The seduction continued..... I felt the familiar rush through my veins as there would be more stolen hours with him. But, as always, that high was accompanied by the nagging feeling in my gut that I was on borrowed time. He never said it aloud, he didn't have to. He was quiet about his personal life, never offering any information and he never asked about mine. I wanted to know him- what he liked to do for fun, his taste in music, favorite foods, all of it, but I had to be selective when asking questions. Extremely intuitive, I could determine even through emails that I couldn't press him for too many details. Once or twice throughout all these weeks of correspondence, I received a message from him that had a softer tone; playful, the door to his heart opening a crack. But, just as quickly it was slammed shut. Maybe that was the allure though- he always kept me wanting more, my thirst never quenched, my hunger never satiated.
My secret life.... submissive slut by day, suburban housewife and mother by night. I didn't try to analyze it anymore, and deluded myself into believing that everyone had a dark side, and this was mine.
My husband was aware of my profile on the chat website, but not about my dangerous liaison. I knew instinctively that what we had between us was precious, a treasure, and I protected it fiercely. So mentally taxing, clearing recent history, erasing cookies...once, twice, over and over. Hiding my soaking wet thong in the laundry basket before my husband came home. I felt powerless to stop this virtual "affair" and reconciled my indiscretion by my husband's own fall from grace, when he was chatting with other women.
Michael sent me the start of our new story, "Employment," with an email to follow.
~~ Sitting in my corner office on the 24th floor, I glance at the clock and buzz through to my secretary.
"Emma, it's time for my two o'clock. Is she here yet?"
"I'll send her right in," comes the reply.
I've been looking for the right PA for a while now. I sit back and wait for the door to open. ~~
"Good Morning. I've decided I want to see you in a satin blouse, open to the front. You know my fetish for this particular type of clothing. Send it to me in the next hour," he demanded, my sexy taskmaster. "And I'd love to read your response to our story."
"I don't have a satin blouse; I can wear another pretty blouse for you," I offered, trying to please him. "I will send you my response soon, although I am not sure what our heroine is going to do...she is still quite miffed at you," I teased, trying to provoke him, as he never dodged my gusty taunts...they only fanned his fire, which was one of the most erotic things about him.
"Well, ultimately, our heroine is going to obey, or she will be punished," he replied with wicked assurance. "What are you wearing today?"
"Not wearing anything right now, I am just getting into the shower, wish you could join me...." I purred seductively, trying to tantalize him.
"Temptress. What a tableau you in the shower would make. When did you last fuck under a stream of water?"
Oh my God, what he did to me! The fact that I had to look up the translation of his French made me so wet.
As requested, I sent him my response to our story, knowing precisely where I wanted this to go. I say "our story" and that is exactly what it started to become. It was a shade darker than the first, a battle of wills at play. Was it "Life imitates art" or the other way around? All the same, I started to shiver as the cool kindly breezes of autumn evolved into crystal, razor sharp winter winds.
Still, as cold as he seemed at times, he broke me in so gently as we went along, slowly and deliberately taking my submissive cherry, as I shamelessly lay there, milfy legs spread, begging him to fuck me.
~~Oh, God...I'm so nervous, sitting here outside his office. My palms are sweaty...I haven't been on a job interview in so long. At least the outfit I'm wearing is perfect. I'm wearing a grey wool, pencil skirt just above the knee, with a single layer of ruffles at the bottom, and matching form fitting jacket with graceful notched neckline. Underneath....well, I do have a pretty black lace bra on, thigh high stockings....and that's it. My hair is up in a loose, feminine knot, with some tendrils hanging down. Professional, but I still look like a woman should, with curves, and a hint of cleavage. My black heels finish the look.
I have to meet with the boss, Mr. Michael- I haven't thought about that name since.....
Ugh! The sharp pain in my chest again...No! You are over him, completely over him. He meant nothing to you...I tell myself.
Think about the interview....focus! It's just that, I've never met anyone like him. He was so different, not only gorgeous, striking. With piercing green eyes...eyes that could see right through me. Intelligent, of course, but also keenly aware of what the majority of men don't see. With just a simple word, my knees would buckle.
Sadly, I never heard from him again after that unforgettable night.....Why? I still can't figure it out. I thought he was feeling it too. ~Sigh.
Ok, now focus....the interview, remember? Oooooh...it makes me so mad when I think about it. There was nothing we didn't do that night, well, almost nothing. And for what? He puts me in a cab and doesn't have the decency to call me, text me, nothing. If I ever ran into him again, I would love to give him a piece of my mind!
The secretary motions me to come, "He's ready for you," she says. Ok, here we go -shake it off.
She slowly opens the door to his office, I can't see him clearly yet. He then stands up and walks over to me.
Waaait......No! Oh my God, it can't be...it's.... Michael! My chin almost hits the floor, as my face burns with humiliation.
The secretary is making small talk, while he stands there, smirking, silently mocking me. The conversation is audible but muffled, as if I am floating underwater. I feel naked...exposed. She finally excuses herself and closes the door. Finally, I regain my composure, and feel the heat coming up from my toes, as the fear gives way to anger.
"You!" I hiss. I am so infuriated right now, I can hardly speak. Shaking my head back and forth, "You have some nerve! Using me like that, and sending me off without a word! You know what? You can take this job and shove it up your ass! I'm outta here!" I spat, fire bursting forth from my red ruby lips.
With that, I turn on my heel and head for the door.
**
Amused by your anger I take a seat. Your ass looks fantastic in that skirt as you walk towards the door and I feel myself harden.
Just as your about to open it you hear me say "Stop."
You were just about to twist the handle, but at the sound of my voice your hand freezes. You don't know why. Blushing you turn to face me. You can't look me in the eye but you feel my eyes running up your body, assessing you.
