What Would You Have Done 4

What Would You Do?

PREAMBLE:

I sat in my boss's office with the most stunned look you could Imagine on my face as my boss, Carol King, expectantly stared at me, waiting for my answer.

"But Carol, I am a happily married woman. I can't do that," I protested.

"Look, Tina. If you don't, I'll be forced to lay off half our staff. Now, I'd do it myself if I could. But he specifically asked for you."

"Surely... There has to be a better way, Carol."

"No Tina, there's not. I did it myself the first two years he demanded it. Then, last year, he specifically asked for Sally. And this year, he asked for you."

"But she's single, and I'm married."

"So am I Tina. And very happily, I might add. But I just couldn't bear to lay off so many loyal, hard-working people," Carol proclaimed, then paused to take a deep cleansing breath. "And I don't regret it, Tina. I know it seems insane, but he's not that bad in bed, and it was over in less than two hours. Honestly, the hardest part of the whole thing was kissing him. And don't get me wrong. He's not a bad kisser. It was just so intimate and personal and the one thing that made me feel truly guilty."

"I don't know Carol. How long do I have to think about this?" I asked.

"Well, he wants an answer by five today, and it's a little after four," she replied, tapping her watch.

"But why me? Why does he want me?"

"Look..." she sighed. "Don't let this go to your head, Tina. But you're hot! Hell, to be honest, I want a copy of the tape you two will be making!"

"It's being recorded?" I gasped.

"Yes. But it's for your protection. Just in case he tries to back out of signing the contract. Plus, we have a record of what he's demanding of us," Carol assured me.

"So, will I get let go if I refuse?"

"I don't have to answer that. But then, if I don't let you go and word gets out that you could have saved everyone's job that does get let go, you won't be very popular around here."

No shit Sherlock, I thought. But cheating is cheating, and agreeing to go to a motel room with one of the firm's customers, regardless of how important he was, is cheating.

"Oh, all right. I'll do it," I said before my guilt outweighed the thought of so many of my friends, coworkers, and possibly myself losing our jobs.

Then I stood, contract in hand, more than ready to leave.

"Hold on, Tina," Carol said, then opened a folder and handed me another legal form with a pen.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's an NDA. And you need to sign it. I can't have you airing my most important clients dirty laundry," she stated.

Being a legal secretary, I knew what a non-disclosure agreement was for. And, all things considered, I wasn't surprised Carol wanted to cover her ass.

"Fine, whatever," I grumbled as I signed it, then handed her the document.

Carol raised her finger in a hold-on gesture. Then she opened her bottom desk drawer, pulled out a large brown paper bag, and handed it to me.

"And what's this?" I impatiently asked.

"It's the outfit he wants you to wear on your date," she replied. "Go ahead. Open it," Carol said with a sheepish cringe.

I opened the bag, took out an envelope, and read the note. It was the address and room number of a fancy downtown hotel, and said I must be there by 5:30. But, what really caught my attention were the instructions.

"You must wear the enclosed garments, and only these garments; no bra or panties. And you must leave your wedding ring on."

I put the letter on her desk and proceeded to pull out a white blouse, a short black skirt, black seamed lace top stockings with a matching lace garter, and a pair of black patent leather platform pumps with six-inch stiletto heels. Everything was my size, and I rolled my eyes at Carol, sure she had a hand in planning all this, as I stuffed the expensive high-end garments back in the bag.

~~~

I called my husband, Bryan, and told him one of our biggest clients had a problem and that I'd be working late. Then I told him I'd be eating at the office, so he was on his own for dinner and said I should be home by ten.

Next, because I wouldn't have time to change after work, I went to the ladies room and put on the outfit Mr. Downs required his whores to wear. And yes, I felt like a whore! Then, on my way back to my desk, I stopped by Sally's cubicle and asked if we could talk privately.

When she saw how I dressed, Sally knew what I wanted to discuss. Yet, she was reluctant to say much, and I assumed she, too, had signed an NDA. However, Sally did assure me there would be no rough sex and said it would more than likely be quick. Then, as I was about to leave, she added. "Oh, and just in case you're worried about it. He doesn't want anal!"

After my awkward chat with Sally, I had a few minutes to kill. So, to keep my mind off what I was about to do, I sat at my desk, dressed like a slut, and began to clean up a few things. But as I was putting papers in files and the files back in their respective drawers, I couldn't help but notice how wet I felt.

I was mortified. How on earth could a good, proper, honest, and faithful woman get turned on by the thought of having sex with one of the firm's clients? This can't be happening to me. Can it?

Yet my biggest fear was that Mr. Downs was black. And no, I'm not prejudiced. It's just that Bryan has always been plenty big enough for me. And yes, I know it's a stereotype. But what if Matt is hung like a horse? I'm not even sure I could take something like that.

But before I could dwell on the what-ifs too long, it was time for me to go. I stood to leave, and terrible guilt tore at my guts as I took one last look at the photo of Bryan on my cubical wall.

I knew then. I would never be the same.

The Date:

I stuffed my clothes and the contract into my satchel and slung it over my shoulder. But as I made my way through the office, I couldn't help but notice everyone gawking at me like I was some sort of circus clown. I certainly felt like one, and it really upset me because I prided myself on dressing very conservatively at work, and I'd never dressed unprofessionally... EVER!

According to Google, it was a fifteen-minute drive. I prayed I wouldn't get stuck in traffic as I pulled out of the parking garage and headed to the fancy motel for my "date" with Mr. Downs. A multitude of emotions flowed through me as I parked with ten minutes to spare. And much to my chagrin, "horny" was on top of the list. Closely followed by guilt.

"I'm so sorry, Bryan," I said into the cosmos as I got out of the car, knowing that I was about to whore myself out to keep my job and, more importantly, save half the staff from losing theirs.

I nervously walked into the hotel lobby, and the desk clerk gave me a snooty, side-eyed glance, but he didn't say a word as I made my way to the elevator. I pushed the eleventh-floor button and felt my stomach fall out as the elevator lurched upward. Then my head began to spin as my guts twisted with guilt about cheating on my husband, and what if I get caught? Oh God! Please don't let me get caught, I thought.

I knew Carol and Sally would cover for me if I needed an alibi. Yet, when the elevator door opened, every instinct I had was screaming at me to ride it back down and drive home. But that wasn't going to happen, and I knew it.

Butterflies flooded my stomach as I stepped off the elevator and walked until I found room eleven-fourteen; his room The room I was about to choose over my marriage. Not that I really had a choice.

I knocked softly, and the door opened immediately. "Oh my. I'm so glad to see you. I was afraid you wouldn't come," Mr. Downs said with a sincere disarming tone.

I swallowed hard as I looked this tall, good-looking, well-built man in the eye. He was at least twenty years my senior with a distinguished smattering of Gray shining through his short, neatly trimmed, jet-black hair. But what really caught my eye was his perfectly tailored, expensive Italian suit. If Bryan wanted a suit like that, it would have cost at least six months of our combined salaries!

Still, I had to admit Matt did look good in it, and I was sure there were plenty of much younger gold diggers vying for his attention.

But, for some reason, he wanted me, and here I was, nearing thirty. Oh, I was sure Mr. Downs thoroughly vetted me and knew I'd never bore any children. Though Bryan and I had been talking about it just before Carol convinced me to become a whore for her.

Then Matt, the man I was about to cheat on my husband with, brought me into his arms for an uncomfortable embrace before he led me into the motel sweet and offered me a drink. I nodded, thinking a drink or three was just what I needed to get through this. Then I sat my satchel on a beautiful vintage roll-top desk and prayed that nothing would go wrong and Mr. Downs would sign the contract.

"Carol told me you drink Jim Beam, but I think you'll agree this whisky puts Jim to shame. Here, try three fingers of Pappy Van Winkle's 23-year-old, straight bourbon whisky," Matt said as he handed me a tumbler of the golden liquid with no ice.

Only four people in the world knew I was here, and I was a bit nervous about drinking something I hadn't prepared myself as I took a sip. I had to admit, the Pappy Van Winkle put Jim Beam to shame, and it was extremely smooth.

Matt could tell I liked it and raised his eyebrows with a knowing little smile. Then I decided 'what-the-hell' and downed the whisky.

"One more, please," I asked as I handed him the glass.

I casually glanced around the room, looking for the camera that was filming our so-called date, while Matt poured me another three fingers.

"Out of sight. Out of mind," he chuckled.

I didn't think I was being that obvious, and I could feel the heat in my cheeks as he handed me the tumbler with a brilliant smile, his white teeth shining beautifully against the dark skin of his face.

The whisky was so good I wanted to sip it, the way it should be enjoyed, but I was still pretty nervous and downed it. Then I took a deep breath with a long exhaling whistle...

"So? What would you like to do first?" I asked with my next breath, thinking the sooner we got down to business, the sooner I could take the walk of shame back to my car and go home to my husband.

"Oh, there's no rush," he replied. "Would you like another drink, Tina?" Matt asked with an inquisitive tilt of his head.

"What, you tryin' to get me drunk?" I replied with a coy smile.

Then I saw his eyes focus on my wedding ring, and an enormous pang of guilt swept through me.

"Well, you don't need to get me drunk. And don't worry. You're gonna get lucky. Because there's no way I'm letting my friends and coworkers down," I declared with a stern face, hoping to make him feel as guilty as I felt.

"I don't know about you, but I am starving. So, let's go get something to eat at the hotel's restaurant," Matt said, seemingly unphased by my declaration as he held out his hand.

Fuck! All I wanted was to get this over with, and he wanted to wine and dine me. But then, I didn't want to upset him and blow the deal. So I held my tongue and nodded as I nervously took his hand.

He confidently interlocked our fingers. Then led me out of the room and back to the elevator.

~~~

It was a very fancy restaurant, and I felt terribly underdressed as the maître d' escorted us to a secluded table in the back. Then he handed us menus with no prices on them, and Mr. Downs dismissed him with a wink and a nod.

"I recommend the chef's selections. You'll find the best meals there," Matt offered.

"Ok," I replied, then went to that page of the menu.

I was looking through the selections when the maître returned with a bottle of wine. It was very old, and he all but ruined a linen napkin, cleaning the dust off it. Then he showed Mr. Downs the label, and Matt nodded his approval. The maître said the owner would be here to open it for us very soon, sat the bottle on the table, and excused himself.

"Why the owner? Why couldn't he just pop the cork?" I asked.

A smile began to bloom on his face. I've seen smiles light up people's faces many times, but this was a first as his smile slowly grew over his entire persona. And, oh my God, did it turn me the fuck on.

"The price alone is why. You see, if someone were to turn the corkscrew one turn too much, the wine would be ruined. So, that's why the owner insists on opening bottles of this value," Matt explained without making me feel stupid for asking.

I knew I shouldn't, but I was about to ask how much it cost when the owner made a timely appearance and introduced himself.

I'd seen the ballet of opening a fine wine before. You know, the sniff of the cork, the sampling, the final approval. Matt did it all so casually yet with class, and I found myself very impressed. Then, the owner poured us about half a glass each, and I took a sip. The wine was simply delicious!

"The chef will be here shortly to personally take your orders. Enjoy your meal," the owner said with true appreciation, then excused himself.

I knew it was because Mr. Downs was a valued customer. Yet, I felt a bit giddy that the chef was personally coming to take our orders and turned my attention back to the menu. The entrees all sounded so good that, for a moment, I was tempted to ask the chef for a sample of all his dishes. But then, I came back down to earth and settled on the Cajun Shrimp Stew.

It seemed the moment I closed the menu, the chef arrived and asked if we had made our selections and if we might have any special requests.

I stuck with the Cajun Shrimp Stew, and Matt ordered the lobster with filet mignon, surf and turf. Then, the chef cordially thanked us for our patronage and excused himself.

Matt watched him walk away, then turned his attention to me. "Um... would you please undo one or two buttons on your blouse?" He asked with disarming charm.

My eyes rounded out in surprise. But then, the reality of why I was there sank back in. The reality; that I am just a whore for my employer, and I am to sleep with... No, strike that. I am to let a man other than my husband fuck me, then get him to sign a contract for my boss. And the catch twenty-two was, I'd still have to fuck him whether he signed the damned contract or not.

Now, can anyone explain to me just why the fuck this whole situation was turning me on more than anything else I had ever done in my life?

Still, I didn't want to let Matt know just how hot the idea of fucking around behind my husband's back was making me as I tried to wrap my head around why I wanted to please him so much. But I couldn't deny the wetness dripping from my pussy as I eagerly unfastened the top three buttons of my blouse with a brilliant smile.

"Is that better?" I asked coyly as I puffed out my chest, ecstatic that he wanted to see the top of my tits.

"Much better," He replied.

I wanted to head upstairs and get this over with. But as we sat there and talked, I had to admit I was having a good time. Matt struck me as a very worldly, intelligent man and was good at setting me at ease. And other than asking me to unbutton my blouse, he never mentioned why I was there.

After we finished our salads and French onion soup, the appetizers I didn't know we ordered showed up. The shrimp cocktail bowl was adorned with the biggest, firmest, tastiest shrimp I'd ever eaten in my life. Not to mention those wonderful deep-fried mushrooms that tickled my throat with their perfect spiciness.

I was of the opinion that if we just ordered some more mushrooms, I would be good. But then, the shrimp stew was served, and my taste buds danced with joy! I didn't eat all my stew to save room for the best cheesecake in the world, according to Matt. Then, a seemingly innocent thought rocked me with a shock wave of guilt.

Just for a moment, I'd considered taking the rest of that amazing stew home in a doggy bag for my husband, but I knew better. Bryan was a good cook in his own right, and he would have never believed the stew came from any of the local restaurants we ordered delivery from at the office.

But by then, I was committed to following through. So I focused on the task at hand, and it didn't take long for my rush of guilt to fade as I ate the sinfully good cheesecake and got lost in Matt's deep, soulful eyes.

After our meal, we talked about everything and nothing as we polished off that amazing bottle of wine. I caught a glimpse of the bill when Mr. Downs signed it. That's when I realized that unless I hit the lotto, which I never played, this would be the first and last time I had a five-course meal prepared by a world-class chef in a three-star Michelin restaurant.

I think Matt understood I was in a bit of culture shock as he stood and offered his hand with a warm smile that said, it's okay. You're safe here with me.

Yes, he was older than me. Yes, he was black. And yes, I was married. But all I wanted to do was please him, and I took his hand without a second thought.

As we made our way to the lounge, I doubted that any of my friends frequented this hotel. But then, I was sure if someone I knew saw how I was holding his hand and leaning against him, they would have assumed we were long-lost lovers.

As we sat at the bar chatting, I figured Matt wanted to give our dinner a little time to settle before he took me back to his room. Then my guilt cleared its throat and tapped me on the shoulder, and I suddenly wanted to get home to my husband. So, to move things along, I kept steering the topic of conversation more toward sex.

But, the truth was, the longer we talked, the more excited I got thinking about this handsome dark-skinned man taking me. Thinking about how my light skin would look against his dark skin. Thinking about how wonderful it would feel as our bodies became one. Then I realized we were just looking into each other's eyes, not saying a word, when Matt reached out and took my hand with a knowing smile.

By this point, my body had completely betrayed me, and I didn't even pretend that I wasn't going to his room to get fucked as he led me to the elevator.

As soon as the elevator door closed, Matt spun me around and laid his lips over mine as he pressed me against the wall with his body. The way he explored my mouth with his tongue was like nothing I'd ever experienced, and without even thinking about it, I wrapped my leg around his as our passionate kiss intensified.

I was beginning to understand why Carol said she didn't regret it as Matt kneaded my breasts with his large, strong hands, and I certainly understood why she felt guilty about kissing him. Then it struck me that I wasn't sure I would or could stop kissing him; even if Bryan was standing right there telling me to.

My nipples were like large diamonds sticking through my blouse, and the back of my skirt was soaking wet when the elevator door opened. Then Matt broke our kiss, and Just for a moment, I thought about how badly I wanted to ride that elevator down and go home when I got here. But as he led me off the elevator, the only thing I wanted was to be ravished by this virile, sexy hunk of man.

He wasn't overly eager or rushed. Yet, Matt moved with confidence and purpose. That only made me want him more, and I felt like a giddy college student having a secret rendezvous with her hot, experienced professor as he led me to his room.

He held the door like a gentleman. But, the moment the door closed, his big, strong hands grabbed my hips from behind and pulled me back against his body. Matt held me firmly but not forcefully until he felt my body give him the lead. I was more than ready to give him complete control as he slowly slid his hands up my sides and began to grope my tits.

My body, however, was not content to simply stand there, and I began to roll my hips and grind my ass into his crotch. Then I reached behind my head and swept my hair aside to expose the back of my neck. Matt was beyond intuitive and began laying soft, wet kisses all over my neck as he slowly unbuttoned my blouse and unzipped my skirt.