The Personal Assistant

The Personal Assistant

When Brendan is promoted to Senior Manager he inherits a new Personal Assistant, the formidable Mrs Piper, an attractive but strong-willed lady in her fifties. A battle of wills ensues with the unexpected outcome that Brendan finds himself increasingly attracted to his PA.

This is basically another love story. It contains graphic descriptions of anal intercourse, so if that's not your thing, you may wish to pass on by. If you read on, I hope you enjoy the story and I look forward to comments.

Sylviafan, April 2025

I was young to be promoted to senior manager, I'd just turned thirty-one in fact. But I'd worked my arse off for the preceding ten years. I graduated in 2015 with a BSc in mechanical engineering and went to work for a big, multinational engineering company based in a city in the UK Midlands. I started off in one of the design offices but after a couple of years it was obvious that I was never going to be a technical specialist, so I applied for a job in the projects office and that suited me perfectly. I had the right mix of technical understanding, commercial awareness and people skills to thrive in that environment and at the age of twenty-seven I was promoted to junior manager, one of the youngest in the company. Four years later my boss unexpectedly resigned and went to work for our competition in the US. I applied for his job with no real expectation of success but the interview went outstandingly well and I was offered the job, to everyone's surprise.

'Your track record is exemplary,' the projects director told me afterwards, 'and you were the strongest candidate at interview. We couldn't turn you down solely on the grounds of your age.'

I was thrilled and more than a little nervous, too. In this company there is an old-fashioned gulf between junior and senior management. As if to reinforce this the junior managers have offices located close to the teams they manage; senior managers are all located in the giant administration building together with the directors and the CEO. The Admin building has its own facilities, including a restaurant, which are exclusively for the use of the Executive. Junior managers eat with their staff in the various canteens dotted about the campus.

There is also inequality in the secretarial support between junior and senior management. As a junior manager I had a one-quarter share of a secretary; as a senior manager I would have my own secretary, or Personal Assistant, as they liked to call themselves.

I would be sorry to part with Sally, the secretary that I had shared for nearly four years. She was a couple of years younger than me and blonde and bubbly and curvaceous. I had wanted to have a much stronger relationship with her than mere manager and secretary, but she was married and the closest we ever came to intimacy was a dance or two at the Christmas ball and a kiss under the mistletoe.

I had a pretty good idea that Sally was aware of my designs on her and she confirmed this a couple of days before I took up my new position as Head of Projects. We were in my old office tidying up paperwork for the transfer to my successor and as we came to the end of this task she sat back in her chair and looked at me across my desk, a half-smile on her face.

'We never quite made it, did we, Brendan.'

I didn't need to ask what she was alluding to. 'You were happily married,' I said.

She sighed. 'I nearly strayed.' I looked at her enquiringly. 'That time you took me down to Bristol to meet the customer and we stayed overnight. If you'd made a pass at me that evening I think I'd have responded.'

'Now she tells me!' I grinned. 'It's not too late, Sally. I'm not leaving the country or anything. I'll only be in the Admin building.'

'No,' she said, firmly. 'I am happily married and besides, you've got a secretary all to yourself now.'

I grimaced. 'The redoubtable Mrs Piper.'

'She's a very attractive lady,' Sally replied, 'if you don't mind a few miles on the clock,' she added, cattily.

'Well I do,' I told her. 'And besides I expect she's married. Either way, she never bothers to talk to me.'

'She's divorced,' said Sally. 'Has been for years.'

'How do you know that?' I asked.

'When I found out you were getting Mr Parsons' job I asked around.'

'Well do tell,' I said, 'because Dave Parsons went on gardening leave as soon as they found out he was going to the States and I've had no handover whatsoever.'

'I don't know much,' she admitted. 'She's divorced, like I said, and she's forty-nine or fifty or something like that and she's got one daughter but she lives on her own and doesn't seem to be in a relationship.'

'Too much information, Sally,' I protested. 'She's going to be my secretary, not my wife. And anyway, fifty! That's only a year younger than my mum.'

'Fifty's nothing nowadays,' Sally replied with a smile. 'It's the new thirty. And she is very attractive.'

***

The following Monday I entered the Admin building at eight o'clock in the morning with a sense of unreality and made my way to the north end of the first floor where my new office was. I had spent the weekend fretting about my new role, aware that for a time at least I would be in thrall to Mrs Piper as she would know considerably more about my projects than I did.

My office consisted of my room, with a window looking out over the engine test beds, and an anteroom with a desk and filing cabinets where my PA sat. Between the two was a glass partition with blinds that could be drawn to give additional privacy.

Mrs Piper was already at her desk and she stood up and came round to greet me as I entered the anteroom through the door which still had my old boss's name on it together with "Mrs D Piper - PA". I had seen her many times, of course, on visits to my boss's office where she had treated me a bit like a teacher might treat a favoured but errant pupil. She had always come across as ultra-efficient but distant, unwilling to engage in small talk, cold even.

But she was, as Sally had pointed out, a very attractive woman, though I probably wouldn't have described her as pretty - she was too severe. She stood about five feet eight or nine inches in heeled shoes and she had a model's figure, remarkable for a lady of her age. Slim legs in black stockings or pantyhose, a black, tightfitting, knee-length skirt and a long-sleeved, emerald-green blouse of some shiny material which did a good, but not perfect job of concealing her full bosom. The top two buttons of her blouse were undone, revealing a pearl necklace at her throat.

Facially she had good features: pale skin, an oval face with a firm chin, full lips, high cheekbones, deep-green eyes and a straight nose. But there was a severity about the set of her mouth and the vertical lines between her dark eyebrows. Undoubtedly her most striking feature was her hair: a collar-length bob of deep, burnished copper, which may once have been natural but was nowadays surely out of a bottle. Her make-up was as polished as the rest of her: dark-red lipstick, some clever work to accentuate her cheekbones, carefully applied eye-shadow and eye-liner and nail polish to match her lipstick.

She held out her hand and gave me a tight smile. 'Good morning Mr Martin.' Her voice was clear and accentless and she enunciated her words perfectly; altogether better than my local dialect.

'Good morning Donna,' I said, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before she removed it. 'And please call me Brendan.'

'The staff mostly call me Mrs Piper,' she replied carefully, making eye contact.

'But we're going to be working so closely together,' I told her, 'we should be on first-name terms. And Donna's such a nice name,' I added, disingenuously. I opened the door to my office and turned back to Mrs Piper. I've got a few calls to make, Donna, do you think you could rustle me up a coffee? White, no sugar.' She gave me a sharp glance before disappearing out of the door, presumably to the restaurant or tea station.

I put my briefcase on my desk and stood looking out of the window. She'd called my boss "David" and he'd called her "Donna" so I was damned if I was going to let her dictate otherwise. And ordering a coffee was a nice touch, I thought. These were presumably the first skirmishes, but I'd say it was one-nil to me so far I thought smugly.

My smugness was short lived. Donna arrived back with a mug of coffee five minutes later and put it on my desk with a slight thump. 'Senior Managers' diary meeting at nine, Mr Martin, so we'll need to go through your diary for the week before then. Then you've got project meetings starting straight after lunch.'

'Well that'll be interesting,' I told her. 'The only project I know anything about is the one I was managing.'

'Mr Parsons made sure I was up to speed with everything before he left,' she replied, a little sternly. 'We can make a start at going through the individual projects after your diary meeting.' Well that told me. I was surprised, I'd assumed that PAs just answered the phone and wrote letters and organised meetings and travel. Clearly they were a superior breed to the lesser spotted secretaries like Sally, or at least Mrs Piper was.

The Senior Managers' diary meeting was painless. I was introduced to those people who didn't know me and after that I was largely ignored while they took it in turns to tell everybody in excruciating detail what they were doing for the forthcoming week. It all sounded a bit like self-justification to me. I was in no position to copy them; Mrs Piper had printed my weekly itinery but most of the events and meetings were largely meaningless to me and I began to realise that I had a mountain to climb in a very short space of time if I was going to do this job properly. I cursed Dave Parsons again for buggering off to the US without giving me any sort of handover.

Back in my office, Mrs Piper came in from the anteroom with an armful of folders and we spent the two hours until lunch going through the purpose, progress and funding of all the workstreams under my aegis. I won't pretend it wasn't difficult, having the formidable Mrs Piper sitting across my desk from me and taking me through everything about my projects with the assurance and clarity of in-depth knowledge. I wondered fleetingly why they'd bothered promoting me to the job. Wouldn't it have been easier to just give it to my PA? Every question I asked she answered clearly and intelligently and usually, I noted sourly, with a hint of condescension.

The other problem was Mrs Piper herself. I'd only ever been exposed to her when passing through the anteroom or sitting waiting to go in. On those occasions she had largely ignored me as she typed at her keyboard or answered the telephone. I wasn't into the mature scene, and I had always considered myself immune to her charms, but this extended period of close physical contact, albeit with a desk between us, was a bit unnerving. I found myself looking covertly at her face and the way her copper hair curled under her chin when she lowered her head to read a document to me and how she flicked it behind one ear with a finger. I sneaked a look at the exposed skin of her throat, expecting to see the beginnings of a middle-aged turkey's wattle but there was nothing. I looked at her hands as she flicked pages over, noting both the absence of rings and her long, tapered fingers with their red nails. She crossed and uncrossed her legs several times during the meeting and I thought I heard the rustle of nylon against nylon and I had a fleeting vision of her stocking tops (I had decided this lady couldn't possibly wear pantyhose) and the creamy smoothness of her upper thighs.

It was a relief when twelve o'clock came and Mrs Piper said, 'Well that's everything you'll need for this afternoon, we can finish off tomorrow morning. If you have no further questions I shall put these folders away and go up to the restaurant for my lunch.'

'Isn't the restaurant just for senior staff?' I asked before I could stop myself.

'PAs are permitted to use the Executive restaurant,' she corrected me with a touch of ice.'

'Oh,' I said, with a conciliatory smile. 'Well perhaps I can come up with you and we can have lunch together.'

'The Executive PAs always lunch together,' she informed me dismissively and, picking up the pile of folders, left my office.

So I sat by myself for lunch in the grandiose restaurant where there were while linen tablecloths and waitress service. Years ago, wine had been available to diners and I thought it a pity it wasn't still; I could have done with a glass after the travails of the morning. The Executive PAs sat at the other end of the room to me on two eight-seat tables presided over by Mrs Sheila Hibbert, the long-serving PA to the last three CEOs. There was a subdued murmur coming from their tables as they no doubt discussed the merits of their respective bosses. I wondered how I would fare and I was reminded of the Norns of Norse mythology who determine the fate of men.

I was just telling myself not to be so stupid and paranoid when Tim Brough, the Projects Director and my immediate superior, came and sat down next to me and ordered his lunch. It was the best thing that could have happened as he chatted easily to me and made me feel at home for the first time that day. Months later he admitted that he'd also felt out of place when he was first promoted to senior manager.

The afternoon was informative in that it showed me how strong and comprehensive a grasp Mrs Piper had of the projects and I was grateful to her for her time and effort in the morning. I was able to discuss problems intelligently, assess progress and allocate actions without looking too much of a fool. It was almost five o'clock by the time the last person left my office and I stretched and rubbed my hands over my face. In the anteroom Mrs Piper was tidying her desk. I got up and went into her little domain.

'Are you off, Donna?' I asked.

'It is five o'clock,' she replied haughtily, as though I'd accused her of shirking off.

'Yes, of course, but I just wanted to thank you for your time and effort in getting me up to speed today. I couldn't have done those project meetings without it.'

Mrs Piper's expression relaxed slightly. 'Well that's what I'm here for, Mr Martin.' She took her suit jacket from a hanger and put it on and I tried and failed to not watch as she slid her arms through the sleeves and her blouse tightened over her breasts. She flipped her hair clear of her collar with an easy elegance that seemed to be the hallmark of everything she did.

'I'll see you in the morning, then,' I said. 'Have a nice evening.'

'Good evening, Mr Martin,' she smiled tightly as she picked up her handbag and left the room. After she'd gone I walked over to her desk and stood looking down onto the chair she had just vacated. Her desk was bare, in accordance with company policy, apart from a framed photograph of a woman in her twenties, who I assumed was Mrs Piper's daughter. She was a slightly plumper, softer version of her mother and she was smiling at the camera.

Back at my desk I fired up my computer for the first time that day and logged on to find a hundred and sixty-two emails in my inbox. Oh God! I looked at the screen for five minutes then I shut down the computer and went home.

Tuesday was nearly as bad as Monday. I was in by half-past-seven but my PA was already at her desk, typing quickly as she read from a document. She was dressed similarly to the day before except that her satin blouse was an oyster colour. 'Good morning, Donna,' I sang out. 'Good morning Mr Martin,' she replied without looking up from her screen. Why wouldn't the wretched woman call me by my first name? I felt a sudden urge to order her to get me a coffee, as I had done the previous day, to establish my authority, but prudence reasserted itself. Instead I asked her.

'I'm going to the tea station, Donna,' I said. 'Can I get you anything?'

'No thank you, Mr Martin,' she replied, again without looking up. It was becoming like a bloody music hall act.

We spent most of the morning going through the remaining projects and in the afternoon I sat through a couple of presentations on new company processes and systems. It was stultifyingly boring and I had to pinch myself a couple of times to stop from nodding off. I got back to my office at five minutes to five, just as Mrs Piper was preparing to leave for the day. She looked up at me as I came into the anteroom.

'I've been through your inbox and filed everything in project order. I've actioned all but six emails, which are things you'll have to deal with.'

I suddenly felt like hugging her. That was fucking amazing! If she'd been twenty years younger I'd have suspected her of being a Stepford wife. 'Thank you very much, Donna,' I said with such heartfelt gratitude that I almost called her Mrs Piper. 'I wasn't looking forward to tackling that. You've saved me a mountain of work.'

'She shrugged slightly. 'Most of them were rubbish.'

'What's left?' I asked.

'I'll show you.' I walked round to her side of the desk and leaned over her shoulder, aware of our unprecedented closeness, aware of the scent she wore. She'd got my inbox up on the screen and she ran a blood-red fingernail down the list giving me a brief précis of each email. 'I thought I'd better leave this one to you,' she said as she came to the last one, which was from Sally Waters, my ex-secretary.

She shut her computer down and put her jacket on. 'You might want to have a word with Mrs Waters,' she said, straightening her jacket and picking up her handbag. Was it my imagination or was there a ghost of a grin on her face. Impossible, I told myself. It must be wind.

'Goodnight Mr Martin,' she said. 'Goodnight Donna,' I replied to her back as she walked out, heels clicking on the tiled floor.

I switched on my computer and opened my inbox, clicking on the mail from Sally.

Hi Brendan, how's the new job going? How are you getting on with your new PA? Remember what St George did when he was faced with a dragon! Life here is same-same. Drop in if you're passing. It would be lovely to see you.

Sally x

What the hell was Sally thinking of? She must know that Mrs Piper had access to my inbox. But maybe she didn't. Sally hadn't had automatic access to my inbox when she worked for me. I wrote a short reply telling her that I was fine and would certainly drop in soon but could she please refrain from putting inappropriate content in her emails. I felt like a fraud, but I needed to do something and I suspected Sally would understand where I was coming from.

'I'm sorry about the email from Mrs Waters,' I told Donna the next morning. 'She's a good secretary but sometimes she can be a bit... well, high-spirited, I suppose.'

'Is that how I'm seen outside the Admin building?' Mrs Piper asked by way of a reply. 'A fire-breathing dragon?'

'Not as far as I'm aware,' I said, struggling to keep a straight face. Mrs Piper looked sternly at me for a second or two before sitting back down at her computer and picking up the phone. Was that ghost of a grin back? I did a double take but Mrs Piper's face was expressionless again.

Wednesday was largely a repeat of Monday and Tuesday except that I managed to get a smile out of Mrs Piper. It was lunchtime and we were both in the anteroom and I was trying to engage her in a bit of inconsequential chat about home and holidays, with no success. She just didn't seem to be interested in talking to me except about company related things. I was becoming aware of just how powerful an assistant she was but I was sure that if our working relationship was a bit less formal, a bit friendlier, we would make a formidable team. In an act almost of desperation I said:

'Is that your daughter in the photograph? She's a pretty girl.'

Mrs Piper looked up at me sharply as if to say, 'Why have you been snooping around my desk.' But then, miraculously, her mouth widened in a slow smile and I saw her teeth, even and brilliant white against her lipstick, and her eyes crinkled up a bit and suddenly she looked less formidable, warmer, nicer and yes, sexier. That smile was a killer! There, that didn't hurt, I thought uncharitably.

'Yes,' she confirmed, 'that's Joanne.'

'What does she do?' I asked.

'She's a stay-at-home mum, with a two-year-old daughter, Cecily.'

'So you're a grandmother?' I said. It wasn't the most brilliant conversational gambit.

'Yes,' she replied shortly, and taking up a letter from her desk she began to read, the conversation over.

Those first few days set the scene of my working relationship with Mrs Piper over the next few months. It was never hostile, as I had feared in the early days it might be, but it was never friendly either and that was not because I didn't try to break the ice. But Donna, as I persisted in calling her, never responded. She was never rude but she just didn't seem to want to know. I would ask about her family but she would answer monosyllabically; I would comment on the weather and she would merely nod or say, 'Yes.' She never initiated a conversation about anything other than work and she never asked me a thing about my life.

All of which presented a bit of a difficulty for me because contrary to all my previous sexual predilections, I was becoming increasingly attracted to my PA. I couldn't really understand it, she was cold and rather unfriendly and she was a grandmother, for God's sake. But she was also, as Sally had noted, strikingly attractive and with a better figure than most women in their twenties. And that combination of coldness and sexiness had a profound effect on me. I thought about her a great deal during the day. I fantasised darkly about her body: was her pubic hair a shining copper bush? Were her breasts as good as they seemed under her blouses? What would her pussy taste like if she were aroused?

I sneaked looks at her through the glass partition as she sat typing or talking on the phone. I looked at her hands and her breasts as we talked through project work or as I dictated letters. I loved the sound of her nylons as she crossed her long legs and I lived for those rare and unexpected smiles that lit up her face from its permanent frown and hinted at a softer person beneath the tough exterior.

Of course I did nothing about it. Where I had dreamed of seducing Sally, I had no such dreams about Donna. The whole idea was preposterous - she didn't even call me Brendan. How could one go about seducing a lady like that?

Autumn came and the days got shorter and the nights longer. In November I took Mrs Piper down to Bristol for an important customer meeting. We didn't stay overnight but we were together in my company car for nearly five hours that day and, for the first time, the ice seemed to break a bit. We didn't talk the whole time but the conversation as we bowled along the motorway was, if not easy, then less difficult. I asked her what she liked doing in her spare time and she said she read a lot and went walking in the Peak District at weekends. She didn't say whether she engaged in this latter activity alone or in company and I didn't ask. She asked me what I did and I said I read a lot too and we had a lively discussion on books and authors. I also added that I liked walking but she didn't take the bait.

A week before Christmas Donna and I went through a list of customers to decide who we were sending a festive card to this year. After we'd finished I handed her a sealed envelope with my Christmas card to her inside. She smiled and said, 'Thank you' and through the partition I saw her open the envelope, read the card and put it on her desk with the twenty or so other cards she'd received from work colleagues. She was wearing a dark-red blouse that was quite tight-fitting and I looked at her lean frame and jutting breasts and I squirmed inside with desire.

The following morning there was an envelope on my desk addressed to Mr Martin. Inside was a card inscribed, "Best Wishes for Christmas and the New Year". It was signed, "Donna". At last she had used her first name! That was progress, I thought.

The Executive Christmas dance was held two days later, on the last working Friday before the holiday. It was exclusively for members of the Executive and their guests and specially invited customers and suppliers. The Executive PAs were also allowed to attend. It was held in a big hall on the campus and it was notorious throughout the company for the lavishness of the food and drink and for the stories of senior executives dancing on the tables or, in one case, being discovered fucking their PA in the car park.

To remove the temptation of making a similar fool of myself, specifically by propositioning Mrs Piper, I had decided not to drink for the evening and to reinforce this I drove my car to the venue and parked in the visitors car park close to the entrance to the hall. Things were already in full swing when I arrived and inside the hall it was hot and noisy, the flashing lights of the disco sweeping the walls, ceiling and the crowded dance floor.

In the furthest corner from the dance floor, next to the toilets, the unattached PAs had taken over a big table and I could see Mrs Piper talking to a younger colleague, the table littered with glasses and bottles of wine. There was no bar, food and drink were laid out on tables in an adjoining room, a system that positively encouraged overindulgence. I got myself a cold coke and wandered around talking to people I knew and watching the dancers strutting their stuff on the floor of the hall; it was an evening when the aging members of the Executive could re-live their youth.

I finished my coke and went to get another but I was hijacked by the Financial Director's PA who took my arm and steered me unresisting onto the floor. Emily was a pretty twenty-something lady with an outgoing personality and very big tits. She and I exchanged banter when I visited the FD's office and I had grown to like her and suspected that the feeling was reciprocated. I was aware that she was unattached and it had crossed my mind to invite her out, but somehow I hadn't done anything about it.

'Here by yourself, Brendan?' she asked me as we twirled about the floor.

'All by myself,' I confirmed.

'What a waste,' she sighed, theatrically.

'I might say the same,' I teased her.

'Ah, but I've got a hot date tomorrow night.'

'Anyone I know?'

'Yes,' she smiled, 'but it's a secret for the time being.'

'We never quite made it, did we Emily,' I said, echoing Sally's words and suddenly feeling a bit left out.

'Well maybe you should have asked me out. I thought I dropped enough hints.'

'Well maybe if it doesn't work out with the mystery man...'

'Maybe,' agreed Emily, 'if Donna Piper hasn't got her claws into you by then.'

'Donna!' I said, startled. 'I don't think she even likes me.'

'Oh, she likes you alright. But I'd steer clear of her tonight, she's had a lot to drink; I've never seen her so drunk. In fact I've never seen her drunk at all.'

Emily moved off to chat with some friends and I had some food and another coke and then I needed to pee. When I came out of the Gents I had to pass the PAs' table and there was Mrs Piper, sitting by herself, a glass of red wine in her hand. I wasn't sure I wanted an encounter with her in this place but she spotted me, put down her glass and stood up and came towards me, swaying slightly.

She was dressed in a long, sleeveless pearlescent sheath that came to her ankles and highlighted her figure to perfection. Her copper hair was piled on top of her head, giving her an impossibly sophisticated look and her make-up was lavish and perfectly applied. I literally stopped in my tracks as she came up to me.

'Donna,' I smiled. 'You look amazing.'

'I wondered if you could spare me five minutes for a dance,' she said, faintly slurring. 'If you're not too busy with Emily that is.'

Busy came out as bishy and I realised the truth of what Emily had told me. 'Ok,' I agreed and led my PA out onto the dance floor where, as luck would have it, the DJ had just slowed things down for the next few numbers.

We found a space and came together in a loose embrace and circled round slowly while Fleetwood Mac's Albatross played its hypnotic rhythm.

'Are you enjoying yourself, Donna?' I asked, acutely aware of our closeness.

'Not particularly,' she replied and I caught a blast of red wine breath.

'Oh I'm sorry to hear that,' I told her. 'What's the matter?'

'Nothing I wish to discuss,' she replied so I shut up and danced, trying to tell myself that Mrs Piper wasn't getting closer to me with each record.

The last slow number before the DJ ramped things up again was Elkie Brooks belting out Lilac Wine, a singularly appropriate number considering Donna's evident drunkenness. As Ms Brooks reached a crescendo Mrs Piper pressed herself against me, her face inches away from mine, her eyes wide and unfocussed.

'Kiss me Brendan,' she hissed.

Words that I had wanted to hear for weeks, but not here. Not now. I pushed her gently away as the number ended and she turned, anger on her face and stumbled away back to her table and her glass of wine. It was nine-thirty and I could decently leave in about an hour.

I kept well away from the PAs' table after that, talking to some of my colleagues' wives and even having a dance with a couple, one a plump lady who said I looked "Good enough to eat" in my dinner jacket and white tie.

I was just contemplating getting a coffee and then heading home when Emily came up to me.

'You're driving, aren't you, Brendan?' she asked, her face serious.

'Why, do you want a lift home?' I smiled at her. 'A quick fling before tomorrow's mystery date?'

'Not me,' she replied. 'It's your PA. She's completely pissed and if she stays here she'll make all sorts of trouble for herself.'

'Can't you put her in a taxi?'

'We've tried to get one but there's an hour's wait and besides, I think she needs someone to make sure she's ok.'

'I'm not sure I'm the best person,' I said, thinking of the attempted kiss and the anger at my rejection.

'You're the only one I can find with a car. Please, Brendan...'

'Where is she now?'

'In the toilets.'

'Can you get her into the carpark?'

'I think so, I'll get a couple of the girls to help me. We might be able to sneak her out of the fire door.'

I left the hall and went and stood by my car, my breath clouding in the cold December air. About fifteen minutes later the fire door at the side of the hall was pushed open and a little group of three girls came out. Donna was in the middle and was being supported by the petite Emily on her left and the strapping PA to the Commercial Director on her right. They spotted me and steered their charge over. I opened the passenger door and between us we managed to get Donna into the seat. She immediately closed her eyes and seemed to go to sleep.

'Where does she live?' I asked.

Emily gave the name of a village to the north of the city. 'Her house is directly opposite the church,' she told me. 'You can't miss it and her car will be parked in the drive. Thanks, Brendan,' she added, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

'She'd better not be sick in my car!'

I found Donna's house easily enough and parked next to her little Vauxhall. Getting her out of the car was a struggle but the night air appeared to revive her and she stood unaided by the front door.

'Where's the key?' I asked.

'In my handbag,' she replied, and I sighed. She hadn't had a handbag in the car so it must still be in the hall. 'Is there a spare?' I asked.

Mrs Piper thought for a moment. 'Under the green gnome,' she said, enigmatically. I rolled my eyes then realised that the door was flanked by two garden gnomes, one green and the other red. I got the door unlocked and got her inside.

'Shall I make you a black coffee?' I asked as we stood in the kitchen.

'I just want to go to bed,' said Donna miserably. 'I've made a fool of myself tonight in front of you and I just want to go to bed.' She started weeping and I put my arms around her and held her as the tempest passed, leaving her damp and limp.

I helped her up the stairs and into the big bedroom at the front of the house that I assumed was hers. She tottered to the bed and collapsed full-length onto it. I stood looking at her for a moment then I went over and pulled her high heels off, briefly feeling her nylon hose against my hand. Then I folded the duvet over her and tried to make her as comfortable as possible.

Her breathing was loud, her mouth partially open, but she seemed to have fallen heavily asleep, which raised the question of what I should do now. I felt uncomfortable with the idea of just leaving her. What if she was sick in the night and choked? In the end I found a single duvet from a bed in another room and sat in an upholstered chair in her bedroom. It was uncomfortable but I must have fallen asleep eventually because when I next looked at my watch it was after four.

Donna was now sleeping easily and deeply, her breath whistling in her nostrils, and I decided that she could be left alone. I looked down on her for a few moments before bending down and kissing her cheek. 'Goodnight Mrs Piper.' I drove home and went straight to bed, waking at half-past-eleven.

I thought about Donna as I showered and shaved and about how she might be feeling this morning. After a late breakfast I drove to her house, stopping at work on the way and persuading security to open up the hall so that I could retrieve her handbag.

She answered the door after the second ring, dressed in slacks and a loose top. Her face was without make-up and she looked pale and drawn.

'I've got your handbag,' I said, holding it up.

'Thank you.'

'How are you feeling,' I asked as we sat in her lounge sipping tea.

'Awful,' she replied, unenthusiastically. 'I must have been very drunk last night.'

'Yes,' I said, diplomatically, 'you were a bit.'

'Thanks for getting my handbag. And I'm sorry for last night's performance. You must think me ridiculous; a middle-aged secretary throwing herself at her young and handsome boss. What a pathetic cliché.'

'These things happen,' I said. 'You were drunk. I was sober. If you'd only been half-drunk and I'd only been half-sober things might have been different.'

Donna looked at me closely. 'I'm not sure I understand what you mean by that,' she said, at length.

I stood up. 'I need to go. I'll see you on Monday.' And I left her sitting on the settee with a puzzled expression on her face.

On Monday we were back to our normal relationship, which surprised me somewhat. After Friday night's performance I thought she could at least have been a bit contrite. And to make things worse she was wearing my favourite emerald-green satin blouse and her hair was a burning copper and her lips were red and inviting. In the early afternoon she knocked on my door and walked in without waiting to be asked, which was what she usually did.

'I think I ought to mention that I've got an interview tomorrow morning,' she began.

'An interview! Who with?'

'The Head of Manufacturing's looking for a PA while his is on maternity leave. I thought it might be best if we didn't work together anymore.'

'But that's insane, Donna! We're a great team! Look what we've done in the last six months!'

Donna's voice quavered, it was the first crack in her defences that I had seen. 'I can't work with you anymore, Brendan. My feelings for you have become too strong.'

I looked at her with my mouth open. I'd ignored Emily's insinuations but here was the unobtainable Mrs Piper telling me in person that she had feelings for me, in my office on a December afternoon! I felt lightheaded. 'But you've always been so... so distant...'

Donna gave a little smile. 'My way of coping.'

'Look, Donna,' I said suddenly. 'Don't make any decisions right now. Let me take you out to dinner this evening and we'll talk.'

'Dinner?' She looked at me uncertainly.

'Yes, dinner,' I said decisively. 'I'll pick you up at seven.'

She hesitated. 'Alright.'

I chose an Italian restaurant in the city centre, specifically requesting a secluded table. Mrs Piper was dressed in a grey silk cocktail dress and black stockings and high-heels. Her copper locks were loose and she was made up carefully and expertly. She had emerald studs at her ears and she looked entrancing.

Amazingly we were given the requested secluded table and after ordering drinks I looked at her across the little table. 'I had no idea that you had any feelings for me,' I began. 'Quite the opposite, really. If I'd thought that I would have said something to you a long time ago.'

'It wasn't something I had anticipated,' she said, toying with her cutlery. 'When I first heard that you were going to be my boss I did a bit of digging and I found that you were single and you'd dated half the unattached and presentable secretaries in the company. I knew what you looked like - that tousled hair and boyish good looks and the easy sense of humour. So I formed an impression of a sort of Daniel Cleaver out of Bridget Jones's diaries.'

'I'm flattered,' I smiled.

'Don't be,' she responded. 'He wasn't a very nice character. But then when we started working together I found that you were a really nice person. And I knew what would happen, I'd make a silly fool of myself with you. So I put on the frigid display but it didn't stop me falling for you and I'm twenty years older than you and it's ridiculous.' She stopped and looked up at me, her fists clenched on the table and I noted inconsequentially that she was wearing dark-green nail varnish.

'Would it surprise you to know that I find you a very attractive woman indeed.'

'Not entirely,' said Donna. 'But physical attraction isn't the same as love.'

'But it's surely a precursor to love,' I pointed out, 'and you've never shown me enough of yourself for that seed to germinate.'

'No, I suppose not,' she admitted. 'It was the age gap. If I'd been twenty years younger I'd have been all over you.'

'So what do we do now?' I asked. 'Are you going to go and work for someone else or are you going to give me a chance to get to know you?'

Mrs Piper was silent for a long moment. 'I don't know,' she said eventually.

The drinks arrived and then the antipasto and we talked of other things: music, colleagues, films and the evening passed pleasantly enough, despite the tension between us. It was such a treat to sit opposite Donna, to look at her and talk openly with her after all these months. In the subdued lighting of the restaurant she looked beyond beautiful and I felt waves of desire wash over me.

Eventually we left the restaurant and walked to the car park. Donna slipped her arm through mine as we strolled through the city centre passing busy street bars and throbbing night clubs.

'Would you like a nightcap?' I asked.

'No,' she replied. 'Take me home.'

'Are you coming in?' she asked as I pulled to a halt in her driveway.

'If that's ok then yes, thank you,' The tension between us was like the static electricity from a nylon sheet. I felt heavy and the air felt thick and hard to breathe.

We went through her front door and into the big kitchen at the back of the house that looked out over the darkened garden. 'Would you like a coffee, Brendan?' Donna asked. 'Or a glass of wine...?'

'I'd like to kiss you, Donna,' I said, thickly.

She looked at me for a few seconds then she slowly came to me and put her arms around my neck, tilting her face to mine. I closed my eyes and lowered my head, brushing her lips with mine, feeling their warmth and juicy fullness. 'Oh God,' she murmured, pressing her mouth to mine. I put my arms around her waist, marvelling at the slimness of her figure, the feeling of her being pressed against me. I opened my mouth and she responded and we worked our lips together softly and slowly, everything done slowly as we came to the realisation that we were here together and we were kissing and the journey we had been on seemed to be drawing to a conclusion.

As if to reinforce that notion I felt Donna's tongue slip between my lips and I gently sucked on it, tasting her saliva, feeling the roughness of her papillae. I stroked my hands up and down her back, feeling the flare of her buttocks; I moved my head to and fro, sucking in her lower lip, stroking her burnished copper hair with one hand, pressing her head to mine.

She responded by pressing herself to me, her breasts firm against my chest, her hands on my neck, her painted nails pressing deliciously into my flesh. Her mouth was wet and mobile, exploring and tasting, her tongue darting out to engage with mine. I was so aroused that I was barely conscious of my surroundings, only of this copper-headed goddess kissing me like I had never been kissed before.

Sometime later she broke the kiss and looked at me, her eyes half closed. 'What would you like to do now, Mister Martin?' she whispered.

'I'd like to take you to bed, Mrs Piper,' I whispered back.

Without a word, Donna took my hand and led me from the kitchen, switching out the lights as she went. I followed her upstairs to her bedroom, which was partially lit by the floodlights across the road which illuminated the church. She turned to face me. 'Undress me, Brendan,' she said softly.

I took her face in my hands, kissing her tenderly, stroking her cheeks and the curve of her neck with my thumbs. I found the zip at the back of her neck and pulled it down, stepping back from her so that I could pull the sleeves of her dress over her arms and lift the whole thing over her head. I laid it carefully on the padded chair that I had slept on a few nights ago and stood looking at her in the reflected light from outside.

She was wearing matching bra and panties in lacy silk and a black satin suspender belt and stockings, the straps of her suspenders passing under her panties. She looked like a lingerie model from the pages of a mail order catalogue: impossibly long and shapely legs, gently curving hips, taut stomach, full breasts and a long, slender neck.

'You're beautiful, Donna,' I whispered.

She smiled gently and I kissed her mouth as I unclipped her brassiere, letting it fall off her arms to the floor. Her breasts were as good as I had hoped; better. Round and full and jutting from her chest, the areolae neat and pink, her nipples standing proud and slightly elevated. I stroked one with my hand, relishing the firm skin and the warm roundness, cupping and squeezing softly, touching her nipple with my thumb tip. Donna sighed, stroking my face with her long, tapered fingers.

I knelt on the carpet in front of her and hooked my fingers in the waistband of her knickers, pulling them slowly down over her hips. The silky material of the gusset clung to her labia then pulled free as I slipped her panties down over the sheer nylon of her stockings, exposing her pussy to me. She steadied herself with a hand on my shoulder as she lifted first one foot then the other to allow me to remove her knickers and her high-heeled shoes.

And I could smell her! I could smell Mrs Piper's pussy in the darkened room, a strong, musky, exciting aroma that hinted at her own arousal. I moved my face close to her labia, thick and swollen and slightly parted, surmounted by a curly bush of hair. I was mesmerised. This was what I had dreamed of but never dared to hope would actually happen. I kissed her labia gently, feeling the faint dampness of her skin, her scent in my nostrils, her hair tickling my nose. She put a hand behind my head and pressed my face gently to her loins and I slid my tongue between her lips, finding silky-wet skin, tasting her secretions, exploring her intimate place.

I could hear Donna's breathing, gaspy and fast as I started to lick her cunt with long strokes, teasing the tip of my tongue into the little hood of her clitoris, running it over her pearl, the centre of her pleasure. She moaned and broke free, stumbling back and sitting in the upholstered chair, lifting her legs over the arms in wanton invitation. I shuffled over and buried my face in her pussy again, licking and sucking the folds of her labia, pushing my tongue as far inside her as I could get it.

Donna wriggled and gasped, her fingers entwined in my hair, pressing me to her with added urgency. I concentrated on her clitoris, licking and sucking the little nipple, sliding two fingers deep into her sopping cunt. She started bucking her hips and making little mewing noises as I fucked my fingers in and out of her hole, my face coated with her juices, the bedroom air thick with her scent.

'I'm coming!' she cried out suddenly as I pressed my tongue to her, shuddering and groaning as her orgasm swelled up through her loins and burst like a firework, saturating her nervous system with exquisite pleasure.

After her climax had subsided I knelt up and looked at Mrs Piper as she levered herself out of the chair. 'Damn, I've been sitting on my dress,' she said ruefully. 'It's your turn now, Brendan.' She went over to the bed and crawled on, rolling onto her back, her stockinged legs parted. I'd worn a suit to dinner and now I took it off and threw it onto the chair on top of Donna's crumpled dress. It was good to remove my tie and shirt and a profound relief to take off my underpants and let my cock spring free; it had been rigid since we had kissed in the kitchen, my Y-fronts were soaked with my juices and my cockhead was red and angry-looking.

I got onto the bed with my PA and kissed her gently, stroking her neck and shoulders as she looked up at me, her eyes in shadow. 'I want you inside me,' she whispered huskily so I knelt between her legs and guided the big head of my cock to her slippery, juice-coated labia.

My cock's a nice size, not huge, about seven and a half inches and thick and smooth, but Mrs Piper cried out as I parted her lips and sank the head of my penis deep into her pussy. 'God, that feels enormous.' She raised her legs and I went slowly, giving her inch after inch until I was balls-deep inside her. I stopped and kissed her very tenderly, relishing the feeling of being inside the unobtainable Donna, feeling her cunt tighten around my cock as she squeezed her muscles.

I stroked her hair and kissed her again and then I pulled out a few inches and slid back in, feeling her tightness and heat, the liquid silkiness of her arousal. 'Mmm,' she murmured, 'that feels wonderful.' I built up a rhythm, coming almost right out and sliding remorselessly back in, feeling my cock stretch her, feeling her hands on my upper arms, grasping tightly, her varnished nails digging into me.

I fucked Mrs Piper for long minutes that first time, surprised that I could last so long inside such a woman but going as slowly as I could. She breathed in time with my thrusts and locked her stockinged legs over mine so that I could feel her hose against my skin and she could buck her hips up to meet my thrusts, urging me to go faster, harder.

I was in a sort of carnal heaven. I was a competent and experienced lover (at least, I thought so) but I'd never before experienced this total intimacy and strength of feeling. I slowed right down to delay my orgasm but Donna dug her nails mercilessly into me. 'Give it to me hard, Mister Martin, and make me come again.'

I thrust harder and faster, building up speed, and she urged me on with cries of, 'Yes, yes,' and 'harder you bastard!' I rammed my cock in and out of her cunt and ground my pubic bone into her soft mound at the end of each stroke and Donna writhed and bucked and raked my back with her nails causing an exquisite fiery pain that started my orgasm, tickling in my balls and cock, growing and swelling and enveloping me in a cloud of ecstasy, throbbing through my body until I started squirting spunk inside her, gasping and breathless.

When it was over I felt stunned. I gently disengaged myself and lay down on my back, next to my lover. She rolled onto her side and put her head on my chest. 'I'm sorry you didn't come again,' I said.

'What makes you think I didn't?' she asked.

'I don't know,' I said lamely, 'I just thought...'

'You were a bit busy with your own,' she smiled, 'and my second one's always a bit smaller, if I have one at all,' she added.

'It sounds like a stupid cliché,' I began, 'but it really never has felt that good before.'

Donna raised herself on one elbow and looked at me. 'It's a long time since I had sex but I can't remember it feeling that good before either.'

It was something I had been wanting to know for a long time. 'Why wasn't a lady as gorgeous as you inundated with horny men? After your divorce, I mean.'

She smiled and flicked her hair out of her eyes. 'I got a lot of offers,' she said. 'A lot. But sex was the last thing I wanted after my divorce and I wasn't looking for a new partner either. It's taken me years, literally, to get back into a place where I wanted to have a relationship and then it turns out to be my thirty-one-year-old boss that I'm attracted to. Life constantly surprises me.'

'Me too,' I added with feeling. 'I still can't believe I'm here in bed with the legendary Mrs Piper and we've just had the best sex ever.'

'And speaking of the legendary Mrs Piper, you won't be telling Sally Waters that you conquered the dragon, will you,' she remarked. It wasn't a question.

I put my arm around Donna and pulled her close to me and she laid her head on my chest again and I felt an enormous sense of peace and wellbeing flood through me.

'Where do we go from here?' I asked after we had lain silent for a few minutes. I was strangely nervous.

'That's rather up to you, Brendan,' she replied.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean that if you want to have a relationship with me, a proper relationship, then I would be very happy. Delighted in fact. But I'm fifty and you are thirty-one. If it was the other way round nobody would bat an eyelid, but a senior manager having a relationship with his much older PA will raise some eyebrows, don't you think.'

'Probably,' I agreed.

'And I don't want us to have to go sneaking about either. If we're going to be in a relationship I want to be upfront about it.'

Things seemed to be moving a bit faster than I had envisaged. I'd wanted to fuck Donna for months, but did I want a grown-up relationship with her? Strangely the idea seemed very appealing.

'Do you want to stay here tonight?' she asked suddenly.

She stripped off her stockings and we used the bathroom and then we got under the duvet and snuggled up together in the darkness of the bedroom, Donna having drawn the curtains.

'How are you feeling?' she asked.

'A bit weird,' I admitted.

'Me too.' I found her mouth in the darkness and kissed her, feeling her full lips against mine. She responded as I opened my mouth and flicked my tongue against hers. My hand slid down to her breasts, cupping and squeezing, pinching her stiff nipple gently between finger and thumb. Donna sighed as my hand slid lower, cupping her vulva, stroking the soft hairy bush, my fingers finding her slit and sliding in, feeling the sticky goo of my recent discharge.

Then Donna's hand was on my stiffening cock, stroking it to full hardness. 'Well that's one good reason for a relationship with a younger man,' she whispered, slowly masturbating me. 'Do you want me again?'

Donna raised her legs and bent them over her chest and I entered her slowly and easily and deeply; she was very wet. I made love to her with short, slow thrusts, kissing her lips and her neck, smelling her scent and listening to her sighs as I took her under the duvet in the darkness and warmth of her bed.

I had never felt so close to another human being as I took her for the second time that Monday night before Christmas. It wasn't love, but it seemed to hint at what love might be like with such a woman and the depth of feeling that we might attain. Donna was quiet beneath me, no bucking of her hips or raking me with her nails; she lay quiescent except for her lips which kissed me and explored my face and her hands which gently stroked my back, tracing the ridges of my spine. At one point her breathing suddenly got deep and fast and she arched her back and I think she had another orgasm.

Eventually I came again, a muted and short but still powerful climax, my cock pumping the remains of my sperm into Mrs Piper. Afterwards she lay with her head and an arm on my chest and in that position we fell asleep.

I woke the next morning when Donna drew the curtains, flooding the room with winter sunlight. She was dressed and fully made-up and I guessed she had a separate dressing room. Her copper hair shone in the morning light and she was wearing my favourite emerald-green satin blouse, with the added attraction that now I knew exactly what it concealed.

'What time is it?' I asked, my mouth dry.

'Nearly half-past eight. I overslept.'

'Me too. Why didn't you wake me?'

'You haven't got a meeting till ten-thirty,' she replied. 'That gives you time to go home and get some clean clothes.' Suddenly she was Mrs Piper the PA again, but she smiled and came and leaned over the bed and kissed me with her juicy lipsticked lips. 'I'll see you in the office, Brendan.'

I made my meeting with minutes to spare and then I had a working lunch with a couple of my sub-managers so it wasn't until after one-thirty that I made it back to my office. Mrs Piper was typing at her desk. 'Could I have a word, Donna,' I told her, walking into my office. She got up and followed me in, taking the seat across the desk, her face expressionless.

'About last night,' I began. Mrs Piper's face clouded and she leaned forward, talking quietly but forcefully. 'If you're going to tell me that it was a stupid mistake and I'm way too old for you then I'd prefer it if you didn't do it in the office during the working day! And before you ask I didn't go to the interview this morning, I cancelled it but I can--'

'Woah! Just a minute.' I held up my hand and she stopped and looked at me, her face still darkened. 'As it happens I wasn't going to dump you.' I paused, letting that sink in. 'I know you're busy with your family over Christmas but I was going to suggest that you and I could go away together for a couple of days between Christmas and New Year. If you'd like to that is. I really think we both need some time together to sort out how we're feeling and where we go from here.'

Donna's face softened and then, to my dismay, crumpled and I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket and offered it to her. She took it gratefully and dabbed the tears from her eyes. 'Sorry,' she mumbled. 'I'm all over the place this morning.'

'Typical fiery redhead,' I grinned. 'What do you think?'

'I'd really love to,' she said. 'Have you got somewhere in mind?'

'The Lake District,' I said after a moment's thought. 'Lots of peace and tranquillity and some great walking. My PA looks after all my travel arrangements, I'll get her to book somewhere.'

***

The hotel was on the outskirts of Keswick and was only moderately busy during the hiatus between Christmas and New Year. In the end I had booked everything as I wanted it to be a bit of a surprise for Donna and it was good to see her face light up as we went into the suite I had booked. It boasted an enormous four-poster bed, a lounge and balcony with a terrific view over Derwentwater and a monster bathroom with a huge corner bath.

'Oh it's wonderful,' Brendan, she squealed, going to the window and looking out over the still water and the distant Catbells. She turned back to me and practically threw herself into my arms and kissed me fiercely on the mouth. 'You called me a fiery redhead the other day. Now you're going to find out just how fiery I can be!' and with that she pulled my jacket off my shoulders and started to unbutton my shirt.

'What are you doing?' I laughed.

'I want you to fuck me,' she replied, pulling my shirt out of my waistband. 'Quick and rough. I've wanted it all day and I thought if we had a quickie now, before dinner, we'd be more relaxed and then later we can take it really slowly.'

I couldn't fault her logic although I was startled to hear her use of such an expletive and I was reminded that I actually didn't know her that well. I grabbed her and pulled her towards me, taking a hank of her copper hair in my hand and pressing her face to mine. 'So you want quick and rough, do you Mrs Piper?' I kissed her hard, mashing my lips against hers, thrusting my tongue into her mouth, my hands finding her flared buttocks and pulling her into my erection. To my surprise and pleasure she rubbed her loins against me and in a mist of arousal and carnal exhilaration I threw her onto the big bed where she lay with her arms outstretched still fully dressed in skirt and jumper, looking at me while I pulled my shoes and trousers off.

Then I was on the bed with her, reaching under her skirt for her knickers. I could have pulled them down over her stockinged legs but with a sudden burst of lust I just ripped a big hole in the silky gusset, got my cock out of my Y-fronts and entered her suddenly and savagely, thrusting my meat right into her pussy.

Donna gasped and cried out, 'Oh, God, yes!' Her cunt was hot and dripping wet and I felt her clench me as our pubic bones clashed together. Then I was fucking her, holding her wrists down to the bed while I thrust in and out of her, looking down on her exquisite face, her red lips parted in an animal growl, showing me her white teeth, her eyes wide open and locked on mine. I felt alive, hyper-excited, part of my brain still struggling to understand that it was Mrs Piper underneath me, Mrs Piper's pussy that I was ramming in and out of, Mrs Piper who had initiated this and who wanted it quick and rough.

I was wondering how long I could last when Donna gave a strangle groan, 'I'm coming, Brendan. Oh darling I'm coming!' Tears filled her eyes as her orgasm racked her slender body and I felt my seed rise and my orgasm swelled and burst through my brain, saturating my nervous system.

When I was done I slid my softening meat out of Donna's cunt and rolled onto my back. 'Well I didn't expect that,' I said, weakly.

She grinned. 'I was planning that all day. Is that too awful of me?' She got up off the bed and started to undress. As she took her skirt off a string of spunk oozed from her pussy onto her stocking top. She took off her ruined panties and wiped herself clean. 'I thought we might have a bath together before dinner.'

'That's a great idea,' I said.

'And you owe me a new pair of knickers.'

We raided the mini bar and took a glass of chilled wine into the bath and it was heavenly. I had never shared a bath with another person and I thrilled to the intimacy of our bodies touching in the hot, scented water. Donna really had got a sensational figure, the ravages of time seemed to have had little effect upon her, although change was of course inevitable. I loved her long, slim legs with their well-defined calves and slim ankles and I loved that she always wore stockings and suspenders; I loved the slender curve of her hips and her flat stomach; I loved the thrust of her breasts with their neat areolae and juicy nipples; I loved her full, well-defined lips and her neat features and the way they softened when she smiled and most of all I loved her copper hair and the matching copper bush at her loins. Now, in the bath together, I leaned over and stroked her red locks and she smiled at me.

'You are very beautiful, Mrs Piper,' I said, seriously.

I watched her as she dressed for dinner. Watched her as she rolled her black, seamed stockings up her legs and clipped them onto her suspenders. I watched her as she stepped into her red cocktail dress and pulled it up over her hips. I watched as she applied her make-up and brushed her hair until it shone in the light of the dressing-table mirror. I watched her as she painted her fingernails with a deep-red varnish.

We were probably a bit overdressed for dinner at the hotel but I didn't care and Donna seemed not to mind. Heads turned as we walked into the dining room, her arm slipped through mine, and I had a sudden surge of joy that I was here tonight with this lady and she was mine. No sooner had we sat down at our table than a photographer appeared and I was glad to let him capture a shot of me with such a beautiful and desirable lady.

We ate slowly and drank sparingly and it was after ten when we vacated the dining room. 'Shall we have a nightcap, darling?' Donna asked as we passed the bar.

It was almost deserted. We sat by the big picture window that looked out over the lake and sipped our brandies. 'I like it when you call me "darling",' I told her.

'Good,' she smiled, leaning towards me. 'I'm looking forward to going to bed with you tonight.'

'Nice and slowly, tonight, wasn't it?' I teased her.

'You can do it however you want, darling,' she whispered. 'And we're both lovely and clean after that bath so we can explore each other and find out what we like...'

I gulped and shivered. 'Shall we go up,' I said, draining my glass and standing up.

I undressed Donna very slowly in the bedroom, with lots of kissing and stroking in between taking off her silky cocktail dress and her bra and panties; there was no way I was going to take her seamed stockings off. Then she undressed me and she brought a sensuousness to it, an eroticism that was a new experience for me. Her red-tipped fingers were soft and deft and there was a lot of stroking and teasing, running a fingertip over the bulge in my trousers.

When she finally pulled my Y-fronts down my aching cock sprang up and hit her nose and she laughed in delight. She was kneeling in front of me and as l looked down she took my shaft in her fingers and slowly moved her mouth to my cockhead, as if in slow motion. I gaped down at her as she opened her mouth wide to take me into her, her red lips closing over my swollen glans, her eyes looking up at me in a way that was the very essence of sexiness.

I felt weak at the knees as Donna started to suck my cock with her mouth while gently masturbating me with her fingers. It was exquisite! I could feel myself getting even harder as she took inches of me into her mouth, sucking and licking, her lips moving seductively up and down my shaft, her mouth warm and wet.

I gently cupped her head in my hands as she fellated me, feeling her copper locks under my fingers. Now Donna started using her free hand, cupping my balls, scratching the crinkly skin with a painted fingernail, reaching under me and finding my anus. I groaned deeply. I wasn't adverse to having an exploratory finger around my arse but I was getting close to the point of no return and if she penetrated me I would come in her mouth.

And that is just what Donna did. Lubricating her finger using her pussy juices she slipped the tip into my sphincter and pushed it in what felt like a long way. 'Oh God, darling, I'm coming,' I gasped, giving her a chance to get free. She sucked harder, gripped my shaft tighter and pushed her finger right in and I exploded in her mouth in an orgasm that went through my body like a slow-motion lightning strike. I grunted and held her head and pumped jet after jet of hot, slimy spunk into Mrs Piper's mouth and she held on and swallowed most of it, a bit leaking out of the side of her mouth and dribbling onto her tits.

'Christ, Donna, I didn't expect you to do that!'

Donna wiped her mouth with her hand and got to her feet. 'I wanted to do it,' she said. 'I wanted to taste you. And you'll last much longer now, so it was me being selfish really,' she smiled. 'Do you want to kiss me, darling, find out what you taste like?'

I didn't really but the madness of the night was on me and so I took her in my arms and we kissed and I tasted the saltiness of my come on her tongue and lips and it wasn't as nasty as I had feared. 'What would you like now?' I asked.

'Whatever you want to do,' she said quietly. She stepped out of my embrace and went over to her handbag and rummaged in one of the pockets. 'Here,' she said, passing me a little tube of lubricating jelly. 'You can use that as well, if you want to...' She left the implication hanging in the air. Surely Mrs Piper didn't do anal sex, did she?

I took the tube of jelly and put it on my bedside table, then I crawled onto the bed and held my hand out to Donna. She crawled on with me and we fell into a wonderful, tangled embrace involving arms and legs. I kissed her tenderly, then passionately and she nipped my lips with her teeth so I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back and took one of her nipples in my mouth, sucking and licking her stiff bud. Mrs Piper squirmed and tried to nip me again. 'Bite my nipple,' she hissed. I clamped down gently with my teeth and she squirmed harder. I bit down harder and pulled my mouth up, stretching her breast out.

Then I was working my way down her stomach, tonguing her navel, parting her legs and burying my face in her copper bush and her sweet, pink labia. She was very wet and she tasted like a dream. I lapped her juices and sucked her clit and stuffed three fingers into her cunt and slid them deep inside her. Donna gasped and squealed as I grabbed her legs and bent them right over, exposing her luscious cunt and her pink pucker. I'd never tongued a lady's anus before but nothing was going to stop me now.

Sensing what was coming, Donna put her hands on her buttocks and stretched them apart, giving me better access to her. I licked the sensitive skin of her perineum then pressed my tongue to her sphincter, getting the tip right in. It felt deliciously dirty and abandoned and I pressed in as far as I could go. Then it was back to her pussy and her clitoris. I repeated this cycle many times as Donna gasped and grunted, bent double on her back. Eventually it was too much for her and she started sobbing as a monster orgasm seethed through her slender frame and tears rolled down her cheeks.

After it was done there was a silence between us for a few seconds. Then Donna spoke. 'You can have me now, darling, wherever you want.'

I enjoyed anal sex but I wasn't a fanatic. But then I'd never been offered Mrs Piper's arse before and I wasn't going to turn it down. She watched as I reached for the lube and squeezed a big gob onto my fingers. She lay quiet, her hands still on her buttocks, as I pushed first one, then two fingers into her rectum, coating her walls with the sticky gel.

'Are you ready?' I asked and she gave me a small smile. 'I really want this, Brendan.'

I'd never done anal in the missionary position before. I lined myself up and pressed my cockhead to Donna's lubricated anus and she gasped, 'Go on, darling, put it inside me.'

I pressed gently, then harder, then harder still, aware of Mrs Piper's eyes on me, worried about hurting her despite what she'd said. Suddenly she was opening and my cock was going into her anus, stretching her ring obscenely. She closed her eyes and groaned and I stopped.

'It's alright,' she said, opening her eyes, 'you can put it all in. It feels good.'

So I pushed gently and my cock sank unresisting into her anus. It was as well that I'd had an orgasm only about half an hour ago or I would surely have exploded inside Mrs Piper's tight rectum as soon as I was in. As it was, I could look down on my beautiful, middle-aged PA and, taking her stockinged ankles in my hands, start to sodomize her with long, slow strokes.

The feel of being inside her most intimate place almost defied description. Her arse enveloped me in a warm, lubricated embrace while her anal sphincter gripped me tightly. 'Is that ok?' I asked and she looked up at me, her arms stretched out above her head. 'It's delicious,' she smiled, 'and naughty and dirty and I love it!'

So I carried on buggering her slowly and gently until I felt the first tendrils of an approaching orgasm and I groaned and shut my eyes, tilting my face to the canopy of the four-poster. Donna sensed my impending climax. 'Not yet, darling,' she whispered. 'Let me go on top.'

Christ, I thought, she wants it in different positions! I slowly withdrew my rigid cock from her arse and released her ankles. Donna got up and I lay down and she straddled me, taking my slippery dick in one hand and lowering herself to me. That second entry was easy, almost as easy as putting it in her cunt. She took my whole length, groaning softly as she slid down my pole, her eyes half closed, her red lips parted. Putting her hands on my chest she started to fuck me with her arse by lifting her hips a few inches and sinking back down again. The feeling was sensational, the eroticism of the act beyond rational description.

Her breasts swayed up and down as she fucked me and I stroked her hips and ran my hands over the fine nylon mesh of her stockings, putting my fingers under her suspender straps. I reached out and took her nipples between finger and thumb and squeezed them. 'Pinch them, darling,' whispered Donna. 'Pinch them hard.'

I lay back in a sea of arousal and watched the object of my desires ride my cock with her arse. I think I could have lain there all night as she did it but after what seemed only a few minutes she slowed and stopped and climbed off me.

'Now from behind,' she said, tersely, getting on her hands and knees. I got behind and above her and pushed my cock into her gaping anus for a third time, fucking her with longer and harder thrusts like a dog fucking a bitch. It was the best position of all; with my hands gripping her shoulders I could give it to her really hard and as I rammed in and out of her I could hear the squishing noises of a well-lubed arse being fucked. It was a good position for Donna, too. She put a hand between her legs and started strumming her clitoris as I buggered her relentlessly.

All too soon my orgasm was building, swelling, surging through my brain in a firework display of unstoppable pleasure. I slowed down, pumping semen into Mrs Piper's anus until I was empty and spent.

'Don't take it out, yet, darling,' said Donna urgently. 'I'm nearly there!' I pressed myself into her as she started to come, her moans turning to screams and gasps, her red-tipped finger working furiously on herself. 'Oh fucking hell!' she cried as her climax crashed through her and she slumped down onto the bed, my cock coming out of her anus with a soft plop.

Afterwards we used the bathroom and then slipped into bed and turned the bedside lights out. Donna came into my arms and I hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her copper head.

'Did I shock you, Brendan,' she asked in the darkness of the room.

'Well I was surprised,' I admitted.

'Didn't any of your secretaries offer you their bums?' she said with a smile in her voice.

'Not exactly,' I replied, mildly embarrassed. 'And certainly not on a second date. I get the impression that there's a lot about you that I don't know.'

Donna laughed quietly. 'Well there's more to me than an uptight PA, and I hope I didn't offend you but I wanted you to know that everything I had was yours.' She paused. 'Are we going for a walk tomorrow?'

'Yes, I thought we'd do a walk over Catbells.'

'I'll tell you all about me then,' she said.

I had Donna again before breakfast and it was long and slow and delicious. And because it was light in the room I could look down on her face, exquisite even without make-up, and her glorious hair, deep copper against the white of the pillowcase. We fucked gently with lots of kissing and stroking and I felt the first tendrils of love creep through me and that was both scary and exhilarating. Then I was coming with a muted groan.

'Well you might have waited for me,' she smiled as I finished pumping into her. So I lay down next to her and used my fingers to bring her to orgasm and she writhed and moaned and afterwards she kissed me on the lips and said, 'Thank you.'

We went out after breakfast, driving a few miles to a little carpark at the foot of Catbells. Mrs Piper was dressed in walking trousers, a thick jumper and waterproof coat and a woolly bobble hat. It was the first time I had seen her in anything other than a dress or skirt and I still thought she looked incredible. It was a perfect December day, cloudless and cold, the water of the lake like a looking glass.

'So tell me all,' I prompted her as we climbed to the summit.

'Well I'm not going to tell you everything,' she grinned. 'A girl's got to have some secrets. But after my wanton display yesterday I did want to tell you a bit about me.'

'I'm all ears.'

She was silent for a few moments as she collected her thoughts. 'I'm trying not to be immodest here,' she began, 'but I got a lot of attention from the boys at school because of my hair colour and my figure. But I never let any of them near me. Well, apart from the odd kiss and maybe a feel of my tits. But it was always on my terms. It was a bit like a game. I had control. Power.' She sighed. 'I thought it was going to be like that all my life.'

'What happened?'

'I went to secretarial college and I got well and truly seduced by my tutor.'

'Wasn't that a bit unethical.'

'Yes, but I didn't care. He was ten years older than me and he knew what he wanted and how to go about getting it. He completely swept me away on a tide of sexual adventure and I fell completely in love with him. And I discovered, or rather he discovered, that I was a very sexual creature when I was aroused. And God did he know how to arouse me. He had me in every room in his flat, in every hole, too and I loved it and I just wanted more and more.'

'So what happened,' I asked, gently.

'Oh the usual. I wanted more than he was prepared to give. I wanted to marry him for God's sake! My parents were absolutely horrified! So was he, but for different reasons. So when I finished college he finished with me and went looking for his next student victim.'

'But you got married eventually,' I prompted.

'Yes,' she laughed, ironically. 'I got married to the boy next door. My parents had always thought he was very suitable and they practically arranged it for me. I was in a bad place and they did everything for me and the next thing I knew I was married to Graham and we were living in suburbia and I was pregnant and everything was perfect. Except that Graham turned out to be the most boring and unadventurous person on the planet, especially in bed.

'So Steve the college lecturer, and full-time bastard, had got me all sexually awakened and then I found myself stuck in a relationship with someone who thought sex was vaguely dirty and really only for procreation. I tried to get him to see it differently but I couldn't. My failure too, I suppose.' She laughed suddenly. 'You should have seen his face when I asked him to take me in my anus! I'd got so bloody frustrated.'

'So what happened with Graham?'

'Well we had a child and that was the saving grace for the marriage, at least while Joanne was growing up. I had something that I could focus on. And when she went to school I went out to work and became the frustrated old dragon that you met.' She smiled and I took her in my arms and kissed her.

'When Joanne left home I had just about decided to leave him when I found out that he was having an affair with one of the neighbours. Bloody unbelievable!'

'How did you find out?'

'He told me. Well, he'd got the silly bitch pregnant, if you can believe that. Her husband wanted to kill him!

'So after twenty odd years of a sterile marriage I'd suddenly found out that my husband actually fancied someone else. It was a big shock to me and I started to wonder if it was my problem and not his. Was I unattractive to men?'

'I can't imagine you thought that,' I told her.

'You'd be surprised what the human mind is capable of in terms of self-destruction. It put me off the idea of dating men and I grew that horrible protective shell that you got the brunt of and for which I'm truly sorry.'

'No worries,' I said, mildly.

'Well, just to finish the story, I started to develop this really unwelcome crush on my new boss who was young and good-looking and a really nice guy and I was filled with hate and self-loathing and I wanted to get a job somewhere else but I could never quite bring myself to do it. And eventually I decided that I'd rather try to do something than sit and feel sorry for myself, so I got drunk at the Christmas party and, well, you know the rest. It didn't exactly go as I had planned, but then I'm not sure I even had a plan.'

I kissed her again then and we trudged over the fells in a companionable silence, listening to the cries of the wheeling buzzards.

I didn't sodomize Donna again during our break in Keswick but we did fuck about three times a day and it wasn't always me who initiated it. I took her in every position I could think of and I spent long, delicious minutes licking her copper-haired pussy. I especially liked it when she sat on my face and pressed her labia against my mouth and I licked her and tasted her and teased her pucker with the tip of my finger.

Three days later, and just before New Year, we drove back home and I dropped Donna off at her house. 'I'll see you back at work on the second,' I told her as I lifted her case out of the back of my car; we both had family engagements over the New Year.

'I look forward to it,' she said, kissing me on my lips.

I drove away with a sense of foreboding. I had lusted after my Personal Assistant for months; I had considered her to be the epitome of mature, sexy elegance. And she had strong feelings for me. But did I actually want her? Was nineteen years too big a gap? I was spending the New Year at my sister's house. Kate was five years older than me, a mother of three, and I had always admired her commonsense approach to life. I would talk to her.

The return to work after the Christmas holiday is supposed to be the worst day of the year. Perversely, it was a beautiful winter's morning. Was that an omen? I asked myself as I drove to work.

Donna was at her desk when I entered the office and she looked up at me and smiled and I melted inside. 'Happy New Year, Mrs Piper,' I said. 'Happy New Year,' Mr Martin she replied.

I went through to my office and fiddled about on my desk for a few minutes, thinking about what I was going to say to my PA. I had discussed Donna and me with my sister over the New Year and I had shown her the picture of the two of us at the restaurant table in the Lake District hotel. Kate had been typically forthright.

'She's fucking gorgeous, Brendan! If I was gay she'd be just the sort of woman I'd go for! Snap her up before she finds a better bet than you.'

'What about the age gap?' I'd asked.

'Oh, fiddlesticks! What's nineteen years! Women live longer than men anyway.'

'What about children? She's probably too old to have another.'

'Do you want children?' my sister had asked.

'I'm not sure,' I'd replied.

'That's probably a "no" then. And believe me, Brendan, children are overrated.'

I looked at Donna through the partition window, typing away at her keyboard, her fingers flying over the keys. She was wearing a plum-coloured blouse and her copper hair was tied on top of her head in a loose bun, showing off the curve of her long, slender neck.

I pressed the button on the intercom. 'Would you come through for a moment, please Mrs Piper.'

She came through and sat down opposite me, lacing her hands in her lap. I noticed inconsequentially that she was wearing plum-coloured nail varnish.

'I'm going to try and get ten minutes with the CEO sometime today,' I began. Donna's face was expressionless. 'I'm going to tell him that I'm in a relationship with you and it's serious. He might want one of us to change jobs,' I added.

'Are you sure, Brendan?' Donna asked quietly. 'Are you sure you're ok with the age gap?'

'Sod the age gap,' I retorted. 'You're fifty not ninety!'

'And I probably can't have another child.'

'I don't care,' I said, slowly and carefully. 'It's you I want.' I stood up and Donna stood and then we were in each other's arms and we were kissing like the world was going to end. I pulled her glorious body to me and cupped her buttocks, pulling her into my swelling erection and she rubbed her loins against me and slid her tongue into my mouth, her juicy red lips mashed against mine.

We broke apart, breathless. 'We probably shouldn't do this in the office,' Donna said, straightening her skirt and smoothing her blouse. 'No,' I agreed, grinning, 'we probably shouldn't.'

***

I did see the CEO that day and she congratulated me. 'I heard about Mrs Piper at the Christmas party,' she told me, 'and I wondered if there was something going on between you.'

'Are you happy for us to continue working together?' I asked.

'Of course,' she replied. 'You're both professionals. Just don't get caught bonking her over your desk in office time,' she added with a smile.

Then there were the introductions to each other's families. I was worried about meeting Joanne because she was only about five or six years younger than me, but she was absolutely fine. 'I hope I can attract a good-looking younger man when I'm mum's age' she grinned, looking at her husband. My parents were great, too, completely ignoring the fact that Donna was nearly as old as them, and my sister Kate took to Donna immediately and the two of them have become great friends.

Donna's parents were less forthcoming. They were in their seventies and suspicious that a man of my age should be consorting with their daughter. 'They'll come round to the idea, in time,' said Donna. And a few months down the line they are certainly friendlier but it's still work in progress.

I'm going to fast-forward a few months now, to the present day. Donna and I haven't formally moved in together, but we spend very few nights apart. Which brings me to a Saturday evening in the middle of a sultry July:

The Turkish restaurant in the city centre is booked for six-thirty; Donna and I like to eat early on a Saturday evening. We are at my house and I am sitting on a chair on the patio in the back garden and waiting for Donna to finish dressing and putting her make-up on. She appears at the french windows behind me and I turn and stare at her in awe.

My partner (that's how we think of each other now) is dressed in a dark-green, sleeveless, full-length silk sheath, split to the knee on one side. It hugs her magnificent figure like a second skin, highlighting her slenderness, the seductive flare of her hips, her flat stomach and her full bosom. Her burnished copper locks are piled artfully on her head and her make-up is carefully applied and subtle. I am tirelessly thrilled at how she looks, at how heads will turn as we enter the restaurant, and I wonder fleetingly, as I have wondered often, just what the hell she sees in me.

I stand and smile at her. 'You look unbelievably beautiful.' She smiles shyly and at that moment there is the sound of a car horn from the road outside; our taxi is here.

Even at six pm the restaurant is buzzing but people turn to stare at Donna as we follow the waiter to our table. Across the restaurant a diner waves and calls and we wave back, recognising a colleague from work, out with his wife.

Our table is in a little alcove away from the bustle of the main room. I always slip the waiter a £20 note as we leave and he makes sure we get this table next time. In the relative privacy of the alcove Donna and I can talk freely and I can slide my hand under the table and stroke the silky material of her sheath, maybe even finding the slit and running my hand over her stockinged thigh.

We eat and drink slowly, savouring the moment with its promise of the pleasure to come. We talk inconsequentially about friends and holidays and where we'll walk tomorrow, if the weather stays fine.

Usually between seven-thirty and eight o'clock, and tonight is no exception, Donna starts to show increasing signs of restlessness, looking at her watch, crossing and recrossing her legs and giving me meaningful looks, which I ignore.

'Shall we go, soon, darling?' she says eventually.

'I'm still finishing my coffee,' I tell her. 'Are you sure you wouldn't like one.'

'No,' she whispers. 'And my knickers are soaking. I'm worried it'll show up on my dress.' I linger for a few moments more, teasing her, before calling for the bill and asking the waiter to call a taxi.

The tension rises during the taxi ride. We sit in the back, holding hands and not speaking, both knowing what is going to happen.

Back home, Donna watches me as I open the french windows wide to allow the tiny breeze to circulate some air throughout the house. Then I take her by the hand and lead her slowly up the stairs to my bedroom where I take her in my arms and we kiss deeply and slowly, tongues exploring mouths, lips brushing against lips, wonderful, warm intimacy.

As we kiss I find the zip at the back of her sheath and pull it down slowly, savouring the faint buzz of the nylon zipper. Then I help her out of her dress, pulling it over her head and folding it carefully while Mrs Piper stands waiting, still in her bra and panties and her seamed, black stockings and garter belt.

We kiss again and I slide my hands over the pale, flawless skin of her shoulders, finding the ridges of her spine and making her shiver as I run my hands down her back and over her panty-clad buttocks. I unclip her bra and take it off, sliding it off her arms and dropping it to the carpet. We kiss again, ramping up the pressure of our mouths and the intensity of our kiss. I am rigid with arousal, my cock straining at my pants, but release is some time away.

I stroke Mrs Piper's breasts, relishing the feel of the round orbs, firm despite her age and with delicious, pink nipples that I stroke and tease between finger and thumb while Donna stands motionless, her breathing audible in the stillness of the bedroom. I go down on my knees and press my face to the gusset of her panties. It is as she said, wet with the juices of her arousal and her scent is strong in the evening air.

I pull her panties down slowly, revealing the copper curls of her pubic bush, untrimmed at my request. The gusset clings to her sticky labia before coming free as I slide her knickers down over her stockings. I want to press my face to her cunt, to taste her and lick her, but that will come later.

'Are you ready?' I ask softly.

'Yes,' she says, quietly.

I go to the bottom drawer of the chest, our special drawer where we keep the things we have bought over the past few months as our intimacy has blossomed and reached new heights of adventure. I take out a black, latex butt plug. Big, but smaller than my cock and with a tapered head. Donna watches expressionlessly as I take a tube out of the drawer and coat the plug with gooey lubricant.

'Bend over,' I tell her and she goes to my desk by the window that she uses as a dressing table when she stays over. She leans over the desk, her long, stockinged legs spread wide, the seams perfectly straight. I put my hand on her buttock and pull the fleshy orb to one side, exposing her little pink starfish. She moans softly as I touch her anus with the tip of the plug. I press harder and she gives a gasp as the tip opens her sphincter and the black latex slides in, stretching her. 'Mmm,' she mews, softly. 'That's nice.'

I push the plug fully into Mrs Piper's arse until her ring closes around the narrow neck, leaving the base between her cheeks, black against her pale skin. She stands up, her eyes closed, getting used to the feeling of the toy inside her. I kiss her lips and her neck and lead her to the bed.

'Lie down,' darling, I tell her. She climbs slowly onto the bed and lies down on her back, spreading her legs and arms in anticipation. I go to the bottom drawer again and get out the restraining harness that we bought a few weeks ago. I separate out the components and go round the corners of the bed, looping the thick, nylon webbing straps over the bedposts. We could leave the straps in place but my mother has a key to the house...

Next I buckle the leather wrist and ankle cuffs onto Mrs Piper, making sure they are tight, but not too tight. She watches me as I work, her head moving as I go from ankle to ankle to wrist. Then it's my favourite part. I clip each cuff onto its adjustable webbing strap and start to tighten the straps by pulling on the loose end, stretching Donna's arms and legs.

I take my time, tightening each strap a little bit and moving onto the next. Donna likes to be tied down so tightly that she can barely move and that is why we bought the heavy-duty restraint system. I pull the straps until the muscles of her upper arms and thighs stand out like cords. She tries to pull against her bonds but all she can do is arch her back a tiny bit.

I sit on the bed next to her and stroke her copper pussy, running a finger gently up her slit. I stroke her tits, cupping and squeezing. Her nipples are rigid, like little pink hazelnuts. 'Do you want the clamps on?' I ask. 'Yes please,' she whispers.

I go to the drawer for a third time and take out a pair of spring-loaded clamps, with an adjusting screw. I fit them carefully to her nipples and she groans with pleasure and maybe a hint of pain. 'Tighten them just a little bit, darling,' she whispers. I twist the screws half a turn and she closes her eyes and gasps, 'Yes, that's it!'

My last trip to the drawer is for the ball gag; it resembles a practice golf ball with a securing strap. It's a tight fit in Mrs Piper's mouth but I get it in and her red lips partially close around it. Her breathing is louder now, and faster. I fasten the strap around her head and she's ready for me. But I'm not ready for her yet. I kiss her gently on the forehead and stroke her copper hair. Then I stand up. 'Don't go away,' I smile at her as I leave the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

Downstairs, I go out onto the patio. It's warm and still light and I sit in one of the recliners and think about my middle-aged personal assistant, strapped helpless to me bed, gagged, her nipples clamped, a butt plug up her arse.

I still find it difficult to believe that I have found the woman of my dreams. I told her months ago that I loved her and she cried and said she loved me and since then I have been walking six inches above the ground and hearing choirs of angels serenading me as I go. Donna says she feels the same way, although not in those exact words. I didn't mention the choir of angels.

I think about how my perception of Mrs Piper has changed over the past year, from the remote, haughty secretary to the intensely sexual creature waiting upstairs for me. Who would have thought it, I ask myself. She had told me on Catbells before the New Year what she was like; I supposed that I had only half believed her. Except there was that episode where I'd taken her anally in three different positions...

I look at my watch. I don't like to leave her too long; twenty minutes is about right to bring her to a peak of arousal so that when I penetrate her for the first time she has a huge, throbbing orgasm.

I stand up and go inside, closing the french windows. I make my way upstairs and open the bedroom door and Donna turns her head to look at me. Her green eyes follow me around the room as I undress and hang my clothes up, moving slowly and deliberately.

Eventually I stand by the bed, my cock rigid in my hand, stroking gently. 'Are you ready?' I ask. Donna grunts something but with the gag in I can't understand what she is saying. I climb onto the bed and position myself between her harnessed legs, savouring the moment and the sight of my PA tied down before me. I guide myself to her soaking pussy and press my swollen cockhead against her labia. I push down and my dick slips into her molten depths and Donna arches her back and gives a strangled gasp and I know that she is having her first climax.

I fuck Mrs Piper's cunt for a few minutes, going very slowly and deeply as she lies motionless in a post-orgasmic haze, her eyes closed. I am above her, leaning down to kiss her neck and her cheeks. She opens her eyes as I withdraw and go down on her, pressing my face to her pussy, smelling her scent and tasting her musky juices. I lap at her pussy like a cat with a bowl of cream, drinking down her exotic nectar. I reach under her bum and press a finger to the base of the butt plug and Mrs Piper writhes and gasps. She likes the added stimulation, the pressure of the plug.

My face soaking with her vaginal secretions, I move up and concentrate on her clitoris and Donna grunts louder and strains against her harness. I take the little bud in my mouth and suckle it and lick it and Mrs Piper makes a guttural noise as a second orgasm sweeps through her leaving her limp, saliva oozing from the ball gag.

I take the gag out of her and gently wipe her face, kissing her lips and stroking her cheeks. Then I straddle her face and guide my cock to her mouth. Donna told me that she particularly likes it when I force my cock into her mouth when she is restrained; she loves the sense of impotence, of helplessness. I push myself into her, being careful not to overwhelm her and make her gag. She closes her juicy red lips over my glans and I start to fuck her mouth with short, slow, gentle thrusts. It's not my favourite position for fellatio, I prefer it when I'm lying down and Donna's kneeling over me. But it is part of our game.

I don't come in her mouth. She is ok with me doing that but maybe not when I'm sitting on her face. Instead I take my cock from her mouth and penetrate her again, sinking my full seven-and-a-half inches into her and thrusting hard and fast. 'Oh God, yes, darling,' she hisses. 'Come inside me! Fill me up with your spunk!'

But I don't come inside her, not then. I fuck her vigorously for a few minutes until I feel my climax approaching and then I withdraw and go down on her again, pressing my mouth to her labia, lips to lips. I lick her slowly and comprehensively, tonguing her hole and sucking up her silky juices. I press the base of her butt plug and flick the tip of my tongue over her clitoris and she strains against her straps, gasping and panting. Then thrust my cock back into her, repeating the cycle of fucking and licking over and over.

Finally I feel my own orgasm rise unstoppably. It swells and thunders up my spine to burst in my brain. It is a feeling so intense that for a few short seconds I lose all sense of time and place as I pump jets of semen into Mrs Piper.

After I am spent, I release Donna from her bonds and she stretches luxuriously, like a cat. I lie down on the bed and she puts her head on my chest and strokes my stomach gently with a dark-green varnished fingernail. 'How many?' I ask. I am talking about orgasms. One Saturday afternoon when I tied her to the bed and alternately licked and fucked her she had five orgasms. Usually it's two or three.

'Only three today,' she grins. 'You must be losing your touch.'

'I love you very much, Mrs Piper,' I tell her.

'I love you very much, too, Mr Martin,' she replies.

'Will you marry me?' I ask.

'Of course I will, you goose.' She stifles a sob. 'I didn't think you'd ever ask me.'

The End