Ron's Little Bit

Based on my own experiences working for an older guy. We never actually had sex, but you better believe I thought about it!

*****

I was at work and it was a lovely day. The sun shone brightly over our little patch of heaven and I was feeling good.

As usual I didn’t so much care about the work I was doing, although it was progressing nicely. I mean I had taken the job more as something to do during my year off school and painting signs wasn’t exactly what I planned on doing with my life. I was okay at it though, and even if I wasn’t the perfect signwriter the world had ever seen, I knew the boss would keep me on as long as I wanted. I knew having a 18 year old girl around the place was something Ron enjoyed. The innocent flirting was fun for both of us and I knew Ron would overlook any small imperfections in my work as long as I kept turning up wearing short skirts and old cut-off jean.

“Coffee time, hun,” he called from the office, then bounded into the workshop area to check out my handiwork. “Very nice,” he said looking me over then glancing at the sign, “and the painting’s not too bad either.”

I looked at him, rolling my eyes. “I just hope your wife never hears you talking to me like that, what would she say?”

He rolled his own eyes, grimacing “she wouldn’t know what flirting was it if bit her on the ass, sweetheart.”

I laughed. His wife, Catherine, was a nice woman and generally I got on well with her. There was a bit of the usual female bitchiness between us every now and then, but that was normal. I wouldn’t say she was frumpy, but she didn’t exactly hold an aura of sexual desirability about her, either. I would imagine it must be hard on Ron having a wife that was in her forties and didn’t exercise, or dress in anything other than oversized jeans and sweaters.

“oh is that what you call it?” I said batting my eyes and assuming a real girlie tone, “are you flirting with me, boss?” I felt myself blush, the way I always do when Ron’s standing close with that mischievous look in his eye. “Whatever will the sexual harassment board thingee think of that?”

He grinned, “what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em. Now how about that coffee? No milk and two sugars, I like my beverages hot and sweet, like my apprentices.”

I was unable to suppress a smile, god he could be so corny “Ooo such a sweet talker,” I said “no wonder I keep coming back.”

He licked his lips, his eyes flickering over my chest, looking completely like the dirty old man he was. “Hun, you’d better keep coming back, no-one makes coffee they way you do.”

“Fuck you!” I laughed putting down the pot of paint I was holding, “is that all I’m good for? Making coffee? Somehow I don’t think it's just my ‘hot beverages’ you’re interested in tasting.” Oops, I thought. That might have been going a bit far! Dammit though, he had got me hot and how can a girl be held responsible for what she says when she’s melting?

“Oh?” He inquired, slipping a hand around my waist and squeezing my ass, “is that an offer?”

I gasped at his touch, feeling my pulse quicken, and dropped my paintbrush. “No it’s not” I said, my voice a little shaky, and pushed him away. Up until now he had never gone so far as to actually touch me, and to be honest I didn’t know how to react. “Now take your hands off me, you dirty old man, you’ll get paint all over my shorts.” I turned on my heel, trying to regain some control of the situation, and walked out, my head swimming “And you’d better hope I don’t put rat poison in your coffee either,” I called over my shoulder.

I sauntered out into the sunshine, my body still hot from his touch, knowing his eyes would be all over me.

As I boiled the jug and dumped spoonfuls of coffee in the mugs, I squinted through the kitchen window at the old barn Ron had restored for his workshop and watched him talking on the phone through the open door. He was a fairly good-looking guy. He’d never be a model, I mean he was losing his hair and had a pretty respectable pot belly going on, but it wasn’t like he had an extra eye or an arm growing from his forehead. He was about average in height but had thick muscular workman’s arms and broad shoulders. I thought about him squeezing my ass, and tried to work out how that one gesture put our relationship on a whole new level. I guessed it was more harmless fun. I knew our flirting would never be anything more than that. There was no way I would compromise a marriage, no matter how dry it might seem, for sexual gratification. Besides Ron was in his late 40’s and that was way too old for me. I guess I was still young enough to worry about what my friends would think and if they ever found out I enjoyed the attentions of a crusty old man, well, I don't know what they'd say. Like all groups of girl’s we had discussed and giggled over boys and yes, our conversation had often turned to older men and their attraction. I mean there WAS something older guys had that younger guys didn’t- a kind of world weary, straight forwardness that was definitely a turn on. The fact that a guy was married, had children and built a thriving business up from the ground added to the attraction- Ron was a real man, with a real life.

When I had first turned up to work 3 months ago Ron had been very polite and patient, showing me how to undercoat the signs and how to mix the correct colours etc. Within a week he was eyeing me up and saying some really dirty stuff that got me angry and flustered at the same time. I mean I wanted to be angry with him but deep down I couldn’t deny that his attentions really turned me on. I started turning up to work in cut off jeans and old skirts (I even came wearing an old pleated school skirt one time, you should have seen his eyes bug out then!) just to watch his reaction. Please don’t think I’m a tease because I’m not usually, I just felt Ron and I had a kind of understanding between us. He gave me a steady paycheque and I gave him some honest labour and a little thrill every now and then. Of course his wife was onto me from the beginning. She never came out and said anything outright, but I could tell from her cold looks and the tone of her voice she didn’t approve. Fuck it, I thought. If she’s got a problem with me she should discuss it with her husband. He’s my boss and if he told me to cover up then I would. Somehow I doubted he would though.

I finished the coffee and grabbed a pack of biscuits from the pantry. Down the hall, to my right was Nicola’s bedroom. Nicola was Ron’s daughter and although she worked a lot I had seen her around occasionally. A beautiful blonde with a great figure. Ron kept horses on the property he owned (hence the barn), and I had seen Nicola out riding over the dewy paddocks a couple of time as I pulled up to the house. Once she had come to chat, dressed in full riding gear, while Ron and I were on break. She seemed nice enough, but no matter how much I tried to suppress it, I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. She really was gorgeous. She had stood, tall and self-assured, chatting with her dad about the mundane accounts she had to file all afternoon, while she nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie. The black riding stockings she wore were skin tight and showed off every little bump and curve on her lower body. Ron had smiled, offered advice, and more than once swore revenge at the bastards that had forced his little girl to work so hard. This of course had gotten us both giggling, and it wasn’t long before Ron had worked himself up into a tongue-in-cheek temper tantrum, yelling and cursing the scum at Richard&Richard Accountants. After our giggling fit Ron had slung a meaty arm around his daughter’s shapely waist and pulled her close. “Give your old man a kiss, hun,” he’d said and she had obliged, standing on tip-toe and planting a soft kiss on his whiskered cheek. “Oops, lipstick”, she’d whispered and rubbed the red smudge off his face with her thumb. It had seemed a new tension had filled the air and it made me wonder, momentarily just how close Ron was to his daughter. I had immediately chastised myself. Nicola was a gorgeous girl, and Ron would have had to have been blind and deaf not to have enjoyed her company. So what if he flirted a little with his daughter? It didn’t mean they were doing anything more did it? After the kiss Nicola had skipped off inside the main house with a swish of her long mane, and a quick “seeya, Cath!” to me. Not before Ron had given her a playful pat on the ass though.

As I took the coffee outside, I caught myself wondering why I had suddenly started thinking these slightly erotic thoughts.

End of Part 1, part 2 soon.