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‘There must be some mistake, I’m sure there is an easy explanation for this’ she blurted out. Now I had the upper hand and confidently said – ‘ Now I think we agreed more of the same but for impudence maybe I should dictate the terms.’‘What do you want, a pay rise, a promotion, a glowing report to the board’ She said, trying to negotiate a way out of what I think she knew was coming.‘Oh all of those but first I think you and me have a little score to settle. Now stand up and take off your jacket and skirt.’ There she stood in black stockings and with lovely matching panties, her blouse barley covering her lace clad bottom. ‘Now take off you blouse and bend over the desk.’ Again reluctantly she complied – what a sight the Black Widow, bent over my desk with nothing but her underwear. Her panties had slid up into her arse cheeks, as I ran my hand over her lovely soft flesh. My hand slipped between the folds of of her panties, as I gently run her through the thin material. I heard her. She interrupted. "Sit!"Jess told her story, while holding back sobs.Jason's father had joined us and I saw him holding back his anger. His mother's anger looked even colder and deeper, not a violent anger but one so full of wrath I almost felt sorry for the little shit. His life was going to be living hell for a while.We excused ourselves and left. Jess composed herself on the way home. As we got out of the car she asked, "Why?" That's a good question, sweetie. Many young guys haven't learned to control the powerful emotions and desires surging through their bodies. Hormones are pouring into them. A few shits, like Jason, have girls fawning over them and they get to feeling like they are entitled and some girls cave in to that, giving him what he doesn't deserve. I have a feeling that little Jason is never going to do that again if the look in his mother's eyes was any clue."She looked at me inquisitively, "So young guys can't be trusted." Let's just say that some young guys haven't.
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I don’t remember seeing anyone who was there.’ Connie squeezed my hand and kept hold of it. I had tears well up in my eyes, but fought them back, checking that Katie was still playing safe. ‘Sorry about Freddie, I liked him.’ I played Sunday golf with her husband Freddie Evans until seven years ago. He told me he was worried leaving Connie all alone after he passed, as he had been diagnosed with serious heart problems. They couldn’t have children, after Connie’s ex-husband beat her almost to death while she was heavily pregnant with Freddie’s child, which she lost, so she had no-one. I promised to keep an eye out. I did, but never let her see me. Today the grandchildren had taken my attention. ‘Freddie was a nice man,’ she remembered, squeezing my hand hard, ‘And you, Danny, were a nice boy.’ ***** I thought back to when we were at school, age 15, I was sitting next to Connie as always. She had lived next door to me since we were born within months of one another. We learned to.

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