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Tracey.

By Jason Fargo.

(Copyright 2000 by Jason Fargo. All rights reserved).

"Can you tell me how the photocopier works, please?"

Her shadow fell across my desk. I was alone in the accounts department that lunchtime. I'd heard that the photocopier in personnel was on the blink and they would be sending somebody up to use ours but I hadn't expected Tracey.

She had only been working for the company a week. Just about every single man and a few married men in the building had asked her out but, as far as anyone knew, without success.

I looked at her tits then into her lovely blue eyes then back to her tits. They were enormous. Well into the forties. The material of her pale green 'V' necked sweater was stretched taught across the nipples. You could clearly see the indentations they made.

She cleared her throat.

"The photocopier," she prompted, "can you show me how it works please." ...

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