tagRomanceA Wonderful Woman

A Wonderful Woman


This is a departure for me but I hope you enjoy the story. It is based on a woman I knew years ago and I wish I could have traveled with her.


Helen Mason was not beautiful, was not pretty. While she had more than a passable figure, slim, deceptively big busted with long curvaceous legs and rounded hips, her face while not ugly was angular with much too large a nose. She had a small chin, small mouth and thin lips. Her gray eyes were perhaps her most attractive feature being solemn but sparkling at the same time when humour struck her. Her skin was like alabaster. Her hair was decidedly frizzy but she took time to bring it under control. Helen was the most important person in my life. She was my PA - Personal Assistant and had been for 17 years.

In my first month at DHC International as a junior manager in charge of nothing, I had been allocated temporary assistance from the typing pool. Some were eminently beddable, some passably intelligent and others completely hopeless. On the Monday of the last week of trying out staff, I’d had Mandy - short , blonde, gum chewing, eternally reaching for her makeup. On Tuesday afternoon, it was Sonia, so thick I had to make my own coffee. On Wednesday morning, Helen arrived.

“Good morning.” I looked at the list I had in front of me. “Helen Mason?”

“Yes, sir.” Her voice was low and her eyes were downcast. She stood before me, her hands clutched in front of her, her shoulders shaking slightly. Was she just plain nervous or frightened of me? I’m sure the girls from the typing pool had heard that I had bawled out a couple of the more stupid ones. Her dress was buttoned to her long throat and reached at least to mid calf. It was dark blue and shapeless. Wisps of frizzy hair had escaped the confusion of pins holding it in place.

“Helen, er may I call you Helen?” A slight nod. “Helen, I say this to all the girls. I need somebody I can rely on, somebody to back me up. I need some intelligence and the ability to take on my mood swings with some degree of aplomb. I need an organiser. Can you do that?

“Yes sir.” She looked at me the first time and I saw eyes older than her years. The list said that she was 22 and unmarried. I found out much later that she had been nursing her elderly parents since she was 14. Her father had died the year before we met and her very demanding mother controlled her life outside of work. “I believe I could cope, Mr. Petersen,” she said fixing me with a solemn gaze.

“Well, let’s get started, Helen. We’ll start with the financial reports of the Great Northern Bank.”

“I’ll get the file, Mr. Petersen.” She started to turn, then turned back. I thought she was going to ask a stupid question. “I understand you like your coffee strong and black, no sugar, no milk?” I nodded, and she left. In record time she was back with the correct file and a steaming hot coffee, something no other temp had achieved. On Friday afternoon, I told the old dragon running the typing pool that I had found my PA. I told Helen. She gave me a tremulous smile revealing small pearly white teeth and thanked me. Much, much later, I found out that the 20% raise in pay to PA level for junior managers was the difference between her mother having to sell their house or not.

Helen rode the roller coaster of corporate life with me. She was there. She was never sick, never late, never complained, anticipated me, fielded my calls, initiated research and taught me the vagaries of the rapidly escalating computer presence. The only thing she wouldn’t do was work late. It was two years before she told me about her mother.

“Please Mr. Petersen, I just cannot work back. It is my mother, you see. She expects me at the same time each day and if I’m there she gets frantic and has heart palpitations. The last time I was late due to a missed bus, I found her lying on the floor gasping for breath. I cannot be late. I do hope you understand.” By then, she was so valuable to me, I could not demand more of her than she was willing to give.

I was the golden haired boy of the company. I had a series or rapid promotions following stellar achievements. The first few times, I was offered my predecessor’s PA but refused each time in preference for Helen. They stopped asking when they knew that where I went, she went. Her pay increased commensurate with mine.

After 4 years, I noticed that much of the anticipated work she prepared for me had the patina of academic grounding. I quizzed her and she admitted that she had obtained a business degree so that she could “understand what you were doing”. She was studying for her Masters in Economics and she duly got it. After that, we were an unbeatable team. Her judgment, sense of timing and ability to keep everything in perspective was crucial, although, apart from making sure she was paid well, I really didn’t fully appreciate her at the time. It took just three years for me to get to the second highest position and another four before the Managing Director retired and I got the top job. So did Helen. She took it in her stride, hiring and managing the additional personal staff without reference to me.

Over the years, we developed a close but completely non sexual personal relationship, that more resembled two jigsaw pieces. She countered my sometimes mercurial advances and desire to cut corners and get to the bottom of problems with a more methodical process that obtained and sifted information with checks to ensure there were no loopholes. Just as important, she kept up to date with my various girlfriends and mistresses, turning a blind but protective eye should one of them pounce on me in my office. Helen remembered their special dates and ordered flowers, chocolates and perfume depending on whether it was a first exploratory date or a thank you for a passionate night of love making.

She kept the wannabes from the company at bay and just short of becoming the top dog, I found out that her nickname was ‘The Rottweiller’ since she was so fierce in protecting me. One rumour had it that she was actually my mother who’d birthed me very early in life. Since I was tall, dark of visage, broad shouldered with blue black mediterranean hair, that one soon died a death. However, Helen often played the role of my wife when my interest in one or other of my paramours waned. She would ring them and tell them that as James had decided to return to her and the four kids, and it would be best for all concerned that the affair be terminated. A suitable piece of jewellry would be sent and all would be appeased. Not as if I had all that many girlfriends really. And, despite some lengthy relationships, I held back on commitment probably because I eyed the top job with such determination.

Our relationship was no longer master-slave; more mentor and co-pilot if anything. I respected her enormously and she knew all my secrets, even the dark ones of my fostered boyhood and knew the origin of my determination to succeed. Slowly she took over my personal accounting - everything from using my credit card to keep me dressed to paying the household bills on my town house. One year, when I was overseas on business, she even bought me a car - a light grey Mercedes Benz that fitted me like a glove.

Helen seemed not to age. The alabaster skin of her face remained unlined, her figure unchanged. One day, about eighteen months before the top job fell into my lap, I noticed that her uniform of dark cloth done up to the neck and draped past her knees had changed to a better quality, better cut that revealed that she actually had quite an interesting figure. Her knees were really quite sexy.

I hamfistedly complimented her. “Helen, what a marvellous dress. You should wear that more often.”

“James, I have been wearing it for months, along with a number of others of similar style. My mother died three months ago.” She turned and strode out the door on two inch heels, another change I had not noticed. How would you not know that somebody who had been with you for fifteen years had suddenly grown and inch or two? Stupid, really. The dimples at the back of her knees were riveting, as were the slim, finely turned ankles that I had also not noticed before. I shook my head, frowned and went back to work.

Although I was involved with a Chinese model at the time - some fifteen years my junior, who was determined to experience all of the positions in the Kama Sutra, I started to notice other things about Helen. I mean, long gone was the nervous timid young woman. She had blossomed into a well manicured woman of the world, striding through the corporate mayhem with complete confidence of her place in the structure of things. After the sub zero retort about the dress, I didn’t want to mention that the hitherto large nose seemed somewhat smaller and shapelier. More intriguing, she smiled more often and responded to the jokes of colleagues whom I suddenly realised had started to actually flirt with her. Dowdy was dead and buried - somewhat interesting was in.

This was cemented by a small episode one morning. She pulled up in the dark green Porsche I knew she had bought. However, she was in the passenger side. Helen got out of the low slung car, her skirt riding well up her shapely thigh. She leaned in the window which made her skirt cling tightly to her heart shaped bottom. Hell!! No VPL. I had alighted from my chauffeur driven Rolls only minutes earlier and witnessed this exchange. She laughed at whatever the driver said, waved gaily, and turned on her heel, striding towards the entrance of the building, her handbag swinging. She saw me. “Morning, James. Lovely day isn’t it?” She swung by me leaving me definitely intrigued.

Then the Managing Director announced his retirement and the race was on. A year later, I was in and settled. Expansion had stalled under my predecessor and one of the reasons I got the job was because of my success at bringing lucrative businesses under our wing despite his opposition. We desperately needed a European outlet for our business and Helen found two good prospects. One in Brussels and the other in Zurich. In the past, I had gone to check out prospects on my own. Helen had stayed behind and held the fort. I had quite often took my current bed partner. Strangely, after the Chinese chick had flown having failed to reach the end of the Kama Sutra, I had not taken up with another woman. I had thrown myself into the MD succession race and then into the round of hiring and firing that takes place after palace coups.

I asked Helen to accompany me to Europe to check out the two prospects. The response - “Of course, James.” - was accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

“Helen, you’ve kept the fort long enough. Time for you to see what happens elsewhere.”

“Are we taking anybody else?”

“No, just you and I. They don’t need us to run the place day to day.”

“That isn’t what I meant, James. Are we taking one of your friends with us?”

Thick as two short planks. I got it, at last. “No. Just you and I. Tell me, Helen, what if I did want to take somebody?”

“Then you would have to do it without me. Let me know when you wish to go and I will make the arrangements.” She turned and strode out the door, the chill left behind.

We took off in the company Lear jet and settled in for the long flight. Helen was dressed very smartly, every inch the corporate executive. Her very well cut two piece suit showed a hint of cleavage and was cut just above the knees. As we settled into opposing armchairs, she crossed her legs flashing a gorgeous pair of thighs. Her eyes glinted as she caught my gaze drawn to the show. I looked up to see the amused expression on her face and pretended that nothing had happened

“James. I feel like celebrating. Do we have champagne?”

We did indeed. I fetched a bottle and some chilled glasses from the galley and we settled in to the long flight. We chatted like the old friends we were. We had similar although often diverging opinions on everything from show business to politics to office politics. Helen was firm in voicing her opinion on who she thought should be head of West Coast operations and eventually swayed me to her reasoning, even though I had virtually made up my mind on somebody else. We both loved opera but had never been together although we had seen the same shows. I was amused, relaxed and somewhat entranced. She was the most attractive woman I had ever spent time with and she had grown this way right under my nose. Because I knew nothing at all about her love life, I had always assumed that she had lovers of her own. While I had often told her about my relationships, she had never been forthcoming about her own. I wondered.

Helen yawned delicately. “I am really very tired, James. Is there a bed?”

“Certainly,” I said, rising to show her aft to the luxuriously appointed bedroom and its quite large bed.

“Where will you sleep?” she enquired, raising that haughty eyebrow of hers.

“The chairs fully recline. Sleep tight. Big day ahead tomorrow. Zurich first thing, then Brussels.” I almost missed the slight frown, and left wondering again.

Next morning, she was up, bright eyed and bushy tailed, looking very smart indeed. I showered, shaved and dressed to succeed. Three hours after arriving in Zurich we were back on the Lear having determined in the cab that Brussels had better be more promising.

In Brussels, we met our perfect match, and following some hard negotiating by both I and my ‘business associate’ - Ms Mason, we concluded a most successful deal.

“Helen, we have two days before we’re due back. How about a stopover in Paris?”

“James! How wonderful. Yes please.”

We checked into the Georges and then went to Maxims. Helen was almost like a child and the more champagne she had, the more humorous she became. She really let her hair down and so did I. I was entranced by this sexy, glamorous, intelligent, lively woman whom I’d know most of my life. We were sitting close together in a secluded booth and as the night progressed, she start to lean closer to me, and I to her, as if magnetised. Her top gaped open and I was given a number of tantalising glimpses of quite an impressive cleavage.

“James!” she giggled. “I do believe you are trying to look at my bosoms. That is very naughty.” She lightly slapped my arm and giggled again.

“That I cannot deny, Helen, and very lovely they are too.” By this time, we were thigh to thigh and close enough for me to take in the fragrance of her hair. “Let’s go. I’ll show you the lights.” Outside was a horse and carriage. We clambered in and fell naturally into a situation of her with her head on my shoulder and my arm around her shoulders. We rode up the Champs Elysses and enjoyed the ride immensely with Helen cooing with delight at the many attractive sights.

She had her arm in mine as we strode though the lobby of the hotel and shot up to the presidential suite in the elevator. She bubbled with excitement as we entered the huge suite, and grabbing another bottle of champagne and some glasses, we made our way out to the patio. We leant against the parapet absorbing the sounds and sight of the city.

“James, I believe I’ve had far too much to drink. I’m for bed. Thank you for such a wonderful evening. Absolutely the best of my life.” She raised up on tiptoes and planted a light kiss on my lips, turned and swayed her way inside. Suddenly, the night was cold and uninteresting. I sighed and made my way to my room. I sat on the edge of the bed contemplating whether I should go to her, but I couldn’t. My enormous respect for her coupled with the knowledge that she knew I was comparatively a harlot kept me anchored. I undressed made my toilet in the adjoining en suite and went to bed.

Or so I thought.

Sitting up in bed, sipping a glass of champagne was Helen in a filmy nightdress, her shoulders bare, a deep and inviting cleavage fully on display. “Close your mouth James. Haven’t you seen a half naked girl before? Come to bed, dear.”

I shut my mouth and slid into bed. “Helen?” She put down the glass and scooted over to lay her head on my shoulders.

“Shhh James. I want you to make love to me. You see, I have loved you for a very, very long time, and I sense that you want to be closer to me than just being a work colleague. As a matter of fact, I think you love me too, even though you try to hold back. I saw the love in your eyes tonight.” She reached up and kissed me, gently, exploratively and then with moaning passion, a passion I returned.

“Just one thing. I am a virgin, James. I have waited for you for such a long time.”

I kissed her. “I don’t deserve, you honey. You are so beautiful, so wonderful.” I looked into her lovely eyes. “And so damned sexy!”

Helen knelt up and threw off the covers. “Lose the shorts,” she demanded, “I want to see what the fuss is about. I had an erection that would cut diamonds and as I lay back down, it slapped against my stomach, the angry red helmet weeping into my belly button. She reached for it and gently fondled it. “It is so lovely, I want to kiss it.” I endured erotic agony as she kissed her way from my balls up the large vein to the head. She pulled it upright and after kissing her way around the helmet, suddenly took it into her mouth and sucked on it, her tongue licking at the oozing pre-cum. I groaned. She looked up at me. “Oh, you like that, do you, lover?” She resumed, checking to see my levels of stressful enjoyment.

“Enough woman, or you’ll be tasting something else. My turn. Lose the nightie.”

Helen knelt up and shucked the gown over her head. I stopped her so I could see her body. I took my time. She was slim with alabaster skin and beautiful shoulders, a shapely torso that curved to a narrow handspan waist then flared out over womanly hips. I could make out the top of a trimmed set of pubes. My eyes went back up over a flat stomach to a pair of the most beautiful breasts I had ever seen. They were large on her slim torso, but were beautifully shaped, conical, full, firm with faint blue veiny tracings. Her nipples stood out like small bullets from a gorgeous pair of coral pink areolae.

She still had hold of my quivering cock and as I gazed with rapt appreciation at the astounding beauty before me, she felt it jump a few times. “Do you like what you see, darling,” she whispered. “I did so hope you would.”

“Sweetheart, you have a magnificent body. I want to see all of it.” I leaned up and gently pushed her down onto her back. Her wondrous breasts flattened only slightly. I ran my hand gently from her curvy hip, across her narrow waist and gently cupped one of her quivering orbs. I kissed her thoroughly then kissed her neck, licking gently at the hollow on her throat, my thumb rubbing back and forth over her tumescent nipple. I moved down and drew her other nipple into my mouth and paid homage to it with kisses, licks and nips, feeling her squirm beneath me. I repeated the dose on the other, then kissed my way down to her mons. I gently prised her glorious thighs apart and gasped at the beauty before me. Her perfectly symmetrical labia bulged through the surrounding pubes, pearls of girl juice dripping from the bottom. At the top was a clitoral hood that sat like the head of a totem pole, waiting for my tongue to part it to reveal the treasure beneath. I dropped my head and licked slowly upward to just short of the glistening pink clitoral cowl. I did it again and again revelling in the gasping and moaning, at her hands clutching at my shoulders as loved her. I sucked the hood into my mouth and was rewarded by her clitoris bursting into my mouth. I sucked and laved it while I slid one finger, then two into her tight sheath. Nudging her thighs apart, I continued to torture her clit while I hooked my fingers and massaged the soft bulge at the top front, a bulge I knew brought orgasms. The combination proved explosive. She came, and came and came again, her hands clutching convulsively at my shoulders, her sheath clenching at my fingers, moaning and keening my name.

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