An Unholy Desire1
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Chapter 2
The Medical Center was nestled in a grove of Eucalyptus trees on the
west side of the hill, separating the hospital from the research center
and classrooms that were s**ttered over the hills. Everything on "Pill
Hill," as the doctors, professors, and research students called it
affectionately, was painted white and now, in the late morning sun, the
hill had a magical feeling to it. Buzzing with activity, students
rushed to and from classes, eyes glued to the sidewalk in worry ...
spring time was a time of completion -- graduation, diplomas and
careers all pending.
And so, too, Ann Baxter shared in this elation of growth, although to a
minor degree in her involvement with her husband's research project.
Not that she didn't have any plans of her own! For if the young
blonde's fantasies had any foundation, today would be the final test!
The gears of the Dexter's second car -- a blue Volkswagen they bought
two years ago when new cars were purely a thing of the future -- ground
and meshed as Ann maneuvered the car up the forty-five degree hill to
the underground parking lot, slowing only to drop two quarters into the
slot and waited for the mechanical machine to spit out a piece of paper
as her receipt.
With anxious, shaking hands, she smeared on a fresh layer of reddish-
brown lipstick and an extra smudge of black mascara to make her
eyelashes look like spider legs. Ann couldn't remember when she'd been
more uptight, unless it was at her wedding when one of her old
boyfriends who'd warned her that a marriage to a man twice her age
would never work, slipped her a piece of paper with his phone number on
it, and right in front of Ann's mother, too! From that moment on, she'd
looked on Carl with cooler, less ardently loving eyes. It was an omen
she'd ignored.
From the underground parking lot, it was only a short walk to the
elevator that zoomed her to the mezzanine level of the student union
and from there, a half block to the Research Center building
overlooking the sun-warmed city. Spring is in the air, chirped the
birds hidden in the low hanging branches of the shrubbery following the
sidewalk in parallel lines. Ann's heeled sandals slapped at the
pavement as she half ran to the building, glancing down at her watch to
see the hour hand glide past the seven. Carl hated for her to be late,
especially since they'd given her a more substantial chunk of their
grant in return for more responsibility ...
"Well, hello there," chimed George Everett the second Ann strolled
through the door, looking as calm and unhasseled as possible
considering her plan of attack.
Her blood pressure quickened when with a handsome smile, the thirtyish,
tall and broad shouldered doctor appeared, offering his hand in helping
her out of her coat. When was the last time Carl had shown such
chivalry? Little twinges of lurid excitement immediately stirred in the
depths of her belly at the way he carried himself; but there was
something else in her belly -- an apprehensive knot forming there too.
God ... she could never go through with it, even if Carl wasn't in the
same office. Imagining having an affair is one thing, but going through
with it is another entirely! When it actually came down to the nitty
gritty ... what would she do?
She turned in time to see him hang her trench coat on a hanger that
clattered on the back of the door. Instantly, she wondered where Carl
was. Was her courage lessening?
"I hear we have a report to get out soon. Is that true?" she asked,
falteringly, feeling the need to close the obvious gap in conversation
that seemed unavoidable whenever Carl was in the office.
"You heard right, Ann. Lots of work to be done. Hope you got a good
night's sleep!" George suavely beamed.
"More than I'd expected, yes," answered Ann, hoping the desperation in
her voice wasn't as obvious to him as it was to her trembling body.
Jesus, she thought self-recriminatingly, what am I trying to do? Just
because he asked me out for a drink the other night, I've been having
these fantasies of starting an affair with him. He's married, I'm
married ... it's ridiculous, now just cut it out, Ann Dexter, before
you get yourself in trouble!
"For starters we have to finish those interviews -- they'll be very
influential in getting us a grant next year to complete this damned
study. Oh, and when that's proof-read and copy-tight, we have to take
it to the photocopier. Think you can get that all done by this
afternoon?" he laughed at the ludicrousness of his own demands.
"Whew!" whistled Ann, more relaxed now that the subject of conversation
had turned to work, the only common denominator. She wiggled into a
comfortable position in her desk chair near the window, and began
sorting through a stack of edited copies of interviews. Out of the
pile, only a few would be selected -- the ones most applicable to the
study of course; the rest would be filed for further reference.
She turned her head at a scr****g sound to see George pull up a chair
and with a flirtatious grin, announce, "Carl suggested you and I work
together on these interviews. He's back there drawing up comparison
charts. You think you can stand working with me all day?"
Ann's nostrils flared. Was it her imagination or was he really coming
on to her? Jesus, she wished she knew; it certainly would make her
decision a bit easier. Somehow it's always more innocent and exciting
being chased than chasing. It would also make it simpler to explain to
Carl, if it ever came down to that.
"I ... I think I could tolerate that," was Ann's nervous reply as she
carefully folded the typewriter cover and drew open the bottom drawer
of her gray metal desk that housed everything that could not fit on her
crowded desk.
"Are you sure?" George softly questioned, gazing up at her with deep,
dark eyes, the trace of a smile flickering about his attractive mouth,
as with super-sensitive hands, he opened a manila folder.
"I'm sure we'll know before the day is out." There, she'd said it, now
she'd let him take it from there. "Now don't take me personally," she
quickly added, reluctant to discard her original bailing temptation.
"First let's start with these two interviews, m'dam." He crossed his
knees and pulled his swivel chair closer to her so that she could
almost taste the sweet smell of his fresh breath.
The alluring young wife tossed her long blonde hair in a characteristic
gesture, then swept it back over her shoulders. The act, she was well
aware, had made her bra-less, ripely full breasts nipple in provocative
freedom. She was hardly conscious of her husband, Carl, entering the
room, and she could barely contain the smile she felt tugging at her
wetly parted lips at her handsome colleague's visible uneasiness. It
registered that he must have enjoyed many sensual panoramas at her
feminine expense before.
At the moment, while his perceptive hands were skillfully flipping
through the file, Ann couldn't help but notice how soft and well-
manicured his hands were. My God, it looked as if he polished his
nails. God to have hands like that running all over her body! She
swallowed hard, blinked her eyes to shut out the tempting sight, but
opened them only to be drawn to the short, black masculine hair lightly
enshadowing their backs, a sensory shiver dancing up her spine. She
leaned forward then, supposedly to observe the case history number,
coyly playing with the top button of her black knit dress, but not
without a certain gracefulness. The nervousness had long since passed.
"Mmmmm ... I think I can read your handwriting, Dr. Everett," she said
for the benefit of her husband who had slipped into the coat room,
which doubled as a supply room, for a cup of coffee. She continued to
pretend to study the editing marks in assorted colors, but from the
corner of her eyes she saw the lusty gleam leap into his deep, dark
ones as they flitted back and forth, overly lingering each time they
focused down her generous cleavage.
"How's it going, folks," asked Carl dryly, as he sipped at the instant
coffee steaming in a Styrofoam cup that he always kept in his desk
drawer. Carl was the practical sort.
"Just ... just fine, Carl. We're going over the interviews now so that
Mrs. Dexter can get at them. No problems, I assure you."
Mrs. Dexter? thought Ann. Shades of guilt before the eye-hungry
husband? Something's astir and I don't think it's my imagination.
"Everything is under control, Carl," finished Ann, hoping that would
send her husband back to the catacombs where he belonged. Over her
shoulder, she could almost feel George's eyeballs snapping back, then
he lowered his head as if studying the file folder's contents, his
gentle fingers flipping through the pages, but Ann wasn't fooled. While
his broad brow hid the recesses of his eyes, she knew he was straining
them damned near out of their sockets to feast on the alluring,
hardened nipples beneath her black knit dress that molded her lithe
body.
"Should we glance through the second one now?" He fumbled, dropped the
folder, retrieved it. Almost pathetically, he looked up then to catch
her suggestive little smile of understanding.
Angelically, Ann crossed her hands in her lap and, which her blue
begging eyes asked, "Now what kind of paper do you want this typed on?
All I have in my desk right now is canary. That can't be used for
Xeroxing, can it?"
"I'm sorry, Dr. Everett, but I don't know where to find it ..." she
turned her blonde head, looking in the direction of the multi-purpose
room behind them that served as a store room and coffee room, the only
nook of the four room office that offered any privacy.
"I'd be more than happy to show you," George eagerly replied, rising to
his feet and glancing out the window, almost as if he couldn't weather
another dose of her voluptuously presented charms.
Ann was delighted! She'd reached him, all right! In fact, she'd wager
that the slight bulge in the front of his trousers he was uncomfortably
trying to conceal wasn't perpetual. Damn, she sure had reached him, and
in good style! "Yes, I think we should use the heavy bond ... takes
wear better," he managed.
"I'll help you find it," announced Ann, looking him straight in his
perplexed, burning dark eyes.
"Of course, come along ... it's back here!" he finally got out, his
nearly tremoring voice cracking twice. "It shouldn't take a minute."
"Yes, then I'll get right at it," Ann heard herself say, while
intensive, if timorous, excitement, gripped her as she followed him
into the coat room.
"You ... you've got typing paper in your desk. I saw it when you put
your typewriter cover in there," he hissed, his breathing short and
raspy as he stared at her.
"I-I know ..." Ann whispered, moving toward him, so tight inside she
thought something was surely going to burst! Everything that her
middle-aged husband had ever recorded concerning promiscuous wives made
itself available like a sensual reference library in her erotically
determined brain! She raised her arms with obvious intent, letting her
fingers pressure against his broad shoulders, then mindlessly ease
around his neck while he stood as if immobilized into a helpless
numbness. "I-I know ...!" she huskily repeated.
"J-Jesus Christ!" he choked, his strong arm wrapping around her slender
waist and drawing her tightly against him, his handsome mouth hungrily
finding her warm, tongue moistened lips in an ardent soul kiss! She let
her own little tongue wetly greet his, her incited brain reeling as she
enveloped him with the resilient fullness of her breasts, soft belly
and hot thighs, urging the erogenous swell of her yielding fleshy mound
against the lengthy bulge of his thickly aroused hardness. The
passionate sensation of its solid, masculine feel whipped her breath
away!
"Y-You're beautiful!" he hoarsely panted, smoothing his big hands
lustfully over the rounded swell of her buttocks. "Y-You were showing
your breasts out there to me on purpose, weren't you?"
"Y-Yes ...! D-Did you like what you saw?"
"Good God, who wouldn't?"
His words were hot, gasping breaths against her face, the heat of his
strong, sensitive hands penetrating through the knit of her dress to
the tensed ovals of her rounded buttocks! It'd gone just as she'd hoped
... her bit of lewd exhibitionism ... but now, what? God, this was no
time to get panicky, or suddenly have second thoughts! Yet ...?
"Well ...?" he insisted. "When can we get together, you little ball of
fire? You want it real bad, I can tell that. Is this work getting to
you, honey?"
"Ooooohhhh ... I-I don't know!" she tremulously whispered. "But ... I
do want to, darling ...!"
"Damn, you really mean that, don't you?" he croaked, his breathing
filling the cluttered little room with short, sizzling sounds.
For an answer, Ann uncontrollably pressured even tighter against him,
almost imperceptibly undulating her desire-filled, soft belly, loins
and thighs with suggestive fervency against his hardened, rhythmically
throbbing cock. A scene from a men's magazine she'd found in her
father's underwear drawer raced through the archives of her sensually
intoxicated mind and like the young wife in the story who was
desperately trying to seduce her reluctant neighbor, she passionately
kissed him on the lips, then began to tickle the end of his handsome
nose with the tip of her hot, wet little tongue.
"Ummmmggghhhhh ..." he huskily groaned, his heated hands stroking
downward to the backs of her nyloned thighs, then up in under her tiny
skirt to tease the smooth flesh of them above her stockings, and
finally to caress and cup the rounded fullness of her flimsily covered
buttocks! His wetly fevered mouth smothered her own as she sensually
returned as much as he gave, eagerly lashing tongues with him, while
his finger tips descended, tracing the deep crevice separating the
tensed mounds of her ovalled, near naked buttocks. Then, one
outstretched thick finger was worming its way between her trembling,
full thighs from behind, the erotic sensation causing her to gasp out!
Suddenly through her panties, she felt its wanted hot pressure against
the desire-dampened mouth of her cunt, and an electric current rippled
through her as it tried to wriggle inside the moistened, narrow crotch-
band.
"No ... no, darling, not here!" the hotly aroused young wife whispered,
locking her strong, full thighs like a fleshy vise over his probing
hand to hamper his frantic operation. "Please... what if Carl should
walk in? Please ... it's too dangerous with him right out there in the
other office!" she insisted, her sultry blue eyes searching his while
she reached behind her and gently disengaged his lewdly exploring
fingers. Then, pressing the hardened tips of her proud young breasts
against his chest, she reached beyond him to the top shelf and began
tearing open a ream of paper.
"What the hell are you doing, Ann?"
"We're in here getting paper, remember, Doctor?" she flirted.
"Oh, my God, I forgot. You're something else, girl, believe me ..."
And then the frustration of last night's disappointing lovemaking came
over her. "Please don't tease me ..."
"Me? Teasing you? Oh, that's really funny, Ann! Who the hell is teasing
who?" he hotly questioned, trying to draw her back tight to him, while
she wedged her hands against his chest as a buffer. Then, in defense of
his actions, he quickly added, "Believe me, if Carl wasn't in the same
office right now, I'd ... I'd ...!"
"You'd what?" she excitedly pressed, wanting to hear him say it.
"Well, you know. Don't play coy with me. I'm a doctor, remember? I do
research on sex, I know what I would do ..."
"You'd fuck me right here?" the intensively fired Ann lewdly finished
for him in an intimate whisper, the four letter word never sounding
more exciting to her, or to him, as it obscenely tumbled from her lush
lips at that moment. "I-is that what you were going to say?"
"Couldn't have put it more aptly, you luscious creature!" he cawed, his
lust-inflamed dark eyes reflecting the depth of the jolt her use of the
graphic word had triggered inside him. He gushed a hot draft of breath
against her face, his eyes gleaming with a frenzy. "When, Ann? After
work? After lunch? When?"
"Wait a minute, not so fast. We have a report to get out, remember?"
Ann reflexively countered, something in the nature of apprehension
clutching at her within. She took the ascot from his breast pocket to
dab away the smear her darkly tinted lipstick had left on his mouth. It
was a stall for time, her mind racing in a melee of confusion. "B-
Better throw this hanky away," she said, tucking it back into his
pocket.
"What ... what about after work? My wife won't be home til later
tonight since she has a late class ..."
"What about work?" she interrupted, in God's name, never knowing why,
unless that was a woman's natural reaction and subconsciously placing
herself in the position of his vivacious young wife whom she'd only met
a couple of times.
He stared at her open-mouthed, part of the expression on his handsome
face and in his tormented eyes enough to make her want to climb right
up on the shelf for him! Ohhhhh ... she was really hot -- it was a
wonder that her tiny, thin panties didn't disintegrate. Maybe they had!
Still, she couldn't deny the forces, whatever their source, that were
restraining her, and she'd never realized how devoted to her work she'd
been before. Or did it have something to do with allegiance to her dear
husband Carl, who, at this very minute was dully plodding over his
work.
"What the hell! Forget about work for a change, okay, Ann? This affair
between you and me has nothing to do with work, and personally, I need
a little time off now and then ... Besides ..." he added in a
calculated aside, "you can't tell me the subject of this research has
nothing to do with your condition ..."
Before he could finish or she could answer, Carl's voice boomed from
the other room. "How about somebody in there making me a cup of
coffee?" With bated breath, they listened to him pacing back and forth,
maybe shuffling through the files on her desk and lay open and waiting
for attention.
"How about it? After work?" George pressed in an urgent whisper.
"N-No, I have to finish that work and get it to the photocopier. You
said so yourself ... isn't that right?" Ann defensively answered,
hardly knowing what she meant by those words.
"Work? ... Christ, girl, what's wrong with you, anyway? You're hotter
than a pistol one minute, and the next you want to put me off for a
Xerox machine. What's the deal?"
"Hey, anybody in there?" It was Carl's voice, louder and more insistent
than before. "We've got work to get done out here in case you haven't
forgotten!"
"Oooooohhhhh ... I-I shouldn't have let you touch my ...!" Ann covered
her face with her hands in humiliation.
"The hell with that shit! W-What are you, a cock tease?" he spat at
her. "You come tripping in here behind me with those big tits of yours
hanging out, show me your breasts with your husband standing in back of
you, then tell me that you have to work tonight. What's the matter?
Aren't you getting enough in bed these days? Isn't that great sex
researcher enough for you?"
The venom in his biting words burned into the young wife like eating
acid, and she backed away from him with tears brimming up into her big,
round eyes! God! What had gone wrong! It had all seemed so innocent and
fun and then ... suddenly ... it wasn't so much fun anymore. Oooohhh
... she'd truly blown it ... blown it, damn it! And now she'd have to
sit next to him all day remembering how lewdly she'd flirted with him.
"Hey, I'm sorry, Ann," George's mellifluous voice calmed her and she
felt her self-confidence soar from a minus one to a plus two. "It's
just that you got me so carried away. I-I was disappointed, that's
all."
"Hey! Are you two coming out of there or is there something you're
looking for and can't find? If you're looking for the instant coffee
it's on the shelf behind the tea pot," Carl's voice reached out, a tone
of uptightness barbing it.
Ann moved forward, quickly reaching for the ream of bond paper; she
daintily wiped at her eyes as George said: "Look, we have to work next
to each other all day, so let's forget about this till another time,
okay?"
The voluptuous, long-haired blonde wife didn't look at him. She knew
that if she did she'd probably end up in the back seat of her
Volkswagen at lunch time, fucking her husband's colleague till he blew
the sun roof off her car. God, she'd never been any hotter, or closer
to spreading her legs in her life! "Yes, Dr. Everett, I think it's a
good thing we get back to work."
"Goddamn it, listen to me ... wait ... wait!" Ann heard him choke
behind her as she brushed past him out into the outer office, every
fiber of her alive with sensual excitement.
From the other side of the door Dr. Everett could hear Ann's solicitous
words to her husband. "I'm so sorry, dear, we were looking for the bond
paper. Oh, we have so much to do, but I promise you can depend on me to
get it done."
A brief silence during which he imagined a give-away glance shooting in
his direction ... or was she kissing Dr. Dexter just as she'd been
kissing him? "The water is boiling for your coffee," he heard her lie,
wondering just what kind of a woman his middle-aged colleague married.
The Medical Center was nestled in a grove of Eucalyptus trees on the
west side of the hill, separating the hospital from the research center
and classrooms that were s**ttered over the hills. Everything on "Pill
Hill," as the doctors, professors, and research students called it
affectionately, was painted white and now, in the late morning sun, the
hill had a magical feeling to it. Buzzing with activity, students
rushed to and from classes, eyes glued to the sidewalk in worry ...
spring time was a time of completion -- graduation, diplomas and
careers all pending.
And so, too, Ann Baxter shared in this elation of growth, although to a
minor degree in her involvement with her husband's research project.
Not that she didn't have any plans of her own! For if the young
blonde's fantasies had any foundation, today would be the final test!
The gears of the Dexter's second car -- a blue Volkswagen they bought
two years ago when new cars were purely a thing of the future -- ground
and meshed as Ann maneuvered the car up the forty-five degree hill to
the underground parking lot, slowing only to drop two quarters into the
slot and waited for the mechanical machine to spit out a piece of paper
as her receipt.
With anxious, shaking hands, she smeared on a fresh layer of reddish-
brown lipstick and an extra smudge of black mascara to make her
eyelashes look like spider legs. Ann couldn't remember when she'd been
more uptight, unless it was at her wedding when one of her old
boyfriends who'd warned her that a marriage to a man twice her age
would never work, slipped her a piece of paper with his phone number on
it, and right in front of Ann's mother, too! From that moment on, she'd
looked on Carl with cooler, less ardently loving eyes. It was an omen
she'd ignored.
From the underground parking lot, it was only a short walk to the
elevator that zoomed her to the mezzanine level of the student union
and from there, a half block to the Research Center building
overlooking the sun-warmed city. Spring is in the air, chirped the
birds hidden in the low hanging branches of the shrubbery following the
sidewalk in parallel lines. Ann's heeled sandals slapped at the
pavement as she half ran to the building, glancing down at her watch to
see the hour hand glide past the seven. Carl hated for her to be late,
especially since they'd given her a more substantial chunk of their
grant in return for more responsibility ...
"Well, hello there," chimed George Everett the second Ann strolled
through the door, looking as calm and unhasseled as possible
considering her plan of attack.
Her blood pressure quickened when with a handsome smile, the thirtyish,
tall and broad shouldered doctor appeared, offering his hand in helping
her out of her coat. When was the last time Carl had shown such
chivalry? Little twinges of lurid excitement immediately stirred in the
depths of her belly at the way he carried himself; but there was
something else in her belly -- an apprehensive knot forming there too.
God ... she could never go through with it, even if Carl wasn't in the
same office. Imagining having an affair is one thing, but going through
with it is another entirely! When it actually came down to the nitty
gritty ... what would she do?
She turned in time to see him hang her trench coat on a hanger that
clattered on the back of the door. Instantly, she wondered where Carl
was. Was her courage lessening?
"I hear we have a report to get out soon. Is that true?" she asked,
falteringly, feeling the need to close the obvious gap in conversation
that seemed unavoidable whenever Carl was in the office.
"You heard right, Ann. Lots of work to be done. Hope you got a good
night's sleep!" George suavely beamed.
"More than I'd expected, yes," answered Ann, hoping the desperation in
her voice wasn't as obvious to him as it was to her trembling body.
Jesus, she thought self-recriminatingly, what am I trying to do? Just
because he asked me out for a drink the other night, I've been having
these fantasies of starting an affair with him. He's married, I'm
married ... it's ridiculous, now just cut it out, Ann Dexter, before
you get yourself in trouble!
"For starters we have to finish those interviews -- they'll be very
influential in getting us a grant next year to complete this damned
study. Oh, and when that's proof-read and copy-tight, we have to take
it to the photocopier. Think you can get that all done by this
afternoon?" he laughed at the ludicrousness of his own demands.
"Whew!" whistled Ann, more relaxed now that the subject of conversation
had turned to work, the only common denominator. She wiggled into a
comfortable position in her desk chair near the window, and began
sorting through a stack of edited copies of interviews. Out of the
pile, only a few would be selected -- the ones most applicable to the
study of course; the rest would be filed for further reference.
She turned her head at a scr****g sound to see George pull up a chair
and with a flirtatious grin, announce, "Carl suggested you and I work
together on these interviews. He's back there drawing up comparison
charts. You think you can stand working with me all day?"
Ann's nostrils flared. Was it her imagination or was he really coming
on to her? Jesus, she wished she knew; it certainly would make her
decision a bit easier. Somehow it's always more innocent and exciting
being chased than chasing. It would also make it simpler to explain to
Carl, if it ever came down to that.
"I ... I think I could tolerate that," was Ann's nervous reply as she
carefully folded the typewriter cover and drew open the bottom drawer
of her gray metal desk that housed everything that could not fit on her
crowded desk.
"Are you sure?" George softly questioned, gazing up at her with deep,
dark eyes, the trace of a smile flickering about his attractive mouth,
as with super-sensitive hands, he opened a manila folder.
"I'm sure we'll know before the day is out." There, she'd said it, now
she'd let him take it from there. "Now don't take me personally," she
quickly added, reluctant to discard her original bailing temptation.
"First let's start with these two interviews, m'dam." He crossed his
knees and pulled his swivel chair closer to her so that she could
almost taste the sweet smell of his fresh breath.
The alluring young wife tossed her long blonde hair in a characteristic
gesture, then swept it back over her shoulders. The act, she was well
aware, had made her bra-less, ripely full breasts nipple in provocative
freedom. She was hardly conscious of her husband, Carl, entering the
room, and she could barely contain the smile she felt tugging at her
wetly parted lips at her handsome colleague's visible uneasiness. It
registered that he must have enjoyed many sensual panoramas at her
feminine expense before.
At the moment, while his perceptive hands were skillfully flipping
through the file, Ann couldn't help but notice how soft and well-
manicured his hands were. My God, it looked as if he polished his
nails. God to have hands like that running all over her body! She
swallowed hard, blinked her eyes to shut out the tempting sight, but
opened them only to be drawn to the short, black masculine hair lightly
enshadowing their backs, a sensory shiver dancing up her spine. She
leaned forward then, supposedly to observe the case history number,
coyly playing with the top button of her black knit dress, but not
without a certain gracefulness. The nervousness had long since passed.
"Mmmmm ... I think I can read your handwriting, Dr. Everett," she said
for the benefit of her husband who had slipped into the coat room,
which doubled as a supply room, for a cup of coffee. She continued to
pretend to study the editing marks in assorted colors, but from the
corner of her eyes she saw the lusty gleam leap into his deep, dark
ones as they flitted back and forth, overly lingering each time they
focused down her generous cleavage.
"How's it going, folks," asked Carl dryly, as he sipped at the instant
coffee steaming in a Styrofoam cup that he always kept in his desk
drawer. Carl was the practical sort.
"Just ... just fine, Carl. We're going over the interviews now so that
Mrs. Dexter can get at them. No problems, I assure you."
Mrs. Dexter? thought Ann. Shades of guilt before the eye-hungry
husband? Something's astir and I don't think it's my imagination.
"Everything is under control, Carl," finished Ann, hoping that would
send her husband back to the catacombs where he belonged. Over her
shoulder, she could almost feel George's eyeballs snapping back, then
he lowered his head as if studying the file folder's contents, his
gentle fingers flipping through the pages, but Ann wasn't fooled. While
his broad brow hid the recesses of his eyes, she knew he was straining
them damned near out of their sockets to feast on the alluring,
hardened nipples beneath her black knit dress that molded her lithe
body.
"Should we glance through the second one now?" He fumbled, dropped the
folder, retrieved it. Almost pathetically, he looked up then to catch
her suggestive little smile of understanding.
Angelically, Ann crossed her hands in her lap and, which her blue
begging eyes asked, "Now what kind of paper do you want this typed on?
All I have in my desk right now is canary. That can't be used for
Xeroxing, can it?"
"I'm sorry, Dr. Everett, but I don't know where to find it ..." she
turned her blonde head, looking in the direction of the multi-purpose
room behind them that served as a store room and coffee room, the only
nook of the four room office that offered any privacy.
"I'd be more than happy to show you," George eagerly replied, rising to
his feet and glancing out the window, almost as if he couldn't weather
another dose of her voluptuously presented charms.
Ann was delighted! She'd reached him, all right! In fact, she'd wager
that the slight bulge in the front of his trousers he was uncomfortably
trying to conceal wasn't perpetual. Damn, she sure had reached him, and
in good style! "Yes, I think we should use the heavy bond ... takes
wear better," he managed.
"I'll help you find it," announced Ann, looking him straight in his
perplexed, burning dark eyes.
"Of course, come along ... it's back here!" he finally got out, his
nearly tremoring voice cracking twice. "It shouldn't take a minute."
"Yes, then I'll get right at it," Ann heard herself say, while
intensive, if timorous, excitement, gripped her as she followed him
into the coat room.
"You ... you've got typing paper in your desk. I saw it when you put
your typewriter cover in there," he hissed, his breathing short and
raspy as he stared at her.
"I-I know ..." Ann whispered, moving toward him, so tight inside she
thought something was surely going to burst! Everything that her
middle-aged husband had ever recorded concerning promiscuous wives made
itself available like a sensual reference library in her erotically
determined brain! She raised her arms with obvious intent, letting her
fingers pressure against his broad shoulders, then mindlessly ease
around his neck while he stood as if immobilized into a helpless
numbness. "I-I know ...!" she huskily repeated.
"J-Jesus Christ!" he choked, his strong arm wrapping around her slender
waist and drawing her tightly against him, his handsome mouth hungrily
finding her warm, tongue moistened lips in an ardent soul kiss! She let
her own little tongue wetly greet his, her incited brain reeling as she
enveloped him with the resilient fullness of her breasts, soft belly
and hot thighs, urging the erogenous swell of her yielding fleshy mound
against the lengthy bulge of his thickly aroused hardness. The
passionate sensation of its solid, masculine feel whipped her breath
away!
"Y-You're beautiful!" he hoarsely panted, smoothing his big hands
lustfully over the rounded swell of her buttocks. "Y-You were showing
your breasts out there to me on purpose, weren't you?"
"Y-Yes ...! D-Did you like what you saw?"
"Good God, who wouldn't?"
His words were hot, gasping breaths against her face, the heat of his
strong, sensitive hands penetrating through the knit of her dress to
the tensed ovals of her rounded buttocks! It'd gone just as she'd hoped
... her bit of lewd exhibitionism ... but now, what? God, this was no
time to get panicky, or suddenly have second thoughts! Yet ...?
"Well ...?" he insisted. "When can we get together, you little ball of
fire? You want it real bad, I can tell that. Is this work getting to
you, honey?"
"Ooooohhhh ... I-I don't know!" she tremulously whispered. "But ... I
do want to, darling ...!"
"Damn, you really mean that, don't you?" he croaked, his breathing
filling the cluttered little room with short, sizzling sounds.
For an answer, Ann uncontrollably pressured even tighter against him,
almost imperceptibly undulating her desire-filled, soft belly, loins
and thighs with suggestive fervency against his hardened, rhythmically
throbbing cock. A scene from a men's magazine she'd found in her
father's underwear drawer raced through the archives of her sensually
intoxicated mind and like the young wife in the story who was
desperately trying to seduce her reluctant neighbor, she passionately
kissed him on the lips, then began to tickle the end of his handsome
nose with the tip of her hot, wet little tongue.
"Ummmmggghhhhh ..." he huskily groaned, his heated hands stroking
downward to the backs of her nyloned thighs, then up in under her tiny
skirt to tease the smooth flesh of them above her stockings, and
finally to caress and cup the rounded fullness of her flimsily covered
buttocks! His wetly fevered mouth smothered her own as she sensually
returned as much as he gave, eagerly lashing tongues with him, while
his finger tips descended, tracing the deep crevice separating the
tensed mounds of her ovalled, near naked buttocks. Then, one
outstretched thick finger was worming its way between her trembling,
full thighs from behind, the erotic sensation causing her to gasp out!
Suddenly through her panties, she felt its wanted hot pressure against
the desire-dampened mouth of her cunt, and an electric current rippled
through her as it tried to wriggle inside the moistened, narrow crotch-
band.
"No ... no, darling, not here!" the hotly aroused young wife whispered,
locking her strong, full thighs like a fleshy vise over his probing
hand to hamper his frantic operation. "Please... what if Carl should
walk in? Please ... it's too dangerous with him right out there in the
other office!" she insisted, her sultry blue eyes searching his while
she reached behind her and gently disengaged his lewdly exploring
fingers. Then, pressing the hardened tips of her proud young breasts
against his chest, she reached beyond him to the top shelf and began
tearing open a ream of paper.
"What the hell are you doing, Ann?"
"We're in here getting paper, remember, Doctor?" she flirted.
"Oh, my God, I forgot. You're something else, girl, believe me ..."
And then the frustration of last night's disappointing lovemaking came
over her. "Please don't tease me ..."
"Me? Teasing you? Oh, that's really funny, Ann! Who the hell is teasing
who?" he hotly questioned, trying to draw her back tight to him, while
she wedged her hands against his chest as a buffer. Then, in defense of
his actions, he quickly added, "Believe me, if Carl wasn't in the same
office right now, I'd ... I'd ...!"
"You'd what?" she excitedly pressed, wanting to hear him say it.
"Well, you know. Don't play coy with me. I'm a doctor, remember? I do
research on sex, I know what I would do ..."
"You'd fuck me right here?" the intensively fired Ann lewdly finished
for him in an intimate whisper, the four letter word never sounding
more exciting to her, or to him, as it obscenely tumbled from her lush
lips at that moment. "I-is that what you were going to say?"
"Couldn't have put it more aptly, you luscious creature!" he cawed, his
lust-inflamed dark eyes reflecting the depth of the jolt her use of the
graphic word had triggered inside him. He gushed a hot draft of breath
against her face, his eyes gleaming with a frenzy. "When, Ann? After
work? After lunch? When?"
"Wait a minute, not so fast. We have a report to get out, remember?"
Ann reflexively countered, something in the nature of apprehension
clutching at her within. She took the ascot from his breast pocket to
dab away the smear her darkly tinted lipstick had left on his mouth. It
was a stall for time, her mind racing in a melee of confusion. "B-
Better throw this hanky away," she said, tucking it back into his
pocket.
"What ... what about after work? My wife won't be home til later
tonight since she has a late class ..."
"What about work?" she interrupted, in God's name, never knowing why,
unless that was a woman's natural reaction and subconsciously placing
herself in the position of his vivacious young wife whom she'd only met
a couple of times.
He stared at her open-mouthed, part of the expression on his handsome
face and in his tormented eyes enough to make her want to climb right
up on the shelf for him! Ohhhhh ... she was really hot -- it was a
wonder that her tiny, thin panties didn't disintegrate. Maybe they had!
Still, she couldn't deny the forces, whatever their source, that were
restraining her, and she'd never realized how devoted to her work she'd
been before. Or did it have something to do with allegiance to her dear
husband Carl, who, at this very minute was dully plodding over his
work.
"What the hell! Forget about work for a change, okay, Ann? This affair
between you and me has nothing to do with work, and personally, I need
a little time off now and then ... Besides ..." he added in a
calculated aside, "you can't tell me the subject of this research has
nothing to do with your condition ..."
Before he could finish or she could answer, Carl's voice boomed from
the other room. "How about somebody in there making me a cup of
coffee?" With bated breath, they listened to him pacing back and forth,
maybe shuffling through the files on her desk and lay open and waiting
for attention.
"How about it? After work?" George pressed in an urgent whisper.
"N-No, I have to finish that work and get it to the photocopier. You
said so yourself ... isn't that right?" Ann defensively answered,
hardly knowing what she meant by those words.
"Work? ... Christ, girl, what's wrong with you, anyway? You're hotter
than a pistol one minute, and the next you want to put me off for a
Xerox machine. What's the deal?"
"Hey, anybody in there?" It was Carl's voice, louder and more insistent
than before. "We've got work to get done out here in case you haven't
forgotten!"
"Oooooohhhhh ... I-I shouldn't have let you touch my ...!" Ann covered
her face with her hands in humiliation.
"The hell with that shit! W-What are you, a cock tease?" he spat at
her. "You come tripping in here behind me with those big tits of yours
hanging out, show me your breasts with your husband standing in back of
you, then tell me that you have to work tonight. What's the matter?
Aren't you getting enough in bed these days? Isn't that great sex
researcher enough for you?"
The venom in his biting words burned into the young wife like eating
acid, and she backed away from him with tears brimming up into her big,
round eyes! God! What had gone wrong! It had all seemed so innocent and
fun and then ... suddenly ... it wasn't so much fun anymore. Oooohhh
... she'd truly blown it ... blown it, damn it! And now she'd have to
sit next to him all day remembering how lewdly she'd flirted with him.
"Hey, I'm sorry, Ann," George's mellifluous voice calmed her and she
felt her self-confidence soar from a minus one to a plus two. "It's
just that you got me so carried away. I-I was disappointed, that's
all."
"Hey! Are you two coming out of there or is there something you're
looking for and can't find? If you're looking for the instant coffee
it's on the shelf behind the tea pot," Carl's voice reached out, a tone
of uptightness barbing it.
Ann moved forward, quickly reaching for the ream of bond paper; she
daintily wiped at her eyes as George said: "Look, we have to work next
to each other all day, so let's forget about this till another time,
okay?"
The voluptuous, long-haired blonde wife didn't look at him. She knew
that if she did she'd probably end up in the back seat of her
Volkswagen at lunch time, fucking her husband's colleague till he blew
the sun roof off her car. God, she'd never been any hotter, or closer
to spreading her legs in her life! "Yes, Dr. Everett, I think it's a
good thing we get back to work."
"Goddamn it, listen to me ... wait ... wait!" Ann heard him choke
behind her as she brushed past him out into the outer office, every
fiber of her alive with sensual excitement.
From the other side of the door Dr. Everett could hear Ann's solicitous
words to her husband. "I'm so sorry, dear, we were looking for the bond
paper. Oh, we have so much to do, but I promise you can depend on me to
get it done."
A brief silence during which he imagined a give-away glance shooting in
his direction ... or was she kissing Dr. Dexter just as she'd been
kissing him? "The water is boiling for your coffee," he heard her lie,
wondering just what kind of a woman his middle-aged colleague married.
Charlize
- 24.06.2022
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