Forlornly, I waved goodbye to Michelle as she drove off to do her school pick up run. As I went inside I reflected on the amazing day we had spent together (the last full day we would have for quite a number of weeks); two squiring orgasms for Michelle, a first time tit fuck for me (for both us to be exact) and a very deep and meaningful discussion about relationships. In particular, our respective marital relationships and some of the previously undiscussed circumstances that, without any forethought or planning by either of us, had ultimately delivered us into each other’s arms. I shook my head in delightful disbelief at my (and Michelle’s) good fortune. There was no denying the fact that I was looking forward to the school holidays that were due to start at the end of the following week as it meant some good times with my daughter. However, it also meant time away from Michelle. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” I thought to myself, which turned into a chuckle as another idea popped into my head. “I wonder if the same can be said for a cock?” I busied myself tidying up the kitchen and generally getting to house in some sort of order while waiting for my daughter to arrive home from school. I checked my emails and wrote some replies and updated my calendar accordingly for the following week. Time slipped by quickly and before I knew it, it was 3.30pm. I was just about to leave my home office to go downstairs and make some tea when the phone rang. The caller ID was blocked. Instinctively I thought of ignoring the call to avoid talking to a bank or dealing with telemarketers but then I remembered Clare’s call earlier in the week was ID barred, as it channelled through the school switchboard network, so I took a chance and answered. “Hi Ray, it is Clare.” I was relieved it was the one person calling that I was eager to hear from, the warmth of her voice a delight to my ear. “Hi Clare. Good of you to call.” “I hope I haven’t caught you with your pants down?” She laughed at her remark. I thought it a bit crass but from my limited experience with Clare I understood where she was coming from. “No, you haven’t, but even if you had, it would not be of any consequence.” “Oh, I don’t know,” she said provocatively. “It could make for some interesting dialogue over the phone. Who knows what it might lead to?” “We’ll have to leave that kind of chat for another time, I’m afraid. I am expecting my daughter home any minute.” “What a spoil sport,” she laughed. “I guess I’ll just have to cut to the chase.” “What can I do you for?” I asked, enjoying the levity, but also wanting to get off the phone. “Now that is a bit more like it. Oh, but you don’t have time for me now. I’ll just have to wait my turn. How about next Thursday? Can you squeeze me in?” “Sure.” “I am so pleased you can fit me into your tight schedule. How does ten o’clock in my office sound?” The first part of her response was laced with a sarcastic sound that I did not really appreciate. Rather than take issue, I decided to let it slide and further explore the sexual innuendo ridden aspect of our chat. “I thought you were the one with the tight schedule?” I quipped. “Anyway, regardless of who’s schedule, or anything else for that matter, is tight or not, I am sure either way it can be stretched to accommodate, don’t you agree?” “You have aroused my level of expectation, Ray. I looked forward to continuing this discussion next Thursday. You had better come prepared.” “Ten o’clock, your office, I’ll be there.” “I just hope Michelle hasn’t exhausted your capacities?” “I can neither confirm nor deny that last assertion, but I have good recuperative powers; I am sure I will be able rise to the occasion, Clare. See you then.” I got off the phone, amused and a bit annoyed at the double entendre filled phone call. The dalliance with Clare the week before was very enjoyable, to say the least, make that extremely enjoyable, but I knew she was up to something and not knowing what was troubling. I shrugged it off, assuming it was all part of a little game Clare seemed to enjoy playing with me, updated my calendar with the Clare appointment details and started downstairs. I had no sooner started to boil the kettle when my mobile rang again. “When are you going to see Clare?” Michelle asked without any formal greeting. I was surprised and overjoyed to hear her voice. “Funny you should ask. I just got off the phone with her.” “I am surprised you were able to get off over the phone, I thought I had drained you.” Michelle’s cheeky comment made me smile. “She did prick my attention with some rather saucy double meanings.” I could not stop myself, I just had to laugh. Michelle joined in and we bantered on for a short time longer. She explained that she was still waiting for her son to come out of a late finishing choir rehearsal and had run into Clare. “So, when are you going to see Clare?” she asked. “Next Thursday, at ten o’clock, in her orifice.” “I assume you meant office and were teasing me. However, that may explain her huge grin when I saw her a few minutes ago,” Michelle mused. “She asked if I had heard from you, but we got interrupted when her mobile rang and she had to go.” “I only got off, um, let me rephrase that,” I laughed. “We only finished fixing the timing a few minutes ago. I was just making a cup of tea for myself and now I have the pleasure of hearing your voice.” “That is nice to hear, thank you,” Michelle replied, and then she added in a rather nonchalant tone, “The pupils actually finish on Wednesday, which means there will only be staff at the school on Thursday. You had better get plenty of rest between now and then. Your first experience with her was… um, unconventional, shall we say.” I spluttered into my cup. Thankfully, a napkin was within close reach. “Yes, it was an unconventional interview, as you put it.” I laughed and coughed at the same time and quickly wiped my mouth and chin, relieved not have spilt tea all over myself. “Informative is another word to describe it.” “I bet you are hoping to get a lot more information at your next meeting?” Michelle was deliberately baiting me in a humorous way. “I am eager to find out if I have secured that casual teaching position she was looking into, first and foremost.” “Absolutely!” Michelle agreed excitedly, but I could tell Ataşehir Escort she was not going to leave the subject there. “It will be interesting to see how it will all work out for you. You have to remember though, she will be the boss and you will be working under her…” “I am not sure which position we will end up in. Like you said, she will be the boss, so I am happy to let her decide. I just have to make sure I keep my end of the bargain up.” As much as I tried, I could not keep a straight face, or voice in this case. “You are nothing but a tease,” she exclaimed, her sexy voice soothing any reservations I might have had concerning my dealing with Clare. “I suppose I could be accused of that, but I certainly don’t leave you disappointed.” “No, you certainly haven’t disappointed,” she purred. “Not so far.” We both had to laugh at that comment. “Seriously though, you don’t mind?” I asked, genuinely concerned. ‘Ray. What we have, you and I together, I mean, is something gloriously pleasurable. The sex is great, and don’t let that go to your head,” she chortled, “and the comfort we have with each other on so many levels, is something we deeply cherish. But that cannot stand in the way of… um…” She was searching for the right words. “Developing our own sense of our selves through interactions with other people…” I offered. “Yep. That will do nicely, thank you.” Michelle sounded pleased with my interjection. “Long story short, as far as you and I go, we can screw who we want, when we want etcetera, but we still have each other to fall back on. Right?” “Damn straight!” “Good. Now, no more concerns about Clare.” Michelle had put on her motherly voice as she scolded me. “You just make damn sure you get yourself on that trip.” “Yes Ma’am.” I said in an admonished voice, which made Michelle laugh. “There is one thing I have to do before seeing Clare though. I have to get my hair cut.” “It is a bit wild at the moment,” Michelle added. “Is that so?” I retorted, trying to sound injured. “Yes!” “I hate it when you’re right.” We both laughed. We chatted lightly for a few more minutes before my thoughts turned to our being apart. “Today was our last time together for about three weeks, if I am not mistaken.” “Yes, unfortunately. The actual school holiday break is two weeks, which includes Easter and ANZAC Day this time around. Then I am away from the Tuesday after school resumes for ten days.” I could hear the emotion in her voice. “It is more like four weeks we will be apart.” “We can still say hello over the fence if we get the opportunity,” I reminded her. It was not like we would not be seeing each other at all. Michelle concurred and we discussed various options to keep our respective siblings entertained. Finally, the time had arrived and we had to take our leave of each other. It was sad in many respects because of all that we had discussed recently as well as the sexual activity. However, we did have many bright points to help get us through. There was the Clare meeting and all the tour arrangements to get organised, both individually and as a team. On top of that, we still had the opportunity of spending two nights and close to three days together to look forward to, well before the music tour. “The future looks so bright, I have to wear shades,” I said, quoting the song title. She laughed heartily. We said our goodbyes, for the thousandth time it seemed, and hung up. As I still had the phone in my hand I decided to make the hair cut appointment before I forgot. “Hello, Nicolina speaking.” “Hi Bella,” I answered, “How are you?” “Hi Ray. I am good. So, tell me?” I smiled to myself. That was Nicolina’s typical question when clients rang to make appointments. It was unusual but, hey, it worked. “Could I get a haircut at nine thirty on Monday?” I liked to get the first appointment on a Monday as it was always quieter. Nicolina was the only person who worked on a Monday and being first up meant no distracting chatter with other clients; I had Nicolina all to myself. “I might be a little late on Monday. Is 9.45 okay?” “No problem.” I was relieved to have that organised. All I had to do now was get all the information I needed to take to Clare sorted. It was 9.30am when I arrived outside the door to Nicolina’s salon. The morning peak hour traffic had been good for a change so the drive into the CBD to drop my wife off was quick and easy. The drive back out to the inner western suburb where Nicolina was located was a little congested but moving and I was lucky enough to find a parking spot right out front. The salon was still in darkness, indicating Nicolina was running late as she had suggested she might be. The sunny morning made it pleasant to wait by the door and catch up on some of the overnight European football scores. After a short while I looked up and saw her walking toward me. She was smoking a cigarette with her large leather bag slung over her shoulder as she made her way along the foot path. She was wearing a knee length denim skirt, a sunflower yellow coloured shirt and black flat soled slip-on shoes. Her jet black, shoulder length hair was newly bobbed, and it swished and swayed as she walked. From my vantage point, she looked in a vibrant and buoyant mood which always made for good conversation during my time with her. I go out of the car and waved. “Hi Ray,” she said as she got closer. “How are you? Sorry, I am late.” “Ciao Bella. I’m fine. How are you?” Nicolina was of Italian decent so I liked to use some of the limited Italian words and phrases I knew when conversing with her. She also found it amusing when I got it wrong. “You’re not late. You mentioned you would be here around 9.45…I was early, in fact.” Before opening the door she leant towards me to give me a kiss on each cheek in typical European fashion. She placed her hands on my shoulders and tilted her head to my right so I raised my hands toward her hips. Although unintentional, I misjudged and my palms settled on either side of her upper abdomen and as she moved to kiss me her body shifted causing them to move higher. I could feel the heat of her body through her shirt and the swell of the underside of her breasts against my thumbs. I quickly decided to take advantage of the opportunity and shifted my hand slightly higher which Ataşehir Escort Bayan brought my palms into contact with the sides of her breasts. It was only a brief contact but enough to give me a sense of her heavy breast flesh through her underwired lace covered bra. “Uno momento.” She said after breaking our greeting. She placed the key into the lock to open it and did not seem to have noticed my touch of her breast or if she had, she made no issue of it not seemed upset. “There!” She smiled broadly, holding the door open for me after she had disarmed the alarm. “Come in. I’m glad you’re my first customer, I always like talking with you.” “I like speaking to you too.” I replied, watching her behind as she walked across the salon to turn on the lights. “That is why I like to see you first thing on Mondays. It’s just you and me plus it’s quieter and a lot less chaotic.” “You should have been here on Saturday.” She laughed. “It was bedlam.” Nicolina’s salon, though small, had a more efficiently laid out floor plan compared to her previous one. She initially ran the business for the owners, who had two other premises, but the husband died and the wife sold the business to Nicolina about three years ago. The area was predominantly an Old Italian suburb about 10 kilometres from the centre of Sydney and with Nicolina’s Italian background, the local women all came to her. From outside, her front door is on the left hand side of the frontage, and as you enter her reception desk is a metre in from the door. The interior is about five metres wide by four metres deep and looks out onto the footpath where she puts a table and some chairs; Nicolina’s smoking spot. Directly behind the reception desk is a small room divider with some product display shelves which extends about one meter in from the left hand wall. Directly behind this wall, Nicolina has a small coffee machine over a bar fridge and two hair washing stations. Along the right hand wall she has two long wall mounted mirrors and two swivel chairs; this is where she plies her hair dressing talents. At the back of this area there is a small table and two doors. The table is where her colleague and resident beautician, Lillie, does her nail treatments and the like. The first of the doors at the back, which is located centrally along the rear wall, leads into a room where Lillie does all her specialised beautician work and the second door, located in the far right corner leads out to the toilet facilities. It is small when compared to most salons but functional and Nicolina was happier due to cheaper rent, if nothing else. With the lights on, Nicolina raised the front blinds. The morning sun burst in, filling the salon with a happy glow that seemed to match her demeanour perfectly. “You seem very cheerful and bouncy this morning?” I observed. “Thank you. I had a really good night’s sleep for a change. I have also been getting up earlier and going for a brisk five to ten kilometre walk, depending on how much time I have available. I have been feeling good for doing the exercise. It helps me overcome the stress of standing all day in here.” She smiled brightly and her big brown eyes shone. “Now all you have to do is give those up,” I said, pointing to the cigarette packet that had fallen from her bag. “Tell me about it,” she answered with a sigh as she reached for the small table which was to go outside. “I’ll do that,” I offered. “Okay, thank you. You take the table and I’ll take the chairs.” She stepped back so I could grasp the table. I picked it up and watched as she bent to pick up the chairs. As she leaned forward, her yellow shirt dropped forward, exposing her bra covered chest to my hungry eyes. “She definitely has great tits for her age ,” I thought to myself as I fixed my gaze onto her swaying bosom. I knew from previous conversations that Nicolina came from Calabria, in the south of Italy, and her complexion was typical of the region. Dark, olive skin, big brown eyes, jet black hair; Mediterranean looks, no question and a good looking package she was to boot. She had some signs of ageing around her eyes but her skin still looked soft and youthful. I did not have any clue of her actual age but if I had to guess I would think she would have been in her late fifties. Nicolina was not short either. I had only seen her in the salon where she always wore flat shoes but she still reached at least 175cm tall (5ft 8’). Today however, was an exception in terms of her attire, as normally she wore dark colours to work. Despite her age, she had a good figure, especially her breasts, which were rounded and full as they nestled in her bra. She had a bit of a rounded bump tummy, which I knew from previous discussions, was from the sad occasion of having to deliver, via Caesrean section, a still born child; her only child as it turned out. I assumed that was part of the reason she immersed herself in her work. I dared not move, drinking in sight of her breast flesh as they concaved with the weight of her bosom as she bent to pick up the chairs. “They look heavy?” I said, fully intending my comment to be directed to the chairs but inwardly meaning her tits. “They are not heavy,” she replied straightening and smiling. “I was just being careful of how I gripped them. I didn’t want to break my nails.” “No, there is no Lillie today to fix them if you did,” I laughed. I held the door open and we went out and arranged the setting to her desired positions. “Coffee?” she asked. I accepted readily and we went back inside. I followed her in admiring the sway of her hips under her snug fitting denim skirt. Just as we were about to pass the front desk, she paused, saying she had to find a piece of paper from Saturday and pick up the fallen cigarettes. She picked them up and threw them under the desk. As she fished around, looking for the paper on a low shelf, her shirt billowed open again, revealing her deep and inviting cleavage. With her every movement her breasts swayed seductively. I noted the way they pressed heavily into the cups of her black under wire bra. If I was any judge, I would have thought the material was under serious stress. “Probably a far greater pressure than what my crotch is experiencing in the confines of my jeans,” I thought to myself. “Although…” I could not Escort Ataşehir move. I wanted to take in the wonderful sight for as long as possible. It was all I could do not to thrust a hand inside her top and grab a handful of boob but resist I did. “Can you see a yellow post-it note sized piece of paper on the top of the desk?” Nicolina asked. She was still bent over and my eyes were feasting on her chest as she looked up and then looked down to see her blouse gapping, providing me with such a magnificent view. “There is nothing in plain sight on your desk,” I replied after quickly glancing in that direction. I had not moved closer as I did not want to lose my prime viewing position. “You might need to look closer,” she suggested. “At the desk top as well.” I grinned self-consciously at being discovered. I moved to the front of the waist high reception desk and moved her appointment book. “Found it!” I exclaimed, holding it aloft for her to see.“Thank god.” Nicolina sighed, withdrawing her head from under the desk. “Do you need some help?” I asked, seeing she was attempting to straighten. As I moved back to my previous position, I got another eye full of her heavy chest. “Thank you, that would be helpful,” she accepted gratefully. As I reached to help her up, she looked down at her drooping top again. As she rose to stand in front of me, my right hand slid to her waist. Just as had occurred when we kissed hello, I moved my hand upward and rested my thumb against the swell of her breast. “Are you okay?” I enquired. “Yes, thank you.” She sighed again. “I need that paper, as I urgently have to place an order later today for a client coming in on Friday. I nearly forgot. Now, what was I doing? Oh. Coffee!” I stepped back and allowed her to pass. I was sure she had noticed my thumb resting on the swell of her breast and I was certain she knew I had been looking longingly deep inside her shirt, but she was not reacting. “Hmm, what to do?” I mentally asked myself. “Cappuccino?” she asked, drawing me away from my metal deliberations. “Yes, please.” “How do you have it, Bello?” she asked, placing two cups under the respective spouts. “White and two sugars, please,” I replied. “I’m not sweet enough some people say.” She smiled warmly and bent to open the fridge. Her shirt gapped wonderfully and I stood there with my eyes fixed onto her delightfully melons. Nicolina retrieved the milk, looked down at her shirt and noticed it was again providing me a direct line of sight onto her womanly assets. “I’ll have to do something about that,” she said idly. “About what?” I asked innocently. “Oh…” she deliberately paused. “The milk situation. I will have to get some more milk later today.” “I thought there was ample there…” I grinned, my heart pounding in my chest. Nicolina smiled warmly at my response. She turned her attention to making coffee and asked if I needed my hair washed. I explained I had washed it in the shower earlier and she suggested that I sit at the basin and that she would only lightly wash it and then she would put a good conditioner through it. I was about to do as she suggested when, much to my delight, she bent over to put the milk away. “If I am not mistaken, she is enjoying flashing her tits at me as much as I am enjoying looking at them,” I thought. “ That is the fourth time in quick succession and she knows what I am up to. Do I try for a hand full?” “Sit,” She suggested, indicating the first of the washing stations. “Relax your eyes, I mean your legs and enjoy your coffee while I wash your hair.” “What about your coffee? It will get cold.” I chose to ignore the eye comment. “I usually end up having coffee cold when I am in here.” She laughed. “It’s part of the job.” She shrugged her shoulders, which made her breasts sway under her shirt. She laid a small black towel across my shoulders and tucked it into my collar. Following that, she placed a large, light-weight smock across my clothes, which buttoned at the back behind my neck and, by pressing her hand on my shoulder, eased me back into the chair so that my neck entered the circular nook of the wrap-around basin. “You do good coffee,” I said, finishing the cup. It was a good coffee, just the way I like it; not too hot and not bitter. She adjusted the water temperature and doused my hair. A small rivulet of water ran down my neck and onto my chest which made me shudder. Nicolina apologised and came around in front of me to fix the situation. She bent from the waist and reached for the towel another beside the basin. Her shirt did not disappoint and gapped appropriately, her breasts swinging with her every movement. Her cleavage deepened as she reached forward to rearrange the towel with her arms pressing her breasts together. “Nice,” I whispered. “Thank you,” she replied, although I was not sure if she felt I was commenting about the towel being fixed or her gapping top. Sadly, she returned to washing my hair. Her strong fingers kneaded my head and scalp making me close my eyes in enjoyment. She rotated them in large swooping circles, pressing deeply into my head. She traced a path from my temples, around my ears and down the back of my head to the nape of my neck. Her scalp was massage technique was a highlight of the hair cutting process that I always looked forward to and today was no exception. She rinsed the shampoo out of my hair and continued to the conditioning treatment stage. She massaged the conditioner in with equal vigour and then ran her nails back along the scalp. It felt wonderful. She was about to comb the fragrant mixture through my hair when she dropped it. The comb slid, as if it were on a ski jump, and flew off across the floor. Nicolina apologised for her clumsiness and went to retrieve the wayward comb. To my surprise she deliberately turned to face me as she bent to pick it up. There they were again; her beautiful breasts in all their bra encased glory. I was left in no doubt this time about her conscious decision to openly display her bounty. Just what to do about it was my next dilemma. She turned the tap off and started to dry my hair with the towel using long slow circular motions with her expert fingers. It was making me feel dreamily relaxed again despite the constant replay of the numerous views inside her shirt I had been afforded up to now. “There. If you just take a seat over there,” She pointed to the seat in front of the mirror directly across from me, “I will be with you in a moment. Would you like another coffee?” “Sure,” I said standing and turning to face her as I answered. Nicolina smiled warmly, her big brown eyes looking directly at me.