New Job, New Lover, Old Ways

by Kitty StPaul

  New Job, New Lover, Old Ways

  An older, wealthy man, much younger woman erotic story

  Kitty StPaul

  Preface

  Catherine has been a pleasure to write about, a sexy, confident young woman who I admire greatly.

  I very much hope you enjoy reading about her journey with Jonny!

  To keep abreast of new Kitty StPaul releases and all my news, do sign up to my newsletter here:

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  Kitty

  xoxo

  New Job, New Lover, Old Ways

  You know that feeling on your first day of work? Scared and shy, but trying not to show it. You aren’t sure where the bathroom is, how often you can check your phone without getting told off, who will look at the clock whenever you arrive or leave. It’s a minefield.

  Well that’s how I felt when I started my new job at Fensham Industries. I was only 20 years old, and I had landed the job of my, admittedly not that wild, dreams. It has been a bit of a struggle to get to this: Assistant to the Head of Marketing, but I’ve made it. This is definitely the smartest career move of my life so far, not that I intend to be an assistant long. I mean I like the work and it sure isn’t easy, but I’d planned on being the head of marketing someday, rather than his assistant. Without a college degree though, it was not easy to get into marketing, and I messed up my chances of a qualification within the first semester at college.

  The problem was my lecturer. He was such a hard assed older guy, with such an antiquated attitude to women, he just made my blood boil. We really rubbed each other up the wrong way, and I seemed to have him for so many of my classes. We clashed a lot. One day when I had, admittedly, overstepped the mark in a lecture, he ordered me to his office for a ‘pastoral catch up’. Well it wasn’t much of a catch up! After he had told me off for my comments in class and I had gotten pretty angry in return, we fell into the steamiest hate fuck I’ve experienced to date. Surprisingly he ended up being quite a lover, tender, confident and keen on a cliched spanking when I was ‘naughty’ in class. Given his antiquated attitudes and my inability to keep my mouth shut, that meant a lot more steamy spanking encounters, though none quite so hate-fueled as the first.

  We always met in his office at the university during our free study periods, usually a couple of times a week, and the meetings always followed the same pattern. He would be sitting in his big old leather office chair, looking a little like a much older Indiana Jones- in professor mode, not the adventurer side- me stripped down to nothing but a pair of glasses and his old school tie, always lying bent right over his knee. His admittedly decent-sized erection would press tantalisingly into my stomach and my generously sized but firm young tits would be resting on one of his legs. He would then deliver his lecture to me, always on what a naughty young girl I was, and how as my professor it was his job to discipline me, because naughty little girls don’t get their degree without a lot of discipline from their, more experienced, senior professors.

  All the way through this lecture he would alternately stroke, then spank my rounded behind, between every spank and stroke he would slip his fingers down to my pussy lips to rub me there, and to check if the spanking and stroking was getting me wet, which it always did. To be honest, his lecture turned me on more than the spanking, I just loved being told how naughty I was, and by a man so much older- it felt so wrong to be 18 years old and lying naked across this 66 year old’s lap, being told that I was a bad girl and having my punishment fucked into me. He would spank and stroke and lecture and slip his fingers across my sopping pussy lips until his lecture reached it’s climax, when he would lift me up the better to slide down onto his, always, rock hard cock to fuck ourselves stupid. Me bouncing up and down hard on him, his hand snaking forward to flick my clit, making me gasp out my orgasm just minutes after he slid into me, his climax always close behind as we rocked ourselves off in that old chair of his.

  It didn’t last- just a few months into our hard and fast fucking routine, I happened to mention that I wasn’t on birth control, and he freaked the fuck out. He said he couldn’t be responsible for a child, I was a mere child, his wife, not to mention the university, would go crazy if he knocked up a student, he couldn’t afford a divorce, he was too old to be a parent again… it went on and on. It got ugly. I hadn’t asked if he was married like he hadn’t asked if I was on birth control, so I guess both of us were to blame. It hurt me badly, but it was an education in itself and I hadn’t gotten pregnant even after all that fucking. Not that I was really trying to but it felt like such a naughty girl thing to do- to take all that cum without taking any precautions.

  So, I left the college, moved away, and after a period of working short term office contracts, here I am, at my fresh start at Fensham Industries. I have a lot to prove to myself. I don’t think I’m a naughty girl any more.

  On my first day of work, I was super organised: I had picked out my outfit the night before, packed up my lunch, even pre-set my coffee machine- the whole shebang. That morning I nearly leapt out of bed, fizzing with nerves, and tried to relax myself with a short yoga session, stretching out my toned limbs and working up quite a sweat. After my workout, I took my time in the shower- making sure I was good and scrubbed and beautifully clean for my first day. Moving into my bedroom I slathered on luxurious scented body lotion, then spritzed the matching perfume all over my naked body, dropping the scent bottle into my handbag for a later top up.

  This perfume and the handbag are new- I spoiled myself a little for this job. I took out a credit card and maxed it out on suits and smart shoes so I would feel the part. I don’t know how I’ll pay for it, but dress for the job you want, right?

  Not that the job requires it, but I treated myself to several sets of delicate lingerie as well. I read that French women always wear matching undies because it makes them feel confident, and I can tell you that they are so right. That morning, as I smoothed the lotion into my skin, sliding my hands over my slick body, I really took my time to admire myself in the long mirror at the end of my bed. I watched as I took a seat at the dressing table, first slowly rolling and smoothing the sheer black stockings up my legs, the exquisite feeling of the gossamer fabric on my soft skin making me shiver. Next, I stood up to step into the silky panties of the beautiful shell pink lingerie set.

  The feel of the silk against my skin was instantly erotic as I inched the high cut french knickers up my legs and over my rounded bottom, covering up up my freshly shaved puss last.

  Observing myself dressing in the mirror- I saw a stunning semi nude young woman gazing back at me. My strong legs were covered up to mid-thigh in black silk stockings, my now tingling pussy barely covered with the silky shell pink panties, my exposed DD cup breasts with their browny-pink nipples were slightly puckered in the cool morning air. Moving my gaze up to my face, I see my full plump lips slightly parted with my tongue peeking out to lick them and I blow myself a kiss. My dark eyes are smouldering as I kiss myself, and full of confidence as I stand back and push my thick dark hair away from my face, to roll it into to a professional looking chignon.

  The whole experience of watching myself in such an intimate moment was intensely sensual, and I couldn’t help but reach up with both hands to touch my still exposed, beautifully rounded titties softly, with my fingertips, the nippples standing to attention as I pinch them gently, shivering again.

  Sighing as I catch sight of the time- my tingling pussy will have to wait until later to feel release, I slide the pale pink half cup bra over my arms and push the delicate straps up to my shoulders. Bending to gently lift each firm breast into the cups, I feel the gentle scratch of lace on both my f
ingers and nipples and wonder if the delicate fabric will contain my titties all day. Lastly, I pull on a crisp white shirt and a charcoal grey suit over the undergarments, slip a pair of simple black heels on, and looking back in the mirror at the self assured young woman I see there, I know for sure that French women have got it right about the underwear.

  That first week at Fensham passed in a blur of new names, handshakes, lunchtime drinks in the local bar, introductions to IT, filing systems and the complicated coffee machine in the marketing department kitchen. My boss was turning out to be a great guy who was already making noises about my ongoing training, and not just in the PA field. He was also happily married, so I didn’t need to worry about my naughty girl side getting me into trouble there, which was a weight off my mind. I couldn’t have been more excited about my new job and where it was taking me- I could really see a career in marketing blooming for me in the years to come.

  I was making a habit of getting into the office earlier than most of the department, and the next Wednesday morning was no exception. I was there so early that no-one else had arrived in the marketing department, not even my boss. Making myself useful, I went straight into our kitchen to get the coffee started for when my new colleagues started arriving. To my surprise, in the kitchen stood a short, muscular man half turned away from me, gazing out of the window, with a seemingly untouched cup of coffee on the counter in front of him.

  I coughed a little, unconvincingly, before entering the kitchen, so as not to shock him, being in such a reverie. I walked into the room clattering my heels on the hard floor, and slowly he became aware of my presence turning toward the door looking over to me. I walked over to him, moving to his side while smiling and raising an extended hand to introduce myself, as I had done to everyone I’d met at my new workplace. He looked down at my faltering arm briefly, then lifted his eyes, slowly, up my torso, finally reaching my face. A jolt passed through me as we locked eyes, and with a sharp intake of breath I realised his irises were a breathtaking shade of clover green. Slowly, he put out his own hand, hot, dry, filled with crackling electricity, and let me shake his firmly.

  ‘I thought I’d better introduce myself as I’m new! Catherine, the new assistant to the Head of Marketing.’

  He said nothing initially, but kept hold of my hand lightly, maintaining eye contact with a thoughtful look in those unusual deep green eyes. He was older than I’d initially thought - with more than a hint of salt and pepper in his hair, and as he turned his lips up into a smile of welcome, his crows feet crinkled up in a distractingly sexy way. I keep talking, my nerves at being alone in the presence of this hot older guy getting the better of me.

  ‘Yeah so I’ve been here a bit over a week, everyone is so nice, aren’t they? I’m feeling so welcome! It’s not like my last place at all! Not that it was bad or or anything, just the people weren’t quite so friendly… I mean, it was much bigger there, so maybe that’s why. Or maybe the boss here is a lot nicer so everyone else follows their lead! .… Well…. Anyway, I’m Catherine, as I say. Pleased to meet you.’

  I’m now blushing. I can feel it right down to the tips of my stockinged toes and my cheeks are burning. I can’t tell if he’s realised how embarrassed this introduction is making me as his expression has stayed the same throughout our interaction. Such a cool character. He does, however, gently let go of my hand, which makes me feel a surprising throb of longing, disappointment and lust, all rolled into one. He picks up his coffee, and half turns away as if to leave the kitchen. Then he says:

  ‘Pleasure to meet you Catherine, I’ve heard good things about you. Good luck here at Fensham.’

  He is almost out of the kitchen before he pauses, turns back and looks me directly in the eye to say;

  ‘I’m Jonny. See you around.’

  And with that, he was gone. He didn’t mention which department he worked for, or ask any of the questions I’ve been fielding for days about my past jobs, or where I live, or why I’m not at college- which I’m trying hard to avoid answering. It was almost like he knew all he wanted to know about me already from looking into my eyes.

  I busied myself making more coffee while taking some deep breaths to gather myself and return to my normal colour, before heading back to my desk. This Jonny character sent shock waves through my body like no one before. His eyes just seemed to see right inside me. That evening I lay in bed replaying the scene, picturing his stocky frame with those muscular arms, and unusual eyes as he appraised me, not giving anything away in his gaze.

  Before I could stop myself, the picture gently swerved into a fantasy of me straddling that hot older guy, riding him slowly, with my hands running through his greying hair, his thin but sensual lips greedily sucking at my nipples, both of us moaning softly with pleasure. As the fantasy progressed, I inched my hand down, reaching for my already slick pussy. Rhythmically I stroked my engorged clit with a moistened finger tip for only a minute or two before collapsing in on myself with a shuddering orgasm accompanied by a long and soft moan. As I drifted off to sleep, my pussy slick finger resting in my mouth to taste myself, I wondered if I would ever find out what it was like to ride Jonny and feel his cock buried inside me, while diving deep into those beautiful green eyes.

  After that I hardly saw him around the office and while I was disappointed, I can’t deny it was also a relief- having these feelings about a colleague was a bad idea, an affair at work would be a sure fire way to halt my career before it had even really started. I’d learned that lesson at college, after all.

  I settled into a good routine, establishing myself and my ideas for the department - all were very well received, I’m pleased to say. I was managing pretty well and I gave myself an internal pat on the back for all of my hard work. Jonny passed by occasionally, each time holding my eye for far longer than necessary. This had the unfortunate side effect of bringing back memories of my intense wank fantasy, each time making me blush and drop my eyes. As long as it wasn’t too often, I was able to cope with it, and stop myself from turning into a puddle of lust at the slightest glimpse of his grey head or firm ass.

  One evening a few weeks later, I found myself in the swish bar on the top floor of the office building. Every week the marketing team would hang out for a couple of hours after work on a Thursday evening, going over the events of the week, catching up socially and getting to know each other a little better. It was a great work/social event and I had found myself looking forward to it every week. I even wore a flashy red lipstick every Thursday to raise my game for the gathering.

  This week, unusually, Jonny was already at the bar when I arrived with the team. I had never seen him there before, in fact it shocked me a little to see him out of the office, as if he only existed in that setting. He had a small crowd around him, so while I wanted to make a better impression than on our first meeting, I wasn’t about to crash his party. Turns out I didn’t need to- he spotted me and nodded as I walked in, which only added to my confusion - he did recognise me, but he didn’t seek me out at the office. I could only wonder why.

  Later in the evening as the barman served drinks at his table, I noticed Jonny speak and then point over at me. Moments later a glass with condensation tantalisingly slipping down onto the silver tray is rested on, was presented to me by the same bartender.

  ‘Please accept a martini, compliments of the big man.’ He half winked and nodded back toward Jonny.

  I lifted the chilled glass by the stem from his gleaming tray, nodded my thanks and turned to Jonnie to mouth ‘thank you’ as I held up the drink and took a sip, the cold cocktail chilling my throat as it slipped down. Jonny met my eye, and in that moment I felt a jolt of sexual tension to put all our other eye-meets to shame. Taking another sip of my icy cold drink I turned away, wondering why on earth the bartender called him the big man. After a third sip at the crisp martini, I realised that this drink would push me well over the drink drive limit- I’d need a cab to get myself back home for the night. Another stretc
h to the credit card. My first proper payday couldn’t come soon enough.

  Only, it turns out I didn’t need that cab. Jonny sent another message a minute later, through the same barman, to tell me that his driver was ready to take me home whenever I wanted to leave.

  As I considered this development, he passed by my table. His aroma wafted gently toward me- such a deeply masculine scent, containing a hint of both clean washing and confidence, plus a cologne that put me in mind of an old leather armchair. Quite a heady mix for me to cope with on three martinis. Catching my eye again, he put one hand on the back of my seat, and leaned forward toward me. Involuntarily my face tilted up toward his and my eyes closed slightly, I was desperate to feel his lips on mine. The rest of the bar faded out, all the noise and colour and smells, we were lost together for a moment in our locked eyes.

  I started to speak, to thank him for the use of his car, but before I could stammer out any words, he reached past my face to gather up a strand of my thick dark hair, and gently placed it behind my ear, stroking down the length of the strand to the tips of my hair that rested on my upper chest. He pressed his face to the same ear and with his lips touching my skin, whispered;

  ‘I didn’t like to think of you waiting for a cab in the dark, a young thing like you. Especially not after these martinis. Book a taxi to work tomorrow, expense it, I’ll authorise your report.’

  And with that, he straightened up, half smiled and turned away from me. I was shell-shocked - it was such an innocent encounter, but sooo charged, and I wanted so much more from him! Being so close to him, breathing in his aroma, looking into the deep green pools of his eyes… His body up close was so much more powerful than I had so far imagined, not to mention the reference to my youth- he seemed to want to protect me somehow and he definitely had the strength for it. This turned me on even more, I wanted to feel protected and safe. It seemed unfair that he wasn’t planning to join me in the ride back to my place.