The holiday passed and other than the occasional moment I don't think I really thought about our conversation that much. I don't think I believed it any longer.

When I returned to work, sure enough, just as promised, there lay a sealed brown envelope on my desk. I waited until I had some privacy during lunch before opening it. Inside was a small, well thumbed paperback book titled 'Those About To Die' with a rather lurid front cover depicting a woman about to be pulled apart by bulls in the Roman Arena. Along with this was a short note which simply said something along the lines of ....

'the book as promised. I hope it provides you with the answers you seek and the pleasure of knowledge. I know it has me. Please hang onto it for as long as desired. John.'

I was aroused, no doubt about that, but not only because of the book and the potential it held, but also because it was being shared, almost secretly, intimately. The simple fact that he knew I was aroused by the thought of animal sex, underage sex, and the brutalities of the Roman arena, and I knew he was aroused by it as well, seemed at once weird but at the same time immensely intimate and exciting. We hardly knew one another yet we knew we shared this interest.

I read through it selectively that night at home, and I masturbated over several sections, excited by the thought he may be wondering if I were reading and masturbating while I wondered if he had done the same. Some of it was definitely hugely arousing if you enjoyed the more perverse and depraved sides of sex. The fact that he had bought this book, read the very words I was reading, and quite probably masturbated while thinking about the same things I was thinking about, turned me on even more. I suppose in some ways this sharing, perceived or otherwise, formed a link, a kind of bond between us.

Over the next few days I read the book carefully from cover to cover, more than just the once. Now I had a good picture of it all in my head I began to wonder how I should return it to him and strangely enough found myself embarrassed by the thought of having to broach the topic with him. Silly I know but that's me! I hung onto it for another week then finally plucked up courage, taking it into work with me on the Friday. Mid morning I called his office and got through to him on the pretext of work. I mentioned I had his book with me, could I drop it off with his PA?, a woman with a formidable reputation.

He laughed and pointed out it would never get through to him without the envelope being opened, and he didn't really want that, his words simply strengthening the mutual understanding that what we shared, our mutual interest, was private and taboo .. not the kind of thing you wanted others knowing about you or being spread around the building. This fact only increased my feelings of secrecy and intimacy, perhaps even highlighting the bond. He suggested meeting for a drink after work but before I could answer he added that it probably wasn't a good idea and that if we were spotted tongues would wag. The company didn't approve of relationships between staff, especially top management with the likes of me. He was also married though estranged from his wife who had moved back to Canada with their daughter. I could quite understand his situation and didn't want to compromise him in any way .. or myself for that matter!

He then suggested I come round to his house for a light supper. I hesitated but he pursued, assuring me it would be ok and that he would enjoy the company as he often felt as though he were rattling around the place by himself. I thought why the hell not and he then gave me the address and said anytime would be good, say around seven. I agreed and that was that. I was rather intrigued and excited.

When the day was done I went for a few drinks with friends at the usual end of week wind down. The vodka's consumed allowed me to feel a little more relaxed, a little more confident, though when I did finally leave the bar and drove out to the suburb where he lived I cursed myself for having not gone home, showered, and changed into something a little more casual, then though bugger it, he will just have to accept me as I am. As usual I was dressed quite conservatively for work. Boring flat low heeled shoes, dark tights, dark wool suit and white blouse.

I struggled in finding his house at first, snow still lying and obscuring some of the road signs. When I did find it I was gob smacked. I knew he was well paid but the house was amazing. It was a two story ranch style in one of the new schemes and stood on what had to be at least an acre of its own grounds with native birch and pine surrounding it. I parked on the ample turning circle and he opened the door before I had a chance to ring the bell. He took my coat, ushered me into the warmth of the large open plan living room, poured me a drink and showed me the downstairs bathroom so I could freshen up. After that he gave me a guided tour of the house and I came away thinking the bedrooms were bigger than the whole of my cottage! It really was palatial. He was casually dressed in slacks and open necked shirt, the house was warm and nicely lit, I began to feel at home almost immediately.

While he prepared the light supper in the kitchen-ten times the size of my pokey little one -I stood and chatted with him, feeling more and more relaxed with every moment that passed. He was excellent company. Amusing, informative, and very well travelled. I could have listened to his stories all night.

We sat down to eat with trays on our laps in the living area and throughout the meal chatted easily and casually. When we were done he tidied the dishes away and offered me an ashtray, almost persuading me to smoke as he had given up only a few years before and still loved the smell in the house. Finally I relented and lit up gratefully and it was only when I went to put my ciggies back into my bag I remembered the book, the very reason for me being there. I gave him the package, apologising for almost forgetting. He slipped the little paperback from the same envelope it had been in when he had delivered it to me, flicked through the pages almost thoughtfully, then placed it face up on the table between us. 'No note?' he smiled. 'Did you not enjoy it?'

I had thought of putting a note in with the book, thanking him if nothing else, but then decided against it, not really wanting to say too much. His comment put me off balance and I found myself apologising and gabbling that I had enjoyed it and appreciated his generosity. He cut me off mid sentence by holding a hand up and when I fell silent he smiled and told me he was only teasing, that he didn't mind there not being any note, but that he was delighted I had enjoyed it .. adding almost as an after thought that he also enjoyed reading it occasionally and found the contents both informative and stimulating. I didn't reply though I felt that his comment was an opening for further revelations. To be honest I was feeling a little tongue tied.

He rose and took another bottle of wine from his rack, turning to me and holding it as though in question. I had already enjoyed more alcohol than was sensible that night and could feel the delicious effects of it, but after a moments hesitation I declined, pointing out I had to drive home.

'You could always stay here tonight ... if you wanted?' he offered.

I was very tempted. I wanted to stay, I even wanted things to go further, but it was all so strange, we seemed to be coming into things from a funny angle and I felt out of my depth and unsure.

'It's not a problem,' he pressed, 'honestly, and I would enjoy the company, I do mean that Stella, I would enjoy your company very much. And besides, it's still snowing, you are warm and settled here .. where is the harm and who's even to know?'

I am weak at times but against that his words made sense. It was getting late, it was dark with snow lying and roads treacherous, I had probably drunk over the limit already, we were adults for gods sake. What was I hedging for? I agreed to stay. He was clearly delighted and told me I could use his daughters bedroom which had an en suite bathroom and was already all made up for use. His housekeeper would change sheets etc. on the Monday when she came in and there should also be a fresh tooth brush for me in the bathroom.

He opened the wine and for a while we just chatted generally. I felt very relaxed but at the same time a little nervous. I was wondering if anything would take place between us, half of me wanting it, the other half wondering how in the hell anything between us could be normal after the conversation we had shared at the Christmas party, if indeed I hadn't just imagined half of it.

As the level in the wine bottle fell so my confidence increased and I began to feel more and more at ease with the situation, even welcomed it. And hell, I could do with a good seeing too anyway, it had been a long time!

He opened another bottle, again checking with me first and this time I didn't hesitate. The wine was kicking in nicely, and it, combined with the potential of the situation and the close proximity of this attractive and exciting in many ways man, had my arousal simmering quietly below the surface. This time, when he filled our glasses, he settled down in the small couch alongside me. We toasted and sipped, smiling at one another over the rims of our glasses. I knew then he was going to make a move on me and apart from finding the whole thing a little amusing I also found it highly arousing and exciting. I mean neither of us were teenagers any longer but I could see him struggling with just how to approach me. This realisation, along with my own arousal, made me decide to help him along, encourage him, rather than tease or pretend I didn't know what was happening. I wanted to go there as much as he did.

'You know Stella,' he began, 'when I went to that Christmas party, a party I wasn't really looking forward too, the very last thing I expected was to end up having the conversation you and I shared.'

I smiled back at him and lit another ciggie, rather relishing the coming conversation, my heart beginning to beat that trifle faster in anticipation.

'I can't say I expected it either, it was ... very unexpected.'

He smiled in return, sharing the amusement.

'No, not anticipated at all-but at the same time I have to admit I enjoyed it, enjoyed it immensely.' he stated quietly, eyes locked on mine as though seeking reaction.

I returned his gaze evenly. 'I enjoyed it too John, very much enjoyed it.'

There, it was out, open declaration of what we had shared being a pleasure to both of us. He seemed pleased by my open response, more at ease.

'I hoped you had Stella, I hoped you'd enjoyed it all as much as I did. Thank you for confirming those hopes, your openness is appreciated, and enjoyed. Can we continue to talk openly? Adult to adult?'

I took a long drag on my ciggie ... Oh yes! This is what I wanted.

'Yes John, I think I would like that.'

Again we exchanged smiles and I had to think this was the most unusual seduction I had ever experienced, but I was enjoying it. Strangely it felt very relaxed.

He then told me at length how though we had little to do with one another at work he had noticed me on more than one occasion. Noticed my presence at some of the meetings, walking past me in the corridor where we would simply exchange nods, noticed me in the canteen. He found me attractive which flattered me considering our building was full of some very pretty girls who also dressed much more alluringly than I ever did. He told me how he was so taken by me he had discreetly followed my path up the rather rungless ladder and also kept tabs on my home life simply through snippets of conversation. He had found himself attracted to me for many reasons, had always searched for an opportunity or excuse to approach me and had been totally thrilled when I turned up at the Christmas party-even more so by how things had so rapidly developed between us and how our very private conversation had shown him a side of me he had never for one moment expected, that unexpectedness only making it all the more exciting.

I was flattered by all he told me but only added that the side of me that had indulged in and enjoyed our private conversation was not one I tended to air publicly! I think we both giggled at this.

'No, it's not something you tend to discuss with complete strangers, or close friends.. with anyone for that matter!' he continued.

'We did!' I smiled, and had it returned.

'Yes, we did, didn't we. But even then it was very subdued, full of suggestion and innuendo, never really going into rich detail.'

'It had to be that way considering the circumstances. It had to be contrived, subtle, camouflaged. It couldn't be any other way, could it!' I added.

'No, you're right. But tell me Stella, would you have wished it otherwise? Would you enjoy more detail, less subterfuge .... Unrestricted explicitness?'

His question was serious, and very leading, I could see that. I wanted to be open and honest with him and I considered his question with the seriousness I felt it was asked. I was also becoming very aroused and not because of where I thought all this might be leading but simply because once more we were revealing ourselves to one another by conversation. It was the openness of it all.

'It's not something I have much experience of, but yes, it's something I would enjoy exploring further. I know that during our conversation at that Christmas party I was frustrated by the circumstances and at that point in time I would have relished us going further with it, going into more detail.'

He took a moment before wording his reply, his head nodding in understanding.

'I appreciate your frankness Stella. When we parted I did ask if you would enjoy continuing our conversation at some later date, remember?"

I nodded my head, heart beginning to hammer as I felt the flush of arousal course through my body and warm my neck and face.

'Yes John, I do remember.' I said quietly, watching his face.

He smiled warmly, encouragingly.

'And you replied enthusiastically if I recall correctly, didn't you?'

Butterflies took off in my stomach and I felt myself blush though it wasn't entirely due to embarrassment, my arousal really taking over now. I nodded the affirmative and he smiled once more then edged a fraction closer to me on the couch, bending slightly towards me so his face was close to my ear.

'Would you like to have that continuation now Stella?' he breathed.

Again I found myself a little speechless, only nodding my agreement, breath held.

His body seemed to move, as though with excitement, and he edged his way closer to me on the couch. I realised he was going to make his first physical move on me and I remained still, tilting and offering my face towards his, our eyes locked.

'That's what I hoped you might answer Stella. Thank you.' And with that he lowered his face to mine and we kissed for the first time. It wasn't a passionate kiss, not a desperate or even highly sexual kiss, more just our lips meeting for short seconds as though sealing a bargain between us, but still it left me shuddering and breathless with excitement.

When our lips parted he brushed his lightly over my cheeks, my nose, then my forehead, and strangely enough I found this more erotic and intimate than a full tongue entwining French kiss. It was as though he were taking his time, savouring every moment, wanting us to remain in control.

'May I ask you a question now?' I whispered as our faces parted.

'But of course. Ask anything you wish. I shall answer candidly and honestly.'

'Which part of the conversation that afternoon excited you most?'

By this I meant which part of the content of the conversation, wanting to know which specific area turned him on most, but I got an answer I didn't expect.

'All of it turned me on Stella, all of it. But most of all I was turned on by your enthusiasm, an enthusiasm you began to make obvious as the conversation progressed. Your facial expressions, the timbre of your voice, the words used to encourage me. And most of all when we both looked at one another and voiced how disgusting and depraved those acts were while at the same time we disguised our mutual delight in that company by simply omitting the word 'excitingly', or 'thrillingly', or 'arousingly'. Does that answer your question?'

I nodded my head in understanding. 'It's not what I expected but it will most certainly do!' And with that I slipped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face down to my own. This time I took over and it was a deliciously long, increasingly dirty French kiss which once he got the hang of doing he took too like a duck to water. Our tongues enmeshed and entwined, thrusting and wrestling with abandoned delight within the hot pit of our mouths, breaths gasped momentarily, his own hand around my neck encouraging and caressing. My nipples ached and my cunt began to open and weep with arousal. I heard myself moaning into his mouth.

When finally we broke we were both breathless and obviously hugely aroused. He looked down at me and through the glaze of his arousal I could see the seriousness still in his eyes. It was obvious to both of us where this was going yet I could see concern in his face as well as desire. I squeezed his neck as though to encourage him.

'Stella ..' he began. 'One of the reasons I have refrained from making any approach towards you previously is because of our age difference ... and the fact I am no longer the man I was at your age.'

My arousal stilled and simmered. He had something important to tell me, that was for sure, something bothering him enough to need to bring it up now. Taking one of his hands in my own I squeezed his fingers encouragingly.

"Go on John?"

"I am over fifty now Stella, my powers are diminishing, my stamina not what it once was. I don't want to be a disappointment to you. That's all."

My heart went out to him and at the same time I found myself smiling. What did he think I was? What did he think I was used too? I giggled quietly and he looked at me in question. "Forgive me John, I wasn't giggling at you, I was giggling at me."

He tipped his head in question, his eyes suggesting I continue. It wasn't something I was familiar discussing, in fact it was very private, but if the man was concerned about his sexual prowess then I had to tell him about my own problems, clearly and openly so there would be, could be, no misunderstanding. I was due him that at least. I wanted this to work for both of us and open honesty was the best policy ... and besides, the alcohol consumed, had, as always, given me the Dutch courage and self confidence necessary to be open about such personal things.

"I am not exactly hugely sexually experienced myself, not familiar with incredible prowess, or impressed by it. But more importantly I think is the fact that although I do have a very high libido and can enjoy a string of orgasms when I wish ... I can't ... or struggle to, orgasm during penetrative sex ... or ... should I say, penetrative sex with a man. It just hasn't happened. Yet.

His face became even more serious, his eyes curious.

"Sorry, you are loosing me here. Can you explain please?" he asked quietly and I smiled in agreement.

"What I am saying John is that I can enjoy several orgasms, but not ..well ... not while actually fucking. I enjoy masturbation .. myself or someone else doing it for me, but I struggle to cum during penetrative sex with a man. That's not to say I don't enjoy it, I do, very much so, but I like to have my cums first. So ... no need to worry about your abilities or performance, they are unimportant for me."

A smile of understanding creased the corners of his eyes.

"It appears we are even better suited than I first believed! So you're happy to masturbate?"

I nodded. "It's what works best for me. No pressure on you to perform!"

He bent over me and we kissed once more, again passionately and as we did so I felt his body stiffen against mine with his desire. My own arousal came back onto the boil as though someone had just turned the gas up on a simmering pan and within moments my body was moving gently and urgently against his own. When finally we broke we were both flushed and breathless.

"Do you want to continue this here or in bed Stella?"

Again I was slightly taken aback, but at the same time appreciative, of his forthright manner. Much as I loved the idea of dirty talking in bed, especially about the kinds of things we'd touched on so lightly during the Christmas party, the stark reality of taking things further, being more explicit, face to face in broad daylight, was a touch daunting. Darkness would give me anonymity, would make me feel more confident.

"In bed, it would be better there I think."

He nodded his agreement.

"And do you want us to continue our conversation, pick up where we left off?"

"Phew yes!" I breathed with obvious enthusiasm. "Go over old ground again if you want."

Our bodies moved against one another with excitement and I could tell he was already loving the prospect of what lay ahead, just as I was.

"And when we talk Stella ... I don't want to say or do anything that might not be a turn on for you ... are there any restrictions you want to place? Restrictions on language or content?"

His question excited me tremendously. This was so, so, revealing and liberating and I so wanted to fly with him.

"No, none at all John. I want you to feel easy about saying anything you want, and in any way you want, I promise you. I find the whole thing a turn on and the thought of enjoying the liberty to indulge openly and privately ... phew, that really excites me."

I could feel the enthusiasm emanate from his body, his delight in my acceptance of no limitations. His hand found my chin and cupping it gently he turned my face to meet his own and once more we kissed long and deep and dirty. We broke finally and he looked down at me.

"I'll lock up down here and tidy up a bit. How long will you need? Ten, fifteen minutes?"

"That's plenty!" I whispered up at him and with a final peck on the cheek he pulled back and let me slip from the couch, straighten my skirt and leave the room.