Dinner with the Boss

You were invited by your boss to dinner at his home. Taking the train out of the city, a cab dropped you on the gravel roundabout in front of a grand old stone home. Pausing for a moment in the portico, it occurred to you that maybe you should have spent more on the bottle of wine you brought.

It was a little odd when he answered the door and invited you in. Gone was the Brooks Brothers suit, replaced with a linen shirt that showed a tuft of silver hair at the chest, just above the trim of an almost old fashioned gingham apron. When you entered the living room, he introduced you to his wife, who was sitting regally in a wingback chair enjoying a cocktail and a cigarette. You'd seen photos on his desk. Of course, she was younger than him, maybe a second wife, you wondered. She was striking in person, in that way that an attractive woman could make flawless with enough time and money. But she also looked poised, not a trophy. Who knows, maybe the money was hers? She gave off a bit of that vibe, pearls and silk blouse, dark hair framing her face in a cut that was both respectable and uncommon. She nodded in your direction and said she was happy that you accepted her invitation, but she didn't bother to get up.

At dinner she sat at the head of the table and patted the seat next to her for you to sit down. Your boss served you both then sat down at the other end of the table saying it would be best because he still had a dessert to check on. He popped up regularly to refresh drinks and didn't speak much except to agree when his wife looked for him to do so. She peppered you with questions about your background, and complimented you on odd little things, like your hair and how you had an elegantly long neck, for a male.

You began to wonder if maybe She was the owner of the company, behind the scenes, because she would say things like, "Dear, I think you did very well finding this one, perhaps we could find a way to promote them to a position better suited to their talents." Looking at a you, she leaned in and said, it's so difficult to find someone with the right attitude to really advance and develop. As she did so, you couldn't help but look down at her rather magnificent cleavage, and she noticed. With a knowing smile she said, "I bet you would like a tour of the house, follow me." Getting up, she waved a hand at the dishes, nodding to her husband, then held out her finely manicured hand to help you up, in an almost chivalrous gesture.

Leading you to the library, she removed a long slim cigarette from a silver case and asked if you smoked. When you politely declined, her sly smile came back. She brought a cigarette to her finely lacquered lips and seemed to relish a first long drag, as if it had been a long day, blowing a plume toward the paneled ceiling before locking her attention back at you. "Come now," she said taking long strides she lead you through the home and you tried to be an appreciative guest, though you couldn't help primarily admiring the curve of her back and the smart seams of the back of her stockings as she led the tour, seldom looking back. When you reached the pool patio, she lit another cigarette and again offered you one.

"They are European, very hard to find, quite special, actually" she said, by way of enticement. Your instinct to be polite led you to accept, and brought a smile to her face that almost felt like a reward. She paused, holding the lighter and you realized that she intended to light it for you. Leaning forward to accept, the long cigarette seemed a bit out of place in your hand. You took a small puff, it wasn't what you expected, like burned medicinal cotton ball, but you smiled as you might if you were expressing appreciation to a gracious chieftain who just served you your first grilled spider. After an awkward moment, she looked over to a set of stairs that seemed to lead to an arch under the house. "And there we have," she paused, "well that can be for another time. Come" And she walked back into the house.

The table was cleared, lights dimmed and candles lit, as she settled back into her big chair. You stood there awkwardly for a moment as your boss reappeared, with drinks for the two of you. "I'd like to show you something," she said, now looking over to her husband. "Dear, be a good boy and present yourself."

You immediately saw and expression come over your boss that you'd never expected. He managed a weak "but..." and she was suddenly on her feet, inches from his face. "But?...I think you know what this means," she said. Meekly he replied, "yes Mistress" and took something down from a shelf and handed it to her.

Without a word, she unbuttoned her silk blouse and held it out to you. Underneath, she wore a very fitted bustier with subtle black lace at the top. At the same time, he began undressing, revealing a pair of pink panties, looking rather incongruous on the body of a somewhat fit but rather large man. He then pealed them off to reveal some substantial steel device locked around his privates. He closed his hands behind his back as she turned to you. "There is a certain way that things work in this household, and I think it's good for you to know how these things work as it will be important for some of the decisions about your future." With that, she sat in her chair and he lay across her lap for what was to be a rather savage paddling.

This might have been a time for you to excuse yourself and get out of there. Instead, you couldn't help but watch the ritual playing out. You took a deep drag on the cigarette, and for the first time felt the rush to your head, to an almost dizzying but pleasant effect. Exhaling you felt both a release and rising excitement. You stood there, transfixed and drew deeply again, you felt a warmth rise all over your skin as the blows fell rhythmically until there was silence. You didn't want to move, and watched as their two bodies separated, his falling defeated on the floor and hers recomposing herself, straightening her skirt before stepping to you and staring into your now glazed eyes.

"That's right dear," she said as she placed a fresh cigarette between your lips and you accepted the flame. She gently brushed your hair behind your ear, smiling as she examined your reaction. "Now follow me and we can have that little talk about your prospects." She took you by the hand and led you back outside, down the stairs, pausing at a large door to the cellar. Her smile came back to her lips as she held the door open, "After you, my dear."