It happened a short time after they had installed electric typewriters in the office pool in which I worked. I'd noticed her for a fleeting moment or two when she had walked past my desk, though I suppose I had indeed glanced up from my typing for an exceptionally timeless and scrutinizing moment or two. Attired in a beige, form fitting suit dress very similar in style to the dress I happened to be wearing, I hadn't, I suppose, been able to deny it a glance of blatant, devouring scrutiny, her form that which I saw as voluptuous to every ideal and alluring extreme. I'd long since admitted to myself that a glance toward another woman could leave me immersed in a pleasant, wanting little warmth, had often enough with a lingering, fantasizing glance toward another woman found myself fallen into as intense an aroused want as any I had ever known. I still, a typist and thirty years of age, hadn't entirely abandoned hope that I might escape the typing pool to a house in the suburbs and a life which I supposed could be called "normal." And yet, an inadvertent caress of another girl's hips to my own several years ago as we'd stood together at the coffee stand had left me indulging in a moment's novel fantasy which I'd found exceptionally intriguing and exciting. Knowing and admitting myself for at least the past ten years now given to primal wants as intensely as anyone, I had some evenings for the past several years now imagined it another woman become my lover - had for a fondling touch of my imaginary lover's breasts to mine and her culminating, intimate caresses yet again admitted that I could see another woman as intensely arousing. And a fleeting moment or two as my voluptuously alluring beauty walked past my desk had indeed been enough. She'd stood a half moment a pace or two from my desk glancing about the office, hadn't, I suspect, drawn any particular notice from several dozen other girls at their typewriters - something never entirely explainable about her and a moment's lascivious fantasizing on my part stirring in me physical wants as quickly and as intensely as any I had ever known. She was everything for me which a fantasy lover had been some evenings for at least the past several years now, was the tall, hourglass beauty who with her kisses and her finished, intimate caresses could leave me gasping in the throes of a released pleasure seeming unique and impossible ferocity.

I'd typed another line or two after she had walked around the corner, had finally given up, had decided on a cup of coffee. Pushing myself from my desk and then toward the same corner, I'd done so never for a moment denying that I was hoping for another glance. I'd walked toward the corner giving myself up to all manner of pleasant little fantasy, finally made my way around the corner toward the coat room and the coffee pot - hadn't for a moment denied it a pleasant and intriguing little delight when I found her standing next to the coat room glancing up and down the hallway. She was thirty, perhaps, though exceptionally pretty, shoulder length straw blond hair. And she was indeed, I'd decided again, a voluptuous, hourglass ideal to every possible and not quite explicable extreme - something about her figure, her stance, her every little movement and gesture that which I could only call breathtaking. And she was indeed the imaginary lover who for the past several years now had run teasing, caressing hands up and down my body, her caressing touch pushed to finished and ultimate intimacy until it was my body wracked in the throes of a long and agonizing pleasure.

Stepping toward the coat room and the coffee pot, I'd wondered for another fleeting moment if she might have noticed me when she'd walked past my desk, the cut and the shade of my hair very similar to hers. I stepped toward the coat room as vainly aware as always that I was still thought very pretty. And I'd glanced just that morning the usual vain and studying scrutiny toward the mirror, hadn't denied it a long moment's giddy little delight glancing toward a form which was still simply that which it was. And I'd walked down the hallway toward the coat room and the coffee pot intensely and inescapably aware that my own form was that which could only be called voluptuous to every ideal extreme. My figure wasn't inordinately exaggerated or anything of the sort. And still, I'd walked those final few paces toward another woman the motions of my body seeming strangely and helplessly exaggerated. And I'd walked those final several paces yet again immersed in a surrounding, enveloping warmth seeming almost dizzying, the aroused want of my body finally become as desparate and maddening an ache as any I had ever known.

She'd edged another searching glance up and down the hallway. She was, I'd supposed, a new girl just reporting for work, stood next to the coat room realizing that she had wandered into a hallway leading nowhere. I'd walked the final several paces toward her wondering again as we settled our eyes toward each other if she might have noticed me - had wondered in reeling, fantasizing corners of my mind if she might even have noticed me as intensely and as entirely as I'd noticed her. I'd stepped those final several paces toward the coat room supposing in lucid corners of my mind that she would ask directions of me, she and I perhaps to exchange a civil, genial nod as I provided them. And still, those final several steps toward another woman had seemed a timeless, reeling eternity in ways I had never before known.

I might after that moment's flash of my eyes toward hers have pretended no further notice of her whatsoever, might even have demanded a moment's reasoning pause of myself never quite daring to believe that it had indeed been at least a fleeting moment's scrutinizing glance toward me. She saw, I little doubted, nothing more than a typist's bland and staid civility in my features and my demeanor.

And it had all seemed the matter of one more sudden and incomprehensibly timeless moment come from nowhere, she and I standing a pace from each other in a secluded hallway the clatter of several dozen typewriters seeming vague and senseless noise coming from some other world. I'll never entirely know how I could have dared yet another glance toward her, remember it as some helpless, entirely irresistable urge to do so. I remember standing in a dizzying, reeling oblivion of raw, primal warmth. Others, I little doubted, would have seen an obviously attractive though not extraordinarily remarkable typist, her features and her demeanor bland, staid propriety - and something about her stance, her every little mannerism blinding and attracting. It had, even after a moment's reasoning pause, been nothing less for me than lasciviously blatant notice of a form which I saw as a voluptuous, curving ideal. It might for one fleeting moment almost have been a glance of normal and ordinary envy, another woman every bit as pretty as I was and her figure certainly every bit as attractive, she rather than I to draw scrutinizing, admiring attention from others. And yet my mood wasn't envy or anything of the sort as I yet again admitted that I could see another woman as nothing less than arousing, could with a glance toward another woman find myself fallen into all manner of longing little fantasy. It was finally nothing more than pace between us at the far end of a secluded hallway - and it yet again seemed a surrounding and enveloping warmth, a wash of raw, flooding sensation I had never before known with anything close to the same ferocity. It was finally something I can only call ultimate and finished - she standing nothing more than a pace away from me and she the woman who I had imagined for at least the past several years now, she the woman whose body had been entwined about my own in thrashing, abandoned lovemaking - the aroused want of my body for nothing more than her close proximity become little less than a maddening ache desparate for relief.

It had been she and I standing a pace from each other next to the coffee closet's door, hadn't been anything more than a half moment. I suspect it had indeed been bland nonchalance in my features. I saw the same in hers as she noticed that I was bound for the coffee stand. She'd stepped a half pace from the door in order to make room for me, a searching glance past me back down the hallway - and I'll never quite remember turning finally and entirely toward her rather than toward the coffee pot, remember it as some new, blinding wash of dizzying sensation realizing that it was indeed her eyes fallen finally and entirely toward me. It was, even then, a moment's and a strange, timeless eternity's abandoned imagining crashing into every corner of my mind, another woman and I to know that our demeanors of bland, staid propriety hadn't been anything more than a concealing facade. It was she and I to fling the pretense aside, she and I to see raw, burning want in each other's eyes, she and I just moments after we had first set eyes on each other knowing it some chemical or magnetic attraction which we just couldn't resist. It was another woman and I knowing it had to be our arms flung about each other's bodies, she and I to devour each other with wild, frenzied kisses and caresses - she and I ripping the clothing from each other's bodies our bodies finally to be entwined in abandoned, consumating love making.

I'd followed her from my desk into the hallway, had turned toward her rather than toward the coffee pot, had indulged in all manner of outright liscivious little fantasy until I'd stood finally in a reeling oblivion of raw, wanting warmth. I'd turned, I suppose, toward a typist very similar to myself in appearance, her features pretty though her expression bland, clerical propriety. And yet I'd turned toward another woman who I saw as a tall, alluring ideal - could admit even in the moment that I'd given myself up for at least the past several years now to all manner of consumating fantasies. Knowing and admitting myself as sexually ravenous a creature as any who had ever lived and giving myself up to the primal, intimate wants of my body, I'd found myself some evenings imagining it another woman running a caressing hand up and down my body, running a teasing hand to my thighs, pushing her caresses closer until it was another woman's touch become ultimate and finished intimacy - and I'd turned toward her rather than toward the coffee pot and my body as I'd done so fallen into as throbbing and pounding a want as any I had ever known, a want seeming nothing less than aching desparation.

I'd turned toward another typist, had supposed even then that it must be a bland, civil word or two between us - and I'll never quite remember stepping that last pace forward, remember it as some dizzying and timeless fall through an endless void as I fell forward toward another woman rather than toward the coat room's door and the coffee stand. I was raising my arms, drawing my arms about her waist yet not quite daring to believe that I was doing so - and the thing yet again one sudden and dizzying moment come from nowhere as I flung my eyes to my own waist, realized in every not quite believing corner of my mind that she had indeed fallen that last half pace as frantically toward me as I had toward her. It had been my arms raised from my side, my arms drawn about her waist, had been something close to frightened disbelief as I stood in the hallway cradling her body onto my own - and the thing as quickly that same immersing wash of raw, falling sensation I as finally dared believe that it had indeed been my body slammed as frantically and as violently onto hers. It was my breath exploding from my throat in a helpless fury as I cradled her body onto mine with blatant, wanting violence. She was real and living warmth rather than a fantasy. And it was finally a dizzying, reeling ecstasy for the brutal, capturing strength of her arms surrounding me, her breath all of the gasping fury my own had become. It might even then have been a bizare and timeless instant's knowing disbelief between us, she and I flinging startled, gaping eyes toward each other, neither she nor I quite daring to believe that it had happened, she and I waiting to see protesting outrage in each other's features. And it was her breath touching me, her breath swirling and exploding about my lips, seemed impossible that existence could ever have been anything other than her body become mine to wrench onto my own with frenzied wanting violence - the crush of her breasts to mine and the unrelenting, brutal strength of her arms around me an endless, falling ecstasy.

It was another half moment and was incomprehensibly timeless. It was everything countless little fantasies had been for at least the past several years now. I'd supposed my intimate wants no different than anyone's for most of my life, still hadn't entirely abandoned hope that I might escape the typing pool the way so many of the other girls had over the past ten years. And yet I had for at least the past several years now glanced a moment's curious intrigue toward one or another of the girls standing with her at the coffee stand in the coat room, had admitted an inadvertent caress or an affectionate touch of her hand to my arm could be an exceptionally pleasant, outright exciting little warmth. I'd finally indulged in all manner of pleasant little fantasies, one or another of the girls my imaginary lover for weeks at a time. I might the next morning wander back to the coat room and the coffee stand with her allowing myself another few moment's abandoned, outright liscivious imagining - had sometimes found myself standing with one or another of the girls at the coffee stand and fallen into an aroused want seeming almost irresistable.

I'd noticed her for fleeting moments as she'd walked past my desk, had followed her into the hallway and had yet again edged my eyes toward a woman who at least for me was blinding, some feminine beauty and allure to every impossible, never explainable extreme. I'll always believe that I had indeed genuinely anticipated nothing more than a civil, proprietous word or two with her at the coat room's door. And yet I couldn't even in the moment have denied that I was allowing myself all manner of raging, abandoned imagining. I'd gazed toward a very pretty woman attired in a form fitting suit dress - and had edged devouring eyes toward her breasts. She as well wasn't exaggerated or anything of the sort. And still, she was indeed voluptuous feminine beauty and allure to every ideal extreme. I'd abandoned myself to terms and to imagining of every blatant and outright liscivious sort. I had as she'd walked past my desk gazed nothing less than devouring abandon toward the curves of her ass. I'd typed another line or two - and had as I'd done so held the most maddening, agonizing creature who had ever lived in my arms, had run caressing, fondling hands from her waist to feminine curves which were broad and round to those same voluptuously ideal extremes. It had been another woman's hand rather than my own lain to my body in frantic, fondling caress, she and I gasping and writhing together in raw, wanting abandon.

I'd finally given up on my typing entirely, had followed her into the hallway knowing that just a word or two and another moment's glance would be an exciting little pleasure. Perhaps it could be she and I sharing a cup of coffee in the coat room. I might think her even prettier as I stood with her at the coffee stand seeing a smile rather than just bland civility in her features. I'd deport myself, I supposed, as I always had in the past, she seeing nothing more than pleasant civility in my own features and demeanor. And still, it was finally to be I and the woman who was my long imagined ideal standing at each other's side at the coffee stand, would be an immersing, surrounding warmth, something incomparably more than it had ever been in the past. I'd followed her from my desk into the hallway never doubting that a cup of coffee with her might be another few moments raging, abandoned imagining. I'd find myself standing at her side finally fallen into the primal and ultimate want, a sexual want become little less than aching desparation - and she even then seeing a typist whose temperament was obviously composed, outright staid reserve.

I'd followed her into the hallway never entirely certain why I was doing so, had followed her toward the coat room perhaps demanding at least a moment's reasoning, settling calm of myself. And I'd walked the final several paces down the hallway deciding in every abandoned corner of my mind that I had to turn toward her rather than toward the coat room and the coffee stand, deciding that I had to slam this maddening, agonizing creature into my arms - the thing in one more sudden and incomprehensibly timeless moment a blinding wash of raw, dizzying sensation when I knew I just wasn't stopping, was finally flinging myself past every irrevocable edge.

I'd wondered for at least the past several years now what it would be like to hold another woman in my arms with unfeigned, wanting violence. I'd followed a woman who I saw as breathtaking feminine allure into the hallway, had wondered in every reeling corner of my mind what it would be like to cradle her body with unfeigned, abandoned want onto my own. And it was immersing, enveloping warmth of a ferocity I had never before known, the heaving crush of her breasts to mine something I could only call agonizing. It was that half moment's reeling disbelief, she for that incomprehensibly timeless half moment still a typist with bland, civil propriety in her features as she stood next to the coat room's door - and yet I was indeed crushing her body onto my own with brutal, unrestrained violence. I'd flung an arm about her shoulders until it was her breasts crushed onto mine - had flung a hand from her waist to clawing, groping intimacy, her body crushed onto mine with blatant and obvious violence. It might finally have been a fleeting moment's awakening pause, that same reeling disbelief that it had happened. And it was yet again one sudden and blinding half instant seeming come from nowhere, my body awash in raw, pounding sensation as I realized again that it had indeed been my body slammed as brutally and as violently onto hers, her embrace from the start all the wild, clawing abandon my own had become.

It had been she and I just waiting another timeless, reeling half moment, the exploding swirl of her breath about my lips some new, blinding ecstasy, her lips so impossibly close to mine - choking gasps wrenched from our throats as we realized we were indeed leaning even closer, were yet again falling together past every abandoned edge. It yet again seemed that one sudden and reeling moment come from nowhere - our lips touching each other's and the warmth of another woman's lips touched to my own in searching, caressing intimacy a pleasure I couldn't before the moment have imagined, a sweet and yet a raw and dizzying pleasure from the start. It was yet again some strange, knowing intimacy between us, might almost have been a half moment's hysterical mirth. She hadn't, I'd known in a blinding instant, had any more idea than I had what a kiss was, our leaning toward each other's lips a timeless eternity's clumsy writhing - and yet she and I just not stopping, she and I leaning together in frantic, wanting desparation - our lips touching and our kisses in another half moment frenzied writhing abandon without caution or restraint. It was she and I knowing it had to be our mouths opened to each other, she and I burying ourselves into each other's warmth, searching and devouring each other with our lips and our tongues, burying ourselves again into something become a frenzy of raw, primal want for each other.

It yet again seemed that strange and sudden moment come from nowhere, perhaps even a timeless moment's perfectly lucid clarity. I had crushed another woman into my arms - and yet her body mine to search and devour with my hands, her round feminine warmth leaving me fallen again into an oblivion of raw, flooding sensation. It was fleeting moments of lucid pause even then, perhaps indeed a moment's struggle for reasoning restraint. I'd buried my mouth onto hers with unrestrained violence, had yet again slammed her body onto mine - had flung clawing, groping hands up and down her body her feminine curves mine to search and explore, to devour with my hands. And a fleeting moment's awakening, lucid pause was just some new, dizzying ecstasy, another woman's kisses and caresses attacking, all of the frenzied, abandoned violence I could ever have wanted. It was indeed, I'd realized in that sudden and culminating half moment, her hands flung up and down my own body in wild, devouring intimacy, she and I both in a bizare and sudden moment come from nowhere flinging ourselves together past every edge, abandoning ourselves together to our every raw and primal want.

It had been she and I standing in each other's arms next to the coat room, she and I finally hearing the clatter of typewriters only a short distance away. It had been she and I finally opening our eyes, edging our eyes together - and I stood crushing her body onto my own with desparate violence,

my hands dug onto her body with clawing, capturing violence. I stood fallen into maddening, pounding wants of a ferocity I couldn't before the moment have imagined possible - knew with some strange and undoubted certainty that the woman I cradled in my arms was gasping in a helpless fury for her own body wracked in pounding, wanting sensation. It was she and I yet again touching our lips to each other's in frantic, searching caress, our hands flung up and down each other's bodies in wild, clawing caress - she and I writhing in each other's arms in that which we couldn't any longer doubt was a raging sexual want for each other. It was something become an oblivion of primal, blinding sensation. She was shuddering and writhing in a building frenzy for my wanting, devouring kisses and caresses, helpless gasps wrenched from her throat for her body immersed in a pounding, agonizing pleasure become nothing less than frightening, something from which she had to escape - a whispering scream wrenched from her throat as I dug clawing hands onto her body, slammed her body again onto mine. It yet again seemed one more dizzying and blinding half instant, my body awash in a maddening, frightening pleasure I couldn't before the moment have imagined - and the thing just some new, agonizing ecstasy. I had indeed struggled as frantically as she had to escape something become a frightening wash of pounding, torturing sensation - and she needing my body as frantically and as maniacally as I needed hers, the embrace of her arms about my body capturing fury from which I just couldn't escape.

It was yet another lucid and waiting half moment, a breathless embrace of our eyes. It had indeed been two other women stepping into the hallway, a sudden burst of giggling mirth - and it was yet again just a dizzying falling abandon like none I could ever have imagined. I just couldn't exist without her body crushed with unrelenting violence onto mine, stood yet again in an oblivion of raw, pounding sensation for my body crushed as frantically onto hers - she burying frenzied, wanting eyes to mine, mirthful laughter down the hallway no more meaningful to her than it was for me. It was something I could only call finished and consumating already, she and I meeting each other's eyes yet she and I knowing it indeed become nothing less than a desparate aching want of our bodies, a want that it be our bodies given to each other in an intimacy which was finished and ultimate.

It was another half moment and another incomprehensibly timeless eternity. I crushed her body onto my own with owning, possessing violence - and finally dared believe that which suddenly seemed so ludicrously obvious. A very pretty typist had walked into an office pool and past several dozen desks, had drawn to a half moment's halt next to one of the desks - had noticed perhaps from a corner of her eye that the typist's hair was straw blond and hanging loosely over her shoulders, had allowed herself another moment's notice as she'd edged searching eyes about the office - and had stood immersed in a pleasant, wanting little warmth noticing that a woman her own age sitting at the desk was that which she saw as an hourglass ideal to every voluptuously alluring extreme. A new typist just assigned to the office pool had finally wandered on toward a corner of the room, a short distance down a hallway - had allowed herself another few moment's pleasant little fantasies admitting that she could see another woman as attractive and alluring, admitting that a moment's glance toward one of the girls in the typing pool had left her fallen into nothing less than a wanting, aroused warmth. She'd finally discovered that she'd wandered down a hallway leading only to a coat and coffee closet, had turned - and had stood in some new, building warmth as she'd edged her eyes toward the woman who had followed her into the hallway. She'd stood all manner of pleasant and abandoned little fantasy coursing through her mind as a woman who was indeed very pretty and was indeed a tall, hourglass ideal walked down the hallway. She'd finally demanded a moment's reasoning pause of herself, one of the typists her features and demeanor bland nonchalance just wandering down the hallway toward the coffee pot. And still, she'd found herself giving in to yet another timeless moment's helpless, abandoned imagining, the woman walking the final several paces down the hallway to turn toward her rather than toward the coffee pot, she and another woman to discover in a bizare half moment come from nowhere that it was indeed some inexplicable and raging attraction between them, their bodies fallen together into primal wants, their bodies in nothing more than bizare moments fallen into the ultimate sexual want seeming nothing less than a helpless and agonizing ache desparate for relief.

And I crushed her body onto my own with frantic, unrelenting strength, stood in an oblivion of raw pounding sensation for my body crushed as brutally and inescapably onto hers. I'd wondered all my life, I suppose, what it would be like the first time I and another person stood in each other's arms running our hands up and down each other's bodies in unfeigned, wanting caress, I and another person knowing there weren't any limits, knowing we could touch and caress each other wherever we pleased. And I stood in her arms next to the coffee closet's door the thing indeed seeming inescapable in ways I couldn't before the moment have imagined, the entwining warmth of her body seeming nothing less than an inescapable necessity. It was she and I standing our eyes buried to each other's - had indeed been a moment's perfectly lucid pause. It was she and I hearing the clatter of several dozen typewriters - hearing a final moment's giggling mirth at the other end of the hallway. And it was she and I gasping together in breathless fury, she and I digging frantic, clawing hands onto each other's bodies, she and I knowing again and with some strange and undoubted certainty that it was our bodies fallen together into a throbbing, pounding want which we just weren't resisting.

And yet I'll never know even then how I could once more fling caution and restraint so entirely aside. I backed into a coat room closet, urged her body through the door as well - pushed the folding metal door closed. I yet again wrapped frenzied, clawing hands to her waist, the crush of her hands to my waist pleading violence. It had finally to be a moment's and a timeless eternity's struggling pause, she and I standing behind a closed door knowing it was to be some finished and ultimate sexual intimacy between us - and another moment's embrace of our eyes enough. It was she and I falling back into each other's arms, she and I even then burying our eyes to each other's - and yet she and I knowing with that same strange certainty that it was our bodies fallen together into the ultimate and finished want, wants of an aching, pounding ferocity which we just hadn't resisted from the start. It had to be another fleeting moment's disbelieving pause between us, she and I a minute or two after we'd first set eyes on each other standing in an embrace which I could yet again only call consumating already, she and I meeting each other's eyes - yet she and I knowing it the ultimately personal intimacy of our bodies become our entire existence. It was she and I awakening another moment to the obvious and inescapable, she and I both woman standing in capturing, clinging embrace - and the thing yet again just that which it was, that which I'd known it would be the moment I'd set eyes on her. I cradled another woman's body onto my own, the aroused want of my body a throbbing, pounding ache I couldn't before the moment have imagined - and just something incomparably more for her eyes awash with a raw, wanting fury, she and I knowing it the same pounding, aching want for both of us.

It was she and I behind the closet's closed door flinging pretense and restraint aside entirely - she and I sliding searching, fondling hands to each other's breasts, listening to helpless, primal gasps wrenched from each other's throats. It was yet again nothing less than a blatant and liscivious abandon, she and I running trembling, frenzied hands the length of each other's bodies, she and I writhing together in unfeigned want for each other. It was yet again a caressing touch of our lips to each others, was frenzied, burying intimacy in another half moment - until it was yet again caution and restraint flung aside entirely.

It had to be, even behind the closed door of the closet, those fleeting moments of lucid, awakening pause. I was mauling and devouring her with my kisses and caresses - was pushing the clothing from the body of another woman. And it was as quickly just that same helpless and endless fall through a void when I knew again that there just hadn't from start been any doubt between us - she as frantically pushing my own clothing away.

It was the same coat closet in which I had stood at the coffee stand countless times over the years. And it's our surroundings become senseless and meaningless. It was she and I finally entwined in an embrace of searing, naked warmth - the thing yet again seeming one bizare and sudden moment come from nowhere. It was she and I flinging our eyes together even as it was our bodies entwined about each other's in that which we suddenly and finally couldn't deny was finished, consumating intimacy. It had been she and I yet again discovering that neither of us had had any real ideal what was to happen behind a closed door, she and I only knowing that we wanted it to be our bodies entwined in finished naked intimacy, knowing that it was our bodies fallen together into the ultimately intimate want - and it had been she and knowing we just couldn't wait, our caresses flung from the start to each other other's thighs. I'd flung my eyes to hers - knowing again in that same instant that it was indeed my body aching in ways I had never before known, aching for the caressing touch of another woman rather than my own - another woman needing my finished, intimate touch as helplessly and as desperately as I needed hers. I'd flung my eyes to hers realizing that it was indeed she and I writhing together in awkward embrace, neither she nor I quite knowing how to push a finished, caressing touch to another woman's body - and she and I yet again just not stopping, she and I knowing it our bodies fallen into the same aching want for each other's touch, she and I pushing our caresses closer until we'd heard finishing gasps exploding from each other's throats.

It was the moment I'd imagined as often as anyone might. And I had indeed for at least the past several years imagined it another woman and I abandoning ourselves to an act of intimacy which I couldn't call less than ultimate in every sense of the word. It was finally another woman's touch rather than my own pushed to my body in finished, sexual intimacy, might for another timeless half moment have seemed that which it had often enough in the past when I'd given up, had decided it a throbbing want which I just couldn't resist. And it was all something incomparably more than it had been in the past, something incomparably more than I had ever imagined or fantasized it. It was she and I standing a cradling arm about each other's waists, a caressing touch pushed to each other's bodies in finished and ultimate intimacy - and it was that which I could only call a torturing, agonizing pleasure,

a pleasure of a hammering, unrelenting ferocity I couldn't before the moment have imagined. It yet again seemed impossible that existence had ever been anything other than my body cradled onto hers in searing, naked warmth, her touch a penetrating, filling ecstasy wrenching helpless cries from my throat. And it was yet again something just incomparably more knowing finally and without the least doubt that it was everything for her which it was for me, another woman fallen into the same flooding want, another woman writhing and gasping in helpless, primal abandon for my finished caressing touch.

It was indeed she and I burying our eyes to each other's another moment and another incomprehensibly timeless eternity. It couldn't yet have been more than five minutes since we'd first set eyes on each other. We hadn't yet spoken a single word to each other, saw in each other's eyes some sudden and frantic need to do so - and it was she standing naked, a cradling arm about each other's waists. It was nothing more than helpless, choking cries wrenched from our throats as we yet again just gave up, our entire existence that which we yet again couldn't deny was our bodies joined and one in the ultimate act of intimacy. It yet again seemed a strange and knowing intimacy between us, she and I cradling each other bodies into frantic, clinging embrace, knowing that gentle caresses at least for the moment were enough, she and I knowing it our bodies awash in raw, pounding sensation of a ferocity which wouldn't have been possible without the other's intimate, caressing touch. It was she and I leaning together, a caressing touch our of lips to each others speaking something gentle between us. It might even have been that same moment's perfectly lucid pause - she and I knowing again and with a strange and undoubted certainty that it was the first time for both of us, that we'd flung ourselves in a ludicrous half moment into that which we couldn't again deny was the ultimate act of intimacy. And it was she and just wrenching brutal, capturing arms about each other's waist, she and I writhing together in unrestrained abandon. It might as quickly almost have been some knowing, liscivious abandon in which we reveled together. She was everything I had imagined and fantasized her to be when I'd followed her into the hallway, was obvious hourglass feminine beauty and yet something incomparably more, a not quite explicable ideal which I saw as uniquely alluring and arousing. I had indeed for some time now supposed that my first lover if I was ever to have a lover might well be another woman. I'd passed an hour some evenings imagining her naked in my arms - and had glanced up from my typing just minutes ago fallen in a bizarre half moment into an aroused, wanting warmth as she stood a pace or two from my desk. I could readily and vainly have admitted even in the moment that my own form was very similar to hers, wondered if that was why I'd found myself so helplessly and entirely attracted to her after nothing more than a glance I'd followed her into the hallway, had gazed again in dazed, reeling disbelief toward the tall, voluptuous beauty I'd imagined for an hour some evenings - and the thing just some constant, unrelenting disbelief as I stood with her behind a closed door pushing the clothing from her body, running frantic, searching hands up and down her body. I'd known what she would look for at least the past several years, had formed all manner wanting, longing images in my mind. And I'd stood with her in a moment come from nowhere holding her naked in my arms, running trembling yet frenzied hands up and down another woman's body rather than my own - gazing another disbelieving moment and another dazed, timeless eternity toward the woman who was my long imagined ideal. I'd cradled her body onto my own with wanting strength - and the thing an endless oblivion of raw, finished warmth for my body cradled as frantically onto hers, her kisses and caresses all of the searching, devouring intimacy my own were.

It had been she and I pushing the clothing from each other's bodies, she and I gasping together in primal abandon, she and I devouring each other with our lips and our hands. And yet it hadn't indeed been more the fleeting moments - until it had been she and she and I flinging our eyes together knowing that moments had yet again been enough for us. It had been that which I'd known often enough in the past, my body fallen into an aroused want which I just couldn't any longer resist. And it had been something I couldn't before the moment have imagined as I'd flung my eyes to hers realizing that it was a capturing, demanding arm wrenched about her waist, a caressing hand flung to her thighs - the thing that strange and endless fall through a void when I realized it was indeed another woman cradling my body onto hers with the same frantic, culminating violence, another woman's caressing touch pushed closer - another woman wanting exactly that which I wanted, wanting it with the same gasping desparation. It had indeed been our eyes flung together - a moment's and a timeless eternity's waiting pause. And it might again almost have been some knowing, hysterical mirth between us, doubt yet again meaningless. It had from the start been something incomparably more than just our assent given to each other. We had indeed attacked each other from the start with the same maniacal, abandoned violence. We'd refused each other escape from the start - and the thing yet again knowing certainty between us we stood a final, timeless moment entwining, pleading arms about each other's waists.

And I couldn't again doubt that consumating intimacy in her arms was something incomparably more than the fantasies had been. It's a heaving touch of her breast to mine, the naked warmth yet again that which I could only call searing and agonizing. It was yet again she and I resting entwined in some strange and knowing intimacy - she and I pushing our caresses another few moments to teasing intimacy until it was she and I writhing together in frenzied, trembling abandon, she and I driving each other to that building and threatening edge. And it yet again seemed impossible that my existence could ever have been anything other than my body entwined about hers in an embrace of consumating, unifying intimacy, she and I resting another incomprehensibly timeless eternity in breathless, gasping quiet knowing that each other's touch and an embrace of naked, finished intimacy was enough for us, she I knowing it our bodies awash with that same agonizing, torturing pleasure which just never stopped.

It was yet again a moment's perfectly lucid pause. I cradled her body onto my own with unrelenting, capturing abandon. It finally seemed more than just a sudden moment, seemed some other age since I'd followed her into the hallway, seemed again impossible that my life had ever been anything other than her body entwined about mine in an act which I just couldn't deny was consumating intimacy in every sense of the word. I'd followed her into the hallway never denying that I'd wanted another moment, another glance, knowing that it was all manner of abandoned imagining coursing about my mind. And still, I had indeed anticipated nothing more than a cup of coffee and perhaps a word or two with her, readily admitted that I might that evening as I had on occasion for some time now imagine it another woman and I abandoning ourselves entirely. I couldn't for an instant deny that that I was as sexually ravenous a creature as any who had ever existed, could after little more than a moment's liscivious imagining work myself into a finished and furious aroused want. And even then, I doubt she had seen anything more than bland civility in my features and demeanor as I'd walked down the hallway, I certainly seeing nothing more in hers - until it had seemed that sudden and bizare half moment come from nowhere, a fall to some abandoned, helpless edge after nothing more than another half instant's glance. I had indeed, following her from my desk into the hallway, indulged for moments in ultimately abandoned imagining, this breathtaking creature and I with a glance to find ourselves succumbing together to urges we just couldn't resist. I had indeed following her into the hallway gazed entranced, devouring abandon toward a form which was some agonizing feminine ideal - she the woman who I had imagined for a reeling hour some evenings. Others, I knew in lucid corners of my mind, might have glanced nothing more than a moment's passing notice toward a gently pretty woman walking past them, might have noticed a form which anyone would see as voluptuously attractive. I'll never be entirely certain why her every step, her every movement and gesture had seemed blinding to me. I'd walked the last few paces toward her brazenly indulging in all manner of consumating, outright liscivious imagining - this agonizing creature naked, her breasts mine to search and fondle, my hands clawed from her waist to curves which were maddening feminine allure - she and I to fling ourselves together into frenzied, ravenous lovemaking.

It hadn't, even then, been entirely different than it had been often enough in the past. I'd walked down this same hallway any number of times with one or another of the girls indulging in moments of fanciful imagining, had wondered again what it would be like with another woman. I still hadn't at thirty years of age entirely abandoned hope that I might eventually meet some handsome young man toward whom I would feel both an emotional and a physical attraction, he genuinely to feel the same for me. And I'd stood any number of times with another woman at the coffee stand in the coat room wondering what she would think knowing that she had been my fantasy lover for the past few weeks, stood with her yet again admitting a moment's liscivious little fantasy in the company of another woman could leave me fallen into an aroused sexual want sometimes seeming almost irresistable. And still, it hadn't ever been anything more than fanciful imagining even when I'd seen another of the girls stealing glances of scrutinizing intrigue toward me, she as well, I'd suspected, indulging at least for moments in all manner of liscivious little fantasy. It might indeed for me have been moments of culminating, frenzied imagining, a wash of raw, pounding sensation as I gave up entirely, decided it had to be another woman and I ripping the clothing from each other's bodies, writhing together in frantic, abandoned lovemaking. And I could stand even in that culminating, frenzied moment with coffee cup in hand doubting that she saw anything more than bland civility in my features.

It had seemed that sudden and reeling moment come from nowhere. I'd glanced up from my typewriter for a fleeting moment or two as she'd walked past my desk, she standing another moment a pace or two from my desk directing a searching gaze about the office - she agonizing, breathtaking feminine beauty and allure to every incomparable, never explainable extreme. It hadn't been anything more than a typist's bland nonchalance in her features as she'd stood a pace or two from my desk, she perhaps noticing me for one fleeting half moment - her every gesture and movement intriguing and alluring to those same impossible, inexplicable extremes. I'd gazed another half moment's intrigued scrutiny as she'd walked around the corner - a half moment enough, all manner of outright liscivious imagining crashing through my mind. She was attired in a form fitting suit dress - her curves round and broad feminine allure to every maddening, agonizing extreme. I'd given up on my typing, had pushed myself from my desk toward the hallway indulging in all manner of pleasant little fantasy - had walked the final few paces toward her knowing and admitting at least in vague and reeling corners of my mind that it all seemed incomparably different than it had in the past. I was alone with a woman who at first sight was the most maddening creature who had ever lived, had walked those last several paces toward her knowing I was doing so fallen into an oblivion of abandoned, wanting warmth not quite like any I had ever before known. And still, I genuinely couldn't have imagined or anticipated more than another moment or two with her at the coffee stand - couldn't before the moment have imagined that which had been some sudden and endless fall through a void when it had been she and I finally edging our eyes together.

And it seemed again a single bizare and impossible moment come from nowhere and yet it seemed impossible that life had ever been anything other than our bodies entwined about each other's in finished, unifying intimacy. It was she and I writhing together for another timeless eternity in a gasping, wanting frenzy, she and I yet again waiting, resting, meeting each other's eyes - the thing yet again seeming some inexplicable, knowing intimacy between us. I couldn't before that moment have denied myself as ravenous and insatiable a creature as any who had ever lived, might some evenings pass an hour giving myself up to the primal wants of my body, could with my caresses work myself to some agonizing edge for those seeming impossible, timeless eternities - and it yet again seemed something incomparably more than I could ever have imagined it. It was she and I resting our eyes buried to each other's, she and I hearing helpless, primal cries wrenched from each other's throats - she and knowing with some strange and undoubted clarity that we had found in each other creatures of impossibly like wants. It was yet again a timeless eternity's oblivion a raw, outright liscivious abandon, she and I leaning together the naked warmth of her breast caressed onto mine a searing ecstasy. It was her body become mine to cradle in brutal, capturing embrace, a hand clawed onto the maddening curves of her ass, her body essential to me - and the thing just some finished wash of constant, pounding sensation for my body cradled onto hers with as brutal and capturing a strength, her caresses all of the searching, fondling intimacy my own were. It was she and I indeed meeting each other's eyes another timeless eternity - and yet it was she and I knowing and admitting it again our bodies one with each other's in an act of intimacy which was finished and ultimate in every sense of the word - and the thing yet again some strange, knowing intimacy between us. I'd pushed a finished, caressing touch to another woman's body rather than my own - and it seemed impossible that I hadn't done so all my life, seemed impossible that it hadn't always been her body trembling and writhing in a helpless frenzy. I pushed my touch to teasing, caressing intimacy, played with her body - knew again with that same strange and undoubted clarity that I was cradling her in my arms her body awash with a pleasure built to a constant, hammering edge. I heard whispering screams wrenched from her throat - finally allowed her a moment's escape, a moment's respite from a pleasure become agonizing to every threatening limit. And it was her touch pushed to my body in finished, consumating intimacy - she meeting my eyes knowing it my body for her touch held in that same wash of unrelenting, torturing agony, a raw, pounding pleasure which just never stopped. It was another woman's caressing touch rather than my own - and her touch yet again that which I could only call knowing, another woman cradling me in her arms knowing it my body for her intimate, caressing touch awash in a pounding pleasure built to a strange and impossible edge. It was quiet though helpless and primal screams wrenched from my throat as she teased and tortured me, cradled my body to hers with unrestrained violence my body awash with hammering sensation I couldn't before the moment have imagined possible.

It was finally and always something I could never quite have imagined - she and I hearing culminating, choking cries wrenched from each other's throats, she and I knowing it become something we just couldn't any longer stop. It yet again seemed some bizare mix of sweet and raw ecstasy as I cradled her body onto mine with desparate, frenzied strength, my body slammed as frantically onto hers. It was she and I flinging ourselves together into that abandoned, culminating fury desparate for release - and even that some inexplicable knowing intimacy between us. It was her body trembling with finishing violence, she knowing my body also awash with building, threatening sensation - she and I hesitating even then, waiting for each other, knowing with that same strange and undoubted certainty that it could be our bodies fallen together into the throes of the ultimate pleasure.

And it was yet again something I can only call a sweet warmth and a raw, pounding abandon. It was exploding pleasure I had known often enough in the past and yet something incomparably more for the naked warmth her body entwined about mine. It seemed again my body one with hers entirely, was yet again some strange and knowing intimacy between us. It was she and I writhing and flailing together in a helpless, abandoned fury for our bodies wracked in the throes of the ultimate pleasure, a released pleasure wrenching whispering screams from our throats. It was everything I had for so long now imagined it would be, I as often as anyone, I suppose, wondering what be like the first time it was my body joined and one with another's. And I hadn't for at least the past several years now doubted that it might indeed be with another woman, hadn't denied at least in not quite dared corners of my mind that I wanted it to be another woman. And it yet again seemed that single and sudden moment come from nowhere, the thing an oblivion of raw, agonizing sensation as she cradled my body onto hers with violent, culminating strength. It was just some new, dizzying ecstasy knowing it was everything for her which it was for me. It was that sweet, reeling warmth for something so obvious and unfeigned between us, her body as I cradled her in my arms wracked in the throes of a culminating pleasure which was all of the unimaginable ferocity my own was.

And yet it was even then some strange and perfectly lucid clarity - the same disbelieving wonder that it was finally happening - and had happened in one sudden moment come from nowhere. It was my body entwined about another's in that which I knew even in the moment I would never call less than finished and consumating sexual intimacy. It seemed again impossible that I could ever have existed without her, seemed impossible that existence had ever been anything but my body crushed onto hers with unyielding strength, my body engulfed in the throes of a long and violent pleasure which just wouldn't have been possible without her - and yet the thing that same reeling yet perfectly lucid clarity as I wondered what her name was, wondered if I might think her even prettier seeing a smile rather than a frenzied agony in her features.

It was that which I couldn't deny it had been between us from the start. And yet I wondered even in a moment of consumating abandon if it could finally be something more than just a bizare and ludicrously maniacal physical attraction between us. I had over the past several years sometimes found myself despairing of ever finding anyone with whom I could share anything more than a moment's pleasant civility, was never entirely certain why I wanted or needed nothing more. I couldn't for a moment deny myself given to sexual wants as intensely as anyone might be. It had, as often as not, been some handsome young man from one of the inner offices standing with me at the coffee stand, chiding amusement in my features as he chased me around it - though a handsome young man never suspecting, I suppose, that he need only push the folding metal door closed in order to see my eyes awash with resigned, abandoned assent. And I could, even then, settle five minutes later back behind my typewriter an intensely arousing moment forgotten, could settle back into a mood of despairing, sometimes lonely resignation to that which seemed my fate.

And I'd raised my eyes in that sudden moment come from nowhere toward another woman standing a pace or two from my desk, had followed her into the hallway never for a moment doubting that she was the not quite explainable feminine ideal I'd been waiting for, never for a moment able to deny or doubt another glance toward her an outright swooning warmth. I'd walked toward the coat room and the coffee stand deciding it was indeed to be frenzied, maniacal lovemaking on the instant - the aroused want of my body as finished and pounding an ache as any I had ever known.

And I'll always believe that I had walked those last few paces toward a very pretty typist in order to provide her directions, she and I perhaps to share a cup of coffee - she and I perhaps to see subtle little hints in each other's eyes. A thirty year old woman and I were to discover that we both felt moments of lonely, hopeless despair, a moment or two with each other a pleasant little respite from the loneliness - both she and I wondering if an inadvertent moment's caressing intimacy at the coffee stand might in fact have been intentional and contrived. It was indeed to have been she and I noticing that we were very similar in appearance, she and I perhaps glancing ordinary, everyday envy toward a competitor - and yet another woman and I seeing another moment's subtle fascination in each other's eyes. It couldn't as she and I stood at the coffee stand have been less than another moments raging, abandoned imagining. It would finally with a woman who was my long imagined ideal be a fall to some wanting, threatening edge. And even as I retreated from that edge, it would be all manner of confused and tumultuous question crashing into every corner of my mind - the question I'd asked myself countless times over the past several years. Would it really be so wrong?

It was, even with the woman who was my long imagined ideal, to have happened in some vague and ill defined future if it was ever to happen, neither she nor I to see anything more than subtle hints in each other's eyes, all manner of societal expectation an insurmountable barrier. It was both she and I to restrict ourselves to glances of staid, civil propriety toward each other, neither she nor I genuinely able to answer all manner of inhibiting questions. It would, in a confining coat and coffee closet, very likely have been a brushing caress of our bodies, perhaps even a shy though knowing glance. It would finally be that immersing and enveloping warmth as I stood at the coffee stand with her, would be as aching an aroused want as any I had ever known. The person for whom I had waited all my life was indeed another woman. And even then, it was to happen if ever in some vague and indefinite future. A new typist just reporting for work would see little more than bland civility in my features as I showed her to her desk, helped her settle in.

It had been she and I standing a pace from each other at the far end of a secluded hallway, she and I finally edging our eyes together - and it had, I suppose, been two women of impossibly similar and sometimes frenzied temperament flinging caution and restraint aside. It had been she and I lunging, attacking - realizing in another startled half moment that we had. And it had been she and I in one more timeless moment knowing it something incomparably more than just our assent given each other, she and I knowing the other's clawing, attacking embrace a longing little fantasy realized.

It had, behind the coat closet's closed door, been everything I could ever have imagined it would be, had been something immeasurably more than I could ever have imagined it. It was some strange and perfectly lucid imagining even as it was my body fallen into the throes of the ultimate pleasure. It was another woman cradling my body onto hers with brutal and culminating strength - and yet it was that which I'd known and suspected it would be for another woman's intimate, caressing touch, my body finally engulfed in an unrelenting, exploding pleasure of inexplicable and ultimate ferocity. And it was just something incomparably more as I cradled another woman's body onto mine with as frantic and capturing a strength, drove my caressing touch to culminating fury, the woman whose body I cradled to my own writhing and shuddering in unrestrained, abandoned violence.

We finally and again opened our eyes to each other - rested naked in each other's arms beside the coffee pot, our arms wrenched about each other's bodies with frantic, unrelenting strength. It seemed even then impossible that life had ever been anything but the heaving crush of her breasts to mine, the exploding swirl of her breath about my lips the same sweet little ecstasy.

And yet it was she and I finally seeing an edge of awakening, settling lucidity in each other's eyes - she and I realizing that we hadn't yet spoken a single word to each other.

"They - they sent me up here from the office," she finally began. "They said I was to have the vacant desk, and the girl at the next desk might help me settle in."

"Oh - yes -" I gasped, saw a typist for another fleeting moment - and it seemed even then my body joined and one with hers in ways I couldn't before the moment have imagined possible. It was still a caressing touch of her breasts to mine, a naked warmth which was unrelenting, searing ecstasy. It was she and I meeting each other's eyes - and yet it was still our arms drawn about each other's waists with frantic, capturing violence. It was still nothing less than a raw, outright liscivious abandon between us, our hands clawed onto broad feminine curves as we crushed each other's bodies into unyielding, capturing embrace. It was still nothing less than the ultimate intimacy between us - she and I meeting each other's eyes yet she and I knowing it still a writhing touch of our bodies to each other's in finished and ultimately personal intimacy - she and I knowing it still seemed nothing less than penetrating and filling, our bodies joined and one in ways which at least for us couldn't have been any more consumating.

"Yes -" I finally, however, answered, "the vacant desk's the one next to mine. It has one of the new electric typewriters. I'd - I'd be very happy to help you settle in."