"Obviously not your first rodeo."
Hortense chuckled. "Was it the shoes that gave me away?"
"More your answer to my corny line."
It all began the night before, the first Friday after our office had returned to normal post pandemic. Most of us had not seen each other for months. The boss decided to buy the first round of drinks at the pub on the corner.
Physical distancing was still in effect at the pub, so the socializing was awkward, and most folks left after the obligatory free drink. Three drinks in, the bartender was dimming the lights as happy hour segued into more serious drinking. Only Hortense and I were left from the office crowd, sitting at opposite ends of a table.
I didn't really know Hortense. I don't think anybody in the office did. Most offices have one person like her- the book keeper in the back corner with the loose fitting shirts buttoned to the collar, the pants or skirts below the knee, the sensible shoes. Quiet. Professional. Probably still lived with her parents, except she never talked about her personal life.
Hortense got up to go to the ladies, and I took that as my cue to drain my beer and call for an Uber.
Then it happened.
"Nice shoes, wanna fuck?"
The words just tumbled out of my mouth as Hortense walked back to the table. Must have been the beer talking. Or after months of celibacy, even Hortense looked good. And her shoes did rock- ankle high with a chunky heel, but the combination of deep red and black, with red laces to match the leather against the black upper, caught the eye, and made me appreciate the slender ankle that peeked out between the shoes and the bottom of her pant legs.
I'm not sure who blushed more.
"I think they're actually boots," Hortense replied.
I noticed she said neither yes nor no in answer to my question.
"I called an Uber if you want to share," I mumbled.
"What kind of girl do you think I am?"
"One who had had too many drinks to drive."
Hortense frowned. Maybe she lived close enough that she walked to work.
"Well, such a gentleman."
She still had not answered my first question.
We walked out to the sidewalk, watching for the ride to arrive. As it pulled up, Hortense turned to me and asked, "Your place or mine?"
Now I was the one who was speechless.
Hortense continued to surprise me by grabbing my hand to pull me into the back seat. Our hips bumped as she gave the driver an address which could only be hers, since it sure wasn't mine. The heat of her body was pleasant, and I felt a tingle run through me. Blood surged into my cock. She had not released my hand, which now rested on her knee.
Her other hand reached up and caressed my chin, turning my head. Her face met mine. Her lips pressed against my mouth. Her tongue slid into my mouth, exploring my teeth and twisting into my cheek. Her fingers played with my hair.
I turned my body, my leg sliding over her knee, my hand grabbing her shoulder. I cupped the back of her neck and kissed her back, hard. Tongues tangling. She did not hesitate, pressing her body into mine. I felt the pressure of breasts that were much meatier than her chaste attire had ever suggested. As we ground together, her nipples hardened and my cock threatened to break my zipper.
My hands moved automatically, caressing her arms and her sides, them easing in between our bodies to cup her tits. My thumbs found her hard nubbins under her clothes and massaged them. Her palm was warm against my erection.
"I haven't made out in a back seat since high school," she whispered, giggling as she came up for air. The car was pulling to a stop outside a modest but modern condo building.
Grabbing my hand again, she skipped girlishly into the building and across the lobby to the elevator.
As the elevator doors slid shut, she said "we have twelve floors to go up."
"Shut up and kiss me."
I grabbed her hair and drew her lips to mine. She started grinding against me.
Then she pulled back, just long enough to rip my shirt open. I could still feel her breath, hot against my chest. Buttons went flying against the walls of the car. Instantly, all four of our hands got busy. I undid her shirt, just slightly less violently than Hortense had attacked mine. She was busy unzipping my pants.
'How much did she really think we could do in this brief ascent?' I wondered. 'Or would she press the stop button? If so, would that give us time to fuck before we risked help arriving? Or did she just want to blow me here? Or tease me enough to fuck as soon as we got to her condo?'
My cock cared not at all, demanding more blood as it surged to fullness, leaping loose from my briefs as soon as Hortense got the zipper lowered, flopping right into her hand. At the same time, she started nibbling at my nipples. My hands struggled to undo her pants. They fell effortlessly from her hips, underwear following. I had no chance to notice whether she secretly wore sexy lingerie, but her surprising sexiness made me imagine that she did.
Then she locked her heels behind my knees. I grabbed her ass, noticing that it was not flat like I would have guessed an hour ago, but had a well-toned set glutes. For just a second, I held her like that, suspended in mid-air, her weight balanced in my palms. Our loins surged forward at the same time, perhaps cued by her hand drawing my cock toward her wetness.
"Fuck me," Hortense moaned. A single tiny bead of drool appeared, dangling off her swollen lower lip. I caught it on my tongue.
As I turned her so that her back balanced against the wall of the elevator, I thought about protection. Hortense must have felt the hesitation.