tagExhibitionist & VoyeurA Call To Remember

A Call To Remember


It was mid-afternoon as he sat in his own small portion of the large open-plan office. There were some seventy-five people on this floor, and each had his own personal space of ten feet by eight feet, lined by screens that hid you from sight unless you were standing up. There was a constant buzz of telephones ringing, keyboards being battered and muffled conversations. He had been working on this set of figures for nearly two days now, and at long last it was beginning to take shape. He leaned back in his chair, took a sip of his coffee and was just about to restart when the telephone rang.

He picked it up and automatically gave his extension number. As soon as he'd done it he realised it wasn't an office call. The line was too quiet.

"Hi, it's me." It was Patricia, but she sounded different, on edge almost. As she spoke he looked at the photo of her that sat permanently on the corner of his desk. She was of medium height with dark hair, her face wide across the cheek bones and pointed of chin. Her straight nose and soft, sensuous mouth belied by the direct gaze of her hazel eyes. Her figure was trim and spoke of regular works-outs in the gym. He thought about the way that she moved with an air of confidence and purpose, like a woman who knew what she wanted and would, more than likely, achieve her goal.

The picture showed her leaning against a tree and smiling to the camera. She had that wicked look in her eye which was why he loved this particular photo. The reason for the look was that when he had taken the picture he had been standing stark naked in front of her. He had been erect and had just pointed out the tree-stump he was going to fuck her over. As the smile had crossed her face... Snap! He took the photo. He kept it on his desk to remind him of the sensuous creature that awaited him when he got home each evening.

"Hello Patricia. Everything alright?"

"Yes fine. Are you busy?"

"Never too busy to talk to you, why has something come up?"

"Er,...sort of. You know how several times in recent months we've discussed various sexual fantasies to each other. Did you mean what you were saying?... Are you sure you can talk?"

"Yes, yes I'm sure I can talk. Did I mean what I was saying? Every word, you know that. Why?"

His heart skipped a beat as he asked this for she obviously had something in mind.

"One of the things that you keep telling me is that you fantasise over the idea of my making love to another man. Is that really true or is it just a fantasy? Think before you answer, it could be important."

"Christ Patricia, why are you asking? What's happened?"

"Answer the question David. Is it true? Do you get turned on by the thought of my making love to another man?"

"Yes, you know damn well I do. I'm almost coming on the spot just thinking about it. Why are you asking me this now?"

"I'll tell you. There is a man downstairs in our lounge. He was delivering some flowers ordered for me by my mother. I invited him in because I wanted to give him an order for a bouquet for the christening we are going to next weekend. To cut a long story short, as I'm trying to explain what I would like, he is staring at me as if he would like to devour me. He turns me on David, and so I thought about your fantasy."

"Bloody hell. What is he doing now?"

"He is waiting for me to show him the colour of the dress that I want the flowers to match. I've just come upstairs to get it... it's up to you now David. Would you like him to make love to me?"

"Yes," he replied quietly. Before he could say anything further, she told him to hang on a second. From the sudden tapping and rustling sound, he realised she had put the phone down somewhere. He waited for her to return. Perhaps the delivery boy had called her.

After thirty seconds or so, he heard her voice, but she was not talking into the phone. She was back in the room, but ignoring the phone. Christ, he heard her call the boy upstairs. He listened intently as it dawned on him what she was about to do.

"I'm in here," she called. "Ah, there you are. Now then, that dress was in here somewhere." There was a few seconds silence that seemed to last an hour.

"No... its not there. Damn. I tell you what though, it is exactly the same colour as the negligee hanging on the back of that door. What colour would you say that was?"

"Er... lilac?" came the reply. There really was a strange man in his bedroom. He tried to put a face to the voice, but found it impossible. He felt his hand getting sweaty as he held the receiver.

"Nice texture too" came the voice again. "Must feel nice against your skin."

"It is satin" Patricia replied. "I'm told my skin feels just like it... why don't you come here and tell me if it's true."

David was spellbound. This was the stuff his dreams were made of. He had only known Patricia for six months or so, and she had already fulfilled most of his earlier fantasies. But this... wow!

"Does it feel the same?" asked Patricia in a perfectly calm voice.

"It... it is very soft. Not quite the same though" came the response.

"It wasn't my arm being stroked when the comparison was made."

"No? Where were you being stroked?"

"On the insides of my thighs... try there."

"I will... lift your dress."

"I can do better than that..." David could not believe what he was hearing. The delivery boy obviously had no idea that the phone was off the hook. He wondered how she'd hidden it. He envisaged her pulling her dress over her head. He waited.

"Oh my God," came the voice. "You are beautiful. Let me feel the inside of your thigh then. Please."

"Of course. Kneel in front of me... mmm, that's better. How does it compare to the satin?"

"Exactly the same. Are these satin as well?"

"No, unfortunately not. Why don't you pull them off,... yes... much better. Now lick me... slowly!"

As he listened in silence, the love of his life made all the familiar noises that told him the delivery boy was hitting all the right spots. If anything she was being more vocal than ever. He hoped that was for his benefit rather than due to the prowess of this boy's tongue. It was some

some ten minutes before he recognised the pattern in her moans that told him her orgasm was approaching. He almost came with her as he listened to her scream with undiluted pleasure.

All went quiet for a short while before she spoke again.

"Thank you," she said, "and now its your turn. How long do you have?"

"As long as I want. You were my only delivery this afternoon. How about you?"

"There will be nobody here until eight o'clock" she said quite clearly, leaving David in no doubts as to when he was expected, "so we have at least three clear hours to ourselves. By the time I've finished with you, you will have to crawl home through exhaustion. Now stand up and strip."

David looked at his watch. Seconds ticked past in silence before she gave her next comment.

"That's much better. Does it taste as nice as it looks... mmmmmm, wonderful. So what would you like first mister deliveryman? Which of my orifices would you care to fill first?... hang on, before we really start let's just move these... CLICK!!"

The telephone went dead. She'd hung up. He could not believe this was happening. He wanted to ring her back but knew he couldn't. He was tempted to go straight round and spy on them..., but no. That was not in her rules. He would go round as instructed at eight o' clock. By then he would be ready to explode. It was going to be a very long afternoon. He looked at the sheets of figures on his desk, then shrugged and settled back to contemplate what he should relate to her as his next fantasy. Only three hours and forty-seven minutes to go...

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