She walks towards me smiling and tells me to sit by her desk. We chat politely about the sunshine as she opens files on the computer.

Straight black hair frames her face, so shiny. She is delicate, so petite, warm and friendly. An open emerald cardigan over a matching t-shirt cover her perfect little breasts. She asks me to sign my name on a small electronic pad several times as she completes the forms but in my mind I am holding her close, feeling her slender form against my body. The gold ring on her finger makes me think. What if her husband is a cuckold? What if they swing?

Beneath that polite, demure persona, what passions and desire burn?

I maintain an air of smiling calm as she asks me to try the glasses on; they are a perfect fit and I can read the smallest print clearly. I compliment her and her colleague while imagining undressing her and gently caressing her sensitive body.

“I’ll get you another case – this one’s a bit pink,” she says smiling.

I consider telling her that pink is my favourite colour, but instead I joke that I like it and I’ll be less likely to leave it on a table somewhere. She smiles back at me.

She must be around fifty but has the cute innocence of a girl. I want her, want to give her sensual ecstasy, exquisite carnal bliss that makes her shudder, little whimpers from her trembling lips, sweet honey flowing between her legs for me to savour.

She walks me to the door, knowing nothing of her perfection, but her memory remains...