The California Project

It was early in the morning when George popped into Amar's office to tell him about the California project.

"It's a great opportunity for you. Anyway, San Francisco's the place to be these days, when it comes to business and pleasure, if you know what I mean," George said.

"How long is this for?" Amar asked.

"At least six months. More, if it works out."

Amar sighed. His wife was not going to be happy.

"Look, Amar. The company's going to make all the arrangements. The expenses are covered. We'll help your wife get along over here and it's not going to cost you anything. In fact, you're going to be making more money."

George slapped Amar's arm and sidled out the office door, pointedly leaving it open so that the assistants outside could peer in to look at him.

Amar sighed and rested his forehead on his palm, pushing his hair back in resigned frustration. There was a lot to do, not to mention the fuss that Mona was going to make when he broke the news to her.

He let his hands fall to the desk and leaned on the heels of his palms as he pushed himself to his feet. The clock on the computer said 5:30. He might as well call it a day at this point, and he reached for his laptop bag and plodded out into the corridor, letting the office door slide shut behind him.

Amar plodded toward the elevators, the heel of his left shoe knocking against the bottom edge of a partition wall, and startling the office assistant inside.

He walked swiftly to the end of the hallway, his eyes blankly resting on the carpet ahead of each step. That's why he was unable to stop in time when he spotted the pointed toe of a polished black stiletto-heeled woman's shoe.

Amar threw his arms up, his computer bag falling to the floor, just in time for his hands to land on the two C-cups on the chest of the woman he found himself jostling.

When his eyes found her face, he realized it was Dalia, George's secretary, and he gasped in a combination of shock and surprise, much of it being the pleasant kind, but also embarrassing.

"Mr. Singh! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

Dalia pushed up her black-rimmed spectacles with one hand and smoothed her close-fitting blouse and knee-length skirt with another.

Amar jerked his hands away from the mounds he had been grasping, leaving slight spots of perspiration on the burnt-orange fabric.

"No, it's fine, Dalia. It was my fault. I'm the one who should be sorry."

Amar's eyes were still looking down, following the curve of the stretchy black skirt stretched across Dalia's hip.

"No, really, Mr. Singh." She paused for a moment. "Mr. Abrams sent me. I've made all the arrangements for your assignment."

Amar forced his gaze up to her face as he took in the information slowly. It was harder to look into her eyes, as he immediately felt a tightening in his crotch.

He saw her eyes flick oh-so-slightly downward when he realized that his stiffening member we touching her hip, but finding himself so close to her after such a long time, he couldn't bring himself to move away.

Amar felt the eyes of another secretary glance up at the two of them and look away pointedly.

"Of course, Dalia. That's very good of you."

Dalia brought her left arm up between them, her hand clutching the edge of a fat portfolio with his name written across the front. The jewel on her wedding ring dragged across the breast of his jacket.

Amar remembered the last time he had felt that ring press against his chest, just days after Dalia had returned from her honeymoon, and she had met him in a hotel room two blocks from the office, and had opened her legs for him.

Moments after he had spent himself deep inside her and his body lay, heavy, hot, and sweaty on top of hers, his member still inside her wet sex, she told him that this would have to be the last time, that she wanted to be faithful to her new husband.

Amar had missed her keenly since that day, just a few weeks ago now. He had missed her smile, her laugh, the gentle brush of her lips, her eager body, her deep warmth. It had been difficult and now he realized that it might be a good thing for him to be away for a while.