But all Susannah’s conscious of is Clive next to her. The first agenda item is the minutes of the last meeting and matters arising.' 'Well gentlemen, and Mrs Travers, we're all here so let's kick off. Her throat suddenly becomes dry but she somehow manages to say something in reply. As Clive’s eyes explore her, for the second time that morning Susannah feels her clothes evaporate.Ĭlive takes the swivel chair next to Susannah then leans excitingly close to her and smiles. Suddenly her blouse feels thin and tight over her breasts, almost as if it’s not there. And like her, he’s got a wedding ring on his finger.Ĭlive’s eyes circle the room giving brief nods of recognition. He’s wearing a tailored slimline blue and white striped shirt with a bright tie and an expensive-looking suit. He’s good looking, to put it mildly, and obviously keeps himself fit. She’d imagined an older man but he’s not much older than her, perhaps early forties. Susannah’s exchanged emails with him since he’d started just weeks ago but she’s never met him. The door opens and in walks the new lawyer, Clive. She gets her laptop and papers in order, and then it happens! There’s no one sitting at the short side of the big oak top conference table opposite the chairman so she plants herself on one of the black leather swivel chairs. Susannah’s the youngest by at least twenty years among the grey-suited, grey-haired, grey-minded men around the big boardroom conference table and she’s the only woman.

She closes her eyes and wishes there was more.

In the privacy of the elevator, she remembers last night: her husband climbing on top of her for his two minutes of fun before he rolls off her. She sighs in anticipation of a day of tedious presentations and dreary discussions. She takes the elevator to the executive suite on the top floor. Susannah’s confident, knowing her thin white blouse, pencil skirt just above the knee, sheer black nylons and black high heels are showing off her shapely body to perfection. She’s in her mid-thirties, brunette with perfectly styled dark hair down to just below her ears, designer clothes and handbag, and expensive but understated pearls at her ears and neck. “Good morning Mrs Travers,” says the security guard at the door and, as always with men, Susannah feels her clothes evaporate under his lustful gaze. Click-clack go Susannah’s high heels as she crosses the marble floor of the foyer of her company's head office on her way to her business meeting.

Naked susannah flood naked