Prologue- The recent past
I'm sitting uncomfortably on one of those steel folding chairs. Slouching down in attempt to be invisible to the counselor and forty odd others around me has caused my back to ache. I am at a "Post Divorce Workshop." I thought this seminar would be a good way to meet some good looking divorcees. Yeah, not quite—they're a bunch of bowsers. My ex-wife would enjoy my misery. What a stupid fucking idea this was!
The counselor's voice drones on about putting bitterness behind and moving on. I'd love to move on—right the fuck out of here. This place looks a lot like the office of an insurance company I worked at when I was a college kid. I have some great memories of that job, especially of that sexy woman I met there. I wonder what happened to her- -Nora was her name—I still get a warm sexy thinking about her.
Many years past
I was 19 years old the summer I met Nora. A job at a small auto insurance company dropped in my lap. My dad and I had a big fight the year before—I left and moved in with two other guys. I had always had a job and worked hard so I was able to pay my own way at college. My first year at the U of I was in the books. Life was pretty good- if you didn't count my lack of sex. I was always horny; my past history was limited to three groping quickies in my aging Studebaker Lark. My left hand and Penthouse magazines were my prime time dates. But then along came Nora...
She started working at the company about a month after I got there. I was a trainee adjustor in the claims department and she worked in underwriting; me in the back and she in the front of the office. I had spotted Nora kind of gliding around the office. She was tall, always wore high heels, no nylons, just the bare legs with high heels. I regularly fantasized about running my hands up those bare legs to her panties. And breasts, oh what breasts; not huge, mind you, but nice sized, jiggling in one of those not-so-tight bras that made you think you were seeing the outline of her nipples.
Nora wasn't what you'd call beautiful. Rather, she was what I would call exotically attractive in a very sexy way. She dressed stylishly, clingy dresses that showed the trace lines of her underwear but didn't make her look like a tramp. She wore little make up. I took every opportunity to get near her. I loved her smell, a light perfume, but sexy as hell; it lingered in the air after she walked by.
Her summer frocks were revealing; sleeveless, made of a thin silky material. When she was seated when I walked by, the cleavage separating her beautiful breasts were like magnets for my eyes. When she stooped to retrieve a file, I was there to glance between her tanned bare thighs in hopes of a glimpse of sheer panties. When she walked away, I gloried in the sight of her ass swaying under the thin material, panty lines bisecting each cheek of her fabulous ass.
I wasn't alone in admiring her charms. The two salty old claims lawyers joined me in the Nora appreciation club, and they had years of practice at it. I loved their stories and had fun bullshitting with them. One day, the Irish one, named Frank Murphy, was deep in a war story about a trial he won when I noticed his blue eyes look up over his reading glasses and sparkle impishly. I turned to find my fantasy girl coming our way in a light blue dress. It clung over her breasts as if in a windstorm. The neckline was modest, but her breasts jiggled magically and her nipples tipped perkily through the soft fabric. Her high heels clicked efficiently on the hardwood floor. Below the knee length skirt, shapely bare legs flashed crisply in the sunlight from the windows. Soft brown hair brushed her shoulders and fluffy bangs partially staged her large dark eyes.
Nora (unknowingly?) had me in a state of arousal whenever I saw her. She was my fantasy woman.
"Kid, you'd better not step on your tongue when you get up," Frank chortled. I grinned sheepishly. As Nora passed us Frank looked at her beautifully shaped ass smoothly swaying in her clinging dress.
"Looks like two eggs in a silk handkerchief!" he said in a stage whisper.
I learned a lot from Frank.
Martha Morgan was the company comptroller. She was a real looker, tough and smart. At 35, she was tall with a great body. Her wardrobe was the opposite of Nora's in that it made her look like a high class hooker. Martha liked me. She got a huge kick out of crossing and re-crossing her nylon clad legs when I was in her office. She would always greet me with "hi, how's horny Michael?" On more than one occasion she needled me about having the hots for Nora.
Martha kept me up on the latest office gossip. During these little talks I would give her a tidbit and than press her for info about Nora.
She would grin and ask "don't I turn you on?"
One time, feeling brave, I told her I often thought about her long legs and great body. She rose from behind her desk and raised her tight, very short skirt high on her thighs.
"You mean these?"
She pulled the skirt all the way up above her crotch. Her nylons were attached to a garter belt and she had white, see-through panties on. Above the whiteness of her bare thighs, I saw her full thatch of black pubic hair matted under the panties. Dismayed, I watched it all disappear an instant later when she dropped her skirt.
"Michael, you couldn't afford me—go after someone your own age!" She laughed throatily and leaned back in her chair.
At that point, Nora and I had spoken on many occasions without saying much to each other. I mostly gawked at her and mumbled. However, human nature being what it was and me a sneaky shit, I knew where Martha kept the personnel files. Very early one morning, I made a successful search locating Nora's file (there were only 25 employees, so it was pretty easy). I learned that:
Nora was 26 years old, a High school grad, one yr college, business major. She had been in Chicago only two months. Her prior address was in TN. She was single, never married, lived nearby and had never been convicted of a felony. Because it was none of my business (hah), I didn't look at her salary or health insurance info. Her previous experience was mostly secretarial for medium sized businesses. There were two glowing references, one from each gender; those were confirmed by phone.
A few days after my detective work, Nora had come to my desk and was asking me a question about several claims I had handled on behalf of a policy holder. She was standing alongside me, leaning over my left shoulder.
Her long flowing hair was tickling my cheek. I smelled her perfume or shampoo. I felt the material of her blouse against my shirt and the image of gorgeous breasts raced across my mind. I was hard in seconds. My hands sweating and heart racing, I stammered an answer. Not understanding, Nora put her right hand on my bare left arm.
"Are you OK?"
"Yes. Fine." I struggled to hide a deep breath, and in my best adult tone, continued. "It's a nice day, let's talk at lunch."
She raised her eyebrows, smiled and looked into my eyes for a long moment.
"Not today, how about tomorrow?"
I let out a giant whoosh and babbled, "great!"
I dressed carefully for our lunch date. I walked into the office the next AM, strode confidently to Nora's desk, and was relieved to find no one else there.
"12:30 OK?" I gasped nervously.
Nora nodded seemed preoccupied, and my heart sank a bit. She nodded in my direction and went on with her work. Her cleavage darkly hinted at soft hidden pleasures.
I didn't get much done that morning. I nervously shuffled paper while watching the clock. It was driving me nuts with anticipation. I finally saw Nora stand, look back at me, wave, and point towards the front door. I nodded my understanding and followed her out a few minutes later. It was a beautiful sunny day. I suggested we get some take-out stuff and go to the lake front, a few blocks away.
