The Beginning _(5)

THE BEGINNING

This all started a few years ago. I was 32, just finished up college after spending ten years in the Navy. I went to work in the Trust Department at the Corporate Office of a regional bank. I was working with a fantastic married woman, Jane. She was a tall redhead, with huge tits, a nice ass, and long, sexy legs, but her most sexy attribute was her pretty mouth. Jane was a couple of years younger than me.

At first, I was not sure how to take her. She was nice and friendly and I wasn’t sure, but I thought she was flirting with me. It seemed like every time she wore a low cut blouse or dress, she made a special effort to talk to me and bend over so that I got a good view of her beautiful tits. The file room was rather cramped and whenever we were in there together, she seemed to go out of her way to rub her tits against my back or squeeze by me and bump her ass against my crotch. Also, whenever I wore a short-sleeved shirt, she would run her hands lightly over my biceps and comment on how strong my arms were.

Also on occasion I would overhear her conversations with her friend, Betty. They all seem to have the same theme, the lack of attention she was receiving at home from her husband. One time I heard her tell Betty that the night before she had come into the living room naked while her husband was watching TV to ask when he would be coming to bed. Not taking the hint, he told her it would be awhile. She went back to the bedroom and when he didn’t join her after about 20 minutes, she “let her fingers do the walking”.

I was thinking it might be advantageous to make a move but the next day, Upper Management put out a memo re-enforcing the Company policy against fraternization and sexual harassment. Thinking it might be better to be employed, I decided to cool my jets and find my relief outside.

Her comments and contact remained unchanged and it was a couple of weeks later that I pulled up behind her car at a light on the way to work one morning. I followed her for a couple of miles to the office and at every light or stop sign, I could hear the squealing of worn brake pads.

Once we were in the garage, I parked not far from her and on the way to elevator, I mentioned that it sounded like the brake pads on her car, a Cobalt Blue Chevy Nova, needed to be changed.

She told me she had mentioned it to her husband, but money had been tight since they had moved into their new house and he was not that mechanically inclined that the repair would have to wait until after he returned from his two week training class.

I told her, that she was in luck. My former roommate had left a GM brake kit in my garage when he moved out and I would be willing to do the job on the upcoming week-end. She asked what I would charge her, and I told her I would settle for a home cooked meal when her husband got back. She agreed and we decided to get together later in the week to finalize the details.

The next day, a Thursday, I overheard her talking to Betty again. The jest of the conversation was that her husband had left that morning and the night before he was not receptive to her advances. Her comment was, “that makes two months now, without. If this keeps up, I am going to own stock in the battery company”. They both laughed and moved out of the file room.

That Friday, Jane and I discussed the details of her dropping her car off. She told me Betty had agreed to follow her over to my place when she dropped of her car. If I would drive it over to her house, she would give me a ride back to my house.