Her name was Peggy. She worked in the typing pool on the third floor. She had never worked directly for Hank, but he had heard admiring comments about her from the other guys. When he perchance had seen her one day, he had added his comments of admiration to theirs.
She was petite, well formed, with lovely auburn hair cut short around a pair of pink, oyster-shell ears. Her hazel eyes looked like they were laughing, even when they were doing nothing but reading the copy she was typing from.
Her breasts were small but not too small. She never wore a bra, and when she moved, her little breasts juggled around in a very tantalizing, but also very happy, innocent way.
She didn't wear much make-up. In fact, she looked as though she didn't wear any at all, except for a tawny colored lipstick that gave her lips a very natural color and shimmer.
Her clear complexion required no grease or powder. Her cheeks usually wore a healthy glow that couldn't be duplicated by make-up at any price. Her beautifully molded figure was tight knit. She was limber, yet seemed to have the control of an athlete over every bone and muscle. Totally unaware of the picture she presented, she didn't know the men used to say she walked down the halls with the grace of a young leopard. They would go out of their way to watch.
Yet, strangely enough, none of them ever approached her. Whether it was out of a sense of not wanting to defile the natural innocence she displayed, or whether they were afraid her limber dexterity and youthful vigor would be too much for them to handle, was a moot question.
The fact remained, no one Hank knew had ever put the make on her or even tried to. And if they had, they sure weren't talking about it.
Once he had picked out his quarry, Hank set about stalking it and running it to ground. She would be the one upon whom he would perform the acid test. He'd charm her into going out with him and then he'd charm her into bed. There he would slip out his man-hood and give her the fucking of her little life.
He worked it all out with the cunning and fervor of a great white hunter. It took him a couple of weeks to set it all up, but he had it all prepared. He had made the excuse to his wife ahead of time. Slowly building to the time when he casually mentioned, with a sigh of distress, that he would have to stay in the city that night. The big wigs from out-of-town had called on all skull session, and he couldn't refuse, with the deadline being so near and all on their job.
He had prepared the groundwork carefully, and the announcement was a normal sounding culmination of all the trouble he had professed to have with these particular clients over the last ten days. His wife didn't bat an eyelash, just said she was sorry and checked to see that he had some clean socks to take with him.
Peggy, of course, had no idea all of this elaborate scheming was going on. When Hank "casually" bumped into her that evening after work and started chatting with her, she had no idea of what was up. When she accepted his offer of a friendly drink, she didn't realize she had fallen right into her part of this gran diose scheme of things.
Of course she had balked a bit, but Hank was prepared for that, too.
"Hey, aren't you married?" she had asked straight out.
"Sure I am," Hank answered straight back.
"Well, isn't this a bit funny… I mean, what will your wife think, you buying a young single girl a drink, instead of going home after work? Isn't she expecting you?"
"Look," Hank said with his winning smile, "my wife and I have an understanding."
"Oh, yeah," Peggy retorted a little sarcastically, "what kind?"
"A very simple one," Hank lied glibly, "I don't ask her what she does with all the money I give her, and she doesn't ask me what I do with my evenings. It's been like that for a long time."
"Oh," acknowledged Peggy. "Well, if that's the way it is…"
"That's the way it is," confirmed Hank.
"Then I guess it's all right," said Peggy, having made up her mind.
"Shall we have that drink now?" Hank asked again.
"Why not," Peggy agreed. Together they headed for a little bar Hank had chosen ahead of time.
He grinned from ear to ear as they walked along. His plan was going according to schedule. It wouldn't be too long before he had this chick in the sack, giving her the work out of her life and proving that his manly charm still worked, that his failure at home was his wife's fault, not his!
The evening swung beautifully. In addition to being a good looker, Peggy had a great sense of humor, and was an interesting person to talk with. She had brains. Not too much, but just enough to make the evening's conversation interesting. That little bonus made the whole seduction plan just that much more enjoyable. In fact, she had a lot of little mannerisms that could turn a guy on.
For instance, when she got excited talking about something, she would bring her hands back, shoulder high, poking her boobs out, almost right into your eye. Then when the conversation got quiet and low, she'd reach over, unconsciously and start dragging her fingers across the back of your hand and then trace the outline, over and over again, of the inside area of your thumb and first finger. It was a very sexy feeling.
So, all in all, aside from his deliberate plan of seduction, Hank was really getting turned on by this little girl. It never occurred to him at the time that any of her sexy little movements were done deliberately to arouse him. She did them so seemingly naturally and unconsciously.
Then too, she was so open, so refreshingly open. She had none of those coy expressions and little come-ons that he had watched night after night at the Country Club, watched and had then played on him, by all of those frustrated sleek housewives, looking for a little fun.
Yes, Hank was really enjoying his night out on the town with little auburn-haired Peggy. He was beginning to feel his way towards the big moment when he would get her to go to the little hotel room he had obtained for himself that day at lunch. It was a nice, clean, modest hotel. The key to his room hung heavy in his trouser pocket.
Hank fingered the key, then made his pitch, suggesting a nightcap at his place. Peggy hesitated, just one little delicious moment, before giving her O.K.
As soon as they got inside the hotel room, Hank was surprised to find Peggy's left arm around his neck, her mouth on his and her right hand unzipping his fly. His body stiffened, and he pulled back.
"Hey, what's the matter?" Peggy pouted at him. "I thought that's why we were here?"
"Yeah," said Hank trying to get his thoughts together, "but…"
"Hey, but me no buts," Peggy laughed good-naturedly. Walking over to the radio she twisted the dials until some sensuous, slow rock music filled the room. Then she did something incredible. Incredible, in so far as Hank didn't have it in his game plan.
Peggy started into a set of sexy gyrations. She looked like a cross between a stripper who was getting ready to strip, a belly dancer, and God knows what else.
"If you need a little time to get revved up, Hank honey," she whispered at him as she danced around him, "maybe this'll help."
She gyrated and turned around him, slowly wiggling her hips in time to the music. Slowly she raised her right hand to her cheek and caressed it softly, then continued the movement until her hand was behind her head, her left hand and arm straight out in front of her. She undulated her shoulders making her free-hanging breasts describe lewd motions under her flimsy blouse.
As she waved her hips back and forth, her body moving like a snake, she moved toward Hank again, and in a slow rhythm danced in front of him. She reached for his hands and cupped them, one under each breast. She put her own hands behind her head, and with legs spread apart, moved her body like a burlesque queen in the finale of a great show. Hank played with her tits. He was turned on, and how.
The fact that the sheer gauze of her blouse separated him from those pulsating knockers irritated him. So he went for the top button.