And then gather speed and steam. Hot musky steam.

The orgasm lurked just beyond her reach. She lay back on the soft rug and jammed her fingers deeper, deeper, deeper, giving them a vibratory motion, and she let out a gasp of delight as the greatest feeling in the world promised to burst within her like a skyrocket if she gave herself just a few thrusts more.

Her clitoris throbbed. Her heart leaped. She didn't seem to be in Conference Room One any longer. Instead, she rode the puffy white clouds outside and the hot equatorial sun was making her cunt sizzle. Now! Just one thrust more, deep, deep! But she fell back into Conference Room One.

Where she lay on the rug with her skirt up and her panties down as though she had just gotten off the toilet. Let alone that she had her fingers in her cunt. She lay helpless and miserable, her sexual climax utterly lost, her shame showing in her flushed cheeks and her wide, startled eyes. All this because a male voice had drawled from nowhere: "Why, hello, Helen."

CHAPTER TWO

Grimly Helen kept herself from looking around.

Despite being so close to the climax she desperately wanted and needed, she withdrew her finger from her cunt. She licked it clean. So what? But still she did not glance around at the big overstuffed armchair that faced the window.

She didn't have to. She had recognized the man's voice.

She pulled up her panties and smoothed down her skirt and at last turned and said, "Why, hello, Hank," as composedly as she could, which was not very.

Finger-fucking is one hell of an activity in which to get caught!

Hank, of course, had been sitting in that chair all along. He must have heard her open the door and hold it a quarter-minute while waiting for Cleo to arrive. So he and his lover had not been locked up in a lay. They had been whooping it up in Conference One's big easy chair all the time.