It had been one of those days. A day when being at work was a chore and the windows of their building only served as a punishment, reminding them of just how glorious a day it was.
If it wasn't for the frustration of being stuck at work Katrina might have been even more bored than she already was. Her job was not inspiring or invigorating. It really only occupied a very small part of her consciousness. She could perform it on auto-pilot while her imagination took her to other places.
Katrina glanced at the clock. She knew some people would STRONGLY disapprove of what she had been doing. It was fortunate that there was little or no risk because HR certainly would take a dim view. She could remember the first time she had thought of it. It had got into her mind and then had refused to go away. She'd agonised about it the first time but with each repetition it had become easier and easier.
Also with each repetition there had been more and more response. In a rather boring white-bread world such a response could be very welcome and very intoxicating. It could also become very tempting, addictive some would say.
She glanced at the clock again. At last - it was time. Katrina happily discarded all thoughts of her current assignment as she headed for the bathroom. At first this had been a rather spur-of-the-moment thing but now she liked to make appropriate preparations.
She glanced in the mirror. She wondered sometimes if any of her co-workers noticed that little gleam in her eye, that sense of suppressed excitement. It should have stuck out in their work-place like a lighthouse beam on a dark night! She could see it and it reminded her of just why she did this, why she had come to look forward to doing this so much.
Katrina carefully locked the door and then began to move fast. It was so much easier at home but so much more fun to do it here. She undid her white pin-striped blouse and wigged herself half the way out of her tight skirt. Then she checked that her phone was on silent mode before taking four pics of herself. Practise meant that she automatically knew the angle to hold the phone at. Just the right angle to catch as much of herself as she could without revealing any hint as to her real identity.
She checked the images and rapidly discarded three. The fourth was just exactly what her followers would love to see. Her peaches-and-cream skin seemed to blaze out against the dull grey of the work rest-room. Not that her followers would be looking at the decor. She had selected her bra carefully, a little white lacy number that kept things under control without hiding much. It certainly did absolutely nothing to hide her cleavage and she knew how her followers would love that.
She smiled to herself. She really had caught the angle just right. If any of her followers could tear their eyes away from that tempting cleavage then there were more treats for the observant. She had chosen to wear a black lacy thong for just this reason. It meant that he camera could catch, between her thong and her pushed-down black and white skirt, the twin mounds of her butt. She knew that lots of her followers would particularly enjoy that! Finally, just in view was one of her feet, its toe-nails visible and painted scarlet.
She didn't have much time but Katrina just had to glance at the picture once more before sending it off to her account. It was easy as a woman to lose confidence. Marriage and domestic life, the passing years, a job that provided a pay-check but little or nothing by way of flair or fulfilment. It would be easy to become just a house-wife, just an office-worker and to forget that first of all things you were a woman, a lively desirable sexy woman. Now she knew that she would never forget that. By the time she left work there would have been plenty of comments on that pic - comments from men who were in no doubt just what a hot property she was.
Katrina smiled again before carefully adjusting her blouse and skirt. She checked herself in the mirror. All was well - she could go back out there and no-one would be the wiser.
It had once seemed crazy that her co-workers didn't notice immediately that there was something different about her. That she suddenly felt alive, that she seemed to feel the blood pumping through her body, that she was - lets be honest here - 'excited.' However, then as now, she strode past them and no-one noticed a thing.
It was her little secret - well if you didn't include her thousands of followers. She had begun posting her pics almost as a dare to herself. A little naughty excitement. She had pondered over what to call herself and had finally settled on 'Katrina the Hotwife.' Because she had been married and she was hot and, at least so far as this part of her life was concerned, she chose to be called Katrina. Whether that was on her birth certificate or not was for her to know and no-one else to find out for sure. While she was playing and being 'naughty' - which seemed to be an ever increasing amount of her time - she was Katrina.
She wasn't sure where she had heard that term 'hotwife' but it had been a good pick. It must have featured on some searches because suddenly she started to acquire followers. Just a few at first but then as they had excitedly retweeted her posts the number had grown into the thousands and then even into the tens of thousands.
The last part of the day dragged by but this time not because Katrina was bored. She was buzzing with anticipation and curiosity to see if that pic had got any responses. But that only made the minute-hand on the clock seem to drag its way round even slower. Finally - finally - it reached the end of her working day and Katrina emerged into the hot afternoon sun. The heat was coming back off the sidewalks and she was excited to follow her usual routine after posting. She got into her vehicle and turned on the engine.
* * * * *
Katrina took her seat outside the cafe and sipped her iced drink. It tasted good, refreshing. Here she could sit and watch the city go by. Thousands of people rushing hither and thither, each engrossed in their own doings and their own lives. In the city you could be surrounded by people and yet be anonymous. Well, almost. If you looked like Katrina - even buttoned-up in her office outfit - you were bound to draw a few appreciative glances. Unfortunately not usually from the sort of men that attracted Katrina - but there were exceptions.
Mostly it was almost furtive glances from middle-aged office-workers. No thank-you. Sometimes it wasn't so furtive. Men who thought they were God's gift staring at her curves or even trying to hit on her. Again - no thanks. She'd had a husband to take care of that.
Except there were certain itches that her husband just hadn't been able to scratch. Not because of how he was but because of who he was. Men weren't the only ones who had their fantasies, their illicit desires.
Katrina thought back to that morning. She'd noticed HIM checking her out alright. He had been very easy on the eye. Of course there'd been nothing she could do about it except put a little extra wiggle into her walk. She hadn't had to glance back to know that his eyes were fixed on her butt just so long as he could still see her. She liked the idea of that - maybe he'd tell his friends about the fly white piece of tail he'd seen that morning. She hoped so - she liked the idea of that even more
It did raise the question of what Katrina would have done if he hadn't been so busy unloading that truck. What if he'd been taking a break and had been able to approach her. Would she have kept walking or would she have stopped and...
Well that was the thing wasn't it. Not so long ago Katrina would have known the answer to that. Now she wasn't so sure. Or was she just telling herself that? Trying to avoid the fact that her answer to the question had changed over the last few months as Katrina the Hotwife had become more and more of her life.
Katrina shook that thought into the back of her mind. Now she finally had the opportunity to check her phone. She did so, found her notifications and smiled. Yes indeed, her followers did seem to have appreciated that picture. Lots of compliments and a few naughty suggestions.
Two particularly caught her attention. 'Snow Bunny Alert' had re-tweeted her picture with a simple addition. 'Tell me this hot piece ain't made for the BBC.' His account had lots of followers and her finger flicked again and again on the screen, seeing response after response. They seemed to like that idea almost as much as Katrina did!
