Nepotism

He couldn't take his eyes off her. She was terrifying, mesmerising. Tall, with long dark hair and deep brown eyes. Broad shouldered and fairly heavy set, she wore a man's white satin dress shirt, full and flowing, open a few buttons at the neck. Below that, a short, tight black skirt showed off a pair of beautiful, long legs - none of the weight she carried above carried here, they were slender and delicately tapered. She was laughing with his wife, chatting in the sunlight, drinking wine while they waited for the food to be ready.

When she spoke to him, she met his eyes, she was direct and unrelenting. She made him laugh, flirted shamelessly, and matched him drink for drink. Her confidence both angered and aroused him. He didn't need to be told that they were lovers, you could see it. It drove him mad to watch them - at least Cath tried to hide it, but this girl - she trod the narrow line just on the other side of blatancy. They'd tried hard to stop this kind of thing, over the years. But it was like stopping the tide. She was magnetic, drew hungry mouths to her, just like her mother.

That night he lay awake, listening to their love making in the next room. They had waited a while, talking at first, and then after he and his wife had gone to bed, and a suitable time had passed for them to fall asleep, the talking stopped, and sounds of muffled lust replaced it. He closed his eyes and imagined their legs entwined, the press of her mouth, soft hair falling on softer skin.

He was supposed to drive her to the station the next day. Instead he offered to drive her all the way home. On the way, he suggested they stop for lunch. He bought her wine and watched the purple stain of her lipstick grow on the glass. Her leg brushed his under the table. The second leg of the journey was bristling with tension. She told him to pull over into a country road near to the edge of town, ten minutes from her flat. He got out of the car and stood, hesitant in the cold. She came round to him, but dodged his clumsy attempt to kiss her. She dropped to her knees and unzipped the fly in his nylon trousers. He put his head back and looked at the clouds floating by - bewildered as she took him firmly in her mouth and sucked hard. He heard again the moans that had come from his daughter's bedroom the night before.

He pulled her up and pushed her down, bent over the car. Her skirt hitched up over her hips, he tore her tights off and took her hard, her hair bunched tight in his hand.

Afterwards, he stood, confused again for a moment. Wondering how he had got there. When he looked up - she was bunching the torn tights into her bag, and running a brush through her hair. She didn't look at him again, just walked away. He passed her on the road as he drove away, her long, lean legs shining pale and beautiful in the afternoon sun.