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The deep, masculine, slightly raspy voice startled me but I was able to keep my composure. I turned and looked around, my eyes still adjusting. I was pretty sure I knew who it was, but I needed to be sure. The dim light the computer provided allowed me to make out someone sitting in a chair. Someone tall and broad with dark hair. It was Jason, a guy Id been crushing on for months. He is exactly my type: a little older (he is 30), about 61, with thick black hair, cool blue eyes, sexy as hell smile, and the perfect amount of bulk on his build (Ive always preferred bigger guys). He had a short beard going, which suited him perfectly. A rush of hot juices filled my incredibly horny hole at the thought of being in a dark, locked room alone with him. I was normally pretty shy around Jason but I was far too aroused right now to be bashful. I guess great minds think alike. I said What are you doing back here? Same thing you are, taking care of stupid formalities. I smiled a little too. We sit in facing armchairs. A CD is playing in the background, our current favourite for this scenario is Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet Overture (coincidentally, he called it a Fantasy Overture). I lift my skirt up to my waist, open my legs and slip my hand inside my knickers. Paul opens his trousers and extracts his penis.Slowly, and with teasing pauses, I recount my imaginings. Over time the tale has grown longer, new details have been added, but the general outline remains the same.]The story always starts at the point where I say to Ty and Monique, ‘Can I make a suggestion?’ When I go on to explain what i have in mind there is a long pause. Have I gone too far, misjudged my colleagues? If so, how will I ever recover? The silence is broken by Monique. Nothing in her expression reveals her reaction. She simply crosses to me and says coolly, ‘Better, I think, if we remove one garment at a time.’ She looks at Ty. I realise he has literally been holding his breath for he almost gasps.
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