"I will... put my dress right here--by my heels. Okay?"
I said "um-hum" or something like that.
Charlie Demarest was standing in my office, in her lacy white bra and half slip.
"I'll just take off my slip since I'm right here."
I watched as her slip appropriately slipped down her long, shapely legs. She lifted it off her bare feet, folded it neatly, and placed it atop her dress.
She stepped back. Her bra and matching panties were lacy and white. Neither garment was exceptionally scanty; they were feminine and pretty.
"Charlie" was short for Charlotte--which she hated. Charlie was such a classically pretty blonde--with waves of golden hair down to her shoulders, and soulful brown eyes behind her glasses with translucent brown frames.
I had fallen for her when she walked in for her interview. She sat in the chair... she deliberately adjusted her skirt over those pretty knees as I caught a glimpse of her lacy slip.
Why was my senior financial analyst applying to be a naked mailgirl? Her husband had been transferred from here in Orlando to Virginia. He accepted without a complaint, although all the company paid for were his travel expenses, plus just enough to rent a tiny apartment for a month.
That was their first fight.
Then he wanted her to come up with him, and give up her job. Where would the money to rent an apartment or buy a small house come from?
That was their second fight.
Then she went to Daniel. He offered her the standard one and a half times her salary and a $25,000 bonus if she completed her six-month contract.
That was the fight that resulted in hubby refusing to talk to her... only text.
Their marriage was in big trouble.
