Please take a moment to vote – my partner and I are engaged in a friendly (by which I mean deadly serious) story-writing competition, and the winner will be judged by their rating. It’s all in your hands now, my friends.

Chapter 1.

Jennifer Brown loved sex. Loved it. She would wake up each and every morning feeling sensuous and aroused, step into the shower and immediately aim the showerhead stream between her thighs for a quick release. She’d drive to work each morning thinking about being fucked roughly from behind by the burly road worker she’d just passed. She’d drive home from work each evening imagining being seduced on the tea room table by the handsome manager visiting from head office. And when she climbed back between the sheets at night it was with an erotic novel and a gently vibrating dildo for company.

But here was the thing. In spite of her unrelievedly raunchy inner life, Jennifer was a virgin.

She worked as a secretary for a small backwater accounting firm, she didn’t know many people outside the office, and there was no one in her circle of acquaintances who would ever in a blue fit have guessed the nature of the thoughts that were constantly parading through the mind of the mousy, bespectacled, slightly dumpy young perabet woman behind the front desk.

In her fantasies she was the mistress of the seductive eyebrow lift, and the queen of the flirtatiously witty remark. In reality, even a hint of romantic interest from a member of the opposite sex triggered flaming cheeks and a hopelessly tangled tongue.

She wasn’t especially lonely, she enjoyed her own company, but her unsatisfied libido tormented her relentlessly. And it was getting worse.

Just recently she had started to toy with a possible answer to her impossible problem. She absolutely could not communicate her desire for sex to anyone who knew her. She knew she was incapable of flirtation at a bar or bus stop. So what about sex with stranger? A paid stranger. Where the whole transaction could be reduced to a business exchange. Men did it all the time, didn’t they?

She began to linger over the last pages of the newspaper, where the sex ads were listed. Busty girls, size 10, new, gorgeous, happy ending… The postings catered almost exclusively to the heterosexual male. Briefly, she considered calling the number on one of these ads. She was open minded, and it was rather delicious to imagine a slender dark-haired girl perabet giriş on her door step. She could draw the girl inside, touch her face, trace over the curve of her breasts, gently lift the hem of her skirt… But no. It was a very pleasant fantasy, but at their core her desires did not gravitate toward women. What she really wanted was a man. A sensuous, aggressive, erotic encounter in the power of a strong and virile man.

Perhaps… She tapped the newspaper thoughtfully with the end of her pen. Perhaps she could place an advertisement. It would be a gamble. What if she ended up with an assignation with a truly unsavoury candidate? Someone criminal? Someone old, fat, ugly, smelly? No, there had to be a better way.

Still carrying the newspaper, she wandered over to stand in front of the mirror above her mantlepiece. Hazel coloured eyes peered back from behind tortoiseshell rimmed glasses. She really wasn’t helping herself. She removed them and folded them on the mantlepiece. There, now the mousy bun was in softer focus. She pulled out her hair band and mussed her hair a little. It was an improvement, anyway. Without her glasses and with her hair puffed out around her face she scarcely recognised herself.

So maybe that was perabet güvenilir mi the answer. If Jennifer Brown couldn’t possibly go out seeking a sexual encounter, perhaps she could turn herself into someone else who could. She could become the stranger. If she disguised herself completely, would that give her the confidence to seduce a man?

Experimentally, she ran her hands over her breasts and settled them on the curve of her hips, but the bulky tweed jacket she wore obscured her shape. She was used to her figure, or – resigned to it might be a better phrase. Short and dumpy. No getting around that. Or was there?

She carefully wriggled out of the jacket, and began to unbutton the conservative blouse she wore beneath. Her breasts were undeniably generous, in proportion with the rest of her. And although her hips were broad, she did have something of a waist in between. She straightened her spine and pulled in her tummy. Perhaps in the right clothes she could make something of her figure. A wide, cinched in belt could act almost like a corset. An A-line skirt and a lower cut-blouse might look cool and a little bit retro.

Could she pull that off?

No! Not if she still felt like shy and cringing Jennifer Brown inside.

Well, in that case she would never have sex, and would probably die by spontaneous combustion alone in her bed!

Fuck it. She reached for her phone, and dialled a hairdresser.

For just one night, she could do it. She could say Goodbye to Jennifer Brown.