Bridget’s Obsession

Bridget and Mandy continued their affair for the next three months, they slept with each other eight more times in total. It ended suddenly when one of Len's sisters saw them greeting each other with a passionate kiss in Bridget's front room one evening, before they had got around to closing the curtains. It was bad luck that the woman had been crossing the street just at that precise moment. The next morning, on her way into her workplace, the sister waylaid Mandy and gave her an ultimatum.

"End your fucking lesbian affair, or I'll tell Len what you've been up to you depraved bitch... and you'll never see your children again."

Later on after lunch Bridget was called to a meeting with the Head of Personnel. Mr Black explained to her that he had received an anonymous letter claiming that she was a lesbian, and had been propositioning young female employees. He told her that no specific evidence had been provided, and in the absence of any complaints from female staff, he would take no further action, but he felt it important that she should know about the anonymous allegation.

The damage was done, Bridget had a nervous meeting with a tearful Mandy in a quiet storeroom, then she resigned the next day and started looking for a new job. Mr Black was so relived that a potentially difficult issue had been resolved so quickly, that he undertook to ensure that Bridget would get a good reference from the County Borough Council.

She wasn't out of work for long, armed with her reference, she was interviewed for a job as a typist at one of the large shoe manufacturing companies in the town. She was unsure of how the interview had gone. Miss Worth, the Senior Supervisor in charge of the large typing pool, had been brusque and difficult to read, so Bridget was surprised two days later when a letter dropped onto her doormat offering her the job.

She assumed that the fact she had answered no to the questions about boyfriends, marriage and children had made her worthy of appointment.

********************

Bridget had been given early release from her employment contract with the council, so she could start at the shoe company straight away. She made a special effort with her appearance, wearing a smart knee length blue dress and heels, her wavy blonde hair gleamed and her blue eyes sparkled. She began to see her new job as a new opportunity to meet the submissive sex toy of her dreams.

She'd only seen Freda Worth sitting behind a desk during the interview, she'd looked formidable with brown hair sleeked into a bun, severe makeup emphasising her high cheekbones, and firm breasts filling her tailored blouse. On her first morning, Bridget was escorted from reception to the typing pool by a young personnel clerk. The clerk opened the door to the large office and ushered her in. Miss Worth was standing by the desk of one of the typists giving her instructions on a piece of work that she was undertaking.

Bridget looked her up and down as she waited patiently to be acknowledged by her. The woman was close to fifty years of age, and about five feet ten inches in height in her two inch heels. There was a lithe, athletic look about her as though she'd been, and still was, a keen sportswoman.

Freda loved tennis and still played. What little social life she had revolved around the game and her local church. She made an annual pilgrimage to the Lawn Tennis Championships at Wimbledon, and she was on the committee of her local club. She'd been a decent player and could still beat most of the women half her age. She was also a regular attendee at church on a Sunday morning.

Miss Worth wore the same plain white fitted blouse with a v-neck which emphasised her superb breasts. Her knee length grey pencil skirt fitted snuggly around her hips and thighs, and her tan coloured seamed stockings and black heels completed a formidably sexy appearance. In short, Miss Freda Worth was an shapely, imposing woman.

"Ah Bridget Stone, you're on time, good. Make sure that it becomes a regular habit. Come, your desk is over here. Sit down, your first batch of typing is ready for you, make sure you finish it by lunchtime which is at twelve thirty in your case."

"Yes Miss Worth, thank you."

"Brenda here will show you where the toilets are, smoking is not permitted in the typing pool, but you are entitled to a short smoking break in the morning and afternoon. What you do in your lunch hour is up to you but you cannot spend it at your desk, any questions?"

"No Miss Worth."

"Good get on then and I'll come and see how you're settling in later on."

Brenda, who was about the same age as her, took Bridget under her wing, showed her the toilets and the canteen, and assured her that Freda Worth was firm but fair.

Within a few weeks, Bridget had settled into her new job and was considered to be a speedy and accurate typist. Miss Worth soon saw her as someone who could be relied on to do the difficult pieces of work without any fuss. Her spelling and layout were excellent and her work was always neat.

There were thirty women in the pool, mostly under the age of twenty five. A handful of older women were spinsters or women who had returned to work after raising children. Bridget had eyed up several of her pretty young colleagues, but none of them had the sensual, sophisticated character that came with maturity, and that she had come to crave. They all talked about their boyfriends and husbands with varying degrees of enthusiasm, and showed not the slightest sign of fulfilling her fantasies.

Bridget found herself to be most interested in Miss Worth. In many ways, Freda Worth was the most unlikely candidate for her fantasies, in fact, it was much more likely that she would be dominant in any fetish relationship that Bridget could imagine. Nevertheless, Bridget found herself more and more intrigued by her and tried to find out more about her from her colleagues.

No one had ever seen or heard of her in a relationship with a man. She got plenty attention from male colleagues but she'd always batted them off with her no nonsense approach, and had established a reputation for being unattainable. Male colleagues called her 'The Ice Queen,' a title she was more than willing to own. Brenda joked that she probably had a meek, submissive man locked in the cellar at home; ready to fulfil her needs whenever she demanded it of him.

It hadn't always been that way. During the war, she'd been a 'land girl' and had spent six months on a farm near Derby with three other young women. She fell in love with one of them and surreptitiously conducted a steamy four month affair with her. Opportunities to get their hands inside each other's panties were few and far between, so they took risks and were eventually discovered, by the farmer's wife, having sex with each other in a barn.

Alice, her lover, returned to Edinburgh and within six months, was married to a merchant seaman. Freda briefly returned to live with her parents before joining the Auxiliary Territorial Service to train as a truck driver. She stayed in this service for the duration of the war, rising to the rank of Warrant Officer and managing, with a considerable amount of willpower, to avoid being seduced into a sexual relationship with her pretty Sergeant.

All of that was years ago when she was in her early thirties. Now, at fifty years of age, despite still looking very shapely and attractive, she no longer harboured any hopes of a sexual relationship with another woman. She was very highly respected by senior management at work and her 'girls' were well trained and well behaved.

Over the years, there had been plenty of pretty typists working for her, and she'd been very attracted to some of them, but she'd always resisted the sexual urges that she had felt. She considered it too big a risk to loose her job and her reputation over a fling with one of her charges. Especially now that many of them were young enough to be her daughter.

But her newest recruit was different, she was attractive yes, very attractive in fact with an understated, mature sexiness that belied her years. She was polite, hard working and reliable, but there were clearly hidden depths. Most unsettling of all, Bridget seemed able to look into Freda's soul. She hadn't done anything directly to undermine Freda, or challenge her authority, but she had begun to get under the skin of the older woman in a way that left her feeling open and vulnerable for the first time in many years.

Before long Bridget sensed that Freda might have a preference for women. She often caught her looking at her, and a couple of the more attractive typists, with a brief but discernible sign of lust in her eyes. It was the merest of covetous glances but Bridget was alive to it. She decided to test her theory, to see whether she could tease out Freda's inclination and confirm her suspicion.

It was the clever little things that, in themselves, didn't appear to amount to much on their own, but gradually drew Freda in to Bridget's orbit. Bridget would deliberately bend over longer than necessary in front of her boss's desk, while pulling a ream of paper out from the bottom of a store cupboard. Freda's pulse quickened as she watched her colleague's pencil skirt pull taut across her shapely buttocks, making her suspender clips appear in relief through the material.

Bridget would frequently wear a tight fitting wiggle dress and seamed stockings to recreate the Marilyn Monroe look from the film that she had enjoyed watching several months ago. She knew that Freda's eyes were on her buttocks and legs as she walked past her desk. The small damp patch on her panties at the thought of turning her boss on was matched by the small damp patch on her boss's panties at the thought of being turned on.

One morning, while Freda stood behind and looked over the shoulder of a seated Bridget, going through instructions for the presentation of a document, the flap of Bridget's wrap over skirt fell open and exposed her stocking clad thigh underneath her desk. She pretended not to notice and enjoyed the embarrassed yet lustful look in Freda's eyes when she turned to look at her.

A few days later, she repeated the trick and this time deliberately tugged lightly on her suspender strap, running her thumb over the clip before slowly pulling her skirt back into place. She heard her boss breathe in deeply and let out a soft sigh, so she raised her right hand and lightly fingered the top button of her blouse with her immaculate red painted fingernails.

Freda cleared her throat and said, in almost a whisper, "I'll be back in a moment."

Bridget caught sight of her flushed cheeks as she left the office quickly in tight skirted, high heeled steps. Freda had been completely disconcerted by Bridget's carefully choreographed sexy exposure of her stocking tops, and she felt her nipples hardening as she rushed to the ladies toilets. Once inside a cubicle, Freda leaned back against the door and squeezed her nipples through her blouse and bra, and felt a warm tingle in her pussy that she'd rarely known in recent years.

A few days later, Bridget laid in wait for her in the toilets. She knew that Freda always paid a visit after the morning tea break. As Freda walked in, she saw Bridget bending forward, her cleavage in full view, with her skirt hoisted up on one side readjusting a suspender strap. Bridget looked her in the eye and smiled alluringly, Freda stood rooted to the spot for a moment before moving swiftly into a cubicle, and feeling a yearning in her pussy again as her nipples began to set hard.

Later on during the lunch period when the office was quieter, Bridget upped the temperature by standing in front of her boss in a quiet corner and, with a coquettish look, saying softly, "Miss Worth, I'm sorry, I hope I didn't embarrass you earlier?"

"No, no it's fine Bridget, a woman sometimes needs to make running repairs during the working day."

"Yes, I'm so hopeless with stockings, I seem to spend a large part of the day with my hands up my skirt," said Bridget in her best 'Marilyn' breathy whisper.

Bridget watched Freda swallow hard and try to compose herself. Her tight fitted blouse left it in no doubt that her nipples were swelling and hardening. Freda instinctively raised her hands to cover her breasts, but didn't know what to do with them when they got there, so she quickly dropped them by her side; her chest rose and fell with short tense breaths.

"Are you okay Miss Worth? You look a little flustered," simpered Bridget.

"Oh it happens at my age as you'll find out one day Bridget."

"Why don't you go and sit down for a minute, I'll finish checking the stock cupboard for you. In fact, I'll do anything you want, you only have to ask."

Bridget flashed her eyes and Freda felt dampness seeping into her panties.

"No it's fine Bridget, I'm fine thank you."

Freda turned back to the task she was undertaking, and Bridget sauntered sexily back to her desk. Her plan seemed to be working, she could tell that she was having quite an impact on Freda's state of equilibrium. Her boss was on the hook, slowly but surely coming under her spell, with each contrived apparently accidental intimate encounter Bridget was able to reel her in ever so slightly more.

Bridget couldn't believe her luck, she'd expected to find it much more challenging, even impossible, to seduce the formidable, iron-willed Miss Worth but the way in which her boss was succumbing to her temptations left her more than hopeful that she would eventually surrender completely.

Bridget began to use her tantalising inducements more regularly. At first she had planned her seductive encounters once or twice a week, but, four months into her new job, she was making Freda's pulse quicken on a daily basis.

The calm efficiency of the typing pool was disturbed one day when an urgent job landed on Freda's desk; she immediately enlisted Bridget to help organise the work. Typewriters clattered furiously all day long and Bridget excelled in allocating and managing a large portion of the work. As the clock moved towards six fifteen, the last document was finished and the final group of typists were told by Freda that they could go home.

Bridget and Freda were left alone in the large office.

"Well we made it Bridget, just in time, you managed your part of the job very well, thank you."

"Thank you for giving me the opportunity Miss Worth, I hope you'll let me 'supervise' again sometime," said Bridget as she got up from her desk and approached Freda's desk in slow seductive strides.

Freda has not missed the emphasis that Bridget had put on he word 'supervise,' and she now felt a flutter in her chest and a slight tingle down below as her colleague approached her.

"You look a little weary, if you don't mind me saying so."

"Yes, my neck and shoulders feel quite stiff now."

Bridget walked around behind her chair and placed her hands on Freda's shoulders. She calculated that she had reached a point where she could be over familiar with her boss and get away with it. She felt Freda stiffen for a moment, so she massaged her by pressing her thumbs into her neck and shoulders.

"Let's see if this helps. Relax and close your eyes for a moment."

A few weeks earlier, Miss Worth would have brushed Bridget away and put her in her place with a stern word but, to Bridget's delight, she submitted to the massage and closed her eyes.

"Is this helping?"

"Yes, it's lovely, where did you learn to do it?"

"I used to give my mother a massage when her back was stiff."

"Mmmm, well you're very good at it."

Bridget leaned into her boss and pressed herself into her back, Freda sank back into her and felt the warmth of her colleague's body radiating through her shoulders. This made Bridget lean forward slightly so that she had a clear view of Freda's bosom and hard nipples straining against the material of her blouse. Bridget wanted to undo the top buttons of Freda's blouse and cup her breasts with her hands.

The air was thick with sexual tension, Freda could see Bridget's red painted finger nails moving out of the corners of her eyes as she massaged the tops of her shoulders and collarbones. Freda's pussy spasmed and her nipples yearned to be touched; she'd not felt this aroused in years. She took hold of Bridget's hands and for a long moment, neither woman knew what was going to happen next. Was Freda stopping the massage before things got out of control, or was she going to pull Bridget's hands down onto her breasts.

Just as Bridget felt the beginnings of a downward tug on her hands, a door opened and a cleaner's trolly rolled into the room, followed by a woman in cleaning overalls. Bridget and Freda sprang apart and a red faced Freda got up quickly and retrieved her coat from its peg.

Without turning to face her, she said, "Thank you Bridget, good work today, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes Miss Worth, thank you," said Bridget as her boss hurried out of the door.

The next few days were awkward for Freda, she tried to keep a professional distance from Bridget, but she secretly yearned to be near her all of the time. In bed, on the night of the massage, she had touched herself down below for the first time in ages. She hadn't gone as far as masturbating, but she'd briefly enjoyed the feel of her fingers on her surprisingly wet pussy for a minute of so.

Bridget gave her boss a little space for a few days. She knew that things had changed between them and the boss and worker relationship had become superficial. Indeed, Bridget knew that she was in charge now, the barely perceptible attempt by Freda to pull her hands onto her breasts during the massage had given Bridget a measure of dominance in the relationship. She knew now that Freda wanted her, and she knew that it would just be a matter of time before her boss surrendered herself to her.

There were fleeting moments of contact, in doorways, at desks over pieces of work, and once in the ladies toilets where Bridget had followed her boss to ask in her best 'matter of fact voice' how Freda was; she really wanted to ask Freda whether she was still hers for the taking but she knew that she didn't need to be impatient.

Bridget knew that an opportunity would present itself in due course, and sure enough, the following week a leaflet circulated around the typing pool reminding staff about the annual dinner dance for management and secretarial staff. The event was two weeks away at the end of May; Bridget asked Brenda to tell her about it.

"Oh this looks like fun, do many people go?"

"Oh yes, it's usually a good night out, most of the girls here go with their boyfriends and husbands, Greg will be taking me." Greg worked for the company on the shoe production side.

"Great, I expect some of the single girls here will be going as well?"

"Yes, Penny, Rita and Pam have said they'll be going, if you're interested I'm sure they'll want you to tag along. Unless of course you've found someone to go with."

"No, no I'm still footloose and fancy free. What about Miss Worth, does she go."

"Good Heavens no, from what I've heard, she's never been, I can't really imagine her letting her hair down, can you?"

"Oh I don't know, I'll bet she's had her moments, I think I'll ask her if she'll go this year, you never know."

"Well if anyone can get her to turn up it'll be you, she seems to have a soft spot for you."

"Do you think so?"

"Yes, she treats you quite differently to the rest of us, not that I'm complaining, she's always firm but fair with us, but she seems to treat you as more of an equal, I think she really admires and respects you, you must be doing something right."

"It would be nice to think so, but I'm sure it's just that I'm still her newest recruit and she's keeping a watchful eye on me."