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Chapter 1: Ungentlemanly Conduct…

The office was probably quite typical of many offices. Not quite open plan – it had six desks in the middle of the room in a sort of hexagonal shape, all separated by screens, so that we all felt we were working in booths. The solid screens were quite high – perhaps six feet high – high enough to hide each of us from each other if we were sat down, yet at the same time not substantial enough to block sound, particularly if we talked loudly on the phone. Of course there were no doors on the “booths” so it was easy to move around if we needed to, or when we were leaving. The other thing we had in our offices was mirrors – on all the walls, just to help the light. It had been organised ideally for our work – we were called “technical advice”. We answered the phones a lot, talked a lot helping customers who had bought our IT equipment, organised for engineers to go out when needed, wandered around looking for help when we didn’t know what we were doing.

It was a friendly office. There were 6 desks, and 6 of us worked there, plus our boss Colin who had a separate office. Tony and Keith were older – married, experienced, good at their work. Mike was a bit younger, but totally in love with his BMW, and nearly in love as much with Julie his wife. There was Tina – in love with her horse as much as Mike loved his BMW. And there was Sheila.

Sheila was in her mid thirties, married, happily to Trevor, and great stalwarts of their church. She was quiet. Reserved. Pretty, despite never wearing her make-up. You could only say average build, quite petite, nice figure hidden under baggy clothes. Sheila had a reputation as being straight-laced, prudish even., but she was friendly, we all liked her, even thought she was the sort of person you apologised to when you swore! In fact it was a friendly office, and we all enjoyed working there, and as long as we did the work, Colin respected us and supported us.

The one escape we had was the staff rest-room which we all went to at lunch-time, and chatted and ate. Every day we gathered – we always left Colin to answer phones between 1 and 2, although if we got busy we would all go and help. We’d eat, make tea and coffee, gossip.

It was a couple of nothing comments which got me thinking, comments over a week, comments by Sheila. Once we were talking about who’s marriages were good, who’s girl friends had been a problem, and Mike said, off hand, to Sheila, “…well at least you are happily married…”

Sheila had replied, smiling, “Don’t you believe it.” It was just a comment, the sort of thing people said, and “Don’t you believe it” was a phrase she often used. There was nothing in it.

Then a few days later, Keith swore, but then realising Sheila was there, apologised, saying to her “Sorry for my language. I know you don’t like bad language.”

And again she said it – “Don’t you believe it.” Again it was nothing. But twice in a week…

Over the next couple of weeks there had been two or three similar comments, all of which had me puzzling. And there was more than just humour in her voice. And the puzzling produced visions, and visions produced fantasies… What if she wasn’t happily married. What if she didn’t mind bad language? What if she was turned on by dirty talk…? It was ridiculous – I even dreamt over and over in my mind how it would happen, never dreaming it would. I rehearsed it. Planned it. Replayed it in my mind. Of course it wouldn’t happen at once…

It was Monday. It had been a bad Monday – 2 off sick. One on annual leave. By four I needed a break – hadn’t even had lunch. I escaped to the rest room, ate a sandwich, had a coffee, then returned to the office thinking I would probably have to work late. The door swung open, I walked in, and suddenly knew Sheila was the only one there. And looking in a mirror, it was obvious with the headphones on that she hadn’t heard me come in.

I went to my booth, waiting for a call, but manoeuvred so I could see Sheila in a mirror. She seemed to be on the phone for ages, and my mind raced. In my fantasy I had played it and re-played it, and played it over again. Could I do it for real. So she could hear me… If I did it, she would be too embarrassed to say anything. If I didn’t, I might never get the chance to do it again…

At last she took her earphones off – it was now or never.

I took my mobile phone, pretended to ring it, and began to speak. I had played this conversation over and over in my mind… Sheila would assume I didn’t know she was there. Would assume I was talking to my current girlfriend…

“Hi Honey, it’s me…”

Pause – as if she was speaking back to me.

“We’ll, don’t worry, I’ll be home soon…”

Pause – pretend she’s asking me what time I’ll be home.

“I might be a bit late – there’s only me here, and there are a few loose ends to tie up…”

Pause, pretend she’s asking me how late, giving Sheila time to realise I think I’m alone.

I change the tone of my voice. “Well, honey, you’ll escort bostancı have to wait, and do you know what I’m going to do to you when I get home…”

Pause, pretend girlfriend is asking what.

I speak quite slowly: “When I get home, I’m going to remove your panties, I’m going to kiss your pussy and tickle your clit until you scream in orgasm…”

I pause, look in the mirror where I can make out the back of Sheila, who was suddenly alert and listening.

“…then I’m going to put my cock deep into your sopping wet cunt, fuck you hard, until I shoot my spunk deep into your guts.” I continued to watch Sheila’s back in the mirror. I paused. “Then honey, I’m going to take my cock out of your cunt, put it in your mouth and make you suck every drop of cum off of it, then when you’ve got me hard again, I’m going to put you on all fours and fuck your asshole till you cry for mercy and I fill your ass with another load of cum.”

It was about as graphic a description as I could manage. I closed: “See you in a bit – maybe you want to play with your vibrator for a while, get your cunt really wet for when I get home…”

All the while I spoke I watched Sheila’s back in the mirror. I saw her hand move, rest between her legs, perhaps pushing on the crotch of her trousers. It was time to leave – I left, again pretending I didn’t know Sheila was there, that she had never heard my pretend conversation with my girlfriend. I went home to my empty flat, enjoyed a freezer meal, some telly…

The problem that kept buzzing through my mind – what next? I’d planned that first bit over and over, had pulled it off, but hadn’t thought what next, or how embarrassing it might be at the office. I spent the whole evening considering what to do next, and at best could only come up with a few ideas. There might not even be opportunity…

…The opportunity came the very next lunchtime. Human beings are expert at holding a conspiracy of silence. For the morning it was easy to pretend nothing happened – and to be fair, Sheila didn’t realise I knew she had heard the “phonecall” the previous evening. It was lunchtime when the opportunity arose – Sheila and I were the only one’s in the rest room – the others were busy with calls as we took our break.

It was easy to set off my ring tone on the cellphone and pretend someone -my girlfriend – was calling me. It was one of the scenarios I had planned the previous evening, and now seemed to be the only one which might work.

I “pretended” to answer.

“Hi Honey”.

Pause – as if she were talking to me.

I giggle, then say “You really were a slut last night.”

Pause as if she were saying something.

Smile, then speak: “First time we’ve ever done all those things.”

Pause, as if she were speaking.

Look embarrassed: “I can’t tell you what we did, or what we can do tonight, there’s someone here – Sheila’s here…”

Sheila was also shuffling uncomfortably on her seat, through the embarrassment of overhearing a private phone call, and also from remembering what she heard and imagining us doing it…

Again, after a moment’s quiet I spoke in a shocked tone. “Course I would. Everyman would like to watch their girlfriend and someone like Sheila…” stopped as if I realised what I had said. “Hold on…”

I turned to Sheila who had gone bright red. “I’m really sorry, didn’t mean for that to come out. Girlfriend has vivid imagination…”

I picked up the cell phone and spoke into that again. “Honey – I’ll see you later…” I pretended to bring the call to a close, put the phone back in my pocket. In embarrassed silence both myself and Sheila returned to work, the afternoon absorbed with phone calls, both of us leaving without saying anything. It could be weeks before I could take anything further…

…It wasn’t – it was next morning! The computers had gone down. The rest were out of the office. I was there on my own. “Manning” the computers – should they come back on line. And Sheila walked in. On her own. I pretended I hadn’t heard her come in, but could just make her out in a mirror to her cubicle. I let her sit there a couple of minutes before I set off the ring tone on my mobile phone. Again I pretended to answer it.

“Hi Honey”. Pause, as if the other person was speaking. I was getting quite practiced at this.

“You’re right, it was good this morning,” I say. Again I pause as if someone one the other end is speaking, before replying.

“It was fun fantasising about Sheila.” Pause. “No, I can’t tell you all about her again…not here”

I pause, look in the mirror, notice Sheila as definitely paying attention now.

“Okay…just this once. Well, she’s a very chaste type, but very attractive, can’t say any more now…”

I pause again, as if the other person is talking to me.

“Okay, okay, but will have to stop if anyone comes in…”

I pause. “Well, she has a very pert ass, the sort you want to strip, make bare, then lay her across your lap and give her ümraniye escort a good spanking, before you plunge a finger or two inside her…”

I pause as if the person on the other end is talking. I look in the mirror and see Sheila with a very straight back, hanging on every word.

“Well, of course you could take all her clothes off. She would have lovely tits, not too big or too small. Nice stiff nipples. Then you could lay her one her back, spread her legs. Her neat bush leading to the lips between her legs…”

I pause, before continuing. “Yes, I suspect her pussy tastes really nice. Would be wonderful to tongue fuck her, or watch you tongue fuck her. Could imagine her squirming and moaning. And watch you 69 her – she would be really coy at first, but at last her tongue would be in your cunt – I bet by instinct she would have you cumming in seconds! You do cum in seconds!”

Again I paused, looked in the mirror to see Sheila’s hand resting between the legs of her trousers.

“Do you think she might be a screamer when she cums?” I ask. “Let’s pretend she is.”

I pause, then continue obviously responding to a question. “I think I would take her ass later. First time I would fuck her for a bit, but not cum inside her. I bet she would have such a tight cunt. First time I would fuck her, then pull out and push my cock into her mouth, make her suck me, tasting her own juices as she did. She’d be coy at first, but I bet she would be a fantastic cock-sucker. But first time I would pull out just before I came and pump my cum all over her face and in her hair, give her a really good facial.”

Again I paused. “Would be fantastic if such a chaste virgin turned out to be a cock hungry slut. Be wonderful if we could get someone like her who’s strongest language is when she says “Oh Dear”, to use words like fuck and cock and cunt and all the rest. And make her have sex with men and women…”

Again, another pause as if the other person is speaking, before I continue. “Honey, this is too much. I’m so turned on, I’ve got to go and wank, my cock is so hard thinking about it…”

I glance in the mirror to see Sheila’s hand clearly moving between her legs. I end the call, then leave quickly pretending I hadn’t known Sheila was there. I really did have to go and jerk-off…

Later that morning the computer system came back on line and the rest of the day we were busy catching up on calls, apologising to customers; so busy we were left without a break. The next few days also seemed busy, and as much as I had enjoyed teasing Sheila, there just wasn’t any chance to take things further until the next week.

Chapter 2: It all goes wrong…

It had been a bad weekend. As much as I had “made up” the phone calls, my girlfriend really did exist, although she still lived with her parents. She had been fun, had been hot. Had been was the operative word – on the Saturday, after I got home from shopping there was a note through the door. It was very short and sweet: “Dear Pillock. We’re through. Fiona.” Not quite sure why she should be so abusive, but I wasn’t too upset about it. But it still hurts, and leaves a hole.

It was on the Tuesday I was sat in our common room at work early -I had got there before 8.30am – thought it would be easier to make a cup of coffee there than at home – I’d forgotten to get some milk for home. As much as Fiona leaving wasn’t a great issue, I did miss the sex – I was waking up in the morning with a huge erection! It explains what happened next. I had put my coffee down, had sat down, and involuntarily closed my eyes half asleep and let my hand rest on my cock. It was outside my jeans, but felt nice as I rubbed it, as I imagined Fiona, as I moaned gently…

Suddenly I knew I wasn’t alone. Our door was silent opening, but suddenly I know there was someone there. I opened my eye – saw Sheila Staring at me rubbing my cock. I went bring red, began to apologise. “Sorry. Not had any for a few days, hope we can forget, please forgive me…” I babbled on until Sheila gave me a look of disgust and stormed out.

I was terrified. She would report me. Get me cautioned – no, this was a sackable offence. I didn’t want to lose my job.

Nine 0-clock. Start work. See Sheila come out of Colin’s office. Wait for the call from Colin our boss…

I didn’t even realise the call never came. It was a bad day. A batch of circuit boards we had sent out were faulty. Phone calls complaining. Phoning up our suppliers. Phoning all our customers to get them replaced and apologise. Take a load of aggravation. No-one happy. No lunch. One cold coffee. And everything else was dark in my mind – girlfriend gone, job going. Becoming the laughing stock when everyone heard what I’d done. It was without doubt the worse day ten times over I’d ever had at work. Everyone else had gone, but I was still sorting out bloody circuit boards.

6.30pm. Finished. Slumped in the rest room with a cup of coffee. Could hardly stoke the energy to go home. And still waiting kartal escort bayan for the sack. A day like that I should get a medal, not the boot. Or at least a raise.

I got myself home, slumped in front of the telly, drank a beer, ate a curry, went to bed.

Bloody bloody circuit boards. It wasn’t just a fault, it was a design fault. The next day was worse. From nine to 6 – complaints, swapping, checking specs. No breaks. One of those awful jobs that one person has to do, otherwise it gets too complicated. The others knew I was having a bad time but felt they had to keep a wide berth. At the end of work, just before he was leaving, Colin spoke to me – can I see you first thing Friday morning – this was Wednesday evening.

Typical of Colin, wait till the circuit board fiasco was sorted, choose a Friday and give me my cards on the spot, or a week’s notice, whichever was more practical. The swines.

Thursday. Yet another awful day. The others sympathised, but customers getting more angry about circuit boards – quite rightly. Supplier not answering the phone. No lunch. A load of abuse. Yet again finished late. 6.30pm. Slumped in the chair in the staff lounge, yet again supping coffee. I had solved it. Found a new supplier – can produce circuit boards in 24 hours, many already delivered to customers.

It was as I supped coffee, plucking up the energy to go home, that the door swung open. Sheila walked in. She quickly explained – she had forgotten her handbag earlier, and had thought she could leave it for the next day, but wanted her Credit card to pay for something online, so had to come back for it…sounded like some sort of excuse…

She paused. “Sorry about the last few days. Been a really bad three days for you…”

It was the wrong thing to say. I was tired, had taken three days of aggravation, and because of this bitch I was going to get the sack the next day. I couldn’t stopped myself. “Sorry, you’re sorry?” My voice was rising as I said it. “You got the nerve to tell me you’re sorry. I have the worst three days we’ve ever had at work. I get shouted at by every jerk from here to who knows where, abused by every office clerk we’ve ever dealt with, and you’re sorry…” I paused for breath…


She gasped it out, but I was in full flow. “And the worst thing of all? Tomorrow I get the sack. Why? Because you happen to walk in when I’m being silly, then go straight to the boss and tell him and get me thrown out. What did you tell him? Tell him I was a pervert? Tell him I made crude gestures at you? Tell him I was flashing my cock at you? Go on, what did you tell him?”

I pause. Sheila was almost in tears, but managed to get out: “I didn’t say anything to him…”

“Didn’t say anything?” My voices was full of incredulity. “Didn’t say anything? You were straight in his office on Tuesday. He was straight out wanting to see me. Bet you made it sound really bad. Bet you told him everything that would make me look bad. Bet you’re laughing your head off – you got a man the sack.”

Through her tears she said “It wasn’t like that…”

I was in full flow. “Hypocrisy – when I was telling my girlfriend what we were going to do you were playing with yourself – I saw you. I didn’t get you the sack for that. When I told her what I would like to see you and her doing, I know you went straight to the toilet and massaged your clit. I didn’t get you the sack for that. So why should you get me the sack for something stupid?” At last I had run out of steam, and was prepared to listen.

She spoke very quietly. “I didn’t tell anybody. I wanted you to say all those things to me.”

I was taken aback. “What?”

Suddenly it was Sheila in full flow. “I wanted you to say and do all those things to me. My husband never…” she paused before continuing. “…never makes it good for me. He’s horrible. Just takes my body and empties himself into me. Whenever I want more he says it’s the wife’s duty to serve her man, only a slag or a whore wants more than that. I thought that was sex until I heard you. I want someone to say all those things to me. Do them to me. Every time he says it I want to be a slag and a whore. But he never will.”

I was stunned. My anger was deflated. “Why do you put up with it?”

Sheila was crying now. “He says – it’s my duty to stay, and if ever I leave he will tell my parents and my friends what a slut I really am. I couldn’t face that.”

Suddenly things were falling into place – things she had said, hints she had given. “Would you leave him if you could?”

Suddenly Sheila was vehement. “Now, if I could.” Just as quickly she was deflated. “But I can’t, he would destroy me. Everything about me. My opportunities. He would…” Her voice trailed away. Something didn’t make sense – opportunities? But the moment was gone.

Suddenly she look terrified again. “I’ve got to go. He’s waiting for me. Please help me…” The desperation in her voice – I had never heard such fear, such desire to escape.

Suddenly there was a crash of the door, and in stormed a man I’d never seen before. He towered over 6 feet tall, dressed in a smart suit. He stopped, then roared out: “What’s going on here? I knew something was going on. I bet he’s the one isn’t he…” he turned to look at Sheila.

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