It seemed it was always her son Rick that stood in the way of Karl getting her out, even for an innocent cup of coffee. Her having a son, a sixteen year old son, was unbelievable, and Karl had thought the boy was her brother the day they were introduced. Linda Hall just didn't appear old enough to have a sixteen year old son.

"If there's nothing more, Mr. Williams, I'll get this letter typed," she said curtly, and turned to go. She knew exactly how far she could go with him, and felt safe in her near rudeness.

Her boss shifted forward in his large chair, signaling an end to his efforts to date her, for that day at least. "Thank you, Miss Hall," he intoned, with emphasis on the "Miss".

Linda didn't like using her son Rick as an excuse to turn down dates, but countless times the boy had proved to be the best and easiest. And she had long ago learned to ignore the social stigma of being an unwed mother. The truth was simply that she was scared.

Men had often appeared to Linda as animals, brutes, unfeeling lechers who wanted nothing more than her still young and ripe body. She dressed to hide her lush figure and discovered it was an impossibility; the more she tried to hide her large fully fleshed breasts, the more she drew attention to them; the more she tried to control her walk, the more studied and provocative it became.

Despite her thoughts and aims, she radiated a natural sensualness, a deep, heated, milky kind of sexuality. To see Linda in a miniskirt, to see her long shapely legs and full curving thighs, only conjured a vision of what was hidden under her skirt – up there between her legs; to think of her hips encased in silken little panties and her naked buttocks and her downy golden pubic hair made a man positive her sweetly perfumed vaginal lips were prominent and pinkly moist… all ready, eager to receive a long, hard cock.