A chance meeting brings Laura and Freya together. Will their mutual attraction last beyond one night of passion?
Graphic designer Laura Fenwick has spent weeks secretly watching and lusting after the sexy femme who works as a receptionist in the glass-fronted office right across the corridor from her. She spends her days looking for an opportunity to meet the woman of her dreams and her nights dreaming of all the things they might do together.
Freya Johansen thinks butch, Laura, too hot for words. She wants to get to know her on a very personal level but Laura seems so aloof and Freya doesn’t know how to break the ice.
When the two women are forced to seek shelter from a storm, their sexual chemistry takes them on a journey of discovery.
“Oh, no, I don’t believe this rain!”
The woman’s voice sounded very close I glanced around and instantly my heart jolted in my chest. The quip about us needing a boat to get out of here froze on my lips. For the first time, the object of my unattainable desire stood close enough for me to touch her and to inhale her subtle, floral fragrance.
Seen close up she was sexier than I could possibly have imagined. My nipples - never slow in coming forward - peaked in instant awareness at her proximity, followed quickly by similar reactions from the rest of my body. Sad to say I couldn’t remember when I last enjoyed this urgent rush of moist heat or the uncontrollable spasms deep inside my pussy. I clenched my thighs and savored the moment, welcoming the waves of exquisite pleasure sweeping over me.
A jagged flash of bright lightning chased away another clap of thunder. Her eyes widened and a small scream escaped her lips.
So she’s frightened of electric storms.
I clutched at the tiny scrap of information like a starving woman unexpectedly finding a box of food waiting on her doorstep. My arms ached to wrap her tight, to protect her from fear, but I couldn’t take that liberty when didn’t know her name or anything else about her other than what I’d seen from afar, or could imagine.
And my imagination is pretty inventive at times.
For two long months, I’ve found myself captivated by this sexy wench. Ever since she began work as a receptionist for a recruitment agency in the glass-fronted office right across the corridor from mine.
A few times I’ve been tempted to waylay her in the communal restroom or wander over to enquire about job opportunities for graphic designers but always stopped myself from doing something so crass or so blatantly obvious. Nevertheless, I kept my options open always ready to exploit a valid excuse to speak to her if one came my way. I watched her avidly each day and marveled at the many different outfits she possessed. Clothes that revealed intoxicating glimpses of the gorgeous body underneath them, plus flashes of her splendid thighs displayed to best advantage by the miniskirts she favored.
God how I fancyher.
No! Too tame, I swore silently, angry with the sudden inability to express myself. I want to slam her up against the wall, rip the clothes from her body with my teeth then wrap those long legs around my waist and fuck her until we’re both sated.
At around twenty-one or two, she’s a lot younger than my forty-three years.
Far too young for me.
Willow tall, she matches me for height, her slim waist and firm breasts make me envious of her youth. A silky cap of burnished gold hair frames her heart-shaped face and just brushes her cheeks when she moves. Long dark lashes shade cobalt blue eyes that sparkle like multi-faceted sapphires when her soft rosy lips part in a smile.
Oh, how those lips beg me to kiss them.
I know I shouldn’t contemplate such things. I’m way past the age to have a teenage crush, or succumb to the lure of a sexy young femme who ordinarily wouldn’t give me a second glance.