When I thought about it, I realised that my first meeting with Christine could hardly have been better. And I was going to see her again. Yet I still felt slightly nervous, as though it was all a bit too good to be true. The next day, I wanted to ring Christine and confirm that she had enjoyed our afternoon together, but I remembered that she had stayed with her parents overnight and was spending the day with them. I knew she had appointment with her obstetrician on Monday, so I waited until that evening to ring her.
"How did your appointment go?" I asked.
"Fine. Everything's going well," Christine said. "Do you think I should have told him about all the sex I'm planning to have between now and my due date?"
I could hear the smile in Christine's voice. I really liked her sense of humour. Who said funny isn't sexy? "Yeah, you probably should have," I said, playing along.
"You won't believe what he told me," Christine said. "He said I've got a nice bottom! That's not very professional is it?" she said, laughing.
Thinking it was one thing, but saying it wasn't very PC. "He really said that?" I asked.
"Yep." Christine said. Teasing, she continued, "I think he's a sicko like you – he fancies pregnant women. Explains why he became an obstetrician, I guess!"
It was Christine who first mentioned our Saturday afternoon together. Now it was my turn to smile, because what she said dispelled my nervousness and confirmed my positive feelings about us.
After we had been speaking for a while, Christine finally said, "I'd better be going. I'll email you, so check your mail before you head off to work tomorrow."
The next morning, I was at work, sitting at my desk before I remembered what Christine had said. Though I could check my email using webmail, it was a bit risky. The private use of work computers was strictly forbidden. But because I didn't want to have to wait until I got home, I decided to take a chance.
Her email was towards the top of my inbox. The message subject was "Wish you were here!" There was no text, just an attachment, and when I opened it, I was amazed by what I saw. It was a picture of Christine, naked, and semi-reclined on a couch. Actually, it was a close up of her bump and thighs. Her thighs were slightly open, revealing the top of her slit. On her pregnant belly, written in bright red lipstick, which contrasted with her pale skin, were the words "Wish you were here!" The word "here" was underlined and an arrow ran down from the line, ending at Christine's pubic hair and pointing to her vagina.
Laughing, I thought to myself, "Me too!"
My boss chose exactly that moment to hurry into my office. He seldom looked pleased with life, which was surprising, considering he had an attractive, young wife and lived in luxury in one of the city's most exclusive suburbs.
Without any of the usual pleasantries, and in a sour voice, he asked, "What are you laughing at?"
That was a fair question. At my workplace, happy employees stood out like a sore thumb.
I quickly minimized the email and attachment before he had a chance to see what I'd been looking at.
I didn't know what to say. Fortunately though, no reply was expected or desired. Instead, he thrust a letter under my nose. "We (meaning, of course, "You") need to respond to these bastards ASAP." I looked at the letter. It was from our biggest client – a client who helped fund my boss's lifestyle by paying the firm millions of dollars in fees every year. I looked up from the letter, but before I could reply, the boss was out the door and gone.
I sent Christine a quick email. "Loved the photo, thanks. You don't know how much I wish I was there too (lol)!"
After I got home from work, I rang Christine and told her how I'd almost got caught. When she stopped laughing, she said, "Tomorrow morning, make sure you check your email before you go to work!"
In my email next morning there was a short video clip of Christine, on the couch again. This time she was masturbating, rubbing her clit furiously with her finger. I couldn't see her face, but her loud moans took me back to last Saturday. As the video faded out, I was aware that my heart was racing and there was a slight sweat on my forehead. My erection was uncomfortably positioned in my pants. Looking at my watch, I saw that I had about ten minutes before I needed to leave to catch my train. I played the video again as I unzipped my pants and pulled a handful of tissues out of the box next to the computer. I didn't want to have to clean up the computer keyboard afterwards.
That night, I phoned Christine again and told her I didn't think I could wait until Saturday week to see her.
"I don't want wait either," Christine confessed. "In fact, I reckon we should both take the day off work tomorrow!"
