Monday.

Fuck Mondays.

Janice sat bleary eyed in front of her monitor. Something was up there on the screen and she was pushing some buttons somewhere down where the keyboard was, but she sure as shit wasn’t paying attention. She refocused.

‘ ... would be fratefl if yu could ‘

There were some red wiggly lines.

Fuck.

Janice did the necessary to get the wiggly lines to go away, heaved herself from her chair, and then plodded to the kitchen for some coffee. Strong coffee.

The pungent but pleasant odour of real, fresh and, above all, strong coffee filled the room as Janice waited for the hot water to meander through the coffee grains and emerge to fill the pot with dark, steaming Monday morning wonder drug. It was her third break for the substance this morning. Janice was pretty sure her supervisor wouldn’t complain though: she was working on her own Monday morning caffeine hit.

It had after all been a very interesting weekend...

The crowd pressed around Janice. Bodies close to her left and right, and to her rear. But not in front - that was the bar. The sound welled from the assembled revellers and filled the impressively large cavern - once the grand entrance hall of a Victorian bank. There may have been some music playing but only those close to the speakers would be able to tell. The room was grand but dimly lit, the bank’s original huge chandeliers having been replaced by more modest mood lighting. Whether this was for reasons of budget, of atmosphere, or to give those less fortunate in the looks department a fighting chance on their night out was a secret known only to the owners.

Janice watched as the barman fished some change from the till. As he turned to give the guy next to her his due his eyes started that scanning thing that barmen do - trying to figure out who was next. She waved her money in the air and made sure to bounce on her feet. Her braless tits jiggled in their scant covering and the barman’s eyes were magnetically drawn. Janice smiled and ordered - tough luck jumper-wearing prude to her right.

She didn’t really have to go up to the bar of course: she was here straight from work with her colleagues and she was sure any number of them would fetch drinks for her, but there was something about the jostle and closeness of the crowd that she found ... exciting - at least once in a while.

Janice wended her way back through the mob with a sinuous ease that belied her liquid cargo, like a dancer in a great chaotic experimental ballet. She bumped and brushed just the right sexy people with just the right amount of force and just the right body part to cause the maximum of thrill without causing offence. She was in her element here. Bars, parties, clubs concerts: these were the foundations of Janice’s being, her natural environment.

By the time Janice made it back to her table she was feeling more than a little buzz of sexual excitement. She wasn’t the only one.

Eyes had followed Janice’s stimulating progression from bar to table. Eyes of co-workers and eyes of strangers. Some eyes knowing and some ignorant of the calculation behind her fluid yet tactile path. Some eyes looked on disapprovingly though most widened in arousal. One such pair belonged to Angela, Janice’s supervisor.

The arousal in Angela’s eyes escaped Janice’s notice: for the moment at least Janice had her sights set on more masculine prey. When she reached her target table she inserted herself between Richard and Angela. Richard was from some other department Janice couldn’t remember. He was tall and handsome in a rugged sort of way and he was currently trying his luck flirting with Angela. Or at least he had been until Janice arrived.

Angela was in her forties, slim and good looking and she always dressed sharply. Janice could see why Richard was interested. But Angela’s smart dress sense always ran to the conservative and Janice knew she was reserved and above all, married. Of course Janice also knew more than most that married didn’t necessarily mean unavailable, but she reckoned that Richard’s chances were slim at best. His chances with Janice on the other hand ... she thought it best for all involved if Richard switched targets.

A half hour later Janice had definitely changed her mind. It would not be better all round for Richard to hit on her and the person it would mostly not be better for was her.

Richard, as it turned out, was appropriately named: he was a dick. A certain amount of male chauvinism, or of loud personally aggrandising anecdotes of his exploits at his extremely local rugby club, or of assumptions of his own superiority Janice could take. After all, she had only planned to take him home, fuck his brains out, and then be on her merry way tomorrow. But Richard just went on and on. And on and on. Time for an emergency bailout.

“Angela”, said Janice, “care to accompany me to the bathroom?”

She had no idea if Angela needed or not, but it was a well known fact that women went together and Janice took advantage of that well known-ness now to offer her supervisor a lifeline.

“Lead the way”, said Angela, rising and disengaging without the usual pleasantries.

As soon as they were out of earshot, which was not far at all in this din, Angela leaned over to Janice’s ear.

“Thanks”.

“Pardon?” Janice queried. Whether being thanked or accused, Janice thought it best to find out why.

“The rescue”, shouted Angela over the noise. “Thanks for the rescue. I didn’t know what I was going to do until you came along and took the heat for me.”

So Angela thought that Janice had come to her rescue. Best perhaps to keep her ignorant of Janice’s original predatory intention.

“No problem”, said Janice. “I don’t really need, but I guess we should go for appearances’ sake.”

“Well I do need”, said Angela “so no argument from me.”

They pushed their way past through the crowded room, down a short wood panelled corridor, and eventually downstairs to the ladies’. Janice had expected a ‘Richard the dick’ slagging match to start as soon as they had cleared the noise to the point where sane conversation could start, but Angela was curiously quiet on the subject. Janice looked back.

Angela was looking her way and seemed a bit pensive for some reason. Whatever she was thinking, it must have been something she felt guilty about because her eyes reflexively lowered as soon as she saw Janice turn round. They continued on in silence (or at least neither of them spoke) until they reached a mirrored door with the iconic beskirted lady figure.

They entered and Janice waited at the sinks while Angela went into one of the booths. She couldn’t help wondering what Angela’s earlier furtive look had been all about. She wasn’t in trouble, she thought: Angela didn’t look at all accusatory. Rather she looked flustered. Then it hit her: Angela was working up the courage to tell her something. Or maybe ask her. Maybe Angela was trying to bring herself to hit on Janice but was finding it hard to take the first step.

Yes, that could be interesting, thought Janice: She and her hot older married supervisor in a torrid lesbian night of passion. She was getting wet thinking of the possibilities, of teasing out the latent repressed sexuality from her clearly hesitant conservative boss. Never miss an opportunity to mix business with pleasure - that was one of Janice’s guiding principles. Of course it could easily be argued that this was one of the reasons that Janice moved jobs quite a lot.

Angela’s booth made a flushing noise and very shortly Angela stepped out, smoothing down her skirt as she did so. Janice decided to make Angela’s leap of faith slightly easier.

“I don’t think I could take a whole evening of dodging our mutual friend”, she said. “Fancy going for a coffee or something instead?”

“Sure”, said Angela, “but we’ll have to say we’re going home or half the office will want to come too.”

“And then insist that we really want to go to another pub”, replied Janice. “You’re right, but I don’t think anyone would really believe that I was going home this early on a Friday night.” Janice had only been there for a few weeks, but already she had a reputation as a fierce party goer. “Tell you what - I’ll say I’m going on to a friend’s party and you say you’re going home. I’ll meet you here.” She handed Angela a loyalty card for a local coffee house. “Lots of folks will want to come to my ‘friend’s party’ of course, but I’ve blown them off for real parties before.”

Angela smiled, recalling the disappointment apparent on so many colleagues’ faces the last time she’d seen that happen. Speculation was rife at work about what the irrepressible (many would say scandalous) Janice got up to when she was away from the office. There were certainly enough rumours about what she got up to when she was in the office. Scandalous many of them may have accused, but they were sure keen to jump on any opportunity to join in should one present itself.

Perhaps such opportunity was about to come Angela’s way tonight. She wondered if she’d have the bottle to go through with it. She swallowed, looked down without realising she was doing it, and exited the loo with Janice to go and say her goodbyes.

Janice, for her part, was much more sure. Of herself, of course, but also of Angela. Without really realising she had done so, Angela had agreed to meet her rather than just go home. Not only that, but she had agreed to be complicit in a deception to do so. Yes, Angela was well down the path already thought Janice. All she would need would be a little push. Carefully though: it looked like this would be Angela’s first time engaged in such naughty endeavours. Janice desired neither to ruin what should be a delicious first moment for Angela, nor to lose tonight’s promised pleasure altogether to some bumbling miss-step. Janice smiled to herself as she split from Angela to make her own excuses with the crowd.

Foamy white swirled into dark, chocolatey brown as Angela mixed her latte. Janice watched her fidgeting, waiting to see if she was ready to make her move.

“Janice...?” Angela’s voice came hesitantly, initiating a question.

“Yes?”

Angela looked up from her over-stirred and under-drunk coffee. “You know how you go out and, em, meet lots of people?”

“Yes...” Janice had a pretty good idea what Angela was talking about.

“What’s it like?”

Janice sat for a moment to gather her thoughts. This wasn’t the question she had been expecting. Perhaps she had misread Angela’s intentions, but there was definitely something there, something ... eager in Angela’s manner. She obviously thought for too long - Angela was starting to look worried.

“Don’t worry”, said Janice, trying to calm Angela. “Yours wasn’t the question I was expecting, that’s all.”

Before she could go further Angela asked “really? What were you expecting?”

Janice decided to throw in her cards and see what happened. “I was expecting you to ask me to fuck you. I would have done it too and”, Janice adopted a confident smile, “I would have done it well.”

Angela looked down, cheeks flushed, and for a moment Janice thought she had gone too far. But then Angela looked back up at her.

“No. I don’t ... swing that way. I want to know what it’s like to...” Angela broke off. She was fighting a war with herself to say something she couldn’t normally say. Janice waited.

“ ... to ... I want to know what it’s like to be fucked” Angela finally managed to finish.

“What about...”, Janice began.

“My husband is great”, interrupted Angela, reading where Janice was going. “I love him, he loves me and I’ve no intention of leaving him.”

“But?”

“But when we have sex he always makes love to me. Don’t get me wrong - I love it - but I also need to be fucked. I need to get into a steamy, sweaty session with someone; I need to lose myself in animal lust and I need someone to fuck me for all they’re worth. Sometimes maybe more than some one”, said Angela, almost at a whisper, not quite able to meet Janice’s eye at the end.

“And you’ve never actually done it before?” asked Janice.

“No.”

“Have you tried just asking him?”

“Yep - every few years. But he can’t really bring himself to do it.” Angela looked up at Janice, pleading with her eyes for Janice to take control of the situation

“Come on”, said Janice, coming to a snap decision. “Follow me.”

Angela donned her coat as Janice did and the pair exited the shop.

“Where are we going?” asked Angela.

“When do you have to be home?” countered Janice, fishing for her phone.

“I don’t”, said Angela, “George is at a conference all weekend.”

Janice raised her eyebrows. “Is that so? I’m sure we could make use of that.” She raised her phone and flipped through the address book. “We’re going to mine”, she told Angela, “I just need to phone a couple of friends first.”

Angela nodded and waited while Janice spoke to first one, then the other of her friends and invited them to her house. She’d enigmatically promised them both “something interesting” when they got there. Angela was pretty sure that a promise of “something interesting” from Janice was a pretty big draw and that somehow she’d be involved in it for one of the friends. She just hoped she could live up to the promise.

“You’ll like this”, said Janice when she had finished with her phone, “you’ll like it a lot. Matt and Steve are good - very good - and, above all, reliable.”

With that they hailed a taxi and ordered it to Janice’s flat.

Janice and Angela sat there chatting like school friends. It had been barely seven when they left the coffee house. Matt and Steve were coming at nine. As it turned out they’d only needed an hour to get ready and, in deference to Angela’s stated lack of interest in women (and maybe also her lack of response to some ‘accidental’ flirting Janice might have been doing), Janice kept the topic light and non sexual.

They’d arrived at Janice’s modern but cosy little flat, turned the heating up (“we’ll be glad of that later” Janice had said), and taken turns in the shower. Janice had produced two bath robes and instructed Angela to “just put your stockings back on and then put this over the top. And keep your heels handy.”

After that they had sat on Janice’s bed and discovered that they got on rather well. For the most part Angela forgot that she was here in Janice’s flat in nothing but lace topped hold ups and a bath robe and that she had agreed to come here to have sex with strangers. For the most part. Until...

Janice glanced up at the clock - not long now before Matt and Steve arrived, she’d better brief Angela on her part.

“Right Angela”, she said, signalling a change in topic. “The boys will be here soon: time to set things up.”

Angela was suddenly quiet. She looked nervously at Janice, biting her lower lip vacantly but giving the vastly more experienced woman her full attention.

“Just so we’re clear”, said Janice, “here’s some of the stuff that’s going to happen when Matt and Steve get here.”

Angela leaned forward unconsciously.

“There will be fucking;”

Angela licked her lips, now looking more eager than fearful.

“we’ll both be fucked in the same room;”

Angela’s eyes shone: she was imagining the scene.

“Matt and Steve will both fuck you.”

A slight twitch from Angela. She hadn’t fully realised that possibility. Since following Janice to her flat her imagination had hinted at it, even pictured it in brief flashes, but always as a fantasy, never letting herself fully and consciously confront fucking two men as a real possibility.

Janice saw the hesitation in Angela, but she also saw the lust build: Angela wanted a threesome and she wanted it bad - she just wasn’t quite ready to admit it to herself yet. Janice decided to press the advantage.

“Two men - at the same time, their hands on you, their cocks hard, in your mouth, in your pussy, and in your spread, lubed up arse.”

Angela stared at nothing, eyes glazed, breathing ragged as she followed the litany from Janice’s mouth. She refocused at the last. Another possibility she hadn’t considered - one she was less sure about. She looked over at Janice.

“Don’t worry”, said Janice, seeing the hesitation, “you’ll like it: I’ll be in control and I’ll make sure it’s good for you. Besides - if you don’t like it, we’ll stop.”

Right then the buzzer rang, cutting off further speculation on Angela’s readiness to cross that line. The boys were downstairs, outside the block’s front door.

“Follow me”, said Janice. Her tone was suddenly firm and efficient. Angela instinctively stood and followed her out into the hall. She heard her own heels clump as she moved from the bedroom’s carpet to the dark stained floorboards of the hall.

Janice stalked to the entry phone and motioned to Angela to stop in the middle of the hall. “Robe off”, she said, matching words with her own actions. The robes were quickly doffed and stored on a lone chair under the coat hooks. The two women were now naked. Both were slim: Angela envious of Janice’s prominent yet pert tits; Janice hoping she might keep her figure as well as Angela once she reached that age.

Janice took a brief moment to steal a glance at Angela’s lithe form. It was obvious she worked hard to keep her body in shape. The boys were really going to love her for this. A pity she wouldn’t be able to indulge...

“On the floor”, said Janice with casual command. Angela obeyed. More instructions followed with rapidity until Janice was satisfied and took her position next to Angela. Just in time, they could hear footsteps - and men’s voices - approach the door.

The footsteps reached the door and stopped. There was a pause, a pause in which Angela considered what she was about to do. She was here, on a whim and at the behest of the biggest slut in the office, to have sex with - no, to be fucked by - two men she’d never met. She could feel her exposed pussy moisten in anticipation.

Matt and Steve paused in front of Janice’s door. They’d met outside and immediately begun speculating on what Janice might have in store. Neither could really guess, but when Janice called and promised you an interesting time, you dropped whatever you thought you might be doing and came over. Now they were in front of her door. There was a note:

“Matt, Steve: come in, the door’s open. You’ll know what to do when you get here.”

Matt looked at Steve. Steve shrugged. “Seems simple enough”, he said.

“I’ve heard that before”, said Matt, but he reached out nonetheless and opened the door.

Both Matt and Steve had known Janice long enough to be involved in several of her escapades. A number of those had led to scenes more graphic, harder and more perverted than what they saw now. But there’s just something about a bent over, upthrust, perfectly formed arse that’s hard for a red blooded male to resist.

“Well fuck me”, said Matt, exhaling the breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“Shit”, was Steve’s response.

For upthrust, perfectly formed arse was precisely what they saw. Two of them, in fact. Janice and Angela were kneeling on the floor boards, bums up in the air, legs apart, glistening pussies parted and ready for fucking. Their heads were down as if to kiss the floor and their bare tits pushed against the cold grain of the wood.

It was an arresting sight, and both Matt and Steve stood fixed in the doorway, taking in the view. Cold air drifted in through the open portal and caressed the women’s bodies. Angela felt the chill breeze and felt goosebumps rise on her skin. Goosebumps mostly ignored as a result of the thrill coursing through her. Thrill at the thought of being so exposed, of offering her body up so willingly, and of the carnal pleasures sure to follow soon.

It was Steve who moved first, shuffling forward to his object of lust without thought. Matt, however, was the first to regain his faculties and turned backwards to close the door.

So it was that Angela, the object of Steve’s dirty desire, was first to feel the touch of the men. It was light at first, tentative, but she couldn’t see it coming and it still made her start to feel Steve’s hand upon her pussy. His hand cupped her and stroked from front to back, out to feel her goose-pimpled cheek and back to her pussy where Angela felt his finger slip lightly past her moist slit. A shiver coursed through her that had nothing to do with the cold.

Clunk - the sound of the door shutting broke the spell for Steve and he lost his concentration. All of a sudden Angela felt fingers - three she guessed - thrust into her cunt as Steve jerked round to face the noise.

“Hhhnngg”, she groaned.

“I’m so sorr...”, Steve began, but Angela cut him off.

“More”, she panted desperately, “I fucking need fucking more”. She punctuated the last by reaching up between her legs, grabbing Steve’s wrist and yanking him as hard as her awkward position would allow. Steve complied, sliding his fingers deeper into Angela’s willing wet hole and curving them round to brush past her G-spot as he pulled out, eliciting more moans from her.

Janice looked over to her supervisor, surprised at how quickly the straight-laced, reserved woman had descended into basic animal need. ‘Always the quiet ones’ - so they said. Then Janice too expelled a small grunt: she’d forgotten about Matt who, aroused by the musky aroma of sloshing pussy reaching his nostrils and the sight of Steve’s expert fingers sliding through Angela’s exposed and distended lips, had slid his own fingers into Janice. Matt was also good with his hands and Janice relaxed back onto him to enjoy the sensations.

Angela, for her part, was lost. She didn’t see Janice look over, she had already forgotten that Matt even existed. For her there was only the hand. The hand was fucking her, she was fucking the hand. Sure, true fucking should involve cock and sure, she wanted to be fucked by cock, but right now those fingers were good and what they were doing was definitely not ‘making love’. She closed her eyes and she felt the fingers curl and stroke her front wall, she felt them penetrate her, and she felt them stretch her; and she felt the still cold air on her body and the smooth varnished grain of wood against her nipples; and she felt the presence of the strangers in the room, watching her. She felt all this and she moaned - loudly. Remotely she was aware she was doing it, but in a detached sort of way - a way that didn’t care how much of a slut she must sound to the others in that hall.