A few weeks ago, one morning before I got up, Dad had risen early and left for work just after 7:00 am to attend an important meeting. I'd heard him moving around downstairs but as I didn't have any lectures, I had put his breakfast things out on the kitchen table the previous evening, so that all he had to do was pour his cereal add milk, sugar, boil the kettle, and make his toast.
I stayed in bed for another hour or so, then got out of bed to go downstairs to tidy up, wearing my light blue cotton pyjamas under a white towelling robe. I still felt sleepy, a little bleary in fact. I sat at the breakfast room table, sipping fresh brewed coffee as I waited to become fully awake. I hadn't showered, my hair was a wild mess, but I had cleaned my teeth, I smelled warm and musky, and if I could use a word to describe a smell as a shape, it was softly round, a bit beddy. It's at times like that, when I'm warm and unthinkingly pliant, in what could be considered 'sleepy hamster mode' that I feel at almost my most sexually aware.
I finished my coffee, and brewed another pot, then spent some time in the kitchen, putting the breakfast China into the dishwasher. The doorbell rang, I wasn't expecting anybody but without thinking I padded to the door and answered it.
"Hello Lucy, I hope I'm not disturbing you, is your dad home?"
It was Gordon, he had been an acquaintance of my fathers for a long time, they did a little business together occasionally, making substantial amounts of money. He sometimes visited in the evening, when he would sit in the lounge, and they would discuss financial opportunities. Dad didn't particularly like him, but he was a good businessman, and Gordon certainly knew his way around the money markets.
When he visited in the past, I didn't pay very much attention to him, usually lying on the floor, or on one of the sofas, either watching TV or listening to music on my headphones. He would cast the odd look over at me now and again, particularly if I was lying over the beanbag, and my bottom was peeping out from under my dress. Knowing that, I very often twisted around on my tummy, moving my legs apart, or one of my knees up toward my hip, revealing quite an expanse of my knickers, as they stretched over my nice round bum.
He wasn't like some of the men who called in to see dad, a lot of them were plain and simple dirty old men, who liked to look up a young girl's skirts, hoping to catch a glimpse of panties, enjoy a bit of bare flesh. I usually tantalised them a bit, bending over, or crouching down with my knees apart. One or two offered me presents, in some cases money for a more private meeting. It was a surprise how many offered to introduce me to fashion photographers, or heads of model agencies, sometimes film directors, but I never took any of them up on it. I just enjoyed the feeling of power as I saw them get hard, and subsequently frustrated by me showing just a little, but nowhere near as much of what they wanted to see. Gordon wasn't like them, yes, he watched and looked, but I never actually minded him doing that. Somehow, I knew what he wanted, yet I didn't consciously try to provide him with it, making what he did see genuinely unintended, and so all the more enjoyable for him.
However, I'll admit that it was always thrilling when I caught him looking, my dad was usually too focused to notice anything, his attention on the projections and yield reports that Gordon brought along. Apart from that, he was used to seeing me relaxed and sprawling about the place anyway.
"No, I'm afraid not Gordon, he went to work early this morning, some sort of meeting I think."
"Oh, that's a shame, I have some documents for him to review. Could I leave them with you, so he gets them later?"
"Yes, of course, its lucky for you I'm off today."
"Not really, you mentioned it last Friday when I was here."
I was still so muddleheaded that I didn't pick up on the meaning of what he had said. Though I had a faint recollection of my teasing him, mostly in the usual way, but I did turn over onto my behind, and open my knees to put my feet flat on the floor, in preparation to stand up. My skirt had slipped into my lap, exposing my plump vulva pressing against the cotton gusset of my panties, like two small, curved yet smooth mini bananas pressed side by side in my crotch under the soft clingy material, straining and bulging in delicious invitation. I'm I remember his eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open in undisguised astonishment for an unguarded moment or two.
"I've just brewed a fresh pot of coffee, would you like a cup?"
"I was hoping you might ask Lucy, that incredible smell of fresh ground beans was making me thirsty."
I turned to one side as he stepped in through the door. Closing it behind him, we made our way through the lobby to the hallway leading to the kitchen. I saw him place the document wallet on the hall stand as we went through, arriving in the kitchen in front of the worktop where the filter machine, now fully brewed, was waiting for our attention.
He took up a position standing beside me, I reached up to the cupboard and took a clean mug down for his coffee. My robe opened a bit at the chest, revealing my thin cotton pyjama jacket, and the swell of my breasts underneath it. His eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of them, and the additional revelation of the curve of my thighs under my pyjama bottoms as the robe pulled up at the back. His nostrils widened as he took in the natural pheromone laden body odour I was emitting.
"How do you like your coffee, black, or with creamer?"
"Black please."
"Sugar?"
"Just one please."
I poured the coffee, and handed him the mug, his fingers brushed mine as he took it from me. He smiled at my touch. He was a bit older than dad, perhaps late 30's, tallish, around 6', well built, but plain, unremarkable, light brown hair, fair skin, blue eyes. His most attractive features were his hands, don't ask me why, but they looked good, well shaped, strong looking. He was married of course, but that has never bothered me. I'm not out to break couples up, I just like to enjoy a little sex, with someone who has a faint inkling of what they're doing, and married men generally do.
He stepped closer to me, sipping his coffee as he leaned towards me, smiling in that undefinable way, which drew attention to his eyes.
"We'll Lucy, here we are then."
"Yes, I suppose we are."
"I've always wanted to spend some time alone with you Lucy, I've long admired you, your figure, your attractiveness. You are a very desirable young girl you know."
"Thank you, it's kind of you to mention it."
"Well, in truth, I think you are a juicy little morsel, in a schoolgirlish sort of way."
"I'm not a schoolgirl anymore, I'm at university now Gordon."
"Yes, but that hasn't stopped me wanting you, dreaming of your body, wondering how you feel."
