“This was not planned, I want you to know that.” I said as I pulled down her pants to reveal a magnificently bushy covering of curly hair. She made to move one of her hands holding her dress up to cover herself but I got there first, parting the hair and sliding my tongue through the curls to reach her hidden slit. She shivered involuntarily with pleasure. She jumped with surprise as a finger pushed its way through her anal ring. I wondered if she and Roland did anal. Well, she probably would tonight. I deliberately slid my tongue over her clitoris, she wasn’t ready for that, it was uncomfortable. “I want you to play with yourself. While I undress. As I say, I didn’t plan this; but we might as well enjoy it.”

My comment was a little disingenuous, or a lie, you choose. Still, I was going to enjoy her, either way – actually, I was going to enjoy her both ways.

How had we got here?

Roland Terence Smethwick was the company lawyer. The business had decided that they needed an internal legal guy on the books to advise on contracts, legality of trademarks, patents etc. The business sailed close to the wind at all times, but then they also needed to protect themselves from the competition. It was a cut throat business. Well, not quite cut throat, but this new area was definitely a little more Wild West than the usual staid, conservative commercial practices.

I actually quite liked Roland. He was smart in both senses of the word – he was clever but he dressed smartly too. He always wore a tie and a good suit. I noticed that. He must have spent more than the average on his clothes. At the occasional socials, I noticed his wife too. She wasn’t some flashy piece of eye candy like Tony’s long term girlfriend (‘all skirt and no knickers’ as my granny used to say about the weather girls on TV. When I was ten I was fascinated by the idea that they might wear no knickers, then I understood the deeper significance of the phrase). Tony’s girlfriend probably did wear no knickers, or as good as. She drew all the eyes in the room like a magnet. As did our CEO’s new trophy wife, Ceryl. Ceryl actually had been a minor starlet and had done semi-nudes roles. She and the CEO appeared entirely unabashed that the staff had all researched the film clips that she did with her boobs hanging out.

Back to the story. So, Roland; tall, well dressed, ambitious. I heard him telling a couple of people that corporate law was the place to be, that this was a stepping stone to one of the big companies and big pay cheques. I don’t think we paid much, but it was the experience he was getting. So if he wasn’t paid a fortune, how could he afford such nice clothes?

Maybe his wife worked in some high powered job; but no, that mystery was solved when I went into the charity shop (best not to mention the charity, she still works there). She was there, volunteer or employee? Either way, not highly paid. Turned out she was the manager, she floated around the shop helping out and helping customers in her elegant way. That was what I noticed: elegance. She was what a judge in a court case long ago called ‘fragrant’. A fragrant wife. She wore well-fitting floral dresses that on others might be called old-fashioned and frumpy and on her she looked, well, elegant. She didn’t advertise her gender, she didn’t need to. The dresses fitted over her bust and let just a peak of cleavage appear. They were clearly not cheap. The dresses came down to the knee rather than inviting you to look up her short dress on the stairs. She always looked great, in tights or bare legs she let you admire her calves and be sure that her thighs would be worth seeing but weren’t for general view. I don’t think she wore heels at work but I’m not a foot man, I rarely looked down. Her face was an English Rose of slight pinks and golds. Peaches and cream. Once when I went in looking at the second hand books, she was there in jeans. Naturally the jeans looked brand new – I couldn’t imagine her ever in faded multi-washed denim – and she had a clear vpl. Of course she did. This was not a woman to wear some Brazilian or G-String with the waist band appearing over the jeans and a cheese cutting ribbon between her well shaped bottoms. She would always wear normal figure hugging, bottom covering pants and she’d look fantastic in them. I liked a girl with a vpl, it showed you just a hint of what you shouldn’t see.

Underwear – pants, bras – are meant to be under the outer wear. They aren’t meant to be seen. A bra strap should just be visible under a shirt, the shape of the pants should just be seen in a ridge as the woman bends over. If the bra straps are shown or the shirt is open so much you can see the bra underneath, where is the fun in that?

She had the appearance of innocent sexuality, even at twenty seven. Didn’t answer the question though – why could they afford so many nice clothes? Maybe they had their own money.

I remember the date – November the fourth. I was walking out of town to the fireworks shop. I liked to go there and relive my childhood. The supermarkets sold fireworks in big boxes that promised the earth and made loud bangs, the fireworks shop allowed for mix and match. We were having a bonfire down the road and everybody locally was going to bring some fireworks. I can understand why the Fire Brigade hated November the fifth. The bonfire was actually on the sixth because it was a Saturday, which is entirely irrelevant to this story.

So I was out of town, walking past the small commercial estate where the offices of one of our competitors were based. There was Roland. I was going to shout, but then I recognised his companion, Geoffrey Jones. Geoffrey Jones was the owner of Jones and Jones – our competitor. Was Roland thinking to jump ship already? They stood by a car, Roland’s car, not in the Jones and Jones car park. Actually, I realised later, not in view of any CCTV. What instinct made me take some pictures? An envelope was handed over and a different envelope was handed back. Could be anything. Could be early Christmas cards. Could be, but probably wasn’t.

Join the dots. A conversation overheard two weeks later in the office that Jones and Jones had announced a similar design to ours. Similar but different. I didn’t say anything to anyone. I did start to keep an eye out more. As company lawyer, Roland had an access-all-areas pass. He freely admitted that he didn’t understand a lot of the technology. So when I saw him going into the R&D department late in the day, I was intrigued. I wasn’t allowed in there. I hung around unobtrusively. One thing I had worked out how to do was check who was checked in and who was checked out. We all had to swipe in in the mornings and out in the evenings. It was more for fire regulations than anything; nobody checked up that you had done the right number of hours. I mean we all worked more than the thirty seven we were contracted for, right? As I say, it was more for Health and Safety.

I checked on my laptop, sure enough, all the R&D staff had left for the day; it was Friday after all. I watched the corridor down which Roland would have to come. It was like I was casually working at a hot desk with sight down the corridor. I set my camera up to video. He appeared, carrying one of our two prototype SC4Xs; I set the record on and carried on working like I was engrossed. Looking at the video later, I saw him see me, hesitate and then decide to carry on. As he passed he said “Don’t work too late.” like it was all perfectly normal. I laughed and replied something like “You too.” Normal chit chat.

It could be innocent, maybe he needed to check something. But I knew it wasn’t. What to do next? Well, first I waited, I moved to where I could see the car park and watched his car leave five minutes later. Then I went and checked the R&D room. Did I say I had no access? That was true, but I also knew where Kelly kept her pass. Silly really, all this security and then someone like Kelly leaves her pass in her drawer. She always came in with Raoul, so she always left her pass, came in, picked it up and then swiped in. I asked her once why. She said it was so she’d never forget it. She didn’t swipe out. The system reset itself at 5pm. If you weren’t out by then, it assumed you were. Go figure who makes these ridiculous decisions. If anybody checked, they would see that Kelly had gone in at 18:45, but then the system had said she had left. Everybody knew this glitch, so they would dismiss it; except that if anybody knew Kelly they would know that Hell would freeze over before she would work until 18:45 on a Friday (or any day).

Anyway, I checked. Yes, one of the prototypes was missing. They would have both been together on the shelf.

Now it was possible that he would be meeting someone this evening, but I felt it was likely to be the next day. So on Saturday you would have found me staking out Roland’s flat. Well, his car actually. SC4Xs are not light, he’d drive for sure. That was a mistake I made. I was lucky.

As I watched his car in the car park, another car drove out. He was in it! Of course, he was using his wife’s car. Sneeky! It was 11am, I’d been there for five hours, I’d drank a bottle of coke, and then used that bottle to pee in (Yuck!). I’d discovered that I peed more than I drank, and tipped out the bottle to the side of the car (hoping no CCTV was filming me!) and then half-filled it again, getting distracted by how that was possible – to pee more than you drank. Then he had appeared, which let me come back up that particular rabbit hole and follow him. My car was a nice unobtrusive Ford Fiesta in grey; nothing to stand out. Trouble was so was his wife’s car; I’d have to follow close to avoid missing him and tailing another car.