Cynthia's Life On The Wild Side - Sex Stories

Cynthia's Life On The Wild Side

... ease her back into ways quite different from what she had sampled in Kenya and with Jaali.

Viv Somerton, of Somerton Bespoke Joinery, would be telephoning them to say that he was ready to do the work she and Jeffrey had commissioned him to undertake, a price agreed and a down payment for the timber needed already banked.

“He wastes no time,” Jeffrey had opined, somewhat sourly, but the man had engaged her attention upon him more and more.

She could develop a taste for men such as Viv, but living where she did the chances of that were agonizingly few and the risks too great to contemplate. But Viv had entered her life and she would see where that took her…took them, perhaps.

Viv was younger, fitter, and better looking than Jaali, and his appraising looks upon her, as they talked, had been more discreet than she had ever known of them with Jaali. But, those looks were there for her to take note of, dressed as she was in a sleeveless summer dress with a pattern of colours so reminiscent of what she had seen a month or so ago when in Kenya. The bodice shaped her figure, squashed her breasts, and made them look flatter and rounder, and her slender legs ended in stylish ankle boots. She was dressed to go out, not to engage his attention upon her. And yet, it had happened.

Her Kenyan holiday and trysts with Jaali had, it seemed now, after weeks of reflection on what had happened between them, opened her eyes to what was, or could, play out around her, and that she had ...

... not seen; or her defence mechanism, somewhere in her brain, had closed out.

But now, and after all that she had been through on that holiday, she would be only too alive and ready for what might, or could, play out with Viv.

♥

The pub was packed, The Greyhound a favourite gathering place on a Friday night and where he knew his mates from the rugby club would be. They never overdid it, not with an early season game scheduled for Sunday.

“Ah, the tyro’s here, guys!” one wit called out to him, as he passed the group seated at a table outside in the warmth of a September evening.

“I won’t be long,” he laughed in reply.

“With our drinks you mean?” another called out.

He waved that away as he sauntered into the crowded bar, taking in the women who moved aside, or their partners did, to make it easier for him to get to the bar.

It had been quite a week at work, not only dealing with assignments in the production line, supervising two apprentices, keeping tabs on the work of his bookkeeper who showed up twice a week, but also attending to last-minute touches for the work that he would be installing for that Cynthia Roberts woman.

He couldn’t put a finger on it, but he’d not mind fingering her given the chance and with the rack that she carried so well and not hidden from his approving sight by a colourful dress he had last seen her wearing. So, she was some years older than the women he took up with, but she had a winning smile and carried herself so well, ...