Diana's Self-Liberation Ch. 06

This chapter continues right where ch 05 left off. If you haven't done so, it would be best to read it before reading this chapter.

All characters are over 18 years old

Am not sure about US usage, but "glasses" in this story means "spectacles".

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Diana changed back into her striped blouse and went to the kitchen to make them both a drink.

Thomas got dressed again -- the windows of the office were all hung with vertical blinds anyway -- and awaited her return. Remarkably she was almost fully composed when she did. She placed his drink on the desk where he was seated and spoke softly to him.

"I really must get on with some work for an hour or so now. But cheer up -- it shouldn't take much longer than that. And then we will both be ready to roll again, love!"

She kissed him on the cheek, and again her nearness and the smell of her perfume excited him. He looked at his laptop and decided to edit some of the photographs he had taken on his latest digital camera. It was squishy still to be at liberty to glance across at her, and he availed himself of the opportunity. For now though she was too engrossed in her work to pay him much attention, and he contented himself with fleeting glances. He genuinely had no wish to distract her, and he knew that in any case the sooner she was finished, the sooner their sexual role-play could recommence.

Diana was still acutely aware of his presence and desire for her, but she did her best to focus on collating the data she needed. She made a couple of careless mistakes that cost her ten minutes or so, but on the whole she was quite pleased. She skimmed through it and was content that all was correct and in order.

It had taken just over an hour and a quarter, but that would still allow plenty of time for another round of sex with Thomas before heading home. To avoid arousing her husband's suspicions she needed to ensure that she was not much later home than on other occasions when she worked overtime. She smirked to herself as she thought ahead to his casual greeting and enquiry after how her work had gone - and to his total oblivion to her having sex there with their young neighbour.

As soon as she pushed her chair back she saw Thomas look up eagerly. She beamed. Thomas' pulse quickened in anticipation as soon as he saw her stand up, and when she walked over to where he was sitting, he felt the start of an erection.

She stooped and put her finger under his chin, raising it a little, then kissed him on them mouth.

"All done now, love. And you know what that means, don't you?"

Thomas nodded in response. She placed her hand on his shoulder and gazed at the landscape photograph he had on screen. They spent a few minutes chatting about it. She complimented him and asked how he had edited it. Thomas was reluctant to reply, conscious that he easily got carried away when speaking about such things, but he managed to do so concisely and, he trusted, without boring her.

To his delight she kissed him again, warmly and affectionately.

"I'm amazed at your skill and your patience, Thomas, and I'd love to see more of your pictures some time. But not now..."

She rested her hand on his thigh and squeezed it, then she slid it to his crotch. Through his trousers she gave his balls a gentle squeeze.

"Right now, 'Fanny' is hungry. And she wants to feast on something big...and thick... and hard... that will truly fill her up..."

Thomas smiled at the outdated term she used, and at her double-entendre. At each pause she gave his rising erection a squeeze. Thomas groaned, and reached up and caressed her breast through her soft, warm blouse.

To his disappointment, though, she stepped back.

"First though, I'm going to get changed. Then, when the phone on your desk rings, please answer it. It will be me, your 'boss'. It will be a summons to my office -- and I think you know where THAT is by now!"

Although she was smiling saucily, Thomas noticed an eager intensity in her eyes. He gazed at her backside as she turned and walked back to her own desk. He was slightly intrigued to see her pick up her handbag and shopping bag. She walked past his desk and stopped briefly.

"I won't be too long, love. But you must wait for the call!"

He watched her skirt flick alluringly against the backs of her slender legs as she left the room.

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Diana headed for the ladies' toilets and got changed. She checked her appearance in the large mirror over the old-fashioned washbasins and applied some more makeup. She grinned at her reflection, and headed back to her boss's office, where she and Thomas had consummated their passion a little earlier.

She had placed an empty lever arch ring-binder on the desk and, despite her guilty feelings, she placed inside it the little cassette recorder on which she had secretly recorded her first sexual encounter with Thomas. She positioned the microphone against the finger hole in the spine of the binder and checked that it would not be noticeable. Later she would enjoy tranferring the recording to her home computer and editing it with the software she had recently purchased with this in mind.

She would also enjoy listening to it, of course. It would be a permanent reminder of Thomas' desire for her and of their time together. It would also be a lewd accompaniment to her self-pleasuring.

She reached for the telephone but stopped herself. She decided to keep him waiting a few more minutes. It would feed his adrenaline -- and his testosterone, too.

She switched on the record button of the cassette recorder just after she rang him. _____________________________

He was on tenterhooks, almost to the point of being annoyed, and wondered what could be taking her so long, when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Thomas. Please come to my office. Now." Her voice was rather stern. It sent a quiver of excitement along his spine.

"Er, yes, Mrs Barrett."

He got out of his chair and made his way to the familiar door. He knocked timidly, then stepped inside. After all, she had explained before their rendezvous something of what she had in mind. For now she was the boss and he the wayward junior employee.

Nevertheless her appearance took him by surprise. She usually wore minimal makeup, and although she had not exactly plastered herself with it, she had applied considerably more than usual. Her lips were glossed red, and her eyelashes bore more mascara than usual. She had also put some blusher on her cheeks, and was wearing large hooped earrings instead of her normal small stud types. Her nails were painted bright red.

The overall impression was slightly overdone without quite looking tarty, which was exactly the effect she had been hoping to achieve. In addition she was wearing a pair of reading glasses, perched half way down her nose. She looked over them at him as he entered the office. When he closed the door she gestured to the chair facing her desk, and he sat down.

She looked down at the contents of a cardboard folder but said nothing. Her heart was beating fast with excitement. He looked at her face and at her breasts. She was wearing a silky white blouse and was evidently not wearing a bra. The shape of her modest, semi-firm but slightly sagging breasts was very obvious under the shimmering satin. The top buttons were open and he could see the top of her shallow cleft. She forced a glare at him.

"I presume you know what this is about?" she asked stonily.

"No. No, Mrs Barrett, I'm sorry, I don't."

"You don't?" she repeated with a slight sneer. She threw the folder onto her desk. It startled him.

"I've had complaints."

"Complaints, Mrs Barrett?"

"Yes. From several people. Still no idea?"

"No. Sorry. Not the faintest idea."

"Not even if I said that all those who complained were females?"

"No, Mrs Barrett."

"And if I used the phrase 'sexual harrassment'. Ring any bells?"

She picked up the folder. He knew the pages were blank but she skimmed her eyes over them as if they weren't. His uncertainty of where it was heading made it seem more realistic to him.

"Let me explain, then!" she snapped. "You apparently can't keep your eyes off some of your female colleagues. Their age and marital status doesn't seem to make much difference, either. That's what it's about!"

She crossed her leg. She knew that the desk screened most of her thigh from view -- for now -- but she saw his gaze alight on her slender knee. It was clad in sheer black nylon. She felt a squishy little surge between her thighs. She looked over her glasses at him and raised her eyebrows. Even though it was entirely fabrication, his uncertainty how to reply made it seem almost real.

Thomas felt rather out of his depth, but followed her lead.

"I... er... no, Mrs Barrett, that isn't true. I... I respect my colleagues. I... I wouldn't embarrass them in that sort of way. And I don't even THINK of them in that sort of way..." He made his voice sound a little pathetic.

"That's not what seven ladies say. SEVEN. Especially the younger ones, but the older ones say the same, too. And I'm inclined to believe them..." she snapped, still looking over the top of her glasses.

"I..." he faltered.

"Well, we can soon put it to the test, Thomas," she retorted.

He watched her push her chair back from her desk. She was wearing a short, navy blue skirt. He could not help staring at her crossed leg and thigh. He could just make out the top of one stocking. It looked deliciously lacy, and seemed to beckon to him. He looked into her face. She raised her neat, plucked eyebrows and nodded knowingly.

He averted his gaze, but found it drawn back again. He glanced at her breasts under her white satin blouse. The silky fabric moved lusciously with the rise and fall of her bra-less breasts under it, and he could discern the faint outline of her nipples. He felt a twinge in his groin. Between the buttons of her blouse he could see the pale skin of her stomach and of the tops of her orbs.

"You see -- you really can't help yourself, can you?" She raised her voice, but her excitement made it sound rather shrill. "Even as I'm tackling you about your... your lechery... you're damn' well eyeing me up, you pervert!"

"I... I... I'm sorry, Mrs Barrett. I... I don't know what else to say.

She got up from her chair. His eyes locked onto her short skirt hem. It was slightly flared and it moved sensually as she walked around her desk. Although her breasts were a modest B-cup, they also swayed enticingly under her blouse, and he was sure that her nipples were now rather more prominent. He gazed at her stiletto shoes. They were bright red, and the heels must have been nearly two inches tall.

Diana avoided looking at him. She was not used to wearing such high heels and needed to concentrate on keeping her balance. She felt very desirable to be dressed in a way that was provocative without being too overt, though she knew that her age made her attire seem somewhat over the top. But to feel his hungry gaze sweeping over her excited her immensely.

She sat on the edge of her desk, facing him closely, and crossed her leg. She made sure she crossed it wide, and immediately she saw his eye go to her skirt hem. The flaring of her skirt made it hang away from her thighs, exposing even more than the short hem itself did.

She heard him give a low gasp and she followed his eyes down to her crossed thigh. As she had hoped she was showing not only the top of her sheer black stocking but also her suspender. She had bought a new suspender belt and suspender belt that week. They were bright red.

She had intended to buy black to go with her stockings but decided that the red was more racy and would also contrast nicely with her black stockings. Scarlet stockings for the scarlet lady, she had thought as she handed them over at the till. The assistant's face had registered surprise at her purchase, given her age. Diana had felt very embarrassed but excited, too. A twinge of shame swept over her, and as she reminded herself that she was getting a secret, mental revenge on her husband, a slight surge of anger at being betrayed shook her, too. It was a familiar mixture of feelings by now, but one that still had a powerful effect on her -- and aroused her.

"Let me say something then, if you don't know what to say," she said. "You like looking at ladies. Openly. Shamelessly. You've had complaints about you. You're in deep shit!" she added curtly.

He blushed, even though it was all just an act. His longing gaze flitted up and down her black-stockinged leg, her bare thighs, only part-hidden by her skirt hem, and her red suspender. He ran his eyes back down her slender leg to her ankle. She was flexing her stilettoed foot up and down and twisting it slightly from side to side as if subconsciously. But Thomas found the movement almost mesmerising, and her shiny red shoe was set off well by her black stocking.

"I might be able to help you out, though. I have a lifeline for you to help you keep your job," she continued, more gently. Her sudden change of tone sent a shudder of delight through him.

"Interested, Thomas?"

"Ye-yes, Mrs Barrett."

"You like looking at women's tits. If I showed you mine -- would that help you keep your eyes off other women's? Hmmm?"

"I... I don't know. Probably."

He felt hot as he watched her run her hand up and down between her breasts through her blouse. His gaze followed its movements. They were subtle but suggestive. Then she unfastened three buttons, but held the blouse in place to keep her breasts covered.

"Perhaps this will help you decide..."

Slowly she peeled the white satin open. He had seen her breasts before, of course, but the role-play and her slow tease made it seem like the first time that he had done so. He stared at her orbs, semi-firm with just enough sag to advertise that she was indeed a MILF, a mature woman, an experienced woman -- and, he remembered with a twinge of guilt -- a married woman. Her nipples were fairly taut now.

"Well, Thomas. Do you think if I showed you these fairly regularly it would help you keep your eyes off the others and keep out of trouble?"

"Yes, Mrs Barrett. It... it would help. Probably."

She raised her eyebrows again at his hint that more might be required than a view of her breasts. She saw his eyes run over her orbs, her nipples. She saw it rest on her shallow cleft, dart down to her slender stockinged thigh and her suspender, try to see her panties but, unsuccessful -- for now -- return to her breasts again.

"I see. And if I were to lift my skirt for you and show you my panties -- or, I should say, my thong... would that help?"

"M-maybe, Mrs Barrett," he added, becoming a bit bolder now.

"Shall we find out, Thomas?"

He nodded. She slid off the desk and stood to one side of him. Her gorgeous breasts swayed again. He stared as she placed a hand on each flank and, pressing the fabric of her skirt against her outer thighs, slowly -- painfully slowly -- drew it higher, higher...

Thomas struggled to prevent another gasp as it rose. Her legs looked long in her red stilettos, and her thighs were slender and well toned. Then the tops of her sheer stockings -- black, expensive stockings judging by the laciness of their tops -- came into view. Then her bare skin, pale and smooth looking. And her suspenders -- the red suspenders -- clasping her black lacy stockingtops.

And then, then... he could almost feel his eyes bulge... As her skirt rose still higher, she was indeed wearing a thong. Like her suspenders and her shoes (and her nails and lip gloss) it was bright red. And tiny. It hugged her labia and her slit.

"Well, Thomas?"

He looked up into her face, taking in the slightly excessive makeup and her shiny pink lips. She parted them and ran her tongue over them. It looked very provocative. In his enthralment he had genuinely forgotten the question.

"W-well, what, Mrs Barrett?"

"Well, would it help you to keep your eyes off the other ladies in the office?" she asked, feigning mild exasperation.

"Yes... yes, Mrs Barrett."

"But my tits are older and not as pert as Rachel's! And they're not as big and bouncy as Sandra's, either. My thighs aren't as strapping as Sandra's either. And my pussy is older. So, I'll ask again, would it help you keep your eyes off theirs if I showed you mine?"

"Yes."

"Why, Thomas?"

"Be-because you're the boss, Mrs Barrett," he replied, keen to enter more into the scenario she was enacting. "And..."

She ran her fingers over her breast, then she took her nipple between her finger and thumb and rubbed it.

"Yes, Thomas?"

"Be-because I find you very sexy, Mrs Barrett. I... I find myself looking at you more than any of the others, in fact..."

Diana felt a flush of delight and another moist surge between her legs.

"I see. And why exactly is that?" For effect, she tried to sound austere but her voice wavered now, betraying her arousal.

"I... I like your... er... your build. You're... you're slim but curvy in a... er... natural, subtle way. I... I really like your er... your tits. I like their shape, and their size is in proportion to your slim build..." he replied.

He was genuinely a bit shy about being so outspoken and was eager not to go beyond the ground rules she had laid down at the outset about no strings, no personal embroilment or hint of romantic association. But he heard the little catch in her breath. His stomach gave a little churn of excitement and he felt his erection begin to harden.

His mind, like his eyes, was in overdrive, hardly knowing which part of her to look at. He glanced into her eager face, the reading glasses still perched on her nose and her eyes looking over the top of them, her cheeks blushed with makeup and her eyelashes emphasised by her mascara, her lips full and deep pink and very glossy. He examined the loose folds of her white satin blouse and her naked breast, watching them rise and fall, tipped by her pale pink nipples.

He ran his eyes once more up and down her slender legs, from her red-shod stilettoed feet right up her calves and to her narrow knees. His gaze flickered over her sumptuous thighs, the lacy band of her stockingtops separating the sheer black nylon and her pale skin. He stared at her red suspenders and thong, standing out so prominently and seductively against her skin and stockings.

"I see, Thomas. Anything else?"

"Yes. Yes, Mrs Barrett. I like you because you're older, more experienced, and because you're..."

"Your boss, Thomas?" she prompted.

"Yes. And because... because you're m-married, Mrs Barrett."

"I see. So I suppose you'd like to shag me? I suppose that figures in your thinking, does it, Thomas?"

Although she had spoken like this before (and usually with similar outmoded terms), it felt very erotic in the context of this role-play, a frustrated female boss seeking to seduce a wayward worker and finding him fully compliant.

"Yes. I... I don't suppose I will ever get the chance, Mrs Barrett. But, yes, I'd love to shag you. More than any of the other women who work here I'd like to... to FUCK you, Mrs Barrett..."

"I see. And if... IF I allowed you to do that, Thomas..." again her hand traced over her bared breast, stroking it gently. The sight of her red-painted nails and of her wedding ring against her pale orb nearly drove him crazy.

"If I allowed you to do that... would you reserve your eyes and... and your lust for me?" Her tone now was almost pleading.

"Yes," he replied immediately, his voice husky with desire.

"And your willy... your young, eager prick... you'd keep that for me alone?"

"Yes."

She sighed at the strength of his lust for her, evidenced by the conviction in his voice and his eager stare.