Chapter 11: Initiating Irene

Four years before we left our city base for the second time, the company I worked for had hired a new secretary. New both in the sense that she was new to us and new to being a secretary. Irene was probably nineteen when she came to work for us, about ten years younger than I. She was attractive, but not really pretty, and she was a very nice, country girl. I could see that she was conscientious and serious about her job and perhaps my teacher training came into play for, somehow, I became her mentor and friend. Ours was a platonic friendship, something I'd never had with a woman before, and she also became friends with my wife. Not that I didn't take note of her physical attributes. I did. But maybe it was because she was rather flat chested and by then my extra-curricular tastes ran to the bustier types, different from what I had at home. But, platonic or not, I did appreciate her long legs, her shapely hips and her lovely, prominent ass. Her mouth as well had a definite appeal and the night, at a Christmas party when I kissed her while dancing, the soft quiver of her lips under mine had tremendously turned me on. I also got hell from my wife, even though it had been an innocent occurrence. For the next year, until we left the city, my attentions were less platonic but did not amount to anything serious because I was sure that Irene would have been hurt and offended had I tried anything. She was by then, after all, my wife's best friend. Of course, so had been Leena.

I returned to the city for some business meetings and, with my wife's approval, I had invited Irene to have dinner with me. She met me at my hotel room early and we had a drink before we went out. I was very conscious of the opportunity presented by having a young woman alone with me in my room and there was a certain tenseness in her behaviour that made me think that she, too, was aware of the possibilities, or at least of how it might appear to someone else. Nothing untoward happened for I was sure that she trusted me fully and I didn't want to betray that trust. Our dinner was very enjoyable, complete with another pre-dinner cocktail, wine and, to wind it up, liqueur. Really, it was quite romantic.

"Let's have a nightcap at your place," I said as we were in the taxi, taking her home.

"Hmmm... OK... but I don't have anything to drink?" Just then we passed a liquor store and she tapped the driver on the shoulder, telling him to pull over. After a brief argument about who should buy, I bought a bottle of white rum and we walked the short remaining distance to her second floor flat in an old house. Maybe it was the alcohol? I still don't know but, in any case, she seemed more relaxed being alone with me in her flat than in my hotel room. She changed from the purple, form-fitting dress that showed off her ass and legs to perfection into a loose, belted dressing gown. Although her remorse, afterwards, seemed to confirm that her change of clothes was made in innocence, I'm still not sure. Maybe it was but, at a minimum, she must have sub-consciously set herself up for what happened. We talked for a couple of hours, until about midnight. Our conversation was interesting but innocuous and she seemed oblivious to the sexual tension that I was feeling. Was she? I'll never know

"I think he's dreamy... his voice, that is." We were lying side by side on the carpet, listening to her favourite vocalist singing romantic songs in a deep, caressing voice. "I guess I haven't grown up, yet."

Her long, firm thigh was pressed to my side and I was in a quandary. I wanted to kiss her. Actually, I wanted to do much more than that, but I was afraid. Irene was a nice girl and a friend to both my wife and me. If I made a pass at her, I could destroy that friendship. Or, was I being stupid? She certainly hadn't objected when I'd invited myself back to her place? She knew that two people alone as we were would, in most cases; do more than talk, didn't she? Perhaps it would be insulting to her if I didn't make a pass? It was the last conclusion that overcame my fear of destroying our friendship. A kiss wouldn't be the end of the world.

"Now Joe? Don't get ideas," she said, turning to look at me and smiling nervously when I draped one arm over her shoulders.

"You're beautiful, Irene," I murmured as I moved my face the few inches required so that my lips could press hers. I guess, as I analyze what I've written, she wasn't entirely free of blame for what happened? She could have easily broken off the kiss. But she didn't. Her lips were as I remembered from our one previous brief kiss on the dance floor. They were soft and they kind of quivered against mine, a fluttering acquiescence. There was sweetness, likely the 7-Up we'd mixed with the rum, and they parted to my cautiously probing tongue.

"No Joe... don't," she protested, finally turning her face away.

"I've wanted do that ever since we did it on the dance floor, Irene." I got my other arm under her and she let me turn her on her side so that she was facing me with all of her body and, when I kissed her again, her arms went around my neck.

"Please, Joe," she objected, "it's late... you have to go." But this time her mouth had opened and my tongue had begun to explore her moist, oral cavity. And the way her arms tightened around my neck told me that she was enjoying the kiss.

"I know, Irene... but just a few minutes more," I said softly and it seemed natural and almost innocent for her to let me complete the rotation of her body from the face-down position when we'd been just listening to music to a face-up position as we kissed. One hand was now lying loosely across her hip and, through the flimsy fabric of her robe, I could feel the flesh-padded firmness of her hip. Her robe had opened a bit by then and I could see the slight swell of her tit-mounds, a wide valley between two minor hills.

"Don't, Joe... you really have to go?" Did I detect a question in her protest? Was her resolve weakening? Or was she, in fact, just trying to preserve appearances? My mouth moved lower, to her neck, and when I nuzzled her there, her arms held me in a stranglehold.

"You're lovely, Irene... just this... please?" I begged as I kissed lower into the shallow breast-valley. I nosed the robe open more as my lips moved over her silky skin to the center of one breast. My God! Her nipples were the largest I'd ever encountered! They still are. My mouth closed over the thimble-sized, rubbery projection and I sucked it between my lips, my tongue thrumming it with delight.

"Nooo... dooon't," Irene whimpered and she doubled up her legs defensively. "Oohhh dooon't."

"But why, Irene? You like it don't you?" I alternated between the now completely bare mounds, nibbling first one of the large, swollen nipples, then the other.

"Oohhhh yesss... too much... that's why you have to stop." Bigger isn't always better but Irene's nipples were not only bigger than any I've known, but they were also extremely sensitive. The sounds that were coming from her were now panting whimpers and, when my face moved lower, I'm sure she knew what my next target was.

"We can't... you're married... she's my friend... you can't." But Irene's body was winning over her mind. I'd loosened the belt and her robe was now open below her waist. I kissed across her firm belly and gently tugged at the waistband of her panties.

"Just this, Irene... just this... please Irene," I begged and then my nose was surrounded by the soft bush that covered her prominent mons.

"Oohhh nooo... I can't... hah... caaan't," she whined and she clamped her thighs tightly together. But I'd pulled her panties down enough that she was uncovered to the top of her thighs.

"Mmmm... please?" Her thigh-flesh yielded as I pushed my face lower and got my tongue into the upper part of the soft slit. My hopes surged when I tasted the oily evidence of her arousal.

"Nooo... you're married... nooo," she repeated her denial and she tried weakly to push my head away.

"It's just a kiss, Irene... let me... it won't hurt. Just let me this one time? Please?"

"Hanh... Joe... hanh... I shouldn't... hanh," and I realized that she was sobbing, but her hands were now just resting on my head, not trying any more to push me away. I was fondling her big nipples and stroking the downy flesh of her thighs and my face slipped deeper into the warm and widening opening as her legs, ever so slowly, parted.

Irene's body was jerking spasmodically, a mix of sobs and her heavy breathing, but I was sure that she had surrendered to being eaten. I changed position ever so cautiously, afraid that she'd change her mind. And then my tongue found her clitoris and she uttered a choking moan. I got my shoulders between her legs then, like I had years earlier with the artless sub-teen, Janet, I had complete and unfettered access to her hirsute lovenest.