1. Introduction

This is the second story in a series about my adventures in service. As I wrote earlier, my name is Roman, now I am 36, I am a writer. Almost 15 years of my life, I gave work at the border railway station in the Rostov region. as a specialist in customs clearance of transit goods. The work was interesting and exciting. The team was even more interesting, for ninety percent consisted of young and attractive women aged 25 to 40 years. There are only four men left after the departure of the programmer. The war in the Donbass in 2014 abruptly changed our destinies. Railway communication was interrupted. The company closed, and life scattered all of us in different cities. The events that I describe in this story are devoted to an employee who came to us literally two years before the start of the tragic events in Ukraine.

She was very shy and quiet looking.

Her name was Lenochka.

It has long been customary for our organization to practice once a year to mix the composition of work shifts. This stupidity, our Moscow leadership took over from personnel officers of the customs authorities - it was believed that the customs and railway shifts do not have time to work in addition, this step reduces the corruption component and other nonsense in the same spirit. In fact, there were only 28 of us and the guys from 24 customs in 4 shifts. And since in the course of my work, all six people left or transferred to other positions, we all naturally knew each other for many years.

But precisely because of this coincidence of circumstances, I happened to have probably the most unusual office romance of all that had been before.

So. After the regular shuffling of shifts, a vacancy was formed in our company. Due to the state of health, the senior of our shift was dismissed and I was assigned to her place, before that I was an ordinary ordinary worker. In the resulting vacancy took the wife of a customs officer.

Lena.

At first I almost did not pay attention to her. Low, slim, blond hair to the shoulders, the eternal hairstyle of the page. On the face is always a thoughtful expression. Huge gray-green eyes. Nice smile. That was the first impression. Lenochka was a rather diligent worker, there were minimum claims to her. Therefore, our communication at the beginning was at the level of the boss - subordinate. Lenochka always dressed in some kind of baggy dresses, skirts much lower than her knees, dimensionless jeans, the same dimensionless sweaters, under which the outlines of her figures were guessed with difficulty. Even in summer, Lenochka tried to walk in blouses and long-sleeved sweaters, as much as possible covering the neckline. Such strange behavior suggested some kind of illness or mental disorder. The reason turned out to be trivially simple - a very jealous husband.

Then an event occurred that dramatically changed the relationship between us. The jealous man was sent to guard the sunny Dagestan to guard the mountain sheep, where he was stuck for almost a month. It was April when it happened. Spring is in full swing. Nature blossomed and sang. The soul was filled with puppy delight. And of course I wanted to stir up a light, non-committal romance with some pretty woman.

Suddenly it became clear that in the wardrobe of our Shy Girl Lenochka there are not only baggy shapeless bags. After her husband left, Helen came to work in all her glory. Disappeared stupid hairstyle page. A shapeless blouse that made her a woman with no figure and no age was replaced with a frank T-shirt, with ties on one shoulder. T-shirt tightly fits Lena's body above the waist.Strong small breasts of the 1st size with defiantly protruding nipples were seen through the fabric. In the navel of a flat tummy, a fancy earring was shining. Fitted jeans with a low waist sat on it like a glove, emphasizing slender skinny legs and a wonderful round ass. Completed the overall picture sandals with high heels, visually making Lenochka above centimeters 5.

Our Shy was not to know. Evil woman's tongues quickly spread through the station a bunch of gossip on the theme “husband at the door, and wife in Tver”. However, it seemed that Lena didn't care at all.

After a couple of weeks, on a warm May evening, we had a small “window” in the work. I went out to sit on the bench, enjoy the fresh air and peace. Suddenly, I saw Lena, who unhurriedly strolled along the platform towards me. The shop was located in the little nook of a small public garden. I loved this place for its privacy. Usually the ladies of my shift preferred to sit in front of the station entrance. There was always noisy and fun, there were going to decent companies idlers from customs, stations and other services. They chatted all kinds of rubbish, joked, exchanged the latest news. Moreover, it was strange for me to see the Shy, purposefully approaching me. That evening, she was wearing a light dress, leaving her slender shoulders open, with a bell skirt just above the knee. I admired her legs. Helen noticed my interest and, as if by chance, sat down twenty paces from me, plucking a flowering dandelion from a flower bed. Since she was sitting in front of me, I naturally could see her long legs and the rounded outlines of my ass in all details. White panties covered in front tubercle pubis. An unprecedented spectacle began to excite me. Helen gladly sniffed the plucked flower, slowly, rose, giving me the opportunity to enjoy her graceful movements, and came to me.

We sat for a long time, chatting about any nonsense. About everything and about anything at the same time. Helen was an interesting companion. During the conversation, she often accidentally put her little hand on my thigh. At first I was slightly taken aback, then I realized that it was such a manner of conversation or just a game on her part and the same put a hand on her bare thigh a couple of times. Helen as if this did not notice. After some time, a freight train from Ukraine arrived at the station, it was necessary to get to work. My employees called us. Helen, rose from the bench, straightened her battered skirt, and then I noticed on her ass a few rubbish piles that had stuck to the dress from behind:

“Len, you have something stuck on the dress,” I pointed to her ass.

- Where? - Helen started spinning from side to side, trying to see what was wrong there.

- Listen, Roma, I see nothing, - she stood up to me in a half turn, - shake it off, if not difficult.

Damn, to touch this ass, I do not need to ask me twice. I gently brushed her dress, while my hand several times passed along the exquisite curves of its roundness. Last time, briefly lingering between the halves.

- Naughty, - smiled, turning to me, Helen.

Then we went to work. Nothing interesting happened on this shift.

But the next day ...

2. Shotgun

The next day shift brought an extraordinary adventure into my life.

Change fell on a day off. The staff of all services at the station and the customs post was at a minimum. Only on duty. There were several international passenger trains passing through our station. Sometimes passengers imported or exported objects or things that were legally prohibited to be carried across the border. I had a small shop just at that time. And I was often offered to take something from the storage of what could not be transported.

It was not about drugs, alcohol or the like.

Just this time, one of the passengers was carrying a sporting air rifle across the border without documents. Naturally, she was recognized as a prohibited item.But since he really was an athlete, he went to a meeting and was advised either not to cross the border, or to leave a rifle in Russia. This is where he needed my services. I took the pneumatics for storage, the man drove on (after a couple of weeks I returned the weapon to him).

Of course, my curiosity was strong, it’s not every day that a real British one can be seen ...