Groper

Lockdowns provide their own special set of challenges, but enforced time away from the rat race does allow reflection and the chance to go over old ground. Some of those half-buried memories which could benefit from a dust off and a bit of a buffing. And we were lucky, Viv and I. Though we both worked in the city we lived in the country. While working from home provided a big saving in commuting costs it also meant we could do a lot with the timetable. Sure, there were the Zoom meetings you had to be there for, and smartish at least above the waist. But the hours at the computer screen could be scheduled for early mornings and early evenings leaving a chunk of the daylight time for exercise and relaxation. We had a reasonable sized garden and a lovely view over fields gently descending to a river valley a mile or so away. It would have been different were we trapped in a London flat. But we weren't. We were empty nesters with overfull lives who'd suddenly found that Chance, the lurking spirit no-one could tame, had hit and locked the pause button.

The afternoon sun was busy making its way towards the horizon and the distance turning into a Turneresque display of yellow and orange dancing layers. I swirled my malt, cradling it like a wounded wee creature as the delicious aroma reminded me of the Scottish hills I was missing, and tried to arrange my thoughts. We'd been talking about the #Metoo movement. It had been around for over a decade, and the grinding struggle to close the gender power, wealth, status and equal treatment gaps for a great deal longer. But recent cases had everybody talking about the physical exploitation piece of the jigsaw, albeit this was just one symptom of something much bigger.

"It's quite obvious the man is a complete turd," said Viv about one of them in her matter-of-fact way. "But I can't help feeling that things might have been a bit different if he were a Hollywood heart-throb instead of a human version of a warthog."

I let this go. The sunset was going to be spectacular. I took a sip and rolled the hot liquid round before swallowing. Peat. Acres of peat.

"And we women have been sleeping our way to the top ever since Eve did the thing with the apple. I don't see that changing."

I turned to indicate I was considering this revelation, but all I could see was a vast elephant trap. Viv was sitting back, her glass of wine half-finished, and enjoying the sunset too. She looked entirely non committal despite her observations. She was enjoying my teetering on the edge of the trap as much as I was my malt.

"We both know the whole gruesome business is far more complicated. Every case on its merits and judged by the standards of the day. The real struggle is to move those standards."

"Hmmm. Not bad for a mere male. I guess."

I decided on a change of tack. Defending men in general was always a hopeless quest given our record.

"Sticking strictly to the physical side of things it's about consent and what the rules of play are at the time. Sometimes you ladies are quite keen and sometimes you aren't."

This was the equivalent of taking a walk along a very narrow ridge. I hated exposure.

"You remember the time I was working as an administrator at that technical college when the kids were young?" she asked.

I did. That was way back. It was a short period when we needed money and Viv going back to full time work was not an option. The job was near home, part time and quite well paid. I had an inkling what was coming next.

"Yes, I do. Where does that fit in?"

"I think you've guessed, raising the consent and enthusiasm issue as you just did. But, sticking to the narrow line you suggest, and I agree that avoids us getting bogged down in endless side trips, it was there we found a good example of your point."

"Quite so," I agreed. And took refuge in my glass, which I drained and set down on the side table.

Viv settled back, and I knew she was reaching into the past, poking gently around the memory to get it stirred up a bit. I did the same, but mainly to give her time to revisit something which had seemed a big deal at the time, but had later submerged beneath the wash of events that made up every married life. Minor and major family crises, births, deaths, moves, job changes, illness and recovery, the successes and troubles of growing children, holidays, sometimes quite wild parties, memorable and unmemorable birthdays. All now a receding sea, like the boiling wake of a big steamer eventually subsiding to endless and featureless ocean.

But Viv was mining. So, I watched the sun go down until we were wrapped in gloom.

"I've still got the outfit," she said.

"I don't remember an outfit," I replied.

"No reason you should. It wasn't particularly special. Though you did encourage me, in a way."

"I did?"

"Yes. I could still get into it too. If anything, I might be a pound or two lighter than then."

I could believe. We'd always kept quite fit, but those were the busy younger years where you felt driven to play hard as well as work hard and manage the children. The prospect of becoming "fat and happy" was ever present. Nothing wrong with that either. Except it got harder to engage reverse the older one got, and somehow we both seemed to sense that and trim our sails accordingly.

"It's getting cold. Let's go in. I'm going upstairs for a rummage," she announced.

I tidied up the patio and took the glasses inside, closed the sliding door and flipped the latch. Another lockdown day done and no Zooming scheduled. I turned on some subdued lighting and killed the main light, then settled on the settee and started checking for e-mails on my phone. I didn't notice Viv come back down but a rustle had me look up. She was standing between me and the TV in the middle of the room wearing a light-coloured dress belted at the waist, the lower half pleated and cut above the knee, the upper half cut to expose her delightful cleavage. In her right hand she dangled a matching cardigan style jacket. She smiled and, as she pirouetted, the skirting flew up revealing a white suspender belt holding up a pair of sheer seamed stockings. And quite full white knickers. She came to a standstill with a white high heeled shoe pointing towards me as she took her weight on the other. Hands on hips she gave me that "Now tell me you don't remember the outfit" look.

"Grease meets Swan Lake. Very nice. The underwear's doing its thing for me right now, but I promise I can't connect the outfit."

She plonked down beside me and gave my groin a friendly rub to confirm the underwear really had done its job. My story checked out.

"So, let's remember together. I'll get my glass refilled. Do you want another shot of malt?"

"No thanks, darling. I'm fine."

She disappeared to the kitchen and came back with a full glass, grabbed one of the occasional tables, and sat back down beside me with her drink nicely to hand.

"Once upon a time, when the world was simpler and mobile phones were the size and weight of housebricks a young woman was married to a young man who wanted to cure the world's diseases by inventing new clever molecules, but he hadn't quite got the hang of it yet being very junior in his new firm and all, so the young woman had to go back to work a bit sooner than both had intended or they and the children would starve. Do you remember now, O my Best Beloved?"

"I remember that bit all right. But Kipling already has a lot to answer for. I don't think we can fairly lumber him with our story."

"Just so. Merely a smidgen of plagiarism to set the scene. Sit back while we time travel to our wee kitchen in our first house. You're peeling the veg and I've just got back from work."

"Sounds familiar already."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The clunk of the front door had me drop carrot and knife on the board and reach for a hand towel. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard above my head and offered it to the winebox. The box responded in the affirmative, which was good news given the weekly consumption rate, and I passed Viv the full glass as she came into the kitchen.

"God, do I need that," she gushed, taking it and chugging half in a couple or so gulps.

"Good day at the office, dear?"

"How are the kids?"

"Fine. All sorted. So, I've started on dinner while peace reigns on the western front."

"Indeed. The office was fine. But old Octopaws was up to his usual tricks again."

"Really? I could sometimes use eight arms myself. Oh, to be so well endowed!"

"I've no idea if he's well endowed, but we all wish he was armless. Or had fewer arms, at least."

"If he's such a bother, you girls should complain. Or quit."

The chap Viv was talking about was one of the teaching staff who was also the administrative supervisor for the support staff across all departments. The college had what I believe was called a matrix organisation, which mixed faculty and functional roles.

"You know it's not as easy as that. The trouble is the bastard is quite charming most of the time, and he has looks on his side too. And to be brutally honest some of us girls quite enjoy the attention, even though we don't admit it and there's a lot of eye-rolling after we've survived a visit to his office. And he's the boss. Once a complaint's been made all hell would break loose. Even if we were successful in ruining his career, we might end up with a replacement who behaved no better. Or worse. Or was just plain rude and ugly. Or smelly. Or all of the above." Viv grimaced at the thought, as she delivered this dubious defence of the fellow she'd just been grumbling about.

"Better the handsome devil you know then, is what you're saying. Is he really a menace, though, or is he just an older guy being overly patronising with a bunch of younger women, so to speak?" He wasn't really old. Probably in his late thirties or early forties. But to us twenty somethings he was a living fossil. Albeit a good-looking fossil as far as Viv was concerned.

"I don't know darling. I've decided to keep my head down. The job's a good one to have just now. We need the money. And it's not forever, is it?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In bed that night we were snuggled up and I was nursing an erection which seemed to have reared its head as I mulled over the pre-dinner conversation. It was a Friday, so there was no need to worry about rising early and we could take the time to do something about the rise between my legs.

I started playing with Viv's breasts. She moved against me in the way that indicated this was the right thing to do.

"So, what naughty things does Octopaws get up to?" I asked, gently rolling a stiff nipple.

"Oh, just the usual sort of stuff. Nothing too serious."

"What sort of 'usual stuff' are we talking about?" I persisted. Viv began very slightly moving her hips. I ignored the invitation and kept up my nipple work.

"We have to go through the weekly reports. He has us in one at a time and makes us stand beside him while he goes through the paperwork. Purchase orders, invoices, maintenance requests and so on. We have to bend over to point stuff out to him."

"And?"

"I can't speak for the other girls."

"And?"

"He strokes my bottom through my skirt."

She was now moving her hips quite noticeably. I let my hand wander down between her legs. She opened them wider pressing against me as she did so. She was absolutely soaking wet.

"Just once or twice?" I asked.

"No. The whole time. He's very gentle though."

I bet he is, I thought. Dirty bugger probably had a hard on like a truncheon.

"What sort of gentle stroking? Does he push the material between your legs?"

"Yes. A bit."

"A big bit or a small bit?"

"A big bit. Put it in darling. Please."

Being a proper young gentleman, I did.

"So, he's not just stroking your bottom, is he? He's stroking between your legs. Has he touched your knickers as he pushed, perhaps?"

"No. Tights."

"Do you respond? Do you move against his hand?"

"Yes, a bit."

"A big bit or a small bit?"

"Big!"

"Does he get stiff?"

"Yes."

"Is he big?"

"Yes, his trousers tent up."

"How much?"

"Like a massive big top!"

"So, he is well endowed!"

"Oh yes, I think so. I think so...huge...maybe.."

We were now really thrusting against each other. Viv was so hot and welcoming, so softly velvety wet, I was going to go over the edge any moment.

"Do you want him inside you? Do you want his great big stiff cock?"

"YEEEESSS!!"

I buried myself as deep and hard as I could, my hot seed spurting and surrounding my rigid cock, mingling with her flood as we clutched each other.

"Phew!" was all I could manage when I got my breath back. We lay there quietly for a while just holding hands.

"Looks like this is an itch you need to get scratched. You should dress up one day, ditch the tights and put your stockings on. He'd think all his Christmases had come at once."

"And how do I explain that may I ask, young man?"

"Say you're going out after work and won't have time to go home and change. But don't tell him or anyone else where or who with at any stage. He'll think you're meeting someone, of course, and that will make him bolder. But not knowing for sure means you can keep control of the flow, and let him make assumptions that you never verify."

"You seem to have given this more thought than I have. If, and it's a very big if, I took up your idea I'd modify it a little to suit what I'm comfortable with. And so I can head off inquisitive colleagues too."

We relapsed into peaceful silence and somehow found we were snuggling up again. It turned into a long and very pleasant night but we slept well and rose surprisingly refreshed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That was that for a while. I was busy at work. There was a lot of study involved. It had been a big shock to find that academia and industry were worlds apart in my field and it would be some time before I was able to make a meaningful contribution; essentially, I was just a reasonably well-paid apprentice with a lot to learn. As for Viv and her boss, nothing much out of the ordinary transpired. I hadn't realised, but it all depended on timing. The man reserved his more adventurous forays to meetings which took place late morning just before lunch, so not often. Soon our frenzied night of lovemaking had been forgotten. Or so I thought.

Several weeks passed until another Friday and I was late back from work. I got home to find dinner had been kept warm for me, the kids were in bed and Viv was already in a dressing gown and slippers. I dealt with the dinner in very short order, cleaned up and joined Viv on the sofa. The news burbled away on the small TV in the corner.

"How was your day?" she asked.

"Long, sorry. Made me late. We've been doing sessions on lab synthesis protocols and then doing practice runs with real equipment. It's all very swish kit compared to uni but there's a lot of process recording to do, and much attention to cleanliness and purity issues. I'm discovering chemical bureaucracy in a big way. But what about you?"

"I had my regular meeting with old Octopaws scheduled for the slot before lunch so I decided to take your advice."

I must have looked a bit nonplussed because she stood up and opened the dressing gown to reveal she was wearing what we used to call a baby-doll nightie, but with her white suspender belt, sheer seamed stockings and white knickers underneath instead of the usual flimsy g-string. The combination, ending in big furry slippers, couldn't be much more incongruous, but my cock decided it was magnificent and snapped to attention immediately. Never any fashion sense in the penis department.

"You're not going to tell me you went to work like that!"

"You wish! No, but for the underwear. You said 'ditch the tights', so I did."

She sat down again, leaving the gown helpfully open.

"Are those the same knickers, or did you change when you got home?"

"The same."

"They must be a bit grubby."

"And some."

"I suspect you may have been a very naughty girl."

"There is that possibility, I admit."

I reached between her obligingly open legs to further my investigations. "You're still wet!"

"I've been damp all day. I'm not as wet as I was this afternoon though."

"I think you better make a full statement. Get it off your chest."

Her chest looked particularly tasty, stiff nipples poking gamely under the gossamer fabric of the nightie.

"If I must."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"After I dropped the kids off at the day-care centre I got to the college at just before 9.00am and began pulling all the reports together. I'd done most of the pre-work so it didn't take long. Then I dealt with the usual day's tasks. As the job's only part-time I'm always busy catching up with the backlog from my down days so time goes by at a steady trot. Sometime after 11.00 Octopaws came by.

"Ah, the lovely Vivienne! Good morning. I must say you're looking very smart today. Special occasion?"

"Good morning Mr Walters. I have all the files ready for you. And thank you. I'm going out directly after work and won't have time to go home and change, that's all."

"Going somewhere with that lucky young husband of yours, eh? Anyway, get everything together and I'll see you in my office once you're ready."

I gave him a moment to get himself settled back in the office then grabbed the stuff and followed down the corridor, knocked and entered, closing the door behind me. I put the folders on a side table, selected the first, covering travel, and laid it in front of him while standing to his right. You quickly get into a routine when you work in an office. Everyone has their own way of doing things; this was Octopaws' way.

And, as usual, he would turn the pages with his left hand, while his right rested gently on my behind. He would comment on the entries he was interested in, and I would lean on the desk to follow and answer any queries, so as I was bending over it was easy for him to start his gentle stroking while I was busy concentrating on the topic in hand. Inevitably he felt the outline of a suspender strap. And equally inevitably his hand betrayed his interest, pausing to check what he had just discovered.

"Vivienne! I must say I noticed the seams on your gorgeous legs, but stockings! Perhaps you're not meeting your husband. Perhaps you are meeting someone else."

"Mr Walters, really. My private life is just that, private."

"Of course, my dear Vivienne. Of course it is. And I promise to keep it so too. Are you going out for a drive perhaps?"

"Perhaps." His hand was getting lower, and had just slipped below my hem. He started caressing my leg, running his hand up and down the nylon.

"Where will you drive to? Somewhere quiet, maybe?"

"Perhaps. There are several secluded parking areas down the many country lanes round here."

"You might be seen. Some of those spots are popular with doggers."

"Not normally so early in the day." His hand was climbing. Slowly. I was standing with my hands on the desk and my legs apart to make it easy for him, but he was taking his time. And I was getting wet.

"Could you get the next folder, please. And while you do, could you just turn the latch on the door to lock it?"

I had to admire his style. Very gentle. No hint of physical coercion. I didn't have to lock the door, and not doing so would signal my probable unavailability. But not locking the door without actively stopping his advances would risk us being caught in flagrante. I turned the latch as asked and came back with the next folder. For a spell we did some more work while he resumed his tantalising caresses, making his way up to the bare flesh above my stocking tops.

"So, what do you get up to when you find your secluded spot? Do you kiss? Do you let your companion play with your delightful breasts? Tease your nipples?"