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Working Girl By Charlotte Johnson Someone wise once said that the longest journey starts with just one step. I just wish that someone had told me how hard my journey would be before I started it. My journey, a journey into womanhood had taken me 8 long years and it had been a journey full of hard decisions. Some decisions had been relatively easy like the decision to start hormone therapy or the one about growing my hair. Some had been incredibly hard like the decision to tell my Mum. But the hardest decision of all had come nearly twelve months ago, at the age of 29, when I had finally reached a point in my life when I felt ready to begin living my life as the woman I had always wanted to be. Sadly, my mum had passed away but in the process she left me a small legacy. It wasn't much but it was enough to give me the start in life that I needed and I began by erasing everything that had been man in my life. I quit my job with an accountancy firm in London, my logic being that I would be able to find work once I had established myself as a woman. On one hand the firm was reluctant to let me go, thanks to my undeniable expertise in corporate accounting. However my change in appearance, particularly my long hair, had simply not suited their 'corporate image' so we shook hands and parted company. The next step had been to purchase a two bedroom apartment and, on my thirtieth birthday, ably assisted by my friend and confidante, Gina, I moved in as Charlotte, quite a momentous day. Everything that had been Charles was consigned to the bin or to a charity shop and was simply replaced by everything Charlotte. Slowly, I began to establish my identity, creating my feminine persona, with everyone I came in contact with. Every now and then, Gina and I would drop into the local wine bar where we would chat up the occasional male passerby and on other occasions, I could be found in the local laundrette, folding bras' and panties. The local butcher and greengrocer even began calling me by my first name and there was soon a story circulating that I had had a messy split up from a boyfriend and that I was making a 'fresh start'. How do I know that, well I started the rumour! All of this, of course, had taken money. Buying the flat and taking a twelve month 'career break' had eaten a great big hole in my capital. And so started the biggest challenge of my life. I had to find a job! God only knows how many application forms I had filled in only to have rejection after rejection and I was beginning to think that being a transsexual woman is not the most endearing qualification to a prospective employer (I wonder why). Gina had even suggested I start my own business but I was reluctant to do this and yearned for the relative security of a paid position. So I persevered. After all I was well educated and well qualified as an accountant. Someone would have need of my abilities, surely. And then it happened. A letter had arrived inviting me to attend a job interview for a post with a large pharmaceutical company. Strangely, the letter had been hand delivered to the flat and was signed by the managing director himself. But I thought little of this. After all a job interview was a job interview and I had phoned immediately to confirm I would be there. Chapter 2 Naked, I stepped in front of the bathroom mirror, and, for the millionth time, I looked at myself critically. There, a reflection in the mirror, was an undeniably pretty young woman. Shoulder length mousy brown hair framed her face nicely and her facial features could only be described as feminine. Wide innocent blue eyes topped by carefully shaped eyebrows; high feminine cheekbones; a pert little button nose and full, very kissable lips were everything a woman could ask for. Her shoulders were a little wider than she would have liked but this was offset by a pair of the most wonderful breasts, firm and round with a dark areola and expectant nipples. Her breasts were also accentuated by a narrow waist line and well rounded hips and bottom perched on top of a pair of legs that would not have looked out of place on a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. All in all, I looked pretty good. That is with one major exception. I still had a penis. I still had that hated, tiny piece of flesh between my legs that testified to my true gender. 'Come on Lotte' I said, sighing to myself as I stared into the mirror, 'get your bum in gear. Gina will be here in a few minutes.' I walked into the bathroom and hopped into the shower. I had shaved my legs etc the night before so I quickly washed and conditioned my hair before washing myself down with a lovely lavender scented shower gel. For some reason I spent more time than I needed to, washing my breasts. Well there have to be some perks to being a girl! I had just got out of the shower and was still dripping on the floor when I heard the door bell ring. Grabbing a thin satin robe from the back of the bathroom door I threw it on over my still wet body, feeling how the material stuck instantly to my body and ran, my breasts bouncing freely, to answer the door. "Hi Gin..." I began, only to discover, much to my acute embarrassment, that it was the post man. "Oooops," I giggled as I saw who it was and instinctively wrapped my arms tightly around my chest. It wasn't my regular postman, but a much younger man whose eyes, I was glad to see, suddenly popped out on stalks as he saw how I was dressed "Erm..." the postie replied. "I have a package for Miss Charlotte Johnson." "That's me!" I declared as I flashed my best smile at him. He handed me the packet and one of those awful receipt machines that you have to sign and all the time his eyes never left my chest area. I giggled inwardly to think that I was practically naked thanks to the way the wet robe was sticking to my breasts and body. Yes there were compensations for being a woman. Wickedly, I allowed my robe to fall open even further as I handed him back the little machine, just as my friend Gina appeared in the corridor behind him. I couldn't help but laugh out loud as he nervously stumbled backwards right into her and then left, his cheeks red, as he apologised profusely. "God, you little prick tease," Gina said as she walked into the living room, a large case in her hand. "It wasn't my fault. I thought it was you!" "It's a good job he couldn't take his eyes off your tits," she laughed as she pointed towards my crotch where there was just the hint of a bulge. "Ooops. Coffee?" "Yes please. So today is the big day," she said clapping her hands together and following me into the kitchen. "Yup, hence this appointment. I want you to make me look just perfect for my interview." I had first met Gina some seven years ago when a mutual acquaintance had suggested that I get in touch. Gina ran a mobile hair and beauty business and whilst most of her clients were real woman, she had no qualms about visiting people such as myself. We had instantly taken to each other and ultimately had become the best of friends. "We can do that easily although I only have a couple of hours before my next client," Gina replied. "What sort of look are you going for?" "That's easy. I want to look very feminine but at the same time totally professional," I replied as I switched on the kettle. "So daytime look for makeup, but perhaps just a hint too much eye liner for effect. What about your hair, up or down?" "Here" I said, grabbing a magazine which I had left it open on the counter "something like this" I showed her the picture of a model whose hair had been cut in a long feathered bob with parting and fringe. "Do you think this would suit me?" "Oh yes, definitely" my friend replied smiling at me. I had turned to the counter to pour out two coffees and I felt her move behind me and begin to comb through my damp, light brown hair with her fingers. "Your hair is definitely long enough and would really benefit from a good cut. Have you thought about colouring it. I have always said you would look spectacular as a blonde." "Do you think so? I wouldn't want it to look all brassy." "That's not what I have in mind. There is a brilliant new semi permanent on the market that will just lift and highlight your hair. I think it would be perfect." "Do you think I should risk it, you know with my interview coming up." "That's the beauty of this product" Gina explained "it also comes with a reversing agent that will remove the colouring if you don't like it." I just grinned "Go for it then!" I followed Gina back into my bedroom where she began to lay out the tools of her trade on my dressing table. I sat in a chair and Gina got to work combing and cutting my hair into style. Once she was happy, she had applied the colouring agent and, after twenty minutes of my damp hair being piled on top of my head, she had rinsed out the chemicals. I was thrilled with the result. It was just enough to lift my hair colour from a mousy brown to a gorgeous golden blonde. "There," she said eventually after she had blown dried my hair into shape. What do you think?" " Fan bloody tastic Gina. I love it!!" "Good, so let's do your make up then shall we." Now Gina is a genius with makeup. With just a touch of eye shadow here, a lick of mascara there and a swish of lip gloss, she gave me a wonderful daytime look, exactly the look I was after, perfect for an interview. A final brush through my hair and a light coat of hairspray and she was done. Whilst Gina packed up her things, I rummaged in my handbag for my purse and paid my friend, hugged her and watch her leave for her next appointment. Then returning to my bedroom, I fished out the only suit I owned from where it was hanging in the wardrobe. I had bought it from Next when I had decided to start looking for work and I really liked the way it looked on me. A classic pencil skirt fell to just below my knees and the jacket was fashionably tailored and short. I began by putting on a simple white bra and panties set. In the beginning, I had religiously worn a sex cache, but years of hormone therapy now meant there was no need. A good pair of tight fitting panties did the job quite nicely. A simple white blouse that displayed a modicum of cleavage came next followed by the skirt of my suit and a pair of modest heeled pumps. Finally came the jacket which I buttoned at the waist and I was ready to face the world. All I had to do was to double check I had everything I needed in my slim attach? case and to wait for the taxi I had ordered. Even that was on time! By 2.30 pm I was stood outside a very impressive office building with the name Brightwell Pharmaceutical emblazoned across the front. As my appointment was not until 3pm, I found myself pacing up and down the street getting more and more nervous, as the realization of just how much I wanted to get a job began to sink in. Then at exactly 2.50 pm, I found myself taking a deep breath to steady my nerves and telling myself to stop being a stupid woman, before pushing the revolving door and entering the building. The main foyer was huge, dominated by a large reception desk manned by a pretty young brunette. As Lady Macbeth said to her husband, I screwed my courage to the sticking post, and walked over to her and smiled my best nervous smile. "Can I help you?" she asked politely. "Yes, my name is Charlotte Johnson; I have an appointment with Mr Jones." I watched as she checked her schedule before she turned back to me and smiled. "Yes Miss Johnson, Mr Jones is expecting you. If you would like to take a seat I will let him know you are here." A few minutes later and my attention was drawn away from the hustle and bustle of the reception area by the audible 'ding' of the lift and out stepped a man who I guessed must be in his early forties. Tall and broad shouldered, he was dressed in a conservative dark grey suit but with a flamboyant patterned tie and an easy smile that gave him an instant air of authority. Striding purposefully towards me he smiled, held out his hand for me to shake and introduced himself "Hello Miss Johnson. My name is Jack Jones. Welcome to Brightwell. Would you follow me please," he said, his intuitive eyes never leaving me for a second. He took me towards the lift and sensing my nervousness, he started to talk himself. "Do you know much about Brightwell Pharmaceuticals, Miss Johnson?" he asked. "Only what I could find from you website really," I replied truthfully. "Well what the website doesn't tell you is that we are a multi million pound corporation developing some of the most cutting edge drugs for the treatment of a huge variety of conditions , from specific cancers to depression to new anti viral and antibacterial agents. The corporation is run from the head office here where all the sales, marketing and accounting is done. Production and research and development are done at two completely separate facilities on a single site in Cambridgeshire. We employ over 350 people over the three sites." "Impressive," I said softly as the lift reached the seventh floor and the doors opened in front of us. "Right this way please Miss Johnson." He led me towards a door which opened into a small reception area manned by a very efficient looking middle aged woman. She looked up from her computer as we entered and smiled. "Mrs Swan, could you please hold all my calls for the next hour or so," he ordered as we walked past her desk. "Of course Mr Jones!" she smiled efficiently. I watched as he pushed open his office door and then stood back , like the gentleman he was, and allowed me to enter first. His office was huge. To one side was his desk whilst in another area was a polished antique dinner table easily big enough to seat 14 which I assumed he used for meetings. In another area was a comfortable suit of leather sofas and it was towards those he directed me. There was one thing that did surprise me though. Whilst I had expected an interview panel or at the very least someone from the personnel department, the office was empty, devoid of anyone else. "It is good to finally meet you Miss Johnson" said Mr Jones politely as he closed the door behind him. "Please do take a seat. Can I get you a coffee or a glass of water?" "Water please" I managed to croak. He cracked open a bottle of Perrier and poured me a glass to accompany the coffee he had poured for himself and they were soon in front of us on the coffee table. "Right then," he said as he grabbed a manila folder from his desk and opened it in front of him on the coffee table. Inside was the original application form I had submitted sometime ago. "Before we start I just want to get out in the open this issue of you being a transsexual," he continued softly. "I found it refreshingly honest of you, if not a little naive, to be up front with your gender status. But the company has strict guidelines about discrimination so your true gender, no, your original gender" he corrected himself "will have no part to play in this interview. However, may I add that, had you not declared that you were a transsexual on your application form, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have accepted you as a biological woman. You look, well, lovely, every inch the smart and professional young lady." "Thank you Mr Jones," I replied softly. "I do my best." "However, it is my intention that, if you accept a position with the company, that I will be the only person who will have any knowledge of your transgendered status unless of course you wish to tell everyone who you may be working with." "No," I replied quickly. "I would much rather be known as a woman and be accepted for who I am. But I can't see how this is possible? Surely my application went through your personnel department." "As it happens, no! When we advertise for senior positions, like the accounting managers job you applied for, I screen all the applications myself. Besides, the personnel secretary who collated the applications for that post no longer works for the company so I think there is little risk of anyone having seen your original application." "Thank you Mr Jones." "Now, can you tell me of your last position, with Petersons and Petersons." "Yes. I headed their forensic accounts department. Whenever company fraud or embezzlement was suspected my department was called in to sift through all the paperwork, you know to either prove or disprove allegations. Even though I say it myself, we were quite successful in what we did. I became somewhat of a specialist in following paper and electronic trails." "Mm. According to Jim Peterson, who I know quite well by the way, you proved yourself to be eminently capable and as he called it 'you were as tenacious as a bull terrier." "I don't like to be beaten by someone who thinks they know more about accounting than I do!" "Good and it is that ability that I desperately need and the reason for this explains the unusual circumstances behind this interview. What I am about to tell you is highly confidential and explains why I have gone to such lengths to try and recruit you." He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and to carefully phrase what he was going to say next. "Someone in my senior management team is embezzling from the company and I want you to find out who, and more importantly how." "How much money are we talking about?" "That's the problem. I am not quite sure but I believe it to be around ?1 million over the past three years. We have an annual turnover in excess of ?600 million with hundreds of thousands of transactions through our purchasing and sales departments so it is remarkably difficult to be accurate." "That's a lot of money. How do you know it is one of the senior management team?" "Well I don't to be truthful. But it stands to reason that it has to be someone with the necessary security clearances." "In my experience, it usually takes more than one person to pull off fraud on that scale Mr Jones," I said thoughtfully. "But why me, surely you could have simply hired a team of auditors." "We do that every year. Our accounts are independently audited annually. In fact they have just last week finished the audit and it was one of their team that highlighted the discrepancy in the books. At the moment I am the only one who knows about this, well now you too. The annual shareholders meeting is in four weeks time however so I will have to account for the loss somehow by then." "God, that doesn't give me much time. So what makes you think I can do any better than the auditors?" "Firstly Jim Peterson tells me you can do it, incidentally he still thinks you are a guy, and I am certain you have the experience and knowledge to catch the person responsible. Secondly you are, erm, well a woman." "What has that to do with it?" "My last executive secretary recently retired and Mrs Swan, you met her outside, is only a temp. If you agree, you will take over that role, for as my executive secretary, you will have computerised access to all areas of the business allowing you to conduct your investigation without raising any suspicion. Far better than putting you into the accounts department, don't you agree?" "I suppose so," I replied thoughtfully. "By the way, the post of my personal secretary commands a salary of ?30,000 per annum and as an added incentive, I will give you 10% of all monies recovered." "That is, erm, exceedingly generous Mr Jones," I coughed, surprised at how much he was offering. "But I have never been a secretary. Whilst I am computer literate and can type 60 words a minute, I don't know the first thing about being a secretary." "It is not as difficult as you think Miss Johnson. You will keep my diary, type the odd letter, do minutes of meetings etc. Hardly taxing for someone of your ability. And it should allow you plenty of time to do you 'research' as we shall call it." "I have one last question, no two. Once I have completed my 'research' what then?" "Don't worry, I won't just throw you out on the street. Provided your work as my secretary is satisfactory, you can stay on in that role if you choose, on a permanent contract or I could find you an accounting role within the company. Alternatively I have many contacts in the business community and I will help find you a suitable permanent position somewhere else." "Finally, now you have met me in person, do you think I can be totally convincing as a woman?" I asked shyly. "Most definitely, Miss Johnson. You wouldn't still be sat here if I didn't. So will you do this?" "Only if you call me Charlotte," I grinned, holding out my hand for him to shake. As I walked out of the building, a few minutes later, I felt like screaming at the top of my voice. I felt so elated, so alive. I had done it! I had a job! If nothing else it would allow me to establish my feminine self in business, to get a reference for future applications. But what an opportunity. If I could establish myself, who knew where it could lead. There was a definite skip in my step and a huge smile on my face. As I walked towards the city centre my mind began working furiously as I turned my attention to that most important of subject every working woman has to face. What to wear! Mentally I began to check through my wardrobe trying to decide if I needed to buy anything whilst at the same time mentally checking my bank balance. I had my suit and two or three skirts that would be suitable. Blouses, yes, I probably had enough but I could do with a nice jacket. Pantyhose, I needed pantyhose. Whilst I loved to wear stockings, they wouldn't really be appropriate. My first stop was Next and, after an hour's browsing, I had chosen a lovely jacket, a pair of sensible heel shoes and several pairs of pantyhose. I was just on my way out of the store when my phone rang. I paused, fished it out of my handbag, and answered it. It was of course Gina. "How did it go?" she asked. "Well," I started slowly, "I got it!" I screamed, unable to contain my excitement. "Oh Charlotte, that's wonderful. Well done," my friend replied. "When do you start?" "Believe it or not, tomorrow!" "Fuck!" she swore. "That about sums it up! Why don't you come round tonight and I will open a bottle to celebrate." "Oh sorry sweetie, I can't. I'm seeing Mike tonight. But try keep me away tomorrow evening. I shall want to know all about it." "See you then, then." Chapter 3 I hardly slept a wink that night, or so it felt, but in the end 6.30 am came around all too quickly for my liking. After throwing my alarm clock at the wall, I forced myself to sit up on the edge of the bed, giving myself no chance of falling back to sleep. Getting back into a work routine was going to be tough. Fifteen minutes later and a shower had revived me enough to be able to sit at my vanity to do my hair and makeup. A light foundation, soft eye makeup and a pretty pink lip gloss achieved the look I was after, smart professional but pretty. I played around with my hair a little, but in the end I decided to wear it up and soon had it pinned the way Gina had taught me too. A new white bra and panties (along with my sex cache as I wanted no accidents that day) and nude pantyhose served for my underwear. Then a pretty white blouse with a large collar, followed by skirt, medium heeled shoes and my jacket finished off my outfit perfectly. In the end I decided some lovely faux diamond studs in my ears and my gold ladies watch would be all the jewellery I needed. A liberal spray with my favourite perfume and I was ready as I would ever be. I couldn't eat any breakfast though! By 8.30 am I found myself walking back into the Brightwell building to be greeted by the same young woman I had spoken to the day before. "Good morning Miss Johnson," she said as she saw me approach, welcome to the team." "Thank you erm...." "Katy!" she said smiling at me again. "Thank you Katy. Do I need to sign in or anything." "No. I have your ID badge here for you. It's only a temporary one until security can issue you a proper one," she said, showing me her own badge complete with photo ID. "You can go straight up. Mr Jones is already here!" I was on safe ground when I got out of the lift on the seventh floor for I sort of knew the layout. As I walked into the office and put down my slim briefcase Mr Jones came out of his office, a cup of coffee in his hand. "Good morning Charlotte," he said as he saw me. "Coffee?" he asked holding up his mug. "No thank you. I do hope I am not late Mr Jones. I half expected to be here first." "Nope and I wouldn't expect you to be either. I am a bit of a morning bird and find I can often get more work done in a quiet hour in the morning than I do in the rest of the day. Besides starting early means I can have more time at home in the evenings with my daughter." "Daughter?" "Mm," he replied. "She is only 6 and my reason for living." "And what about Mrs Jones?" "There isn't one. Long story. Anyway shall we get you settled in. I have cleared the best part of the morning so I can run through things with you but I do have a production meeting at 11 am." The next two hours were intense to say the least. My boss took me through the basics of company structure and its key personnel. There were 11 directors including him, finance director, personnel director, sales and marketing director etc, each with their own sphere of responsibility. After a visit from a very young looking computer tech, I had access to the computer main frame through my desk PC or the laptop I was given. Mr Jones then took me through his electronic diary, and the company intranet messaging system. Yet another visit from a security person with a digital camera resulted in my photo ID being on my desk. Around 10.30 he left me to return to his office to could prepare for his meeting so I spent half an hour going through the personnel records of the board, familiarising myself with their names and back grounds. It was just before 11am that one of them, a Mr Guy Roberts, the finance director, came flouncing in through the outer office door. From the moment I clapped eyes on him I knew he was the sort of man who was just full of himself. He was tall, athletic and undeniably handsome but you could tell instantly that he had that attitude of I'm better than you are. "And who might you be sweetheart?" he asked as he saw me sat at my desk and came over to perch on the end. "I am Miss Johnson, Mr Jones' new personal secretary," I replied somewhat coldly. "At last, a pretty one!" he said leering at me. I put down my pen and looked him coldly in the eyes. "Let me see," I said looking up from my laptop and recalling what I had read just a few minutes ago, "Mr Roberts, isn't it. Finance Director. Married to Anne with three children. Please don't think for one moment that the way I look means I am not good at what I do Mr Roberts." I continued icily. "You can go right in, Mr Jones is waiting for you. I was smiling inwardly to myself as I saw his mouth drop and watched as he stood, straightened his tie and walking into the inner office. It was then that I suddenly realised there was another pair of eyes on me, a woman in her late fifties, dressed smartly in a grey business suit, who I recognised instantly as Mrs Helen Yates, the sales and purchasing director, as she came over to me and introduced herself with a firm handshake. "Well done!" she whispered conspiratorially. "Guy Roberts thinks that anything in a skirt is fair game around her. You really put him in his place!" and with that she went in and joined the others. The final visitor to the office was a man who could only be described as everyone's favourite granddad. Mr Trent, the production director. He just smiled and waved at me in acknowledgement but as he was late just bustled into the office and as he did so Mr Jones popped his head out to remind me to hold his calls for the next couple of hours. And so the pattern of the day was set. I took calls, passed messages and typed letters. I also began to look at the company accounting system and quickly began to realise just how transparent and straight forward it all was. Even though Guy Roberts was a complete chauvinist, he obviously knew his job, or at least, had someone working for him who did. However, I opened a new file on my computer, gave it a password to protect it, and went to work recording even the smallest of details that might be significant later on. It was nearly 5 pm and I was trying to make sense out of the stock control systems, when Mr Jones came out of his office. "Can you come into my office for a moment please Charlotte," he said smiling at me as I picked up my notebook and pen. "You won't be needing that," he added. I followed him in and closed the door behind me. "I just wanted to say how impressed I have been Charlotte," he began "you seem to have settled in remarkably well." "Thank you Mr Jones," I replied knowing that such praise was not given lightly. "There is one thing I always like to do before going home and that is to review my diary for tomorrow. I notice you have added a couple of items." "Yes," I said. "Mr Bingham from Mercury wanted to see you so I put him in at 10.30 am and Mrs Yates asked if you could spare half an hour to discuss the job advertisement for Production Shift Manager at the Luton plant. I hope you don't mind." "No not at all Charlotte but in the future, before you book an appointment with someone from another company can you check with me first, just in case I don't want to see them." "Yes of course Mr Jones. I hope I didn't do anything wrong," I said somewhat crestfallen "No," he laughed. "It's just that I have my ways and you need to know what they are. Now, as you will discover, I normally leave work round about now to pick up Amy from the child minders. So it's home time for you too." "Thank you Mr Jones, but I think I will stay on for another hour or so and make a start on our special project," I said smiling at him. "That's what I like, dedication, but don't stay too late," he said as he threw on his jacket and grabbed his brief case. It was a little after 8pm when I finally shut my computer down. I had completely lost track of time, becoming totally engrossed in learning as much as I could about the paper trail of money and product through the company's manufacturing process. The more I saw, the more I realised that the existing systems were extremely efficient making fraudulent transactions very difficult to hide. It was then that I remembered Gina! "Shit" I said out loud to myself as I grabbed my mobile. Moments later after some serious grovelling, Gina had forgiven me and we had arranged to meet in a local wine bar. So I grabbed my case and jacket, switched off all the lights and made my way to the lift. It was as I was leaving the lift on the ground floor that I saw Guy Roberts. He was just on his way out of the building and was too busy talking to his mobile phone even to acknowledge the night guard he sat at the reception desk. And that sparked a thought. "Note to self," I muttered, "check to see if any of senior staff have unusual working hours." I smiled as I walked up to the night guard, and elderly man who had the bearing of an ex soldier or policeman. He smiled as he saw me and I smiled back. "Good evening Miss Johnson!" he said, somehow already knowing my name. "Good evening, erm.........." "White, Henry White, but everyone calls me Chalky, Miss. You know Chalky White?" "Well , if you don't mind, I think I shall call you Henry." He seemed pleased at that! "Well good night then, Miss Johnson." I turned to leave and got a few steps before turning again as if I had forgotten something. "Henry, can I ask you something?" "Sure, fire away!" he grinned. "Do you keep a record of the times when people come and go in and out of the office?" "No need, Miss. Your security pass has a chip in it and the computer records when you enter and exit the building automatically." "Thank you Henry," I said flashing him another beautiful smile, pleased to see him blush a little. It was useful to be a woman sometimes! Ten minutes later and I was pushing my way through the crowded wine bar towards small table that Gina had somehow managed to commandeer. There was already a bottle of wine on the table and two glasses and the moment she saw me she poured me a glass. I found myself sitting down heavily on the chair and taking a long deep drink. "God, I forgotten just how much hard work, working is," I groaned. "Tell me about it. Three shampoos and sets, two haircuts and a perm today!" she moaned. "Anyway come on, spill the beans. How many hot men have you met today?" Gina was always on at me about expanding my social life and dating occasionally. I sighed theatrically. "You are looking at Brightwell Pharmaceuticals Managing Directors new personal secretary." "My God. I thought you were an accountant." "I am, that's part of the job and why he hired me, but I can't tell you any more about that cos I would have to shoot you if I did." "So what's he like?" "Really nice. Quite a bit older than me. Oh and he has a six year old daughter." "Married then?" "Was, but I don't know what happened." "Good looking?" "Gina!" I said to my friend indignantly but then added, "yes, as a matter of fact he is," speaking into the bottom of my wine glass. As Gina and I chatted she teased me unmercilessly whilst I told her all about the interview and why I had been hired. She whistled when I told her in confidence about the task I had been given and the amount involved. "My God," she groaned, "10% of 2 million, that's like ?10,000 isn't it" "More like ?100,000." I grinned but it is highly unlikely that, even if I find out who, we will recover much of the money. "But just think what you could do with 100 grand." I found myself glancing around the busy wine bar as we chatted and it was then, much to my surprise, I saw another couple sat at a table on the other side of the bar. I recognised the man instantly. It was Guy Roberts. However I didn't recognise the woman but she definitely looked too young to be his wife and the way she was looking at him could only be described as lustful. Interesting! Chapter 4 And so this established the pattern of the next two weeks. My work as a secretary was demanding if not challenging and kept me really busy. What was quite remarkable, however, was how everyone just accepted me for what I was, a hard working woman. I was quickly accepted into the inner circle of clerical staff and at coffee times or meal breaks could often be found chatting away with the other secretaries. It felt so good just to be accepted for who I was. There was of course the inevitable offers of dates which, whilst I found flattering, declined as nicely as I knew how, using the old clich? that I didn't date people from work as an excuse. Unfortunately Guy Phillips was one of the men who, much to my disgust, seemed to not want to take no for an answer. My 'research' was proving extremely exasperating. I made an in depth study of purchasing of raw materials thinking that false orders to dummy companies may be how our embezzler was extracting money from the company. But every delivery note seemed to match with raw materials which were tracked meticulously through the manufacturing process by unique bar codes. At the other end of the system, I looked at supply and delivery, but this was pretty much air tight too. The stock control of prescription pharmaceuticals was closely regulated! The next step was to look at other departmental budgets but nothing looked out of the ordinary. It was all so frustrating and to compound this, the annual share holders meeting was getting closer and closer. My work inevitably brought me into close contact with Jack Jones. Every couple of days I would brief him on any leads I might have generated, behind closed doors of course. As I got to know him better, I began to realise just how much he cared about the success of his company and was the sort of boss who very much led from the front. He was a kind caring man who had time for any employee who wanted to speak to him but at the same time demanded 110% effort from everyone. And as we worked closely together, something unexpected happened, something I knew could only lead to trouble and heartache. I started to fall in love. I was sat at my desk one Friday afternoon, wading through the marketing budget, when I heard Mr Jones answer his personal mobile phone. This was closely followed by a whole string of expletives that made me grin as they were so out of character. I climbed out of my chair and went over to his office door which, as usual was open. "Something wrong?" I asked. "You know I have this dinner tonight at the Guild Hall where I am to be the key after dinner speaker. Well my baby sitter has only gone and got chicken pox. She's seventeen for God's sake. What is she doing getting chicken pox?" "So you need a baby sitter then. I'll do it if you want." "No, I couldn't ask........ Would you?" "Of course. It would be my pleasure. Besides I would love to meet your little girl." "Charlotte, you are a life saver." "I know! A martyr to the cause. What time would you like me at your house?" "Would 6 pm be OK? You can leave work now if you want to go home and change," he said as he scribbled down his address. "Yes I would like that if I may. Oh, one thing. What sort of things does Amy like, you know toys and the like." "Most things a little girl likes really. She loves her dolls and 'cuddlies'." It was a little after 4 pm, when I dashed into my flat. I stripped out of my suit and unpinned my hair which I had taken to wearing up for work. Quickly I fluffed it out and then dragged a brush through it before raiding my wardrobe for something suitable to wear. It had suddenly become really important to me to find something nice, something that would make an impression. I ended up choosing a lovely sleeveless smock which looked great with jeans and my favourite leather boots and I looked, even though I said it myself, a total babe. Another rummage in a cupboard also revealed the other item I wanted to take with me, my much loved childhood teddy bear. It took me just thirty minutes to drive to the address I had been given. It turned out to be a beautiful Victorian home set in secluded gardens. Everywhere I looked there was evidence of a child. There was a trampoline and a climbing frame with a swing in the garden, toys strewn everywhere on the lawn. I parked my little mini next to Jack's BMW on the driveway, grabbed my little present and went over to the front door. The second I rang the bell it was opened by a beautiful little girl. She was simply dressed in a pretty pink t shirt and trousers, her long golden hair loose around her face, a face that lit up with a smile as she saw me as she peeked nervously around the edge of the door. Her father was stood just behind her of course and he grinned as he saw me standing there in an open necked dress shirt, an untied bow tie around his shoulders. "Wow, Charlotte, you look, well, erm, great!" he said suddenly a little shy himself. "And this little tearaway," he said putting his hand on the little girl's head "is Amy." "Hi Amy," I said as I found myself waving to her. "Who's that?" Amy said immediately, pointing to the teddy bear I had under my arm. I knelt down so that I was on the same level of her and showed her the bear. "This is Belinda Bear," I said holding it out to her. The bear was dressed in a pretty little gingham dress that I had made years ago. "She used to be my bear when I was little but now she needs a new home. Do you know anyone who might be able to look after her for me?" "Ooooooooh," she replied her eyes wide open "yes, me! Can I Daddy?" "Yes darling, of course," he said smiling at his daughter. I gave her the bear and watched as she hugged it to herself, a delighted look on her face. "What do you say?" reminded her father "Thank you Char..." she said having difficulty pronouncing my name. "Call me Lotte, if you want sweetie. It's much easier to say." "Thank you Lotte," she said as she took my hand "Come on and I will show you all my others if you want." "Looks like you have made a friend for life there Charlotte" Jack said smiling as me as I stood and Amy dragged me inside. "Come in and I will show you where everything is." The house was beautiful with well proportioned room and typically high ceilings. Jack showed me where the kitchen was and asked me to help myself to anything I wanted. He also showed me the living room and Amy's playroom, knowing that Amy would do the rest. By 6.30 pm he had left and Amy and I got on with the job of having fun. She showed me her bedroom, a little girls paradise all painted in pink and brimming with toys. We played Buckaroo and even bounced together on the trampoline, giggling and laughing every time we fell over. By 7.30 (way past her bed time) I had found some microwave popcorn and we were snuggled up together on a large settee, Amy with a glass of milk, me with a glass of wine, and were watching Amy's favourite DVD of the moment, Despicable Me. It was after 1am when Jack finally got home. Amy and I were still snuggled up on the settee, both of us fast asleep. I found myself waking as he gently lifted her up into his arms to carry her up to bed. "Oh Jack!" I whispered. "I'm so sorry. We were watching a film and I think we both nodded off" "Don't worry about it. It's happened to me several times. Wait there and I will pop her into bed." It didn't take him long and he had soon rejoined me in the living room having taken off his jacket and tie. "Do you know, I don't think I can remember Amy taking to someone so quickly as she has to you Charlotte," he said as he sat on the sofa. "The little minx woke up as I put her into bed and asked if you can always be her baby sitter." "She is a real cutie. We had great fun tonight. But,what about you? How did it go?" I asked a little nervously. "What? Oh the speech. Well, actually! I just want to say thanks again for standing in at such short notice. I hope you didn't have to cancel anything, you know erm boyfriend" he coughed. "No, no boyfriend! It would have just been another boring evening in for me. Look Jack, it's really late so I had better get going." "Oh, yes, of course. Thank you once again Charlotte." "It was my pleasure entirely." Chapter 5. When I arrived at work on the next Monday morning, there was a large bouquet of flowers on my desk. Tucked inside was a card which read 'With many thanks. Love Jack and Amy'. My heart just skipped a beat. Love! I turned as I heard Jack walk over to his office door. "Just a little thank you for Friday night Charlotte!" he said smiling at me. "Thank you Mr Jones!" I said somewhat formally. "They are beautiful" "Charlotte, do you think we could drop the Mr Jones when we are on our own. I would much rather you call me Jack." "If you wish. But it has to be Mr Jones whenever anyone else is in the office." I said, seriously, "Now I better find a vase or some water to put these in. Oh and don't forget you have a senior staff meeting at 11am today," I reminded him. And that brought things back onto a business footing. By 1pm that afternoon, things had quietened down. Jack was out of the office and I was on my own which gave me time to carry on with my 'research'. I still had no inkling of how someone was stealing from the company and I was getting more and more frustrated and even beginning to convince myself that the discrepancies were being caused by accounting errors, not fraud. I was totally absorbed in some previous profit and loss statements that I nearly missed the knock on the outer office door. "Excuse me" said a young woman as she entered "I have some application forms for Mr Jones to look over, for the marketing manager's post." I smiled, looked up and instantly recognised the young woman I had seen Guy Roberts with, in the wine bar that evening. "Thank you erm......." "Sally. Sally Perkins, from personnel." "Thanks Sally. I will make sure Mr Jones gets these," I replied and with that she left. 'So that is who he was with,' I mused to myself. 'Interesting' And then it hit me and it was like being run over by a steam train. The Finance Director and someone from personnel! Instantly I was pulling up employment figures, payroll and pension payment figures, making hard copies of everything I found. When Jack returned to the office around 4 pm that afternoon, I had covered his board table with pieces of paper that I was furiously cross checking numbers with methodical madness. "Oh Jack!" I shouted triumphantly as he walked in "I think I've cracked it! I think I've found our thieves." Instantly he was by my side as I began to explain................. It took me another two days of hard work to uncover the whole scam. By cross checking employee records and payroll, I discovered 13 fictional employees, all of whom were being paid a monthly salary into individual checking accounts. By my reckoning, that accounted for nearly ?890,000. I also found 9 cases of pensions being paid to deceased ex employees which accounted for another ?200,000. In every case, payments had been set up by Sally Perkins and authorised by Guy Phillips. I even tracked back each individual account and cross referenced it with employee attendance records to discover each and every one of these fictional employees had been created out of hours when the two of them were still in the building together. We had them! Where the money had gone after that, I had no way of telling. Banks keep that sort of information confidential and only a warrant would persuade them to release this data. So Jack had a very hard decision to make. He called in the police. Two officers from the fraud squad were there within an hour. I even knew one of them, a Detective Sergeant I had come across in my previous life. Suffice it to say, he didn't recognise me. I briefed them and gave them all the material i had collated, knowing I had established a very solid case on their behalf. All that remained for them to do, before making an arrest, was to verify my information for themselves and to see if they could track down where the money had gone. They left with a warning for us to do nothing that might raise suspicion with Phillips and Perkin's. After all, they probably had over a million of the companies money stashed away somewhere and if they thought we were on to them, they would be a serious flight risk. It was difficult to get back to normal after that. Each time someone walked into the office I half expected it to be Guy Phillips accusing me of being an interfering busy body. Jack on the other hand, looked like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. We still had a whole week left until the shareholders meeting and at least he had an explanation and who knows we might even have recovered some of the money. I have to admit though, I was glad when Friday came and the week was nearly over. It was around 4.30 pm when I noticed Jack standing in the doorway to his office. I'm not sure how long he had been there but he was leaning casually on the door frame, staring at me with sort of a half smile on his face. "You have dug me out of a very deep hole you know Charlotte," he started. "So you keep telling me," I said as I turned around on my swivel office chair to look at him. "Look, I wanted to ask you something. You made quite a big impression on Amy last week. That bear you gave her goes everywhere with her. The thing is, I have promised to take her and the bear to the seaside for the day tomorrow and she has been pestering me to ask you to come too." "Ah, I see." "So I am asking, would you like to come to the seaside with us tomorrow. If nothing else, it will get her off my back." "Would you like me to?" "Amy would be over the moon and you might have some fun too, you know after the week we have had." "That's not what I asked Jack," I said softly, using his first name. "Would you like me to?" I asked again emphasising the word you. "Yes, I think I would Charlotte." "Then yes, I would love to come to the seaside with you and Amy". "Good, we will pick you up at 10am, if that's OK with you." "No. That would be silly. I live on the other side of town so it would be sensible if I came to you and then we went from there." "If you like." "I do like. Would you like me to bring anything?" "No, just yourself," he said smiling broadly now as he went back into his office. Chapter 6 Once again, that night, I did not sleep well. All kinds of possibilities kept invading my mind only to be squashed and put aside. It wasn't much better when I got up the following morning and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful summer's day. Not knowing quite what to expect. I ended up choosing a pair light grey trousers and a pretty white cotton top with ties around the middle to wear along with a pair of sling back sandals. But I also put a full length bathing costume and a pair of shorts in my bag too. Whilst I would never dare to wear the costume on its own in public, the costume with the shorts over the top, now that was a different matter. My upper half was perfectly feminine whilst the bottom half would be well covered should I decide to wear it. It was a few minutes after 10 am when I arrived at Jacks lovely home. Jack was already outside, packing the boot of his silver BMW as I pulled up on the driveway. I had never seen him dressed casually before and he looked great in cut off jeans and a T shirt. But it was as I climbed out of my car, I was suddenly attacked by a little bundle of cute blonde hair as it came racing out of the front door. "Lotteeeeeeeee!" Amy shouted excitedly as she jumped into my arms to give me a fierce hug. "I am so glad you are coming with us." "Me too sweetie, but I hear you have been giving your Dad hard times about inviting me." "No I haven't," she pouted, "anyway it was his idea to ask you," she said grinning at me. "Amy," Jack chastised, "you promised!" "You two!" I moaned theatrically. "What are you like?" It took us 45 minutes to reach the coast. 45 minutes of singing silly songs, playing I spy and telling silly jokes and I loved every minute of the journey. We parked on the cliff top and Jack unloaded the car whilst Amy dragged me to the cliff top railings so she could look at the sea. By the time we got back to the car there seemed to be enough luggage for ten people lying on the pavement and Jack gave me one of those ' don't ask' looks. We loaded up with bags and balls and bats and with Amy's small hand in my own, we made our way down to the beach. The beach was typically English, a mixture of sand and pebbles and rock and rock pools, a veritable children's paradise. Jack laid out some towels for us to claim our section of sand whilst Amy instantly started to make little sandcastles with her bucket and spade shouting, 'come on Lotte.' We played and played and played and each moment I realised I was falling just a little more in love with this remarkable little girl. Sometimes Jack would join in, sometimes he would just sit on the sand and watch the two of us together. I didn't mind that at all because he looked so relaxed. And as for me, with every passing second, the tension of the week seemed to flow away. Even lunch was fun too. Jack and Amy had packed a picnic for us to share. Amy had gone for jam sandwiches, fairy cakes and cola whilst Jack had packed cold chicken, pate, French bread and a half bottle of white wine which he had decanted into a thermos to keep it cold. Amy, of course, had to be 'mother' and she delighted in serving up everything to us both. Lunch was followed by a walk on the beach. We simply slipped off our shoes and rolled up our trouser legs so we could paddle in the cold surf. Amy walked between us holding our hands and every now and then there would be a 'one, two, three, weeeeeeeeee' as we swung her between us, followed by a shriek as her feet landed in the cold water. By 2 pm, it was baking hot and Amy was shedding clothes at a great rate until she was only wearing her cute little bikini bottoms. I made a great fuss of smothering her with suntan cream, much to her disgust, and as I did so Jack surprised me by stripping off his T shirt as well, revealing his well toned chest and stomach, covered in a soft masculine down of hair. Not to be outdone, I grabbed my beach bag and headed for the nearby ladies toilets where I changed into my swimsuit and shorts. The swimsuit was modest enough although, inevitably, my breasts were somewhat on display whilst the shorts protected my true gender perfectly. As I walked barefoot down the beach, Jack just stared, his eyes never leaving me for a moment, until I sat on the towel next to him. "God Charlotte, you look great!" he whispered. "I never realised that your, well, you know, were actually...." "Yup, these babies are all mine," I grinned as I turned onto my front and laid down next to him. "You are going to burn if you are not careful. Here let me put some suntan cream on your back." I nodded my consent and felt the cold drops of suntan cream being squirted from the bottle onto my skin, making me squeal out loud. But then his fingers began to slowly rub in the ointment, almost caressing my back as he did so, lingering in places where he knew it would give me the most pleasure, my slim shoulders blades, the bare small of my back. I felt him pull my hair to one side too as he applied the cream to my shoulders and neck before reluctantly he pulled away, his job complete. As I sat up, there was real tension between us. That back rub was more than just applying suntan cream. Something tangible had just happened and we both knew it, both reluctant to admit it though. "Jack, I, I,....I," I stuttered, unable to find the words, but then, at that very instant, Amy had come bounding up with her bucket and fishing net and had grabbed me by the hand instantly breaking the moment. Jack just gave me somewhat of a relieved smile as once again Amy shouted 'come on Lotte'. "No rest for the wicked" I sighed theatrically as she dragged me off to a nearby sandy pool of water where we spent the next hour searching for shore crabs, sand shrimp and snails. By 5 pm, the afternoon was starting to cool down so, reluctantly, we packed up our things and made our way slowly back up the winding path to the cliff top. Amy of course was still full of energy and she bounded on ahead carrying her bucket and spade whilst we trailed on behind like two weary pack mules. "So where are we going to have dinner?" Jack asked as he packed away the bags into the boot of the car. "McDonalds" Amy and I shouted together, giggling conspiratorially. So McDonalds it was with the three of us sat at a table like any other family might after a wonderful day at the beach. It was nearly 7pm when we finally got back to Jack's house and, of course, Amy was fast asleep in her chair in the back of the car. "Will you get her, whilst I get the bags Charlotte," Jack asked me softly. I climbed out of the car and went to the back door. Carefully I unbuckled her from her seat and gently lifted her out of the back of the car. Instantly her arms snaked around my neck and her face buried itself in my neck as I carried her into the house, her chest resting delightfully against my breasts. I walked up stairs still carrying her and took her into her bedroom before sitting her down on the edge of the bed. Gently I undressed her, not really knowing if she was awake or asleep and when she was down to her panties, I slipped her under her duvet and watched as she snuggled down onto her pillow. Her eyes opened sleepily then and she smiled at me for just a moment. "I love you Lotte!" she whispered. "I love you too sweetie," I replied, meaning every word. And then she spoke the words that nearly broke my heart. "Lotte, will you be my mummy?" I sighed, close to tears. "Oh sweetie, there is nothing I would like more," I said softly, "but I can't. What I can be though is your best friend in all the world." "I would like that," she said as she grabbed me round the neck and kissed me on the cheek. "So would I, now sleep young lady!" I said as I untangled myself from her arms and stood, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. It was then that I saw Jack, standing in the door way, a strange loving sort of expression on his face. He came into the room and bent over his daughter and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Night night poppet," he said huskily. "Night daddy!" she replied almost asleep. Softly we crept out of the room, leaving the bedroom door open just a fraction to let a little light in from the landing. I followed Jack down the stairs into the hallway before I turned to him. "Jack," I started, "I can't tell you just how much I have enjoyed today, but I really should be going." "No, please Charlotte, stay for a while, have a glass of wine." I looked at his soft pleading eyes and I simply couldn't refuse. "Well, Ok, but just a quick one," I said smiling lightly, any resolve I might have had disappearing rapidly. "Why don't you wait in the front room while I go get a bottle out of the fridge." I did as he suggested and went into the large living room, a room I hadn't seen before. It was a beautiful space, with high ceilings and big picture widows and was tastefully furnished. The room, though, was dominated by a huge fireplace over which hung a portrait of a remarkably beautiful young woman. She was dressed in some sort of white diaphanous gown, her long blonde hair gently curling around her face and shoulders. But it was her eyes that caught my attention, brilliant blue but infinitely sad eyes. "That's Amy's mother," Jack said sadly as he came into the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses. "I keep the picture there to remind Amy of who her real mother was." "Was?" I asked "what happened to her?" "I was thirty six when I met her and she was only twenty one. The moment I set eyes on her I was, well, infatuated. I pursued her relentlessly and after a short romance we married. At first everything was great but then Amy came along. I suppose Helen couldn't cope. She craved the bright lights and the big cities and ended up leaving me for some second rate rock star. A year later she was dead from a drug overdose." "Oh Jack, I'm so sorry." "Don't be. She left me the most wonderful gift anyone can possibly imagine," he said with false gaiety as he poured us both a glass of wine. "Here," he said as he brought a glass over to me and stood close in front of me "a toast. To a wonderful day out.," he said as he clinked my glass with his own. But before I could take a sip, he simply leant forward and kissed me softly on the mouth, a slow lingering kiss, a kiss that just took my breath away, a kiss I had no hesitation in returning. "Charlotte I........" he said as he finally pulled away. "No Jack," I interrupted as I placed a finger over his mouth. "I can't....." I said, close to tears now. "Why?" he asked simply. I was crying now, silent tears running down my face and I found myself turning my back on him, unable to look him. "Bbbeecasue I am not a wwooman," I stammered. I felt him come up behind me, his hands snaking around my middle as he pulled me towards him. "Oh you stupid girl," he chastised softly. "What difference does that make? All that really matters is that I love you," he said as he firmly but gently turned me around to face him once again. "What?" I said hardly daring to believe what he had said. "I love you Charlotte," he said simply, "although I didn't truly understand how I felt until just now when I saw you with Amy in her bedroom." Softly he took my face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away my tears before his lips once again met mine. And this time, I returned his kiss with every ounce of passion, with every ounce of love I could muster and the world could have ended without either of us noticing. Who knows how much time passed, who cared. We just stood there and kissed and kissed and kissed both of us afraid of stopping and breaking the magic of the moment. It was Jack that finally broke the spell. Taking me by the hand he simply said, "Come." Silently, he led me up the stairs and into his own bedroom, a room dominated by a huge king sized bed. The first thing I saw was my reflection in a wall mirror and I looked a mess. My hair was windswept, my face glowing from the sun, what little make up I had put on in the morning gone. Frantically I began to comb through my hair with my fingers when Jack came over to me. "You look more beautiful now than I can ever remember." What could I do but kiss him, over and over and over. And then, although no word had been spoken, we began to undress each other. His T shirt, my blouse, my trousers, his jeans, my bra, his pants. It was then that he knelt before me and reached for the waist band of my panties. Panic suddenly welled through my body and I desperately tried to stop him pulling them down over my hips. "No, Jack, please," I begged. "Shhhhhhh," he replied. "It's OK, honestly. There are to be no secrets between us," he said as he slowly but insistently pulled them down over my legs and feet." He was smiling when he stood and took me back into his arms, a reassuring smile that told me all would be well and once again we kissed as he pushed me down onto the bed. He came to me, lay on me and we kissed for what seemed like an eternity, all the time his hand lightly stroking my flesh. Jack was in total control as his lips moved to my neck, to my ear lobe, to my shoulder and to my breasts and I could not help but moan out loud as he teased each nipple between his teeth. Oh God it felt good. And then, to my surprise he kissed my chest, moving down to my stomach causing my stomach muscles to contract in ticklish pain. Then down he went to kiss and lick my thighs and all I could do was surrender myself to infinite pleasure as he took me into his mouth, swallowing my tiny flaccid penis whole, teasing at it with his tongue as if it were my clitoris. And then he was pushing my legs up to my chest, my knees resting on my breasts as his tongue found its ultimate prize, as his mouth engulfed my flesh, causing me to gasp out loud once again. It was like my body was possessed, I began writhing and squirming as he licked and lapped at my entrance lubricating my flesh with his saliva. And when I could take no more, he sat up, reached over to the bedside table and pulled open a small drawer from which he extricated a condom and some KY jelly. "I haven't needed these for a very long time!" he whispered as he slid a condom over his cock. And then he was on top of me again, lying between my outstretched legs, his wonderful cock nestling at the entrance to my body. Slowly he pushed forward and I felt the resistance, I felt the pain. But I urged my lover on, pulling at him with my legs, demanding that this invader conquer my body. I heard myself gasp out loud and, as all resistance parted, he entered me in one long smooth stroke. He lay there as I wrapped my legs around his waist, giving me time to get used to his size, giving him time to kiss me. But soon he began to move, his thrusts almost imperceptible at first but with each consecutive movement, he pulled out just a little bit further and pushed in a little more forcefully. Faster and faster he began to move and I found myself trying to match his rhythm and all the time something huge, something momentous, was building inside. My release, when it came, was as unbelievable as it was inevitable. I just threw back my head and gritted my teeth, moaning and moaning, as wave after wave