Back when I was in my mid-thirties and still tethered to Mike in my marriage and at the time I was whoring about with Frank, Bill and their friends I had a wonderful experience with an old family friend.

Frank—my dirty minded, rugged older neighbour and secret flame—whispered ideas into my ear that set my pulse racing.

He’d heard through the grapevine about Donald, a retired gentleman in his late seventies, an old chum of my late grandfather’s and someone I vaguely remembered.

Donald had sold off his business but needed a hand with the final bits of paperwork, filing old documents and sorting through decades of records, and was looking for someone to help as a part time short term job.

When the opportunity came up for me to offer help, Frank’s sly grin and his teasing words lit a fire in me. ‘Go on, Anna,’ he said to me one morning, his rough hand sliding up my thigh under the kitchen table, fingers grazing the edge of my thigh-highs. ‘Show that old fox what he’s been missing. Make him squirm without even touching him.’

Feeling that naughty itch I couldn’t ignore, the kind that made my core tighten with anticipation, I decided to play the temptress, just to see how far the game could go. It was harmless fun, or so I told myself, a way to reclaim some spark and continue to be a slutty tease- which I loved.

I made contact and Donald remembered me from his time with my grandfather. It was all set!

He wanted me for a few days and said the pay would be decent enough. Especially for ‘ Our wee Anna’.

I dressed with deliberate care that morning, standing before the full-length mirror in our bedroom.

I slipped into a tight black skirt,, the fabric stretching taut over my curves and stopping well above my knees—short enough to ride up with the slightest movement, promising glimpses without giving everything away.

I ran my hands down the sides, smoothing it over my arse, feeling the way it accentuated the sway of my walk. Underneath, I chose seamed black pantyhose, the sheerest denier that showed all the goods, clinging to every inch from my toes to my waist. The seams ran straight up the back of my legs, drawing the eye like an invitation, and I skipped the panties entirely, letting the nylon press directly against my bare, wet, freshly shaved pussy, the sensation already sending little shivers through me as I moved. The thin material would hide nothing if the light hit just right, or if I was able to flash him somehow and the thought made my nipples harden against my bra and my cunt was already moistening.

I topped it with a crisp newly bought white blouse, the fabric thin and slightly translucent in the sunlight, unbuttoned down to the third one so the swell of my breasts peeked out with every breath, the deep V offering a teasing view of the lace cups cradling my full tits. I adjusted the collar, ensuring the buttons strained just enough to hint at more.

A pair of strapped and slutty high heels completed the look, four-inch stilettos that clicked authoritatively on the floor and made my calves flex enticingly, arching my feet and lifting my ass higher with each step.

I spritzed on a light perfume, something floral and seductive, and headed out, my heart pounding with mischief, and added bright red lipstick - a slut look if ever there was one!

Frank was thrilled with my look. “Go bowl him over Anna love, and tell me all about it later!” he teasingly said, giving me a pat on the arse on the way to the car.

Donald lived in a cosy bungalow on the edge of town, the kind of home now filled with faded photos of his family and the faint scent of pipe tobacco mingled with old books. The garden was neatly trimmed, roses blooming along the path, and as I walked up the driveway, my high heels clicking loudly, I could feel the skirt shifting against my thighs, the hose sliding smoothly with each stride.

He greeted me at the door with a warm, grandfatherly smile, his silver hair neatly combed and his eyes twinkling behind wire-rimmed glasses. He was dressed in a crisp button-down shirt and slacks, looking every bit the distinguished retiree, but there was a vitality in his posture that surprised me. ‘Anna, my dear, it’s been so long and my how you have grown into a beautiful young woman, come in,’ he said, his voice seeming gravelly (Was he excited? I wondered), holding the door open wide. ‘Your grandfather would be proud you’re lending a hand. He always spoke highly of your sharp mind, and oh my goodness Anna you are such a beauty.’

I stepped inside, brushing past him just close enough for my breast to graze his arm accidentally, and flashed a bright smile. ‘It’s my pleasure, Donald. Anything to help out a friend of Grandpa’s. And you were always so lovely, and thank you for the lovely compliments, it means a lot from someone as lovely as you.’