Vivienne was old school and that was how she liked it; staunchly strict and a stickler for the rules.
Today was different. There was a fever in the office as months of hard work were about to come to fruition. She celebrated with a full fat latte including sprinkles and a complimentary side chocolate, in spite of her fear of middle age spread. Let it spread she thought, today was for the daring and new, today was for change.
Vivienne sat in the corner, her corner, the one she relied on for the right amount of anonymity yet good observation of the world outside. She liked to people watch. This space was private enough for her to look and to judge, and of course to fantasise.
A tall young man walked by the window. More like a boy really. His swagger was confident, arrogant even, his low slung jeans a nod to the times that showed his age more than his face.
He was, Vivienne judged, beautiful. That look of post pubescence that signals they know what to do with a cock but need to learn more.
Vivienne had never been ‘a looker’. Her style was conservative. Her image stunted in times gone by. Sensible and dull, but always presentable. That was a must in her job.
The boy on the cusp of adulthood looked around for a seat. There wasn’t one. Vivienne lowered her gaze, not for shame but for something else, politeness perhaps or habit.
‘May I?’ asked the boy.
‘Of course.’ Vivienne was curt, matter of fact. The air of a piano teacher. Confident, untouched, remote. These things made the boy feel aroused. She was exotic to him. He wanted to fuck her of course, but at 17 he was poorly equipped for seduction.
Vivienne studied the boy closely as he read his book. A scholarly manual on physics.
She guessed he was doing his homework.
The boy looked over the top of the book and smiled. The hard on in his jeans took over and he became brave.
The mature lady and the college boy studying physics A- Level fucked ferociously in the disabled toilet. Someone was knocking at the door, so it was quick and to the point. Vivienne’s hair escaped its confines and so did she. The boy ejaculated so hard that Vivienne winced as she felt the pelt of youth deep inside her emotional hollow. For her it was magnificent.
They would never see each other again.
Vivienne checked her hair in the mirror and noted the flush of her cheeks, as if she had taken some of his youth for her own, and it had energised her flesh. She looked fresher. She touched up her make-up and checked her tweed suit for semen.
As she approached the office building there was a furore at the entrance. There were TV crews and journalists crammed together, vying for the attention of ministers entering and leaving the building.
Vivienne cleared her throat at the ready.
Vivienne Townsend, Minister for Young Citizens and Youth Engagement, approached the crowd with confidence and a glint of satisfaction.
“Minister, how do you feel about the success of the bill going through today?” asked an eager BBC journalist.
The live lunchtime news report would be desirable publicity for the minister’s career.
Vivienne clicked her black patent heels together and gave her well-rehearsed statement.
“I am, of course, thrilled that the new legislation raising the age of sexual consent to 18 has been passed without opposition. This marks many months, if not years, of hard work by my department and we, as a society, may now end the anomalies of current legislation and offer protection to our young citizens.”
Vivienne turned and smiled to the excited crowd as she returned to her desk for the next official duty as Minister.