I had fancied him for ages. Could always catch a sly glimpse of him through the window of my office. He was the tallest of all of them – strong jawline, not too skinny and very quiet. The other guys in the factory shouted and swore but he rarely said anything. Just moved among them like a beautiful Neanderthal.
I never had any reason to talk to him unless I had a client in to pass their job down on press – an approval procedure.
Even then my boss and the client would be around – hardly the time to start a seduction.
It was all in the eyes. I would look at him, he would look at me. That was as far as it went.
He also had no reason to come upstairs to the office.
As a result I rarely heard his voice and started to piece up information about him. It was said he had a fiancée. He had a very fancy car. He lived in a small village in Kent that was hard to pronounce.
That was about it.
This went on for months. I found out his name. The other guys caught on that I liked him.
There was a company Christmas party one year. Somehow he came back to mine.
I couldn’t believe the guy I had fantasised about for so long was in my bed.
We lay in the dark, side by side chatting. He wasn’t like the other guys, he was clever and could actually hold a conversation without swearing.
I don’t think we actually had sex. Either he refused, or we had no condoms or something else. Maybe we fooled around a bit. He definitely commented on my tits and told me I should show them off more.
But the feeling of having someone seemingly unattainable in the bed next to me was a incredibly powerful thing, more so than any orgasm.