Eve

However, the swimsuit essentially turned me into a horny teenage guy. In my discreet gazes, my eyes noted the form of her breasts, how they were accentuated by the swimwear, how they drew my mind away from my work…

In a way, it was a relief when it was nearly time for Eve to leave and prepare for her next part time job. Perhaps it was my mind playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn that she made a show of donning her coat in my presence just so that my eyes could linger upon her twin swells one final time that day.

Throughout the evening and well into the night, Eve was on my mind – both because she was a rather fast learner, and because I found myself attracted to her.

*****

The next day, Eve did not wear a swimsuit. Instead, she wore a tight-fitting ribbed top, its gray color seeming to accentuate her breasts. It was easy to discern the outline of her bra, which also explained the lack of indentations from her nipples. The expansion and contraction of her chest was also quite noticeable as she breathed.

Similarly, her jeans were practically molded to her. If I had not known better, I could have sworn that she had been poured into a stiffened version of her jeans, with her innate body heat causing the jeans to flex enough for her to walk.

Wearing such an outfit, Eve’s curves were very much accentuated. Whenever she walked away from me, my eyes lingered on her buttocks, noting how they shifted gracefully as she moved about. Not until that afternoon had I ever noticed just how toned and essentially sculpted her legs were – particularly her thighs, which strained nicely against the denim, seeming to nudge it slightly outward from its intended position even when she was standing still.

…and when she bent over while facing away from me, the first thought which came to my mind was: I wish I could spank her, just to see her reaction.

That thought haunted me the rest of the afternoon, and well into the evening. For the first time in months, I dug out an old videotape and watched it: The last time I spanked my wife, culminating with powerful, possessive thrusts into her all-too-willing body and my hand over her mouth to prevent her from making too much noise and alerting the neighbors of what we were doing in our bedroom on that wonderful evening.

Yet as I watched the faded images and listened to the distorted sound, as I stroked myself in the darkness, I saw not my wife’s face and I heard not my wife’s voice, but the face and the voice of my daughter’s best friend, my new administrative assistant.

“Eve!!!”

I could not even utter all of her name before orgasm wracked me, and while it felt good to climax after such a long time without that carnal pleasure, I truly wished that I could unleash my seed upon her.

…or, even better: inside her.

The thought of filling her young body reinvigorated me.

The thought of her age concerned me.

The thought of her fingernails digging into my shoulder blades as she milked me with her precious sex tipped me over the edge once again.

I did not sleep very much that night, for my mind was filled with images and imaginings of Eve.

*****

Given that Eve was my daughter’s best friend, I had seen her semi-often over the years. I had watched Carrie grow from a sweet little girl into a fine young woman, and I had noticed the similar changes in Eve. Since I had not seen Eve nearly as often, when I did see her, the transition from girl to woman had seemed quite profound.

What I had really never seen – or, more precisely, really never noticed – until Eve began working for me was her sexual aspect. It had been clear on the first two days she worked for me, given how her clothes were essentially molded to her body. The third day was no different in that respect, for she wore a strapless dress which was also designed to force others to notice her graceful curves.

That Wednesday was different, however, in that she touched me.

Often.

For no apparent reason.

Her arm would brush mine as I stood beside her to show her how to conduct a new task. Her fingertips would make brief contact with mine as she handed me something.

And then, toward the end of the day, much to my surprise, she stepped around my chair and stood behind me and began to massage my shoulders.

There was an electricity in her touch. There was care and concern, as well as desire.

“You don’t need to do this,” I said in a half-hearted attempt to keep this from blossoming beyond the realm of my control.

“It’s okay,” Eve countered softly. “I enjoy massages, both receiving and giving.”

Closing my eyes, I gave in. Leaning back in the chair, I allowed her to work upon me, even though I realized that if she happened to look, she would see how her touches were exciting me.

I must admit that Eve did a good job. It had been several months since I had last been treated to a massage, and that was at my daughter’s hands. That had been when I was laying upon my bed, and she sat beside me and leaned over to work upon my back. Absently, I wondered if Carrie had taught Eve her skills, for the way my young assistant worked was very similar.

“You’re hard.” It was not an accusatory tone. Instead, it was merely an observation, yet I still felt my face redden with embarrassment.

The massage ended, and she draped her arms across the front of my chest, leaning forward so that the back of my head rested between her breasts. Her hands meandered absently across my chest, and I wondered if she could feel the quickening rhythm of my heartbeat.

I began to lift my hands from the armrests, then hesitated. The twitching within my slacks propelled my hands higher and higher until they pressed Eve’s hands against my chest, side-by-side over my heart.

We remained like that for several minutes, my head at one point turning to press a cheek directly against a breast. Permeating the sensual material of her strapless black dress, the soft warmth against my cheek was wonderful, and I realized that it had been far, far too long since I had last enjoyed any intimacy with a woman, since I had last felt cherished.

“I’d better go, Mr. Randall,” Eve whispered, a note of sadness in her angelic voice. I nodded against her breast as she extracted her hands, then lifted my head away, still “feeling” the warm material of her dress against my cheek.

All too soon, she was gone. All too soon, I was alone.

That evening, I could feel a headache forming, and only then realized that I was out of Tylenol since I had given the last of my Tylenol to a client who had dropped by for a rare visit a few weeks earlier. Before the headache grew too nasty, I trudged out into the cold night air and drove.

I did not go to the nearby convenience store, however, nor to the grocery store a few blocks beyond that. I went instead to the drug store where Eve was working.

She had changed into the store uniform, so she did not look quite as stunning as she had in my home earlier in the day. Yet her eyes sparkled when she saw me enter the store and she waved at me with enthusiasm before returning to her duties at the only open register.

Soon, I was at the register with a box of Tylenol. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Randall,” she noted happily.

She was glowing. I do not know if anyone else in the store had noticed, but to my eyes, Eve was glowing. I felt warmer, as if she was radiating the heat of the sun itself. My headache receded, lessened. Simply being in her presence seemed to be vanquishing the distress behind my eyes.

Our fingers touched briefly as I handed her the money, then again as she handed me the small bag with the Tylenol inside. During the transaction, our chatter had been brief, friendly, respectable, mundane, yet I could feel an undercurrent of something else, something more…

And soon I was again in the cold night air, crossing the parking lot to the car, still able to “feel” her touch upon my fingers.

*****

Thursday, Eve was back to being rather obvious with the fact that she wanted me to admire her. She wore a skirt, and when she removed her coat, she revealed the swimsuit underneath. She soon removed her shoes and socks, and even the skirt quickly followed, so that she pranced around all afternoon wearing just the swimsuit, a necklace, and earrings. All afternoon, my eyes kept returning to her, admiring her openly. Several times, she was clearly aware that I was watching her, caressing her with my eyes, undressing her in my mind, and she smiled seductively each time. Throughout the afternoon, she touched me as often as she could, sometimes simply standing beside or behind me with a hand on my shoulder.

Toward the end of the afternoon, as I took a quick break and made coffee in the kitchen, Eve came to join me, still clad in the swimsuit. “I’m glad you think I’m pretty, Mr. Randall,” she confessed as she leaned against the refrigerator. “It’s nice to be appreciated.”

I had to wonder where this conversation was going. “You are definitely pretty,” I conceded. “It’s been rather hard not to notice.”

“I guess so,” she responded somewhat quickly, “given that you’ve been rather hard several times this week, including today.”

I tried not to blush, but I was not successful. “It’s okay, Mr. Randall,” she said quietly, stepping away from the refrigerator and approaching me. With her hands clasped together behind her and her elbows drawn in as tightly as possible, her chest was naturally thrust forward enough to definitely cause my eyes to take note of her breasts. They were not big, but they definitely were not tiny. They were adorned with hardening nipples straining against the material of the swimsuit.