquering her reticence she stood her ground, allowing herself a long lingering look at my naked body, feasting on my pert tits and trim blonde bush. Turning away from her I said: "Put the towel around me please."

She took a step forward and wrapped the soft towel around my shoulders, rubbing them. "Mmm, that feels nice," I gushed, turning to face her.

We stood level, appraising one another. As we moved in closer, it was my neck that craned, head twisting to avoid a clash of noses. "Oh Kate..." she began before the words were muffled in my lips.

The towel slipped off to pool at my feet and I brought her to my wet body. Reaching around, we stroked one another's necks as our lips made little popping sounds upon contact. Drawing back, the huge grin on my face was mirrored on hers. "I've wanted to do that all week," she admitted.

"Me too," I concurred, gazing at her t-shirt that was all damp from my body and sticking to her braless breasts.

With that we pushed our faces together once more, mouths parting this time to allow two eager tongues to rove eagerly. Kirsty's heart was pounding into my breast, muted only by her heavy breathing. Pulling away again, she lifted her arms and allowed me to remove the t-shirt as she tugged down her shorts till both of us stood naked. I absolutely adored her tits, a generous c-cup with massive swollen purple areolae and blunt nipples. Taking my hand I let her lead me off to the bedroom.

A new kind of experience for me: at the age of 22 I'd been with older women with more experience and younger girls with less experience but never an older woman with less experience. As we lay down on our sides on the bed, facing each other and supported by an elbow, breathily Kirsty admitted that this was her first time. She'd fantasised about women but had never taken it any further. I reached out to stroke her hair, gaining assurance that she wanted to continue. She nodded enthusiastically.

My body still a little damp from the shower, our flesh glided as I craned, angling my lips to her nipples. She gasped as my tongue snaked out to graze the edge before running it around the erect teat. Lifting her fulsome breast to my lips, I sucked purposefully. She moaned lightly, fingers raking the duvet cover. Shifting onto her back, she gazed in wonder at the ceiling as I towered over her. Knees raised, but quaintly pushed together, I stroked her outer calves. Caressing upwards, I reached the kneecaps and parted her legs, stroking an inner thigh as she let them part, eyes clenched tight.

Taking a moment to admire her lovely-looking pussy, all brunette curls and plump lips, I resisted the temptation to touch her there, palm moving to the area of flesh beneath her navel. This continued for a minute or two as she purred contentedly. Nearer and near I moved my fingers until finally I was stroking the boundaries of the pubic hair. And then, when she thought she might explode, I went for it.

So intense was the foreplay and so full of anticipation was Kirsty that it needed the merest touch, the dip of a fingertip, to make her writhe and, dare I say, cum hard. And I hadn't even got near to her clit yet. Removing the juice-stained digit, I tasted Kirsty's pussy on it. It was divine, musky yet with a sweet palate all of its own. I couldn't wait to lick that gorgeous crack and feast upon her hidden delights.

Yet, conscious of time, I kissed her and made a heartfelt promise: if we didn't pull any decent guys at the party we could always play with one another. Kirsty loved that idea, a win-win situation if ever there was one. Hurrying her off to shower, I was tempted to join her, stopped only by the thought of getting all wrinkly. Well we couldn't have that, could we?

Instead I had a little lie-down on Kirsty's bed before rising to dress. As she came in, all sweet-smelling and damp, her eyes very nearly popped out. "Oh my God Kate, you are NOT going to wear that!"

Okay, let me describe that particular top. Silver and see-through polyester, it comprised horizontal bands in a chain-mail effect, every other band a see-through one. As it stretched over my breasts, lines of flesh were unveiled like a blind on a window. Tantalisingly it stopped short, just above the navel. The skirt I'd chosen to accompany it was equally revealing, micro of course in powder blue. "You don't like?" I enquired with a little girl pout.

"Oh I do, I do, but in THAT you can't fail to pull," she replied with a frown, remembering my promise from earlier. "God, Kate, you are soooooooo going to put me in the shade tonight."

I had to admit that the white and orange blouse with flared sleeves she'd chosen for the occasion did look a little staid in comparison. Reading my mind, she discarded the top and searched feverishly in the wardrobe for something that was, dare I say it, a little sluttier. I moved in closer to help, our hips brushing. "I haven't worn anything that end of the rail for years," she dismissed.

"Maybe that's what you need then," I countered, removing a basque-type top in red and black that looked straight out of Moulin Rouge.

"I cannot wear that!" she protested. "God knows what I was thinking when I bought it..."

"Be a devil," I prompted, "You'll look gorgeous, I promise."

"Kate no, I can't..."

"Okay," I agreed. "But, just for me, show me what it looks like on you."

With a little further cajoling, she consented. Wow, it was tight, yet it displayed her curves superbly as her breasts lifted and pushed together to form the cleavage of all cleavages. "Oh, you simply must wear it tonight," I gushed.

"Kate, no," she argued, making to undo it.

"Damn Kirsty, have you seen the time...?"

Outside a horn sounded. Looking at Kirsty and seeing my own reflection, I didn't for one minute imagine it would be the last horn of the evening. Was I feeling horny or what? "Quick, the minibus is here," I squealed. "No time to dither or they'll go without us."

You should have seen their expressions as we boarded the minibus, fourteen pairs of lustful eyes mentally undressing us, if that were necessary. As I passed Mark and took the seat behind, I gave him an extra special smile.

* * *

Mark says... I was hoping for a good fun night, playing the field as only a single man can, perhaps picking up a few phone numbers along the way and maybe even a couple of slow dances at the end. I might even have tried to bed any half-decent girl showed a passing interest or was drunk enough not to care. But all that changed when Kate climbed aboard the coach. I was absolutely smitten and all else paled into insignificance.

Glancing around the seat as the journey started, I complimented Kate and Kirsty on how gorgeous they looked. It wasn't just my being magnanimous or trying to make it less obvious how much I fancied Kate, Kirsty genuinely looked stunning too. They thanked me and said that I looked smart too – liars! The three of us flirted innocently throughout the journey though with thirteen other men on the coach, I knew my work would be cut out.

Upon arriving at Coxbourne Country Club, we hung our coats and jackets in the cloakroom, all eyes understandably on Kate. As she moved, the top was prone to revealing flashes of breast. Yet she seemed to bask in the attention, no hint of self-consciousness and comfortable with her body. At the same time, however, she wasn't in the least bit unapproachable as so many stunning girls can be.

A free bar – well for £50 you'd expect nothing less – I organised a round as the others took their seats for dinner. Last to arrive at the table, I found myself as far away from Kate as was possible. Whilst I could have exercised my seniority to turf Jason out of his seat, I figured there'd be time enough with Kate. The night was young and I could hardly blame anyone for trying it on with the beautiful and vivacious temp.

The meal was top quality, as we'd come to expect over the years, padded out with small talk, cracker pulling and joke telling as the wine flowed. At the end, the youngsters, including Kate, did a round of shots, whilst the rest of us, the oldies, enjoyed a more traditional brandy. The DJ arrived and, as the tables were moved to the sides, little groups started forming in pockets of conversation.

A few more rounds of drink and the first of the girls – the nurses – took to the dancefloor, as the guys ran the rule over from the wings. A typical Christmas party, spirits were high on the promise of what was to come. Soon the hairdressers were up too, and the party got into full swing with some seasonal favourites, Wham, Slade, Shakin' Stevens and all.

An hour later and, with no sign of Kate, I carried out a circuit of the venue without success. Cursing my procrastination, I imagined that some other lucky guy would by now be monopolising her.

As another hour passed without any sign, and I was beginning to get drunk on Apple flavoured Hooch, I had almost put Kate to the back of my mind as I eyed up one of the nurses. A hint of reciprocation, I was just about to make a move when Kirsty stepped in between us. "Have you seen Kate?" she shouted into my ear above the music.

"Not since the meal," I hollered back. "I assumed she was with you."

"I assumed she was with YOU."

I was flattered but regrettably had to deny the charge. We moved in among those on the dancefloor, but to no avail. She wasn't at the bar either, nor an adjacent room set aside for those who didn't want to be deafened by loud music. In addition, none of the colleagues we bumped into had seen her either, much to their regret.

Looking at one another quizzically, we decided to split up and go search. "I'll go look outside," I offered, not much relishing the prospect of the freezing night but deeming it my duty as the most senior member of staff.