A Gift for Simone

A Loving Wives piece from me. As ever with LW I'm looking forward to any comments the piece may garner. It's always an experience.

Simone wants Jake, but he's married.

Oops.

GA -- Benissa, Spain -- 24th August 2013.

One

"Look at her, the fat cow."

Alison paused with a cherry tomato halfway to her mouth. She blinked and lowered her fork, replying with: "Who? Which fat cow?"

Simone's chin jutted. "Her ... Over by the bar. Jake's wife."

After a quick yet appraising glance, Alison shrugged. "You're just jealous." She waved her fork in the air, the tomato still impaled on its tines. "That woman isn't fat ... she's bloody fit. The fact she's married to Jake gives you the arse."

Simone humphed and crossed her arms, her own salad abandoned. "You're supposed to be my friend."

Alison sighed and rolled her eyes when she saw the petulant pout. She kept quiet for a few seconds and chewed on the tomato, swallowing before she answered. "I am your friend. God knows why, you're such a mardy bitch, but it's because I'm your friend that I can be honest and tell you you're only pissed off with Jake's wife because she's got Jake."

Having said her piece Alison leaned forward in her seat and reached for her rum and coke. She sipped and then gestured at the scene around her with a wide sweep of her arm, a scene that encompassed a couple of hundred well-dressed -- smart but casual -- people enjoying a sumptuous buffet beneath the huge and pristine canopy of a very expensive marquee.

"It's the social event of the summer," added Alison. "Everyone from the company's here. There must be at least one, attractive,

single

man that you fancy. Why do you always have to go for the married ones?"

"All the single men are too young," a sullen-faced Simone responded. "The ones my age are usually dragging so much baggage around -- divorces, kids at the weekends..." She gave a vehement shake of her head. "No thank you. None of that crap for me. Besides it's the ones with the power that really get to me. And those men are always older."

Simone offered her friend a hungry, lupine grin, adding, "The ones with the power are always so confident in bed. I love an experienced man. Not to mention a man with a couple of kinks."

"And a couple of quid in the bank," quipped Alison. "You're attracted to the money, too. Wealthy men with houses and cars and money." Alison rolled her eyes again.

Simone chuckled and looked at her friend askance. She smirked and said, "Well, yeah, there is that, too. But Jake's more than that. I dunno, I look at him and get a sense that he'd be really,

really

dirty."

Simone shivered with the thrill of it and then paused, casting a quick glance at Jake. She saw him, casually debonair, standing in a group as he smiled at some anecdote imparted by the Financial Director of the company.

"You should see him in action, Ali." Simone continued. She mimed a swoon before fanning herself with her fingers. "He's so ... so dynamic in meetings. God, I love watching him work. His brain is so quick. He listens to all the advice and takes it all in. He just seems to be able to see right into the heart of a problem. Then he gives out the orders -- bang-bang-bang -- and all those other men, the pompous arseholes around him now, they scuttle off and do as he says. I swear, Ali, I don't know how I manage to keep from ripping his trousers off and climbing onto his cock right there in the boardroom."

"Simone..." Alison cautioned as she threw a nervous look around her. "Someone might hear you."

Simone responded with a sigh and shook her head. "I can't help it, Ali. That's how he makes me feel. I get all wild and reckless. I just can't help it. Jake turns me on so much I could scream."

Alison placed the fork onto her plate and pushed the food away. She moved closer to her friend, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "You've got to give this up, Simone." Her eyes beseeched her friend to listen to reason. "He's your boss. He's married. He isn't interested in you. Do yourself a favour and pick up some good-looking hunk and fuck his brains out. Forget about Jake Morris."

Simone brushed away her friend's good advice with an airy wave. "I've given him a lot of encouragement," she said, her expression wistful as she stared at Jake. "I couldn't make it any more obvious without dropping my knickers right in front of him."

Exasperated at Simone's single-mindedness, Alison responded with a sigh. "Why don't you just leave your knickers on his desk?" she muttered. She rose to her feet, resigned to the fact that Simone was obsessed. There was obviously nothing she could do to alter the woman's point-of-view. "I need another drink."

"My knickers on his desk?" Simone mused. "You know, I might just do that." She blinked and looked around, coming out of her brief reverie. Seeing Alison moving away, weaving through the throng towards the bar, Simone stood up and followed, a plan forming in her head.

Two

It was a huge risk.

Simone was in the grip of madness, a crazed desire. There was no stopping the beast. If it got Simone what she wanted, the risk was worth it.

Risk assessment is about quantifying likelihood against severity, the potential for the wheels to fall off the wagon against the outcome of them doing so. Simone had assessed the risk of this little operation. As the personal assistant to the Boss Man she knew his movements down to the last detail, and it was this knowledge of Jake's diary that gave her the wherewithal to assess the chances of being caught in his office, sitting in his chair no less, high heels up on his desk, skirt around her waist while she slotted two fingers into her cunt and finger-fucked herself to orgasm.

Of course there was always the possibility that Jake Morris might, on a whim or some quirk of fate, return to his office. The outcome, if he caught her rubbing her oily pussy, could be catastrophic. Another possibility, albeit unlikely, could be a director calling in on the off-chance Jake might be around. But since Simone made sure Jake's electronic diary was up-to-date she had assessed the likelihood as low.

Besides, the element of risk just made the whole thing just that bit more delicious. Simone's yearning knew no bounds, and whatever the outcome she was determined to gamble.

What was life without a little risk?

So there she was on the Wednesday morning, feet on Jake's desk, legs wide, delicate undies yanked askew, her pussy pouting.

"You should come in now, Jake," the woman mumbled as she chewed on her bottom lip and cast heavy-lidded looks towards the heavy door. "Come in and catch me rubbing my cunt."

Simone gasped, a forefinger bumping over her clitoris while the fantasy took shape.

"Would you stand there and watch me?" she breathed. Simone gasped, her thighs closing on her wrist when a finger slid into her opening. "Would you stand and watch me. Would your cock get all big and stiff?" She envisioned Jake standing at the door, surprise melting from his expression, replaced by a slow smile. "Come here, Jake," Simone mumbled.

She pictured him moving towards her, the bulge in his suit trousers obvious.

"Take it out and wank it. Let me touch you and suck you. Fuck my mouth..."

Simone's fingers curled around an imaginary penis as she turned her head to one side to take the big plum of the cock-head between her lips.

"Fuck," the woman grunted, two stiff fingers fucking into her opening. "Go on, Jake. Fuck my mouth. Use me. I'm yours. You can do anything you want to me ... Anything."

Unable to restrain herself, her mind filled with Jake's face, his smile, his eyes sparkling with pleasure at what he'd discovered, Simone fumbled at the buttons on her blouse and, after much cursing at their recalcitrance, managed to undo them all.

She hauled her breasts from the cups of her bra, fingertips sliding over the taut and elongated teats.

"Suck my tits," the woman gasped to the empty office. "Let me suck your big dick, Jake. Let me taste you before we fuck."

The heels of Simone's shoes skittered across the desk, scattering files and papers and knocking the computer keyboard to the floor while, mindless to the devastation, Simone simultaneously curled the two digits inside her opening and rubbed at her clit. She moaned and gasped and grunted, her buttocks squeaking against expensive leather as she sank lower in her boss's chair.

Simone pushed against the desk with her feet, sending the chair rolling backwards before, crazed by her own need to orgasm, she stood up and settled her buttocks onto the cool laminate of the desk top. With her heels now digging into the soft seat of the chair, her pussy sluicing, she rubbed her pussy and mauled her breasts.

Desire trickled through the crease of Simone's buttocks and pooled on the desk. "I'm going to come, Jake," she mewled. Her teeth clenched, cords in her throat stark as blades. "Oh, fuck ... I'm going to come. Please, please, Jake. Won't you fuck me? Won't you let me show you how good I am? I'd let you do anything to me ... You can have me any time you want, Jake. I'll suck you; you can fuck my arse; I'll be anyone you want me to be."

Simone came, her body juddering, her thighs shivering while her hips moved with short, jerky spasms, her buttocks sliding through her own outpouring of desire.

"Oh, God," Simone eventually gasped. "Fuck ... Look at the fucking mess. Oh fuck. Oh shit."

Breathless and appalled, Simone gaped at the carnage she had wrought.

Eventually, on trembling legs, unsteady after her devastating climax, Simone slid off the desk and stood. She recalled Alison's words and, although she knew her friend had only blurted the suggestion in her exasperation, never intending to be taken seriously, Simone yanked her underwear down her legs and wiped herself with the near insignificant scrap. She dabbed at the puddle on the desk, before sniffing her musk on the damp cloth. Then Simone draped her underwear across the computer monitor, confident that Jake Morris couldn't fail to see them when he sat at his desk.

Calmer by that point, Simone then rescued the keyboard from the floor and, after reinstating it to its place, tidied the mess of papers and rearranged the files. After a few more repairs she smoothed her skirt down over her hips, arranged her breasts in her bra and buttoned her blouse.

"There you go, Jake," Simone muttered with a smirk. "My wet knickers on your computer. I can't make it any plainer than that."

Ten minutes later, after mopping the puddle from Jake's desk properly, and with him not due back at his office for another hour, Simone hip-swayed out of the building.

It was a thrill going commando as she walked among the office drones and workmen. If only they knew!

The madness of her actions didn't sink in until Simone was at the collection counter in Starbucks. Suddenly, while awaiting her order, she began to doubt the wisdom of leaving her underwear -- sodden and redolent with her cunt -- on Jake's computer monitor.

Leaving the latte uncollected, with a brick of apprehension lying in her stomach, Simone, outwardly calm as ever, strolled through the foyer of company headquarters. She was ten minutes early returning from lunch, desperate to reach Jake's office and retrieve her underwear.

"You mad cow," she admonished herself, muttering under her breath. Simone winced at her stupidity -- how could she have even imagined Jake Morris would take her knickers draped over his computer monitor for what it was? There was no way a cool, sophisticated exec like him would take that bait.

Anxious yet hopeful Jake would still be minutes away from the building Simone rode the lift to the executive floor. The acceleration yawed at her guts, adding weight to the leaden mass already sitting there. She supressed a belch, praying Jake wouldn't be back and that it would be a simple matter of waltzing into his office, grabbing her nicks -- with maybe a quick scan around to ensure she'd left no clues behind -- before being ready behind her desk to greet him -- The crisp, indispensable PA, ready for her boss when he returned.

"Oh, shit," Simone gasped when she saw Jake Morris had beaten her to it. "Oh, fuck..."

Three

The rest of the day was agony, with the uncertainty of Jake Morris's reaction squeezing Simone's guts. Would he call her in to his office and dismiss her on the spot? Every time she pictured the scenario Simone closed her eyes and groaned with chagrin, her face burning with shame.

But, the woman reasoned, there was always a chance Simone could talk her way out of it. She could,

would,

she decided, if it came to it, simply offer it to him right in his office. After all she had it all going on. Simone knew men fancied her, hours in the gym and a strict diet kept her in shape. She knew for a copper-bottomed fact she was regarded as hot and sexy.

In the unisex bathroom she smirked at reflection in the mirror. "I've got the looks," Simone muttered. "I've got the boobs and the legs." She winked at the well-presented and, now she had a plan, confident woman grinning back at her. "I reckon, Simone, if Jake calls you in for a one-on-one chat you should just show him your wet pussy. Just lift up your skirt and let the dog see the rabbit. There aren't many men who'd turn down a slice of that hot little pie if they saw it."

But no sooner than she'd left the unisex Simone's confidence evaporated. Again her insides twisted, the blade of uncertainty cutting deep, slicing through her self-assurance.

And so it went, for the rest of the day, all through that afternoon. Jake called her into his office several times, and each time Simone's stomach lurched, a bubble of anxiety the size of a space-hopper ballooning in her chest.

But, to Simone's astonishment Jake was his usual self: brisk and efficient, yet friendly; the same as he'd always been. Not a flicker, no sign that he'd been moved by the lascivious offering.

Once, when the tension became almost unbearable, Simone had come close to yelling into Jake's handsome face, convinced the bastard was playing with her, keeping her dangling, tormenting her for some twisted pleasure of his own.

But wasn't that part of what drew her to Jake Morris in the first place? Hadn't she said as much to Alison at the company do? Didn't she want a man with a couple of kinks?

Maybe this was a quirk of Jake's? Perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing? He had to realise Simone wanted him, and now he was drawing out the tension for his own perverse pleasure. He probably enjoyed making her sweat.

"You fucking bastard," Simone breathed when her boss, apparently oblivious (although Simone would bet a month's salary that he was rock hard for her), dismissed her for the day.

"Thanks, Simone," Jake smiled. "I've got a few things to do. As usual," he added with a chuckle and a roll of his eyes. "You might as well get away a couple of minutes early."

Standing in front of Jake's desk, Simone tilted her head, expression filled with meaning. She threw out a hot-eyed challenge that Jake couldn't fail to miss, replying with, "I don't mind staying, Jake." Simone paused and added with a purr, "Not if there's something I could ... uhm ... help you with."

Jake cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Uh ... Well ... I'd hate to keep you late, Simone. You ... you could be meeting a friend for a drink. I'd hate to keep you from your social life."

Simone digested Jake's words and decided he was probing, sussing her out. Jake wanted to know if any move he made would come back to bite him on the arse. Would some hairy-arsed boyfriend cause him any embarrassment? After all, a man in Jake Morris's position didn't need any hint of scandal making things uncomfortable for him. No, it would be up to Simone to reassure him that the last thing she wanted was to cause any drama in Jake's well-ordered life. She was only after a bit of fun, some good, old-fashioned sex -- perviness would be a bonus. But, in the course of their affair, if Jake decided, of his own accord, to throw over the current Mrs Morris for the younger, hotter future Mrs Morris, well ... Simone was up for that, too.

"Oh, no worry there, Jake," Simone breathed. "There's no man waiting for me out there. I'm quite happy to stay behind and help you with anything you have in mind."

Jake Morris blinked and then stared at Simone with an intensity that sent a frisson of desire through her. "Uh ... Oh ... I see," he stammered. "But there's nothing, Simone. I can handle everything myself." He cleared his throat again and glanced away. "Thanks ... Uhm ... I won't be too long myself. I'm meeting my wife in an hour. Tickets to some show in the West End..."

He was meeting the fat cow? That was a surprise to Simone. Jake's home was in Shropshire -- what was his wife doing in London mid-week?

Still, at least that explained Jake's reticence; he could hardly sit through some play reeking of Simone's pussy.

But he could have made some overture, at least acknowledged Simone's little gift. It wouldn't have hurt to let her know he was interested.

"You fucking bastard," she repeated after closing Jake's office door behind her. She strode across the ante-office -- her domain as guardian of the inner sanctum. She sat at her desk, her mind a whirl of impressions.

Then it came to her as she packed up her belongings -- mobile phone, hairbrush and notebook. Jake had been surprised, shocked might be closer to the mark, by his discovery. He needed a little time to recover. There was also the issue of his wife. With the fat bitch in town Jake would be unlikely to make a move. That was why he mentioned her, it was obvious. His response wasn't rejection, merely a subtle hint from Jake that it wasn't quite the right time for them.

Okay, if Jake Morris wanted to play it cool, she could go along with that. Simone would play by his rules. For a while at least. Simone left the office confident that, when Jake next climbed aboard that whale of a wife, he would be thinking about her instead.

Jake's aloof manner continued for the rest of the week. During the time Jake spent in Simone's company he gave away nothing. He went about business as usual.

For Simone it was almost unbearable. Her moods swung wildly. One moment she would be riding high, confident that Jake Morris wanted her and was just playing a game. He wanted her hot and bothered and confused -- so much better when, eventually, they got together. At other times she was wracked with doubt. Jake didn't want her. He'd found her underwear and was too embarrassed to broach the subject, preferring instead to ignore the whole thing.

During the times of doubt Simone would rail internally, her mortification and frustration almost too much to bear.

"He's worried about his reputation," Simone murmured as she sat behind her desk. She'd taken to talking to herself, mumbling through her anxieties or voicing her lewd fantasies dependent upon which level of the rollercoaster she was on at the time. "The fat bitch would probably wipe him out if she caught him in an affair. That's all it is ... He does want me. I'm sure he does ... But he's too worried about her to do anything."

And then, late on Friday afternoon, with the hideous prospect of a weekend in the vacuum of internal wrangling looming, the first email arrived.

Four

5 July. 16:10 From: <

TheMainMan@savernet.com

>

To: <

simone.adams@fiscal.net

>

Subject: Gift

Simone.

I think you know who this is.

I have a question for you.

Did you leave me a little gift on Wednesday? Something delicate?

If so, please respond to this email at your convenience. I would like to discuss this matter further and in greater detail, but not by the usual means available to us. Please, if you would, subscribe to a

savernet.com

email address. That way we can maintain the absolute discretion such a sensitive issue demands.