Return to Clare

‘As one door closes and another door opens’ as the saying goes and to say that I was living that saying would not be too far a stretch of the imagination. To put you in the picture, it was just over six months ago (November 2013 to be more precise) that I was made redundant from my accountancy position which was quite a set back for me on a number of fronts, as it is for most people. Fortunately I had been able to get some contract work with a number of local real estate agencies which, happily, combined my professional background with my passion: photography; I did some of their general office and book work as well some real estate photography. A win/win situation, as it were.

But that was not the only reason that could be attached to my living the saying. The main reason was that it directly reflected all the negative aspects of redundancy against the major positives in my private life and my sex life in particular. As previously outlined in these chapters, a sex life within my marriage was virtually non-existent and, coupled with a myriad of other relationship factors, I suddenly discovered my neighbour, Michelle. By discovered, I mean she and I kind of stumbled across the realisation that we were both in similar situations regarding our respective marriages and found mutual camaraderie in each others arms. A wonderful relationship had blossomed out of a chance encounter earlier in the new year of 2014 and the sex that entailed was ‘fucking’ amazing, for want of a better phrase.

That was the one door opening, but one door soon became four. During that intervening time, leading up to Easter and the end of Term one, I had also had the wonderful and surprising experience of fucking my hairdresser one glorious Monday morning (as well getting my hair styled), I had discovered a interesting family connection with my neighbour across the road (a neighbour of 30 years) Daph, who I also had the pleasure of stuffing all three of her orifices with the prospect of more to come, and then there was Clare.

The statuesque Clare; approaching six feet tall (when bare footed), 38 inch bust and curves to make your mouth water and jaw drop (and visa-versa). Michelle had introduced me to Clare as part of our plan to go, together, on the music tour Clare was arranging and leading as part of the music departments development program Clare had implemented at Michelle’s son’s High School. Michelle was keen for me to participate, offering up my photographic and video editing skills in return. Clare was keen to have access to my skills as well (in a paid capacity to boot), and as it turned out, she also got access to my crotch, not that I was/am complaining.

All in all, it had been quite a start to the year. The next step on the journey was a return visit to see Clare on what had dawned to be a rather warm to hot Autumn day, which was a complete contrast to the day before, when I had been with Daph; a day marked by wintery blasts and rain squalls from the south. However, before that enjoyable part of my day (seeing Clare) I had to negotiate another, and what I hoped to be a short meeting, with my outplacement mentor, Abby. Her ‘services’ were part of the redundancy arrangements but I inwardly felt as if she was just a well paid set of walking platitudes. I was determined that any thoughts of that meeting were not going to darken my attitude toward what was to come after. I would just deal with Abby in my usual professional manner and get away from there at the earliest possible moment.

The morning traffic had been kind and it was just after 9am as I drove into the car park adjustment to the shopping precinct in Lane Cove. By the time I walked to the cafe where I was to meet Abby I knew I would still be early but that suited me as it would give me time to get my head into the right space. As a consequence of the warmth of the day, I had dressed in summer-like wear; jeans and a fitted shirt would certainly do for both meetings.

I grabbed a table at the rear of the cafe and ordered a large cappuccino. As I waited for Abby to arrive I reviewed my collection of documents I had ready for Clare and literally demolished the coffee…it was one of best coffee’s I had tasted in a long while.

“Hi Ray,” Abby’s arrival surprised me, I was too wrapped up with the music tour information I had with me. “You look engrossed?”

“No, no, I was just making sure I had some bits and pieces with me for my next meeting. How are you?” I was not going to fall for her bait and start divulging all.

“I’m good and thank you for agreeing to meet me.” She sat opposite with her back to the open expanse of the cafe. For some reason she reminded me of a head on a stick which always made me smile inwardly. Not that she unattractive. Obviously someone thought she was a good sort if the wedding ring on her left hand was anything to go by. She had shoulder length auburn hair which she usually worn out. She dressed in a professional but not overly formal manner which I assumed was to give her clients a sense of her casual yet professional business approach to her work and their needs. She had a round face, a long thin neck and slender body, which is probably where I got the head on a stick impression from.

Over the years of my accountancy career, I had usually worked locally, predominantly for manufacturing companies and my last position was no different. It was due to this exposure to manufacturing that I had had the glorious misfortune to have been made redundant six times (including this one). As a consequence, I had been through this out-placement routine a few times, as well having to contend with the circus that I labelled recruitment agencies. To say I viewed people like Abby and recruiters generally as being on the same level as used car sales people (apologies to all the car sellers who might be reading this) gives light to my general attitude to what they have to say. Every now and then they do give some good advice but usually, after the first five to ten minutes, you get the understanding that due to age and the wealth of experience (and the dollars that goes with it) that I ‘will be a hard person to place’… blah, blah, blah.

“Do you want coffee or anything?” Abby asked as she pulled out her file mark ‘Ray’ and placed it on the table in front of her.

“I might go tea this time. I just had a coffee, thanks.”

She ordered for us both and then opened her file and started asking the usual questions to get up to date with what I was doing, interviews I had been to and the like. I answered fully, not wanting to completely waste her expertise, while she nodded and made notes. As this part of the meeting unfolded the cafe quickly began to fill with groups of mothers with prams, out for a morning coffee with the girls after dropping older siblings at school or pre-school, or older couples grabbing an early morning tea before heading to the banks or grocery shopping. The steady rise and fall of numerous conversations together with the chink of cutlery and cups on saucers all served to make a pleasant back drop to what felt like an arduous task for me.

“Are you okay?” She asked, noticing my attention was starting to drift.

“Yep.” I answered, a little more abruptly than I would have liked.

“You seem preoccupied.” She probed. Our order had arrived which acted as a brief circuit breaker.

“I’m good…and thank you for the tea, by the way.” I milked and sugared my tea and drank deeply.

“You don’t seem it?” She insisted. “You don’t seem to be in a co-operative frame of mind?”

I bristled at that despite not wanting to. The whole cycle of professional rejection and words blowing in the wind had taken more of a toll on me than I cared to admit.

“What? I have answered all your questions, given you all the information you require to ‘get up to date’…what more am I supposed to do or tell you? Are you expecting me to give you wild embellishments just so that these chats become more interesting?”

“No, of course not.” she replied evenly. “You’re being rather immature about this though. I asked you here, after reluctantly agreeing to take a break from our original weekly meetings, to help you move on but you seem reluctant to embrace this opportunity in a professional manner…”

“Excuse me!” I accidentally raised my voice, but it was enough for the elderly couple two tables away to turn and look in our direction. I could feel my blood beginning to boil and took deliberate deep breaths in an attempt to quell the fire. “I did not come here to be insulted. I always act in a professional manner in these situations. How dare you cast judgement. You do not even know me.”

“I am sorry if I offended you.” Her voice was slightly hushed. I took it as her attempt to ease the tension and quieten the tone. “Ray, I have to give you my advice as I see it, that is my job. If it means I have to tell you things which you do not want to hear, I can not apologise for that.”

“Abby,” I looked hard into her face, “I came here…reluctantly, I will admit that. However, I always try to keep an open mind at these meetings and at interviews so that I can pick up on the occasional piece of ‘good’ advice. As for resuming our regular meetings and moving forward, so far you have reformatted by resume and facilitated some 200 cold call mail outs for me, all of which I am grateful for. But lets face it, that is all you have done. And, that was all done before Christmas. Since then… nothing. In fact, you didn’t do any of those things yourself, the staff in your office did all the grunt work. Maybe I would be better off talking to them.”

“See, you are being immature again. Can you please act like an adult about this?”

That was a red rag to this Taurean bull. I gently placed my hands flat on the table in front of me and glared fiercely at her.

“If you have not noticed, I am being extremely ‘adult’ about this. In fact, I am going to even more adult and take my leave before I say something I might regret.”

“Ray,” she looked dismayed that I was threatening to terminate the conversation. “You have not been fully up front with me. You have not even told me about your meeting after this one, so what am I to assume?”

“Assume all you like.” Once again this came out more loudly than I had hoped and this time a few more tables near by looked around. “The meeting I am going to is not up for discussion and has no baring on this one. It does not even involve accountancy. If and when it does bare fruit I will tell you but for now, it is nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

I was annoyed with myself for telling her too much.

“I beg to differ. My job is to help you get another job and part of that brief is be across all that you do, whether it involves accountancy or not, so I can advise or help in what ever capacity…”

“Yep,” I said loudly, moving sideways to stand, “that is your job. To assist me get a job. Have you got me any interviews? No. Have you given me any leads? No. Have you succeeded in any way, shape or form? No! Look, you get paid regardless. I, on the other hand, I do not have a current income and sitting here and having to listen to your unprofessional criticism does not resolve my situation.”

I stood and collected my things. As I stood the whole cafe seemed to go into suspended animation, waiting for my next move.

“See Abby, I am being very mature, as you put it, and leaving. It is high time for me to go before your ‘help’ makes things a whole lot worse.”

I moved past her seat but she grabbed my arm.

“Ray…” she looked about, a sign of panic on her face as everyone looked on.

“Please. You are over reacting. It is no wonder you have not got another position if you have such a negative attitude.”

I pulled my arm free of her grasp and walked a few steps toward the payment counter. Ignoring all the eyes that were upon me, I stopped in the middle of the cafe, I could not hold back. Feelings that I had long suppressed regarding unemployment boiled to the surfaced and Abby was going to be the recipient of my rant, whether she like it or not.

“You call yourself a professional? I scoff at your folly. With all due respect, and please don’t take this personally, but your position and those of your ilk, are parasitic when it comes to the employment industry. You get paid regardless of whether I get a job today, tomorrow, next week…” I took a deep breath as a waiter approached. I assured him I would be on my way in a few minutes and he backed off.

“Abby, do you know what the problem with seeking employment in Sydney is, or the rest of Australia, for that matter?” She looked nervous and on the verge of tears as she shook her head.

“Of course you don’t. You people are the problem. All the recruitment agencies… you all profess to be experts in getting people their dream jobs. Here’s how it goes; I am 55 and I go to an agency and get interviewed by a non-Australian, usually British, who is no more than 30. They sit there and make judgements based on ticking boxes and pigeon holing me, just like you have been doing. They would not have a clue about half of the stuff in my CV and what I am telling them yet they hold me to ransom just so they can get the placement fee. You and the agencies are all care and no responsibility. Now, as a display of my professional attitude, I am going to the cash register, I will pay for our order, and then I am going to walk away with my head held high because I know my worth, I know how to conduct myself. I care about me and I take responsibility for my actions. Sit there and reflect if you wish, just don’t try and tell me you know what is best for me or what I am, or not, doing. Like a lot of things in life, if I need something doing, I am better off doing it myself. Just remember what I have told you…all care no responsibility…and no accountability either. Enjoy your coffee.”

I turned and started to leave. An elderly gent at a table I was about to pass touched my arm and praised me for my rant. I smiled and thanked him kindly and then noticed the whole cafe was looking at me. Not only were they looking, they were agreeing with me and some were even applauding. I started to feel embarrassed, humbled even. Without thinking I raised my arm slightly to thank them for their support. I was in a state of bewilderment as I paid the owner and apologised for making a fuss. He gave me his business card and said if I need a job to come and see him. He even went so far as to offer me free coffee next time I was in, all I had to do was present his card. As I walked out into the mall my eyes brimmed with tears. The heart ache of the unemployment cycle and being constantly rejected had finally broken through my toughened facade. I did not care if what had just transpired equated to burning a bridge, I knew in my heart I was better off dealing with these issues on my own terms. I did not look back at Abby. I did not want to see her face ever again and I cursed her for all she was worth and for making me feel so wretched prior to my meeting with Clare.

The drive was a blur and before I knew it I arrived at the main school entrance. As I gathered my stuff I realised I had arrived way earlier than Clare had asked. However, I was feeling far too agitated to simply sit and wait out time so I decided to go straight in, figuring if Clare was still busy with her parent meeting, I could make alternate arrangements there and then.

“But, if she was free, well…” I thought to myself.

The large grounds were quiet as the students had already finished for the term. I scanned the car park and noted that most of the staff seemed to be missing as well. The main building was a huge red brick and sandstone building in the Italian-Gothic style with a smaller, but equally beautifully styled, chapel behind. I entered the main door, an imposing double door with intricate lead light glass inserts, and walked along the lengthy Persian hallway runner to the modern looking front desk.

The reception area was unattended which made me even more stressed. It was school protocol to sign in and there was no around to help me.

“What to do?” I pondered aloud and looked around the expansive area. Not a sound was being emitted from any of the offices or rooms further down the hall. “I wonder if they still have the visitors book available?”

I spied it lying open a table off to the side of the reception desk and quickly signed myself in. I noted there was only one other entry for that morning and on closer inspection, I was delighted to see that the entry was made with Clare as the visitors contact point and that it was also an hour earlier…surely they would be finished by now?

As this was my second time to see Clare, I had a good idea of how to navigate my way through the numerous hallways, and across the large quadrangle area. At the top of the flight of stairs that led to the music rooms I stopped. The warmth of the sun felt good on my back, therapeutic even. There was virtually no breeze to speak of and no human made noise to disturb the sounds of nature that suddenly engulfed me. There were numerous birds chirping and flitting about in the native trees and bushes that adorned the school grounds and the underlying quiet, together with the fresh air, almost made me giddy. I took another deep breath and descended the stairs, feeling slightly calmer compared to how I had felt when I had arrived.

Given the lack of humanity about the school generally, I was not surprised to find the Music Department reception desk unattended. As I entered the office door from the small courtyard that was the centre piece of the music department complex, I could hear Clare’s voice. She seemed to be in deep conversation, bordering on intense negotiation, with someone. I just hoped it was not the parents she was still dealing with.

I knocked as I reached the open door and relieved to see Clare was the only person in the room. Her office went off to the right of the door. It was narrow and long, with three (3) large windows along the far side wall that overlooked a well tended rose garden. Her desk was at the far end of the room where the windows finished, and like my previous visit, her head was studiously bent over some papers as she talked brusquely into the phone. With a wave of her slender hand, she beckoned for me to enter. Last time the floor along the left hand wall of her office was awash with a variety of instruments, from guitars and violins to woodwinds and brass, together with numerous pieces of sheet music, but this time it was completely devoid of any clutter; I assumed it was due to the pending school holidays.

“Can you hold the line for just a moment, please?” She asked the person on the other end of the line and quickly covered the mouth piece. “Oh Ray,” she sighed, “Am I glad to see you. This might take a while, sorry. I have been trying to speak with this guy for the last week but I keep missing him. I am trying to negotiate the accommodation through him for Salzburg and I am desperate to get it sorted before I leave today, so please accept my apologies in advance.”

“No problem.” I mouthed. Clare smiled appreciatively, her expression one of sheer relief and she extended her hand to me, gesturing that I should take hold of it. I walked to her with a sense of urgency due to her suspended phone conversation and softly took hold of her hand. She gently closed her fingers upon mine and leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on the mouth.

“Thank you, you’re an angel.” She whispered and returned to her discussion. She gestured for me to be seated and, to my surprise, broke into what I believed to be fluent German. I did not know if it was my not knowing the language or just her tone, but I assumed the discussion was going to plan. I placed my bag on the floor against the modesty board of her desk and waited, all the while drinking in her beautiful features and the extremely pleasant way she filled her clothing.

As there were no formal classes happening, Clare was dressed in a much more casual fashion than our first meeting. She had on a Maeve O’Meara inspired dress; it was made of a soft cotton with a psychedelic swirl print of blues and reds on a black and white background that, unusually, buttoned down the front. Clare even filled the dress out formidably like Maeve, maybe even more so, which, together with the snug fitting material, accentuated her curves. The breadth of her shoulders gave increased angle to the taper of her torso down to her tiny waist which filled out to rounded hips; an hour glass figure if ever I had seen one. Her dress was pleasantly unbuttoned to reveal the top of her substantial cleavage and, like our first meeting, the top most button hole was showing some signs of strain as the material stretched across of her eye popping chest.

Every now and then Clare would glance my way and smile or mouth apologetically as she continued to try and get her way. As I picked up some of the material I had with me, Clare covered the mouth piece and sighed.

“This is stressing me enormously.” She whispered. “How are you…you look good but I detect a touch of sadness in your eyes.” She smiled again, a smile that seemed to brighten the room more in-spite of the sunlight filtering in.

“I’m excellent.” I laughed in a hushed tone. “Well, I did have a stressful meeting prior to coming here but I’ll live. Is there anything I can do?”

“Sorry to hear you were stressed before seeing me.” She whispered in a husky tone. “You will have to tell me all about it. In the meantime you could you massage my neck?”

She asked this last question meekly. The question, combined with her shy school girl look, left me feeing I could not do anything but say yes. Clare apologised as her phone call resumed.

Just sitting idle was going to be a waste of time so what better way to pass the time than to do as the lady asked; a massage could lead to all sorts of opportunities. I kicked off my shoes as my feet were aching and softly padded around behind my seated companion. I breathed deeply as the full impact of her gorgeous perfume filled my nostrils. I gently placed the finger tips of my left hand on her shoulder and her free hand rose to softly caress them as a sign of thanks. Clare turned slightly and smiled, a simmering glint in her eye.

Gently, I guided her hand back to her desk, accidentally on purpose grazing the back of my hand against her prodigious breast. She shuddered noticeably at my touch but kept on writing frantically on her note pad. I quickly glanced at what she was writing and saw the near full page was a myriad of notes, prices (some inked in and then crossed out) and abbreviations, all of which I assumed to be as a consequence of current her conversation. I had no idea who had made the call but I was just glad I was not paying the phone bill.

I got to work, gently kneading Clare’s muscles along her neck and the tops of her shoulders, deliberately starting gently to try and avoid bruising the muscle tissue. Gradually I increased the pressure, working my fingers deep into the knots in around her shoulder blades. Each time I pushed into a knotted spot Clare would bring her head back and exhale deeply as the tension slowly dissipated. Determined to do a good job, I relentlessly attacked each knot, not stopping until the muscles slowly relaxed under my firm touch. I tried to avoid any prolonged heavy contact in any one spot. Instead, I interspersed the pressure with softer touches to try and bring a sense of ease and relief to the affected area. I had been told some time ago, while in Bali, that the best way to proceed with a massage was to go in a clockwise fashion, something to do with time and energy flow, so I flowed that process with Clare, slowly moving from the left neck and shoulder region to the right. When I was not giving her a deep massage, I gently caressed the smooth skin of her neck and/or shoulder, softly brushing aside her hair from the back of her neck. However, working her tight muscles through the material of her dress was proving to be a nuisance. I gently pulled the material but it would not move beyond the tips of her shoulders.

Clare realised what I was attempting and delicately undid the button at the top of her cleavage.

“And don’t get any funny ideas!” She quipped, over her shoulder, quickly covering the mouth piece. Her cheeky smile made me grin broadly. “Hmmm, you do give good a massage though.”

I managed to drag the sides of her dress down over her shoulders. The material pulled tort on her upper arms and across the top of her bra. I was concerned that the button would break and tentatively reached to undo it which was met with a playful, yet firm, slap on the knuckles and a wag of her finger. Warded off, I resumed my attentive massage, slowly increasing the radius of my ministrations, going all the way down to the cleft in the small of her back, reluctantly skipping the hooks of her ivory coloured bra. As I worked my way higher up her back I got a sense of her relief, it felt like a wave of complete calm and peace had washed over her muscles and even the timbre of her voice seemed to have softened. I was well pleased with my efforts.

However, my own tension had not diminished. Well, some of the Abby related tension had gone, but there was a distinct tightness in my jeans; my penis was under serious stress as it pressed against the fabric. Touching Clare’s alabaster flesh, even thought it was her back, had an instant reaction deep within my mind and body. When I arrived, I did not have any notion of making advances toward her so soon but now it was all I could do to stop myself from pulling my cock out and thrusting it down her lovely long neck. But she was still on the phone so that was not an option.

“I know what to do!” I said mentally and grinned wickedly.

Gently I placed my hands on the back of Clare’s chair. Fortunately it was on casters, and I pulled it gradually backward and brought Clare away from her desk. In a sudden panic Clare, still trying to negotiate in Germany, looked at me.

“What are you doing?” She mouthed, her eyes wide with a hint of anger on her face.

I pointed at her feet and legs and made kneading gestures with my fingers, indicating where I was planning on massaging next. Her facial expression softened as she realised my intentions and the furrow in her brow was quickly replaced by a look of gratefulness.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” She said into the phone in English, for my edification I assumed.

“You don’t have to do that.” She said to me, covering the mouth piece again.

“Oh, I think I do.” I said in a firm but playful tone. “I’m the masseuse and I know my job.”

“Please, you don’t have to…I’m on the phone.”

“So?” I shrugged. Her resistance disappeared quickly.

“Okay. But please be careful. I am ticklish on my feet and behind my knees.” She laughed out aloud. “I don’t believe I just told you that. Oh well, now you know. But, I am still needing time on the phone so I can not be bursting out with laughter…it would be all to awkward to explain.”

“Don’t worry.” I reassured her. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“That’s what has got me worried.” She replied, a look of mock concern on her face. She moved herself side-on to her desk as she resumed her telephone call, once again reverting to fluent German.

“Wunderbare.” Clare exclaimed loudly as I knelt in front of her. “Vielen Dank und gute Nacht.”

There were a few moments of silence but she had not put the phone down leaving me wondering what was happening at the other end since she had already said good night to her caller.

“Good evening, Olga.” Clare suddenly said excitedly and in English. “That took some doing but we did it. Sorry to keep you up so late but I had to get that sorted.”

She exchanged a few more pleasantries with her new caller and stretched out her slender legs for me. I moved closer and slightly in under the desk so Clare could reach for her pad and pen if required.

“Yes, I can stay on the line for a chat,” she laughed and winked at me as I picked up her left foot and placed on my thigh and started to rub the sole of her foot. She grimaced in pain as I deeply massaged along the tense tendons in her foot but as the tension subsided Clare flashed me a broad smile and wiggled her long leg and her cute toes. With her foot flat along my thigh, and as I knelt in front of this beautiful person, I firmly massaged her calf which made her wiggle in her chair again. With slow, deliberate strokes I worked the muscle from high up her calf, down to her ankle and then back along her foot. Clare’s initial facial reaction was to grimace but gradually that eased into a relaxed state. The same set of reactions followed when I turned my attention to her right foot.

As Clare continued her discussion and update with Olga I cheekily changed from a proper massage of her feet and calves to an attack upon her toes; using my mouth. I gently raised her right foot, as it was the one I had just finished massaging properly, and pushed her big toe into my mouth and quickly followed that up with a wild lash of my tongue between each of her immaculately painted toes. Surprised, Clare looked at me with her jaw agape and stifled a reflex laugh as I tickled her foot with my tongue.

“Yes, yes…I’m listening, sorry Olga,” she said into the phone, but her attention to her phone conversation had been broken…her face looked at me tightly.

She tried to pull her foot away but I held on for grim death, and smiled wickedly. I ran my hands higher along her leg, using gentle massaging gestures as a rues; my intent was on higher attainment. Clare returned her attention to Olga and wiggled her leg every now and then in response to a light touch that tickled. Once I reached her knee I could feel my heart rate increase. I was nervously excited at the prospect of touching her intimately while she was otherwise engaged. 

I looked longingly along the porcelain white skin of her upper legs as they disappeared beneath her dress. 

“How am I going to move her dress without causing a commotion?” I wondered to myself.

With no sly remedy, I decided to proceed as best I could and wait for Clare to react. Gently but firmly, I pressed my fingers into the muscles just above her knees and slowly moved them a little higher. Without looking at me, as if by some subconscious notion of what I was up too, Clare wiggled her backside and pulled the front hem of her dress downward, not that it made any difference. Maybe she had just changed position to get more comfortable. Regardless, her conversation continued unabated.

Ever so gradually, I moved my hands higher and reached the hem of her dress. I fluttered my fingers against her skin, just under the edge of the hem, her flesh felt wonderfully soft and warm and silky to my touch. Clare looked down and scowled at me and mouthed a word at me which I could not quite understand; I assumed it to a “No.”

Undeterred, I pressed upward and caught a faint glimpse of the ivory coloured triangle deep between her legs. Clare was becoming aware of what I was attempting and tried to push me back. 

“Not while I’m on the phone you cheeky man.” She hissed with a twinkle in her eye. “Please, I’ll be finished very soon.”

Clare wiggled her bottom in her chair again which only served to pop the lowest bottom button on her dress open, much like the button of her blouse at our first meeting. I shook my head in a negative response to her request and moved in for the kill. With my hands firmly on her thighs, I moved them higher and kissed her knees as I dipped my head lower. As my lips brushed against her knee I heard Clare take a deep breath and felt her shift restlessly in her chair. Slowly yet relentlessly, I moved my hands higher and higher, bunching her dress up as I went. Clare reached down and tried to pull her dress back into place but she only succeeded in popping the next button open. She bit her lip as she listened intently to what her caller was saying but I could tell she was getting increasingly distracted by my movements.

As I moved higher, the roundness of her thigh allowed me to move my hands to the sides and slowly slide them up until they rounded on her bottom. Clare started to breath deeply as I kissed my way along the tops of her thighs, following my hands. I shifted my knees closer to her chair so I could move my body higher and push my hands up over the rounded curves of her bottom, onto her curvy hips and curl my fingers into the top hem of her knickers. I opened my mouth and firmly kissed her flesh just above her knees as I slowly and gently tugged on the material, indicating to Clare my desire to remove them. She sighed forlornly, seemingly resigned to losing the battle to stop me while she was on the phone. 

“I guess we can bring what information we have to show you and then we can compare notes, as it were.” She said into the phone to Olga. However, she rolled her eyes at me, suggesting a slight annoyance but the corners of her mouth curled up like a shy yet happy girl. As I pulled on her panties, Clare sighed again and lifted her body enough for me to remove them. With a number of pulls and tugs I finally dragged them free of her body and down her long legs. Clare continued to discuss whatever it was they were talking about as I kissed my way further along her luscious legs and bunched her dress up around her hips. I crawled forward and aimed my mouth at the bald expanse between her legs, her sweet acrid aroma filling my senses. All of Clare’s initial resistance had disappeared as she seemed to have given in to the inevitable, mainly because she was on the phone; god knows what Olga would have made of Clare admitting she was having her vaginal area explored while she was in the midst of conducting their conversation.

Clare’s legs are long and slender with good muscle definition. An indicator of someone who likes to exercise in some fashion I assumed which accounted for the firm pertness of her buttocks as well. In fact, there was surprising strength in her legs as I tried to gentle pry them apart with my hands upon her knees and my head burrowing in between her thighs. Clare started to push on my head but, as luck would have it, she needed to write down some information Olga was giving her. With that distraction, the resistance in her thighs eased and I pushed them wide enough to get my shoulders between her knees. There, before my eager eyes was my prize and I was not about to waste any time reaching it. I thrusted my face forward, my tongue aimed at the beautiful cleft between her legs. The tip of my nose made first contact upon her puffy lips and immediately was coated in dampness. I tried to bury my face further but her legs compressed and stopped me for a moment. I lifted my head and looked up at Clare. Her upper body was twisted toward the desk as she frantically wrote some additional notes on her pad. In between writing she glare down at me.

“What are you doing?” she hissed in a whispered voice.

“Entertaining myself.” I said, defiantly. I pressed my thumb into her folds and held it up for her to see.

“It would appear you are enjoying what I am doing too, so I don’t see why you need to complain?” I said aloud which made her quickly cover the phone. I grinned cheekily.

“I am on the phone, as you well know.” She quickly added, still whispering. “If I wasn’t, well…”

“Yes…sorry Olga. Yes, I’m still here.”

Her legs were strongly resisting until she had to address her note pad again; her concentration devoted to her writing meant less attention to her lower self. I took my chance. Gently, I pulled her chair forward as I backed in further under her desk, this would give her enough access to her note pad while I busied myself elsewhere. I could hear her agreeing and writing above me as I proceeded to wrap my arms under her thighs and pull her bottom forward to the edge of the chair, my shoulders wedged in between her knees so she could not close off my advances. I wrapped my arms under and around her thighs and pushed my mouth hard onto her exposed mound. My tongue moved across her tight little arsehole and then deep into the crevice of her pussy. She was helpless and bent over writing, albeit in a slouched position, but all resistance had now gone. With each tickle of my tongue I could feel her body respond; little undulations of her hips belying any objections she might have had previously; her body had started to thrust toward my mouth.

“Oh, Olga, you’re a gem. Yes…I’m listening. Go on," she said. I was impressed at how perfectly composed and natural she sounded, it was as if there was no one actually eating her pussy but I knew it was all a facade.

With deft little lashes, I continued to spear the tip of my tongue onto her clitoris, each touch made her buck all the more. I decided to chance my arm, as the saying goes, and unlocked my arms from her thighs. I gently rested my left hand on her upper thigh as I slowly let my right hand glide north to tenderly feel her breast. The tips of my fingers danced across the flatness of her tummy, feeling the vibrations of her speech as they went, until they encountered the firm rise of her bra. I lifted the digits and gradually covered the delightful mound that was her breast and pressed them firmly pressed in on the apex; her nipple was hard and distinctly evident to my touch despite being covered by her dress and her brassiere.

Clare glanced down at me, her eyes smouldering with lust as I knead the bountiful rise of her boob. She sighed deeply as my tongue circled her clit in time with my finger as it circled her nipple, her eyes a mix of conflicting emotions. 

I pulled away from my delicious feasting, my mouth and chin awash with her copious flow. Clare looked at me intently as I slowly and deliberately licked her juices away from my face.

“Hmm, you look like your enjoying it down there.” She whispered. “I’m sorry this is taking so long but I really needed to talk to these people…ohh, I need to get back to work. Please Olga, go on…,” she said. I was glad she had to stay on the phone. I felt absolutely naughty and wicked and what ever other adjective could apply; at this point in time, all I wanted to do was to tease the gorgeous music department head who was seated in front of me; tease her and make her squirm, perchance to climax. 

As she returned to her phone call I nudged her thighs wider with my shoulders and thrust my head forward until her crotch was fully on my face. Without hesitation I attacked her clitoris again, this time with the flat of my tongue and dragged it slowly from her vaginal opening to the high side of her hood. Her womanhood was slick and even tastier and sweeter than a summer nectar.

"I really should let you go Olga," she said, “It is getting late over there.” She listened to Olga’s reply and then continued, “Are you sure?”

“Good. She is being stopped from hanging up by her unsuspecting friend.” I laughed to myself, feeling more and more devious by the minute.

Taking advantage of her prolonged call, I dipped my fingers inside her channel and swirled them about. Her body responded with a series of shudders as her excitement continued to build. I gave them another hard inward thrust, crushing her clitoral area against my knuckles and then pulled them out. Her essence was plainly evident and I wiped them along her inner thighs on either side of her pussy, more as a sign to her, that her body was giving itself over to my approaches. I slid them back into her soaked pussy and twisted them as I went, slowly widening her gripping walls.

Clare shuddered again and put the phone to her chest. Her long low, moan was barely audible but seemed to be full of gratitude and pleasure. She looked at me and nodded as another shudder of pleasure rippled through her torso.

"Uh-huh, I'm listening Olga…trying to take notes and listen to all you have to say…,” she replied, the phone barely staying close to her ear. 

I returned my mouth to work on her nether regions. Well to call it work would not be accurate. It certainly was not a chore being on my knees between this beauties thighs and eating her pussy from under her desk. I was well pleased with my efforts to date but I still wanted to take it further; take Clare further and higher. I dragged my tongue along the bulge at the top of her pussy and down the crease on either side between her pussy and her crotch.

Her legs loosened and widened further. It was her way of giving me a green light to go for it. The pleasure she was feeling from my eating her in this way had built to a point where she absolutely could not deny her body its desire. She humped her hips as if urging me for more and, with pen still in hand, she pushed the back of my head firmly into her body. 

Her flow was thick and continuous as I lapped at her folds and drank deeply of her special font. With short, quick jabs, I speared her depths with my fingers, fucking her beautiful body. 

Her elbow holding the phone was resting on her desk but her head had dropped forward, away from the receiver, as I finger fucked her relentlessly. Her breathing was ragged and heavy yet she managed to gather some resemblance of herself and resumed her call. Another shudder spread through her body as I lapped at her clit, which caused her to drop the phone.

Desperately Clare pushed the chair back, away from the desk and fumbled for the cord to pull the phone back to her ear. Once she had retrieved the phone, Clare grabbed me by my shirt sleeve and pulled on it. I was not sure what she was up to but I slowly rose to my feet. With the phone in her right hand, Clare madly attacked my belt and flipped it open. She fumbled, single-handedly, with the button at the waist of my jeans and after a few failed attempts, I undid the button and zip for her.

“Off!” She hissed through a tightened jaw. She had quickly covered the mouth piece to make her commend as clear as possible. I pushed my jeans and underwear to the floor and kicked of them off. Naked from the waist down, except for my socks, I sat on the edge of her desk, my blood engorged penis pointing into space. Nonchalantly, Clare grabbed hold of my cock and stroked it with her firm fingers wrapped around the shaft.

She made some random remarks to Olga, as she slowly stroked my cock, squeezing it at the top which made numerous beads of pre-cum seep from the blind eye. Clare used her thumb to smear the translucent fluid around the bulbous head which made me shudder and squirm, much like I had done to her. Clare looked at me and winked as she teased me; she liked to be in control of situations, as Michelle had told me, and this situation was no different, it appeared. With the phone still pressed to her ear, Clare slide her mouth over my cock. Not a gradual lowering either. Her mouth hung wide as she leaned forward and engulfed me fully, the head striking the back of her throat. She did not pull back immediately either. She held her mouth and throat poised over my thick cock and then pressed further until I could feel the soft ridge of her lips against my balls.

“Holy fuck!” I gasped as I watched and felt her devouring my tool all at the same time.

“Shhhh!” she said in a rasped hush, releasing my cock. The cheeky glint in her eye told me she was as excited as I was. “I am still on the phone.”

I held up my hands in a display of compliance as she answered some question for Olga and then returned her attention back to my cock, full force, with the phone still pressed to her ear. Clare lathered my penis with copious amounts saliva as she drove it deeply into her orifice. 

I could feel the moment building, my balls began to tighten and my desire to blast my seed into her was approaching at break neck speed. I tried to ease my excitement but Clare was sucking me fiendishly. I tried to pull away but she stayed with me as I moved, a vacuum of pressure around my thickness. She refused to let go but when I finally broke free, a loud pop came from her mouth. She stifled a laugh.

“Now you know how I felt.” She mouthed, smiling broadly and then picked up her pen and made some more notes.

I needed to come, wanted to feel her body as close to mine as possible as I drained myself; pouring myself like a upturned bucket into her. I could not just sit there and wait. I knew exactly what to do.

My urgency drove me regardless of her being on the phone or not. I quickly moved beside her hips and pulled her bodily out of the chair. Clare raised her hips without any hesitation or resistance and rested her arms on her desk. I pushed her chair out to my right hand side with one powerful nudge of my foot and positioned myself behind her. Her blonde hair wrapped around the back of her neck as I readied myself to take her there and then. 

I caressed her back, feeling the light material beneath my fingers and the ridges of her supportive bra. Clare remained bent from the waist with her head high and her back straight. She moved a little as she wrote, her whole body supported on one arm upon her desk blotter, the other still holding the phone tight to her ear. Unfazed, Clare wiggled her behind, a gesture that seemed to be asking me to fuck her…and to be quick about getting it in. I held onto to her left hip for support as I slapped my thick purple head against her puffy vaginal lips. They were slick with her wetness and willingly opened to receive my pole as I drove forward. Her hair bounced against her shoulders as I thrusted my hips relentlessly into her welcoming hole. 

Her body tightened and gripped me; Clare was barely able to hold herself up, not to mention carry on a conversation.

“Yes… I know…” she panted into the phone. It nearly fell from her grasp as I fucked myself into her body with all my might, using her hips for leverage. A passing thought of Abby flashed its way into my consciousness, making me annoyed and I started to use Clare’s body as my way of exorcising my frustrations. “Olga…I need to…go…”

“Yes…yes… I am…fine. Just need to p… go to the bathroom.” She corrected. Clare nodded absentmindedly, as if Olga was in the room and could see her.

“Oh and thank… you… too.” She said in a staccato tone, gathering herself for one finally burst of talk before hanging up. Her head bent away from the phone for an instant as I banged my balls hard against her pussy, nearly knocking the breath out of her.

“Yes. Will…do.” She added. “Love you and… thank… you… so… much. See you soon.”

Clare fumbled and managed on the forth attempt to get the receiver back in its cradle. She was lost in sexual bliss and stared off into the distance as her inner walls contracted in the first waves of impending climax. She reached down between her legs and touched my rod as it bludgeoned her pussy.

"Fuck me.” She screamed aloud, her fingers mashing her clit. “Fuck me, Ray!….oh my god… FUCK ME!" Her quick and grunted outbursts indicated she was building quickly to her ultimate release. She inhaled deeply through clenched teeth, as if she were surfacing after a deep dive.

She clutched hold of her desk and reached across the top to grab hold of the far side, her blotter marking time with our movements back and froth, as I fucked her lustfully from behind. She lifted her left knee and thrust it on her desk top, opening herself to my onslaught. Sudden waves and wild spasms overtook her being as her pussy flooded and gushed; her warm flow fell from her body onto her desk and pooled onto the carpet below us. It washed over my thick member, and drowned my balls, which caused me to hasten toward my own release and give her all that I had. 

“Take that Abby!” I yelled, as I pumped her hard one last time and thrusted forward, to blast her depths while ball deep inside her lush body. We both pushed toward each other, each wanting to drain the other, even after our bodies went numb and became super sensitive. More warm cum flowed and poured out of her and onto the floor.

Her hair was a mess and her blotter ruined but I did not think she cared. She flopped forward as I slowly withdrew and stared at me with a happy delightful smile. My abs ached but I felt as bright as a light bulb used to indicate a great idea. We were both glowing; both our hearts were pounding and we both basked in the wonderful serenity of post coital bliss. I stared at her, her face looking young and innocent, soft, tender…gorgeous.

I bent over and kissed her fully. Her arms wrapped about my head as we kissed and embraced, our bodies and senses still soaring from what had just happened.

“Pour Olga.” She whispered. “She could never have guessed what was happening on the other end of the phone.”

“Hmmm,” I replied, “Luckily it was not a Skpe call.”

“Now there’s an idea!” She answered with a wicked grin. “So tell, who’s Abby?”