AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a work of fiction and contains scenes of extramarital and unprotected sex. If this isn't for you, please move on. Comments are welcome, but try to control the name-calling and moral judgments.
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"Walt, you're going tonight, right?"
Walt turned from his monitor and looked to see his boss, Todd, leaning his head in the open door. He glanced at the clock: almost three fifteen. He hoped this wouldn't take long; if he didn't get busy, fast, he'd never get his end-of-month reports finished by quitting time.
"Going where, Todd?"
Todd stepped inside, glancing nervously around as though he thought he was being followed. He pulled the door softly closed behind him. "Not you, too, Walt, come on. It's Frank's retirement party tonight, you have to go."
Walt's heart sank, and it showed on his face. "Oh, no," Todd told him, "you have to go."
"Todd, I'm still finishing my EOM reports, come on, give me a break, as it is I'm going to get home late. I've been so busy, and with the trip to the coast..."
"Walt, you can't bail on me. Jeff and Art already bailed, with some bullshit stories about kids, and graduation parties. You have to go."
Walt motioned at the pile of paper on his desk. "Todd, I got all this to do, and really," he lowered his voice, "you know I really don't like him."
"He's retiring Walt," Todd bargained, matching Walt's lower tones. "You can celebrate. He doesn't have to know that you're glad he's gone." Frank was an old school guy, who hadn't moved with the times. He still treated customers and clients like they were the enemy, had no problem cheating them, and trashed the company's business relationships like refuse underfoot. Too many times Walt had been asked to go smooth things out with one of Frank's accounts. "Go, have a drink and some food, toast him retiring, and on Monday he'll be gone.
"I don't know..."
"I'll tell you what, you go tonight, and I'll give you till Monday evening to turn in your EOM's." Walt looked at him, thinking. He had most of his calendar cleared for Monday; if he knocked out most of the report tonight, he could go to the party, and finish Monday morning, and have time for a another project he was working on that had fallen by the wayside. He considered.
"Please, Walt; don't make me beg."
Walt raised his hand. "Stop. Fine, I can't stand to see you pleading. Fine, I'll go."
"Thanks, man, I knew I could count on you." He grinned, and let himself out. As soon as he was gone, his head was back in the doorway. "Six-thirty, don't be late."
Walt grunted and didn't look up. As he keyed in the figures from his sheets, he thought of what a shitty time he was going to have tonight. Most of the people he actually liked weren't going. The party would be mostly Frank's group, who didn't like him but had to go, and all the part time and admin staff who never missed a free meal and open bar. He'd been looking forward to getting home only a little late, and hanging with Ronnie. After all, it was Friday night, and that meant sex, to kick off the weekend. Within minutes he regretted allowing himself to be bought off so easily. Frank was such a throwback, he didn't even deserve a party. He deserved to be kicked out on his ass.
Still, he thought, that was one of the reasons he enjoyed working here. Even a shit like Frank Collins could keep his job. So if you took careful chances, you didn't have to be worried sick that if something went wrong they would toss you to the curb. He finished the sheet he was working on and flipped to the next one in the pile.
The Bradelman account. He lifted the paper and looked at it. Things were really going well there. He could finish this year ten percent ahead if this played out, and he had Bradelman's wife, Gloria, to thank for it. The guy was a complete ass, but his wife was sharp as a tack, and she had steered him in the right direction, behind her husband's back. And that was after deep-throating his cock, and fucking her up against the wall. He allowed himself to drift into his memory, recalling that afternoon on the coast, her shaved pussy, her frank manner, her elegance and style. He felt his briefs getting tighter, and looked down to see his pants tenting. Fuck, that woman was hot. Not for the first time he recalled that she had hinted that she'd let him fuck her in the ass next time. As it always did, that image brought his erection to full staff.
He looked at the page. All he wanted to do was get finished, get home, and fuck Rhonda till she was blind. But no, he thought, you agreed to go to Frank's party. I'll be hanging out with a bunch of people you either don't know or don't like, he thought bitterly, pretending to be friendly and having fun, at a party for a guy you can't stand, instead of laying the wood to my wife. Of course, thinking of Rhonda fucking brought memories of his last trip, and Rhonda sending that picture of her dripping pussy, and telling him the details of fucking the pool boy over the phone while he jerked off. Damn, that was hot! He had saved the picture of her shaved creampie in his phone, but resisted the temptation to view it in his office; his dick was hard enough already.
For weeks they had skated around their agreement after Julie's party, until the night at the restaurant, when the entire agreement had resurfaced in its entirety, as though they had picked up right where they had left off. As he recalled Mrs. B's promise of anal sex, he now included a delightful memory of pressing his thumb inside Rhonda's ass that night, as he pretended to be another man fucking her. She'd had a delirious orgasm, and he had filled her pussy, feeling her anal muscles pulsing and squeezing his thumb. He wondered if she might one day allow him to slip his cock up her back door.
Shaking his head, he realized that he was still holding the paper up, not seeing it, seeing instead a mix of images inside his brain, and his other hand was in his lap, adjusting his erection inside his pants. Setting aside his fantasies, he returned to his work, allowing his reluctant boner to subside, and resigning himself to pretend he was having a good time. He keyed the data, then flipped the page to the 'done' pile. He reached for his cell, and texted Rhonda.
SORRY. LAST MINUTE CHANGE, SHITHEAD FRANK RETIREMENT PARTY AFTR WRK, BE HOME LATE. LUV U W
He started keying the next report, and was almost done when his phone buzzed.
2 BAD. ILL WAIT UP? NEED SOME COCK 2NITE! XOXO R
He grinned. God, he loved her!
ILL TRY 2 LV ERLY. WILL LT U KNOW WHEN I LEAVE. I MISS YOUR WET PUSSY! :p
He had barely started when her response came.
MIGHT START WITHOUT U. FINGERS AT MY LIPS, NICE! C U L8TR!
He keyed the report absent-mindedly, thinking of his wife fingering herself, bringing herself to orgasm, imagining her shoving several fingers into her wet cunt, his erection returning.
The rest of the afternoon passed without incident, and he finished most of the report, leaving maybe an hour's work for Monday. It was quarter to six when he stopped, and turned his computer off for the weekend, and grabbed his jacket. As he exited his office he realized most folks had left already; only a couple of account managers were still there. All the clerical staff departed promptly at five on Fridays. He made his way to the vacated parking lot and drove to the restaurant where the party was being held, bracing himself for a crappy night until he got home to Rhonda.
Two hours later he found himself leaning at the bar, avoiding Frank and his friends, surrounded by the Admin staff from Frank's division, who were liberally enjoying the open bar. He knew most of the younger women casually, and they introduced the ones he didn't know, including a slightly older woman, Linda, who was maybe in her mid-thirties. The girls laughingly toasted Frank's departure repeatedly, and he realized that they had no fondness for him either. Linda seemed to separate herself from the younger ones, perched on her stool a few seats down from him, sipping a white wine where the rest of the twenty-somethings were drinking mixed drinks. He surreptitiously looked her over, seeing she was pretty well put together, and he caught himself stealing glances her way with increased frequency. A couple of times he thought he saw her looking at him the same way. A couple of the girls moved from the bar to go dancing, leaving him a clear line of sight to Linda, and he took a longer look at her, seeing her full figure, and his eyes travelled down from her face, taking in the details of her body; her full breasts not overly large, encased behind a buttoned shirt, her slim waist, and her long legs crossed at the knee, dressed in grey pants. Her dangling foot sported a heeled sandal, toenails painted. When he raised his eyes back to her face he saw her looking at him; caught, and she grinned a little at his embarrassment. She picked up her mostly empty glass and swung her legs out and stood, taking the few steps to him, and standing at his side at the bar.
"It's Walt, right?"
He confirmed, and looked at her face. She didn't seem upset. "Yes. Linda?"
"Uh-huh. So Walt, were you just checking me out?"
"Actually," he said, emboldened by her frank question, "yes, I was." He smiled at her. "And let me say for the record that I'm not sorry; you look pretty good."
"Well, thanks," she replied, leaning an elbow on the bar. "It's hard to keep up with the young ones."
He stole a glance at her chest, seeing her blouse open slightly, revealing a hint of white lace where the fabric pulled the buttons tight. It was a brief, but very interesting. "You needn't worry," he told her, "they've got nothing on you." She smiled at him with a hint of satisfaction. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"It's an open bar," she laughed.
"Yep, you're a cheap date," he chided, and motioned to the bartender, who took her glass.
"Oh, so this is a date? So sudden!"
"It can be," he grinned, going with her banter and enjoying it.
She looked down at his hand, motioning with her chin, a suspicious look in her eyes. "You're married."
He followed her eyes, and took his hand off his glass to flash his wedding band. "Yep. Happily." He looked at her, and smiled again. "In fact, very happily. You?" He glanced at her hand.
"Divorced. Four years now." She smile broadly, showing straight, white teeth. Her mouth was wide for her face, but her lips were full and sensuous, and her smile lit her face. "And," she added, clinking her refilled glass to his, "happily." He smiled back, and they toasted each other. "But I guess that means the date's over," she joked.
