It had been a long Friday. Mrs. Andrews had been her usual efficient self, quietly getting on with all the letters and calls that needed to be done that day. Now it had come to 6pm she and Kyle, her young boss, sat together facing each other at the meeting table in his office, sharing a well-earned cup of coffee, surmising on the day as they usually did before leaving for home.

For Kyle, this was the best bit of his working day. There was peace and quiet, most of the other employees having left for the weekend. He was very fond of his secretary; they were more friends than boss and employee.

Having worked for the company since the year dot, Mrs. Andrews not only looked after him when he first became sales director, guiding him behind the scenes through the corporate maze to even greater successes, she still looked pretty good for her age.

She looked more than good; she looked positively hot from where Kyle was sitting. Slim, with thick, short blonde-streaked hair, a pert bust, and long, long legs that were now elegantly crossed, she looked a good 10 years younger than her actual 52 years, and he had secretly desired her body.

As for Mrs. Andrews, she knew Kyle spent at least half his working day eyeing her, fantasizing about what lay beneath her smart, but conservative business suits. He fancied her and she knew it, but she was a professional; there were ethics involved here and she believed it was best policy not to mess on your own doorstep.

Besides, he was 25 years younger than her; nevertheless, she too felt the electricity in their friendship, the sort of electric that sometimes made her wet between her legs.

Kyle did indeed wonder what lay beneath Mrs. Andrews’ clothes. Beautifully proportioned, smart, casual, or formal, she was the kind of woman who looked good whatever she chose to wear over her body. However, to the delight of Kyle, Mrs. Andrews always wore spike heels to the office, 4 inches at least, arching her feet to tighten her shapely calves in a very tantalizing way. He also knew she wore deep lace slips and stockings.

Not only did he spot the bump of her suspenders sometimes when she wore a tight skirt, but he was often given a discreet flash of lace frill or stocking top when she reached up or bent down around the office in the course of her duties. If she spent a particularly long time at the filing cabinets, it wasn’t unknown for him to get so aroused just looking at her and getting lingering peeks of her lace slip or stocking tops; he’d have to disappear to the toilet, lock a cubicle, and wank himself off.

Both Mrs. Andrews and Kyle felt particularly pleased today; they’d worked hard as a team to deliver the latest sales report to the Chief Exec, and it looked good. Cause for celebration. Their chat was inconsequential.

“We’ll have to get someone in to look at that fax machine; it went on the blink again just after lunch,” she said, slowly crossing her legs and noticing how Kyle automatically snatched a quick look down at her long limbs.

“Sure, I’ll call the building services manager tomorrow,” he replied, his eyes darting to more neutral territory in the form of his coffee cup.

“While you’re at it, get them to turn the heating down. It’s been like an oven in here today. Hasn’t anybody in the basement noticed that winter is over?” To emphasize her point, Mrs. Andrews slipped off her jacket.

Today she was wearing matching lemon-colored skirt and jacket, which were offset by a black silk blouse and barely black 10-denier stockings with, of course, her usual very high black spike heels. Kyle savored her breasts as they pushed against her blouse, making the silk material go taught. In the spirit of the moment, he removed his tie and undid the top two buttons of his shirt.

Now Mrs. Andrews’ top was off, he could just discern the outline of her slip underneath. It was the crush on his Aunt Jane when he was just thirteen that had given him his love of women far older than himself, along with a passion for their lingerie, especially lace slips. Aunt Jane had come to stay with his folks and was less than discreet when she went to her bedroom to get dressed or undressed. From the top of the stairs, he could spy on her through the half-open door.

Kyle’s reward was uninterrupted views of his tall, elegant Aunt as she paraded around the room, usually in her lace slips, putting on her garter belts, attaching her stockings, slipping in and out of her panties, and much more besides. Such delicious and tantalizing sights had become the source of many of Kyle’s early masturbatory fantasies.