I have always been attracted to what could be described as ‘mousy’ looking girls. You know, those women who hardly ever get a second glance from most guys. I guess you could call them nerds.
There are several reasons I lust after these ‘Plain Janes’ rather than perfect tens. First, I am no George Clooney or Brad Pitt myself, so I do not think any really good-looking woman would be interested in me. Secondly, my college girlfriend, who was the love of my life, looked like a nerd on the outside although she was a sexual firecracker on the inside. You can’t always judge a book by its cover. Thirdly, I finally married a truly gorgeous woman who I did not know well, mainly because of her striking looks. Within months, everything went wrong. She took my money and she stole my heart.
That was more than twenty-five years ago, and I’ve been single ever since. After that experience, I lost myself in my work. While over the years I dated a lot of women (and slept with some of them), nothing ever seemed to work out. I had finally given up any hope of finding a partner at the age of fifty-five, but that did not mean that I couldn’t still look.
So, I was probably the only guy on the 7:00 am flight from London City Airport to Zurich one Monday morning who noticed what most men would have described as a remarkably plain-looking woman, probably in her late thirties or early forties. She had dishwater blonde hair that appeared not to have been brushed or styled in weeks. She was medium height and rather thin. She wore the ubiquitous black trouser suit that businesswomen seem to prefer when travelling, along with a pair of low-heeled black shoes. About the only thing that you would have said was at the least striking about her was her red-framed eyeglasses, and even those were pretty nerdy.
Alas, she sat in the front of the plane while I was in the last row. However, I ran into her again at border control at the Zurich airport. She was in the queue next to mine, so I had a closer look. She was still plain-looking but kind of cute in her own way. In her hand was a British passport. At the same time, I noted that her nails were painted purple, and while she wore a couple of rings, none were on her left ring finger. I thought for a moment that she was staring at me, but that was probably wishful thinking. She was long gone by the time my passport had been checked.
As luck would have it, I saw her again late that afternoon when I was checking into the Swissôtel. I would have normally stayed at the Dolder Grand or the Park Hyatt, hotels where the staff treats you as a valued guest rather than just an annoying paying customer. However, this was a different visit to Zurich.
For the past seven years, I had been the chief of staff at a highly respected consulting firm based in London with satellite offices in Frankfurt, Paris, Milan and Zurich. My company helped other firms assess and manage the risks they faced, and over the years we attained a world-class reputation for dispensing wise advice. My job was to help our CEO make everything run smoothly, and my influence was felt in every part of the organisation.
Then, overnight, a large Swiss financial services conglomerate decided to buy us. Our investors couldn’t say no to the exorbitant offer.
The takeover was not pretty. My CEO clashed with their management, so he resigned the day the Swiss took control. Other top managers left. I finally agreed to stick around for six months to try to smooth what was destined to be a contentious handover, if only to make things better for our employees. In exchange, I would receive an extremely healthy payoff.
It seemed that in the first several weeks of their ownership, the Swiss company was hell-bent on making my life as miserable as possible, forcing me to sit through interminable meetings at our London headquarters. Now they wanted me to visit Zurich, and they demanded that I stay in a cheaper hotel than I was accustomed. Ugh!
So, after a long day of dealing with a bunch of shit shovelled on me by these shitty people, I was checking into what I considered a pretty shitty hotel. The only good thing was that I saw her, the blonde, again. She was three people ahead of me in the long check-in queue, but I swore she looked over at shoulder at me twice. At least, I thought to myself, I knew where she was staying, so there was a chance I might see her yet again.
Since I was in a really bad mood, I ordered room service and tried to prepare for another long day of meetings. Tuesday would be extra miserable because the Swiss company was holding a ‘party’ for some of my former colleagues and me to ‘welcome’ us to the new company. I would have rather gone to a dog show.
By nine o’clock on Monday evening, I was so bored that I ventured down to the hotel bar to have a couple of stiff ones before retiring. I sat at the bar, making small talk to the bartender when the mousy blonde walked in with four other women who I assumed were work colleagues. They were all dressed in business suits, but they ordered fancy cocktails and giggled a lot… a typical girls’ night out. They spoke in English, although judging from their accents, all of them except the blonde were Swiss.
I realized I was probably staring from my bar stool, so after one drink I signed the bill and began to head to my room. As I passed the ladies’ table, I could have sworn that the blonde, about whom I was now seriously fantasizing, smiled at me as I passed.
The next day was even worse than I could have imagined. I attended meeting after meeting in which I was interrogated mercilessly about how my old company operated. I found many of their questions stupid and even insulting, and I became angry and therefore not very co-operative. The Swiss may be efficient, but I found these people to be humourless and rude, My resistance grew.
I had to go straight from their office to the party, which was not a party at all, but rather a stuffy banquet. Various executives made speeches, telling us how lucky we now were to be working for them. While I wanted to drink heavily, I thought better of it and sipped a single glass of wine for three hours.
Once I finally left, I headed straight to the hotel bar and downed a couple of snifters of cognac.
Then, to my surprise, the blonde and her crew of giggly gals returned to the lounge. Instead of wearing business suits like the evening before, most of them were dressed to the nines. They must have gone to a real party. The blonde was still looking mousy above the shoulders – same dingy hair, glasses, no makeup – but everything below looked utterly fantastic. She wore a dress that looked more like a large white shirt. It buttoned up the front and ended a good ten inches above her knees, revealing very shapely legs. Underneath, she was wearing bright red tights and a matching pair of stiletto shoes. The dress was thin and clung to her body, and I realised that she was not nearly as flat-chested as I had thought.
I was sitting on a different stool than the previous night, and I discovered I could see the group of women by looking at the mirror behind the bar… I did not have to turn around. The women were all very merry: joking, laughing and ordering lots of drinks. Most of them, including the blonde, appeared to be pretty drunk.
After about a half-hour, the redhead sitting next to the blonde poked her friend in the arm and pointed towards me. I could not hear what she said, but I saw the blonde emphatically shake her head sideways. The redhead continued to point, and all the others joined in. After a couple of minutes, the blonde shrugged her shoulders and stood. As she approached the bar, I noticed that she was having a difficult time walking, possibly because of her high heels but more probably because she was really tipsy.
She tapped me on the shoulder. She slurred her words slightly as she said: “This must be a small world because we seem to keep seeing each other. My name is Melissa, but I only use that for business. Please call me Missy.” It sounded as if she had said “Mithy’.
I turned around, and said, “Yes, I must admit that I noticed you at City Airport yesterday and several times since. My name is Andrew. Do you work in Zurich?”
Missy leaned against the bar stool next to mine, probably so that she didn’t fall over. She stared at me almost like she already knew who I was, and then she laughed. “I am really embarrassed. My friends bet me that I wouldn’t introduce myself to you. So, here I am forty Swiss francs richer, but without a clue about what I should say next.”
Okay, I thought to myself, go slowly. So I said politely, “As we keep running into each other, perhaps we should get to know each other.”
Her face froze in horror, preparing for the inevitable sleazy proposition from a man who looked fifteen or twenty years older than she.
“That is,” I continued, “perhaps we should try to meet up tomorrow if you will still be in Zurich. I think it may be best if you went back and joined your friends for the rest of the evening, but I would be honoured to meet you for dinner tomorrow evening. Here’s my card. Unless I hear from you, I will meet you at the concierge desk tomorrow evening at seven.”
Missy relaxed as I explained my intentions. “You mean you aren’t going to take advantage of me right now?” she asked. Then, starting to smile, she said, “Since you are such a gentleman, I just may take you up on your offer. As you can tell, I am a bit worse for wear this evening, so please let me have some time to think about it.”
“That would be fine, Missy,” I said, and I softly shook her hand and told her how pleased I was to finally meet her. She smiled, said good-night and wobbled back to her friends. Her dress had crept up while she was leaning against the bar stool, so I got a good look at the bottom half of her arse. I really liked what I saw.
When Missy returned to her friends, she spoke for a moment, and then they all broke out laughing and raised their glasses in a toast, probably to her bravery. I could tell that she was taking a lot of kidding, but she seemed pleased nevertheless.
The redhead ordered yet another round of cocktails, but I thought I shouldn't stick around any longer. As I passed their table on the way to the lift, I figured all five women would stare at me.
I smiled and gave Missy a polite wave. In return, she blew me a kiss, and the table again dissolved in laughter.
I could not wait to get to my room because my cock was really stiff… thank goodness no one else was in the lift. As soon as I closed the door, I unzipped my fly and began wanking my todger furiously. I had not been this randy in years, and I exploded, spraying cum all over the carpeting.
The next day, Wednesday, went by slowly as the endless, often contentious meetings continued. I now know what it is like to be truly interrogated. All the time, I was dreading a call from Missy, backing out of our ‘date’, but my phone never rang. I talked to one of my soon-to-be former co-workers, and he suggested a classy French restaurant a short distance from the hotel.
After my final meeting, I rushed back to the hotel. I thought about masturbating again, but I optimistically thought that I should save it for later. After showering, shaving and putting on clean clothes, I ventured down to the lobby at 6:55 and hoped for the best.
Missy was already waiting for me, but it was not the same Missy I had seen the last two days. Her hair had been cut and styled, revealing more of her plain but attractive face. She wore red lipstick and eye makeup that softened her features. A tight, white turtleneck jumper accentuated her smallish breasts and a short blue skirt showed nearly as much leg as the dress she wore night before. Black tights and tall black boots completed her outfit.
While she still wore her glasses, Missy definitely did not look mousy.
I tried to shake her hand and was surprised when she gave me a polite peck on the cheek. We chit-chatted about Zurich and the unseasonably warm weather while walking to the restaurant. Finally, when we were seated and had ordered an aperitif, we began meaningful conversation.
“I am very happy you decided to join me,” I said. “I was really worried that you would back out.”
Missy gave me a sweet smile. “Actually, I wanted to meet you. I have for a long time.”
I looked surprised, but she continued before I could say anything.
“You see, I know all about you, Andrew Harris. I work for one of the firms that advised the buyers on the purchase of your company. I live in London, but most of my clients are in Zurich, so I come here often and have made lots of friends. You saw some of them last night.
“I think we need to be honest. My job was to study everything about your company in preparation for the takeover bid. In doing so, I learned a lot about you. Your CEO is a true visionary, but I concluded that you were the person who actually kept the company running smoothly. I advised my client, the Swiss guys who bought you, that they needed to keep you around for as long as they could if the acquisition was to be a success. Simply put, they had to get as much information as they could out of you, which would be difficult since you were opposed to the takeover from Day One.
“Everyone who I asked told me what a fantastic person you are: hard-working, intelligent, loyal, good with people and kind. As I was doing my research, I often wondered what it would be like to meet you and even work for you.”
I was shocked to say the least. I had been worried about preying on a lonely female, only to find out that she was actually the predator.
Missy continued: “I have been doing nothing but working on this deal for the past nine months, and I know you are really tired of talking about the acquisition. So, I hope we do not talk much about business tonight.”
Sensing that I was still uncomfortable, Missy began to tell me all about herself: where she went to school, the companies for which she had previously worked, the fact that she had been in a long-term relationship that had ended six months earlier because she had been working too hard.
I finally began to loosen up as the food and wine was served, and I told her about myself, although it seemed as if she already knew nearly everything. .
“Andrew,” she said, “I do have a question that I could not answer when I was doing my research. You are fifty-five years old and fairly wealthy. After you get your payout, you’ll never need to work again. So why is a man like you, rich and may I say handsome, all alone?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I loved a girl at university, but she broke off the relationship to focus on her studies. I then met a beautiful woman and married her, but she took my money and my love and threw it all away. I was burned twice, so since then I have stayed away from fire.”
Missy took my hand and said, “My friends tell me that I look like a thirty-nine-year-old spinster, but I can get pretty hot on the inside. I think, after dinner, you should try to play with some of my fire, and I promise you won’t get burned.”
We skipped dessert and headed back to the Swissôtel. We flipped a coin and headed to Missy’s room, which unsurprisingly looked exactly the same as mine.
I had not been to bed with a woman for several years, and I really had no idea of the etiquette involved in shagging on the first date. Missy sensed this and laughed.
“Neither you nor I are well-versed in the art of seduction,” she laughed, “Since neither of us really know what to do, why don’t you just lay back on the bed for now and let me try to take the lead.”
So, as I reclined on her bed and sipped wine from the minibar, I watched Mousy Missy remove her jumper, her boots, her tights, and finally her short skirt. Clad in just a skimpy bra and knickers, she joined me on the bed and reached for her glass.
“Do you like my underwear? I bought it this afternoon,” Missy explained. “In fact, I also bought the jumper, skirt and boots today. I never really cared about clothes. I even had to borrow the dress I wore last night from one of my friends so that I would be dressed to go to a party. It was a bit shorter than I had imagined."
She continued: “I really wanted to look sexy – but not too sexy – tonight. What did you think?”
Rather than answer, I reached over and began to kiss her. I started softly, but as Missy responded, the kiss began to become much more serious. As we continued to snog, I cupped her breast, and I felt her hand reach for my zipper while our tongues danced together.
“Does that answer your question?” I finally replied.
The next few minutes were a blur. She removed most of my clothes, and I clumsily unsnapped the clasp of her bra. When I was completely naked, she fondled my erect cock and then began slowly began licking and sucking. She worshipped my rod as if it was something precious. I was soon in ecstasy but worried about climaxing way too early. I slowly pushed Missy away and, removing her tiny knickers, began sensually kissing and then licking her pussy. Only a minute or two after my tongue had discovered her clit, Missy clamped her legs around my ears and cried out. I could feel her orgasm cascade through her body, and she moaned loudly. But, she suddenly pushed me away.
“Jesus Christ, I have not orgasmed like that in ten years. You are fantastic, Andrew. But, I have got to feel you inside me.”
I was now lying on my back, so Missy mounted my pole. As she leaned back, I finally got a good look at her breasts. They were indeed small, but far from flat, and they were complemented by large, erect nipples. I longed to suck on them, and as I felt my cock slip even deeper into her tight slit, I sat up and began nuzzling her tits. She wrapped her legs around my back, drawing my cock still deeper inside her, so much so that I was worried about hurting her. We just sat there for a moment as I licked and sucked her breasts and she squeezed tighter, forcing the entire length of my penis inside of her. We slowly began fucking rhythmically – not too fast, but not too slow, either.
I was now doing everything I could not to cum as it had been so long since I had made love to a woman. But, thankfully for me, after about five more minutes, Missy began to breathe much more heavily and, finally, she exploded in another intense orgasm.
“Oh my God, that is just so fucking good, Andrew. I love your cock inside of my cunt. Fuck me hard and let me feel you cum. I want to feel your hot cum in my pussy right now!”
I stopped trying to hold back, and I shot my load deep inside Missy, while she continued to bounce on top me in the final throes of her own climax. After several more minutes, she rolled off and we held each other closely.
We made love – indeed, we were making love rather than just first-date fucking – two more times that night. In between, we explored each others bodies, from the soles of our feet to the inner sanctums of our ears. I could not believe that Missy had such a beautiful lithe body, especially her gorgeous arse. I used my tongue to explore her navel, her pussy and finally her arsehole, which made her whimper. I couldn’t get enough of her, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly at ease with a woman. It was late into the night when we finally fell asleep.
The alarm rang at seven the next morning.
“Hi there,” Missy said sleepily from the next pillow. “As much as I would love to do it again, I have to get ready for a long day of meetings. I really need to look my best today, probably better than I ever have for work, and it takes me a long time to get ready.”
“Why do you need to look so good today?” I asked. "What is so important about today’s meeting? You sure did look beautiful last night.”
“Thank you,” she said sweetly. “But I looked pretty good last night because I spent ninety minutes at a salon having my hair done and makeup applied just before I met you. I won’t have any help this morning.”
“But,” I asked again, “why do you need to look so good for work today?”
“Because,” she said, looking straight into my eyes, “I have a meeting at 9.30 this morning, and you will be there. My clients say that you are being rather uncooperative, and they have asked me to try to smooth things over.”
For a moment, I thought that Missy had slept with me only for business reasons. I am sure I was frowning.
Missy got up, hugged me and then kissed me passionately. “I know what you are thinking, but just stop it.” She then turned around, bent over and wiggled her gorgeous arse.
“If you don’t act like an arsehole today, perhaps you will be able to get a bit of my arsehole tonight!”
