The last chapter in the experiences of our ageing skirt chaser who never gives up. Best read the earlier chapters to get to know him and the other protagonists.
A reminder that I published this story a few years ago under a different name; it has been edited and improved (I hope.)
If you like it, vote or comment or both! Any reflection is welcome.
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WHAT'S IN A DRY OLD FUCK?
Chapter Six: Back to business...and pleasure...Mary...a dry old fuck
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The following week, Mary called again to see where I was on her proposed project, and my secretary arranged a second discussion meeting. I had been thinking about this little Canadian sexpot, but couldn't honestly decide whether it was because of her delightful, plump little body, her amazing cleavage, her soft face and her pretty grey eyes, or because of my professional interest in her very promising investment bonds, which could be in danger of becoming a great seller amongst some of my more courageous clients.
I came to the conclusion that this almost back-to-form sexagenarian wasn't quite finished yet. There was more fun to be had, and money to be made. In the time left, business and pleasure in equal measures were my goals.
Mary came over late one afternoon, and it turned out to be a very long and intense discussion in my office. I made sure I wore one of my classiest grey business suits, and I knew I looked good. I was out to impress. I knew the body underneath was getting on a bit in years and imperfect, but the external image was right for now.
I had more or less decided to go for Mary's project, but made the most of the meeting to have her go all over it again in some detail, while I surreptitiously admired her form. Her immaculate, softly curled hair, her white blouse, grey suit and slim skirt, black stockings and high heels made her appear every inch the financial services professional.
The several shirt buttons undone at the top made her every inch the seductress, and now and again I caught a glimpse of pale, flawless breast-skin above a black lacy bra, as she leaned over her files at the other side of my desk. I noticed, too, that those wonderful mammaries were bursting sideways as well as upwards, and began to dream of holding my newly rediscovered erection deeply between them. Now and again, too, I heard the sexiest rustle of stockinged thighs as they rubbed lightly together, and there was a light vanilla odour in the air. Better than tobacco any day, I thought; I was glad she was not a smoker.
I was enjoying this meeting, especially when Mary came back from a brief excursion to the ladies room and made me the gift of another superb view of her cleavage as she bent over her papers. I couldn't help thinking that just one more button would reveal all, as I saw again the edge of her black satin bra peeking at me. I couldn't help wondering if she'd done it on purpose, then remembered what Mike had said about her being a lesbian.
My interest was up, in more ways than one, when she invited herself to dinner. That is to say, waving in front of her face some sort of cereal bar and a bottle of mineral water as her proposed evening meal was hardly the thing for such a pretty, highly promising, tasty looking young executive sales woman, so I felt obliged to invite her to my favourite restaurant. Ever the gentleman.
I'm not sure whether I really felt that this Mary Barry so-called lesbian was up for seduction. Nor did I know if I was up to the potential challenge if she was. But at least I'd have the pleasure of her company for the rest of the evening, and I knew she would stay with me as long as it took her to get my signature on her project. Just for the moment, future fuck or no future fuck, I held the balance of power.
I phoned Helen to say I'd be late.
We left our cars in my private office parking spaces and walked to the restaurant in the city centre. I knew there would be no fuck-in-car this evening. Mary didn't know yet, but 'Les Trois Canards' was the best French restaurant in the city. And since the whole team of directors and their staff were my clients, life assurance, investments, pension plans and all, I knew we would be looked after.
Mary admitted her lack of French culinary experience, and left me to order the meal. I left Antoine, the patron to select an appropriate wine, which he usually did, and always a good one, on the house. One of the advantages of getting close to clients.
As the evening progressed, as Mary and I tidied up the last detailed steps of our new collaboration together. I kept the brakes on for the time being. After a while, I took off my jacket, and invited Mary to do the same; it was a warm evening and I hoped it might relax her just that little bit more. Jacket off, the view was even better; the wine wasn't clouding my judgement, but I loved what I saw more and more as we went along.
When the food had been mostly eaten, and there were the dessert and dregs of wine to finish, we signed the papers. Mary leaned back, and gave me the loveliest smile, a wide, most seductive smile, her pale grey eyes sparkling. I knew she was pleased with her achievement, and I smiled back my own professional congratulatory smile. I was congratulating myself as much as I was Mary. 'Bravo, Ken,' I thought to myself.
Mary sighed deeply, drawing my now unabashed, open gaze to her magnificent upper breasts popping out of her blouse. I remarked once again how, not only did those beauties bulge upwards, but seemed to be bursting at the side seams of her blouse too. Those beauties had what it took to make an old many very, very happy. And Mary knew exactly what she had to show; she knew I couldn't keep my eyes off those wonder cushions, and I began to feel more and more that the old seduction routine might be under way. Hers or mine - I wasn't yet sure.