Marriage with Tara was a sexless, silent routine of ignoring each other, with no real communication or shared life. She'd broken my heart once before, that first split years back, and though we'd got back together, the stitches never held. Work was my lifeline, running a tight team with a grip I'd honed over years--authority came natural, a mix of strictness and respect that got results. I'd always had a way with the women there, not chasing, just being me--confident, fair, guiding fresh-out-of-college kids like a shepherd with a herd. Some were sharp, some needed prodding, but projects launched on time, success piled up, and the looks followed--girls drawn to the dominance, the control. Kendra slipped into that world quiet as a shadow, returning to work in customer support after a few years' break following her marriage, her local language knack making her a gem. Sweet, honest, hardworking--she was different, and I felt it the moment I saw her.
She was elegance distilled--sexy and beautiful in a way that didn't shout, just glowed. Dark hair framing a face that made me pause and take notice, drawing my eyes to her, a body that moved with elegance I couldn't shake. Her husband was a dick, though--rude, possessive, treating her like a thing he owned, not the beautiful creature she was. I'd catch her in the hallway, phone pressed to her ear, arguing in her native tongue, frustration tightening her perfect features. We barely spoke the same language--my grasp of hers was rough, just enough to stumble through--but it didn't matter. When you fall for someone that hard, words bend to the feeling. She'd hit me with this wide, radiant smile every time I passed, bright enough to cut through the office drone, and it'd land like a punch, stirring butterflies I hadn't felt since Tara ripped me open the first time.
One afternoon, we're outside the office, snagging a break in the crisp air. I'm leaning against the wall, her a few steps off, and she walks up, closing the distance. I toss out small talk--weather, work, safe stuff--but it turns fast. Families, partners, the real shit spills out, and then she blindsides me. "When are you inviting me home?" she asks, voice soft but bold. "I've never seen your place." I blink--she's always been shy, reserved--and her nerve throws me. "Okay, let's do it," I say, a grin breaking loose. She's off tomorrow, a light day for me. "Come over around noon," I tell her, giving my address. She nods, and we head back in. I'm surprised, curious, and excited--unsure if it's just chatter or if she'll show, but the flame's already kindled.
Wednesday comes, and I take the day off--marriage, a ghost, Tara's absence, a dull ache. I've never crossed lines with Kendra--married woman, me married too, I keep it clean unless it's mutual. She's never flirted outright, just those smiles, so I've stayed professional, her boss, strict but soft for her, respecting her grind and the hell her husband puts her through. Noon nears, and my phone hums--she's on her way. I'm in jeans and a t-shirt, casual, when the knock lands. I open the door, and there she is--a bright yellow t-shirt, blue jeans, glowing like the sun and in a high ponytail just the way I like it. Sexy, elegant, that smile cutting me deep. I lead her to the living room, nerves twitching, and we sit, easing into small talk. I'm showing off our homes on Google Earth, and she plays along, nodding with that quiet grace. Ten minutes in, she pierces the bullshit. "Is this why you called me over?" she asks, eyes steady, surprising me again--her words spark a smile, stir my curiosity, and I know what I have to do, even as I play it cool, soft and easy with her, not my usual dominant self, unsure of what this is.
