It was a balmy Spring evening and I decided I'd go for a stroll. I was going to get myself some fresh air and some (not too strenuous) exercise and enjoy the clement weather. It was twilight and would remain so for another hour or so. Ample time for an evening constitutional.
Strolling through the park. Birds were retiring to their favourite trees for the night with a lot of twittering as they sought their favourite spots. Some bats were out; I'd noticed a couple swooping through the air as they pursued their dinner. Insects have a hard life. As soon as the birds go, the bats appear, and vice versa. Always something hunting them.
What there wasn't, was a lot of people about. Lazy lot, people. Instead of being put here enjoying nature and observing the flora and fauna they were all inside, squatted on couches, watching television shows that numbed the brain.
I wasn't quite alone in the park. I had noticed a charming young thing on a converging path. We'd probably meet in a short while. I adjusted my pace slightly to ensure that we dd. I had no objection passing some time with a sweet young thing.
As we came closer together it dawned on me that I knew this particular sweet young thing. It was Stella. How do I describe Stella? Hot, is the first word that comes to mind.
Stella used to work in the same office as me. We are both programmers and had worked together on a couple of projects. She'd got married a few months back and left work, and this was the first I'd seen of her since.
Ask for two words that come to mind when asked what Stella looked like and I'd say hair and boobs. I'd say hair because she has a glorious mane of strawberry blonde hair. I'd never seen a girl with so much hair. It was buoyant and bouncy, seeming to have a life of its own. I have no doubt that if she untied it, it would have been long enough for her to sit on.
I would add boobs because she has a magnificent rack. If I had to guess I'd say she was a 36C, all the more wonderful as she was quite a petite young woman. I was also quite sure that her attributes were endowed by Mother Nature, no helping hand required.
She was young enough that the evils of gravity didn't seem to have had a detrimental effect on her figure. Slender in all the right places and generously padded in the right places. A very shapely bottom that showed a wonderful wiggle when she walked, emphasised by her habit of wearing tight dresses.
Some people are attractive until you hear them speak and you find they have a voice that rasps across your nerves like a file. Not Stella. She had a voice that could be used as a musical instrument. Sweet and low, with an unconscious come-hither appeal, all the more enticing for being so natural.
Oddly enough, despite her wonderful attributes and tight clothes, she was a very modest young lady. I suspected she had no idea what she did to any man who caught sight of her. Presumably getting married would have wised her up a little.
"Stella," I called, raising a hand in greeting as we neared each other. "A while since I've seen you."
I was looking her over as I spoke, trying not to make it too obvious. She was wearing tights that showed off a pair of long shapely legs and a white chiffon blouse that buttoned up the front. I was prepared to bet that with a stronger light the blouse would prove to be semi-transparent, because I was sure I could see the shadow of her bra under it.
"Michael," she said with a smile.
She stopped and we started talking. Not saying anything in particular, just chatting as two old friends. I'd temporarily forgotten one odd trait that Stella had, but the memory of it came back fast. She seemed to have no concept of personal space and if she was talking to you while standing she would stand very close. Quite often her hand would touch you. Not grabbing you or anything like that, but her fingertips would just very lightly brush against you. It was possibly a little intrusive but I'd never seen anyone object.
We were busy talking about nothing, all froth and bubbles, you might say, when she suddenly stopped in the middle of a sentence.
"Um, what are you doing?" she asked.
"Mm? Oh, just undoing your buttons," I told her, moving on to the next button.
"Well, yes, I can see that, but why are you undoing them?"
Surprisingly enough she wasn't stopping me or trying to do them up again. She was just curious as to why I was undoing them. I explained.
"You have very beautiful breasts," I told her. "It was always a source of disappointment to me that I couldn't take a proper look at them when we were at work. Not at all the sort of thing a work colleague should do. Now that we don't work together and I've run into you it occurred to me that this may be the last chance I ever get to see them properly. Hence the buttons."
"But you shouldn't be doing that," she protested.
I didn't mind her protesting. Her blouse was now gaping wide, showing all.
"I know," I said, trying to show remorse, "but I just couldn't help it. You really do have the most wonderful curves and your skin is like silk."
I had a finger tracing those curves along the edge of her bra. If the bra was supposed to cover her breasts it was failing in its job.
"How fortunate," I said softly. "A front opening bra."
