The Client Who Seduced Me in My Own Office

As I’ve told you before, my husband and I run a transport service: companies, families, events. I take care of the office and, when needed, I drive too. I’m fifty-two years old, and I thought by now I knew myself by heart. What I’m going to tell you proved I was wrong.

One morning an email came in from a man named Sebastián. He wanted to book a ride for a wedding at a farmhouse on the outskirts of the city. We exchanged phone numbers and the conversation was cordial, almost fun, as we coordinated schedules and details. Something about the way he wrote left me smiling, and I couldn’t explain why.

On Saturday at seven in the evening I picked him up. Sebastián was a man of about forty, tall, with an easy smile. Then the rest of the family got in and we headed off to the party.

These events are tedious for drivers. You wait until dawn with little more than something to eat and a nap inside the van. I took the chance to answer messages and put together quotes on the tablet.

Not long after the party began, Sebastián came over to the van. He said the noise was deafening, that he preferred a little quiet and to chat with me. He was charming, attentive, one of those men who really listen. We were in the middle of that when a girl came looking for him, seeming very interested in his company.

—I’ll be back in a bit, I’ll join you later —he told her, without getting up from the seat.

—Is that your girlfriend? —I asked, just to say something.

—No. I like older women —he answered, looking at me.

An awkward silence settled in that I didn’t know how to break.

After midnight, while I was dozing in a seat, he reappeared with a non-alcoholic beer and a slice of cake. He apologized for waking me and asked for a place beside me so he could rest too. I made room for him. He rested his head on my shoulder, pretending to sleep, after first praising my perfume.

For a woman my age, having a young, handsome man look at her like that is not an everyday thing. I let myself enjoy the compliment more than I should have.

When the sky began to brighten, the party started dying down. We drove back the same way, dropping each person at home, and at the end I took Sebastián to his. Before getting out, he asked if I’d had a good time, if we hadn’t bothered me, if he could recommend us to his friends. I told him yes. Already on the sidewalk, he blew me a kiss with his hand and I answered with a smile that made me feel like a teenager. I closed the door with the absurd sadness of seeing it end.

Sunday was a day of rest. My husband was coming back from visiting some important clients and we stayed home watching TV, but I couldn’t get that knowing smile or the stolen goodbye kiss out of my head.

Monday was the start of an intense week: my husband, my son, and another driver were leaving for the coast for work and would be gone for several days. Around noon I was attending to a couple coordinating a group excursion when I saw a car pull into our garage. I thought it must be another client waiting for me to be free.

It wasn’t a client. It was Sebastián. He got out looking all around and asked me in a low voice if I was alone. My office is in a corner of the garage and at that moment no one else was there.

—Yes, I’m alone —I told him.

He went back to the car and brought me a beautiful plant to decorate the desk. I stood up and thanked him with a hug that lasted longer than it should have. He brought his face to my neck and murmured that my perfume had kept him awake. He brushed his lips over my skin, using it as an excuse to feel me up close. His hands circled my waist and a sigh escaped me without permission.

I tried to pull away, and as I did, his lips sought the corner of mine. I stopped him cold, firm on the outside, burning on the inside.

—This isn’t right —I told him—. I’m married, I’m old enough to be your mother, I don’t get involved with clients.

Without letting go of one of my hands, he pressed a finger to my lips, asking for silence.

My senses were about to explode. I was panting and couldn’t hide it.

—Just one kiss and I’ll go —he whispered.

I refused again, but his body was pressed against mine in a way that was impossible to resist.

—Just one, and you go —I replied, and my own voice sounded like a lie.

At first I offered him only my lips, but need won out and I gave him my whole tongue. I closed the gate with the remote and that single kiss turned into an endless series. I was no longer in control of my actions or the situation. From kisses we moved to caresses, touching each other with our hands over our clothes first, then underneath.

He pressed me against the desk and pulled down my leggings until my underwear was exposed. His fingers played at the edge of the fabric, pressing right where I needed it most. I moaned, trembled, laughed and cried at the same time, completely lost.

Suddenly he knelt down and, without even finishing undressing me, went down on me like my husband hadn’t done in years. I came with a scream from deep inside, from a woman who had gone weeks without being touched. I made him come up and share what he had in his mouth with me in one huge kiss.

Then it was my turn. We swapped places: he leaning against the desk, me on my knees looking up at him. I asked for permission with my eyes before taking him into my mouth. I could have stayed there forever. Every time I went further, he answered with the same groans I had let out minutes before. This time I was the one in control.

He tried to pull back, warning me he was about to finish. I ignored the warning, sped up, and took him all the way. For the first time in my life, at fifty-two, I decided not to stop. What escaped me I caught with my hand to start again, until he made me rise and shared that taste with me in another kiss.

The clothes finally disappeared completely. He lifted me onto the desk, spread my legs, and played with the head of his cock at my entrance without fully entering. I begged him in the crudest words I knew to do it. The bastard wouldn’t listen to me, slipping in only a few centimeters and pulling back.

All of a sudden, without warning, he filled me completely. We both screamed. It didn’t last long: the excitement was so intense that within a few minutes we were both saying we were about to finish. I came first, in spasms, and seconds later he did. We collapsed exhausted onto the couch beside it, naked, sweating, and it was barely ten in the morning on an ordinary Tuesday in November.

We stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for what felt like an eternity. He tried to start up again, but I had nothing left. My house is thirty meters from the garage, so as best I could I got dressed and invited him to come with me. His shirt was stained and, besides, he had to see a client in a few minutes.

***

When I walked into the house, the first thing I did was strip and turn on the shower. He followed me and did the same. I was going to bathe with a man for the first time in twenty years. We soaped each other up slowly. He was ready again already, but I couldn’t take any more. He put me on my back and looked for another way in; I gently refused. I hadn’t given up that place in more than six years, and if I did, I wanted it done carefully. I had bad memories of forced, rushed attempts.

But I wanted to show him I had surrendered. I asked him for something I had never asked for before: to bathe me with his urine. I felt the warmth run down my face, my chest, all the way to my sex. I didn’t dare taste it, though I swear next time I will.

We went to the bedroom to find clean clothes for my husband. Before getting dressed, he threw me face down on the bed and, still wet, began kissing my lower back and teasing me with his fingers. I was on the edge of something new when his cell phone rang: the client was waiting for him, and we had forgotten. He dressed in a hurry and promised to come back that same night to return the clothes.

I went out to buy cream and lingerie. I waited for him like a diva: heels, fishnet stockings, garter belt, all black. I cooked one of my specialties and, at the promised time, the doorbell rang.

With our tongues tangled, we fled to the bedroom. We repeated what we had done that morning and, this time, he kissed my back and lower down with a patience that undid me.

—Take care of me —I asked him—. I haven’t done it back there in a long time.

He was an expert. First tongue, then one finger, then two, then three, always with cream, always slowly. When he brought his body closer and started to push, it hurt, yes, but I didn’t want him to stop. He went forward millimeter by millimeter until he filled me completely, and then he stayed still, throbbing inside me. It hurt and at the same time it was heaven.

Right then the phone rang. It was my husband, arriving at his destination, asking for a video call. I told him I had no battery. My voice came out broken and that, far from slowing Sebastián down, only turned him on more. He sped up until he finished. I hung up before I could scream.

The kink had driven us both wild. I don’t know where we found the strength to keep going. At last he pulled out: exhausted, sore, but happy. We showered again, this time without touching, ate dinner naked, and before midnight we said goodbye with an almost innocent kiss.

We repeated it on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. I was at my best; when we finished, I still wanted more. I touched myself in front of him without any shame. I was completely unrestrained.

***

Then the proposal came. Sebastián had a friend, a year younger, who dreamed of a threesome and didn’t know how to bring it up. He was trustworthy, he said, and he was sure I’d like him. It was hard for me to agree, but he brought it up at exactly the right moment: after making love, when I was asking for more and he had nothing left to give. That’s when, he said, his friend would come in to continue.

We agreed to have dinner together first to see how we got along. Andrés was thirty-seven and had one of those faces that make a woman not ask for ID. There was chemistry right away, so we decided to continue the drinks at home.

Sitting on the couch in dim light, with me in the middle, I started kissing Sebastián while Andrés waited nervously for his turn. Sebastián was in charge and asked me to kiss his friend the same way I kissed him. I did, and I didn’t hesitate to slide my hand over his jeans to find out what he had hidden for me.

I asked permission to go to the bathroom and came back transformed: this time in a costume that left little to the imagination. Andrés was about to explode. The three of us went to the bedroom. I stayed in just the fishnet stockings and garter belt.

Sebastián had his friend go first. I rode him, then he had me on all fours, showed me everything he already knew about me, and handed me over to Andrés without jealousy. Then he lay on his back and made me ride him while, from behind, an eager tongue prepared me.

The tactic was repeated: first one finger, then another, and in the end the full game. I thought I wouldn’t be able to, with Sebastián already filling me in front and Andrés trying to make room behind. But after several days the area no longer protested as much. He got in, not without pain, though bearable, and the sum of the two of them inside me took me somewhere I had never known.

The cherry on top came when Sebastián took my phone and dialed my husband so I could speak to him like that, in the middle of everything. When his voice came through the speaker, the two of them went crazy. I hung up quickly before my moans gave me away. They filled me between them and, still trembling, I let myself collapse between them.

We woke up the three of us in each other’s arms. We had breakfast naked and, at different times, each of us went back to our own life. Andrés promised to come back today, with Sebastián’s blessing.

I’ll tell you more tomorrow.