Some thoughts from Jayne.
By the time that most women are in their mid to late forties, they should have worked out the sex thing. After all, if they've had sex, say, twice a week for twenty years of marriage, they will have been fucked over two thousand times, so they should have learned a lot. They'll now know what it's all about and what it means and they tend to take one of two options. Either, they stop doing it as much as possible and only open their legs when he really demands it because they're easing themselves into the dryness of the menopause, or they go for it and revel in the wetness of the last few years before she dries up. And going for it can mean with people other than her longer-term partner or husband.
To get to that point she will probably have gone through the return to masturbating stage and maybe enjoyed the use of toys, chat rooms and cybering to help her along the way. As she sidles into her forties she's also likely to have been hit on, ogled and been surreptitiously touched more often, adding fuel to her fire of understanding that sex is now not the dark, secret, restricted and special thing she'd been led to believe it was all her life. With that fire still burning inside her, she may have been in situations where, either she's been accidentally on purpose touched, or she's been purposefully fondled.
The combination of all of these, together with her impending big M could be signalling the end of her active sex life, which causes many women to want more than just what she gets from her partner, so she may go through a few near things, where she almost, but not quite, has sex outside her marriage. After the kisses, breast fondling and maybe fingering of those incidents, the next step, going all the way and having sex, doesn't seem to be at all the huge step that it once was and the most frequented arena for that is the workplace, which can be both pleasure and disaster areas for all, especially ageing women. That's because it throws married men and women together for lengthy periods without their partners and helps them cosy up to their bosses or come onto their PAs or colleagues. And, of course, the inevitable all too often happens as it's the place where more illicit assignations take place and where more men and women seem to forget their marriage vows as both 'dip their pens in company ink.'
Enjoy.
Jayne x aka westjayne 495
Thomas was not exactly my boss, but he was member of the senior management team and as a research assistant I handled projects for most of that group including him. Like many women I am attracted to men with prestige and power and Thomas certainly had both of those within the advertising agency I had gone back to work for and, indeed, within the entire advertising industry.
It was a classic office affair. Two people away from their partners attracted to each other as they spend time working together in the office and then out of it travelling and entertaining clients together. The build-up had been so typical. More contact and talk than was necessary during the working day, coffees and lunch together in the company restaurant, moving onto drinks outside it, which escalate to lunch in restaurants or pubs, sometimes with clients and seemingly possibly innocent 'dates.' But then comes the big move, the heavy stuff, dinner. That means lying to partners and is the thin end of the wedge as it involves lying, making excuses and ensuring when they get home that there are no tell-tale smells of perfume, or aftershave, smears of lipstick or, stray, in my case blonde, hairs on his jacket or shirt.
In some ways the lying, the excuses and the clear deceiving of the partner is a bigger step than the almost inevitable next one, climbing into bed. It took Thomas and me less than five weeks from being introduced to having sex, one month to get to know each other well enough to go to bed together, thirty-one days from shaking hands to fucking and having a workplace affair. It didn't last long, such affairs rarely do, as it wasn't love and we both had our heads in place. It wasn't the sort of thing where we wanted to run off and spend the rest of our lives together at the expense of existing relationships and families. But then it was not just lust, although there was plenty of that. There is a state somewhere between those two that encourage people like Thomas and me to risk all for a few months of excitement together.
Office romances seem to break down into three categories. Long term affairs that just go on endlessly, serious shit where the couple ditch their partners and quickies where the pair have a few shags and find the sex just isn't worth all the guilt, lies and cheating. Ours was in the latter category although whilst it went on the guilt, lies, cheating and, of course the awesome, illicit sex were key parts of the show and for both of us were major turn-ons.
It was after the first time we went to dinner that we kissed, well kissed properly that is for he had pecked me goodbye on the cheeks a couple of times. We lived in different directions from the central London offices where we worked, so we said our goodnights at the tube station where the trains took us in opposite directions. Had I have given such things much thought beforehand, I might have assumed that being in his arms would have worried me, but it didn't. I could well have felt that being pulled against his body might have surprised me, but it didn't. And I would surely have believed that being kissed, open mouthed with lips squirming by him, a man I'd only knew a few weeks would have shocked me, but that didn't either. I guess the wild fantasies I'd had when masturbating, the lurid cybering in chat rooms and the near things with Ken and James had prepared me for such things with Thomas.
On top of that, when I got home and Kevin asked if I'd a nice time with the 'girls from the office,' I felt hardly any guilt and no remorse. And when he fucked me later I loved it. Contradictions I know, but that's what cheating's all about, I suppose!
The next week one of the girls from the office was having birthday drinks and a dinner and it was after the dinner that he suggested we go back to the office, 'for a nightcap.' Being senior, he had keys to the main doors of the building and his own, rather plush, typically ad agency office. It was on the his standard issue, six-seater, black leather sofa that we first kissed fully and where he undid a button or two on my blouse, slid his hand inside and soon after eased my tits out of my bra, pinched my nipples and stroked the smooth flesh of my breast.
"God I so want you," he whispered, gently squeezing my breast then putting his hand on my knee and running it up my leg and discovering my hold-ups. "Oh my God Jayne what are you wearing?"
"You must have seen hold-ups before," I said as he slid the thin skirt up my legs and stared at the lacy stocking tops.
"Not for years, though, they look fantastic."
"I thought you'd like them?"
"Why did you wear them for me?"
"Not for you really, more because I was seeing you."
"What and thinking this might happen?"
"Not exactly no, but well you know, they make me feel sexy."
