Margie was talking to a guy from IT when Mrs. Gleaves approached. The boss's wife was elegant and stunning in a full length black sheathe that indicated almost no breast and no rear. Though her short cocktail dress was not quite so elegant, Margie felt she more than made up for it in tits and ass. Mrs. Gleaves spoke to the two of them, but turned to Margie, effectively dismissing the IT guy.
"Are you enjoying the party?" she asked. Her brunette hair was medium length but salon perfect.
Marge smiled, "Of course. Your husband always puts on a great Christmas party."
"Sam does love Christmas. Is your husband here?" she asked with raised eyebrows.
"Yes. He didn't want to come. Said he feels like an outsider but he is right over there, talking to Claire from accounting."
"The tall hunk with the blond bimbo?"
Margie laughed, "I don't know her well enough to say she's a bimbo but Frank is evidently interested."
"Oh, she's a bimbo, alright. Sam has screwed her a couple of times."
"Mr. Gleaves?"
"Yes, my philandering husband." She shrugged. "But she's not the only one. He hires girls he thinks he can screw, and most of them, he does"
"Why haven't you divorced him?"
"Oh, I don't know. He still provides for me, very nicely, thank you. And when he's in my bed, he's a good lover. And I don't feel bad about my occasional dalliance." She took a sip of her wine. "Has he done you yet?"
"What? You mean sex? No. I'm happily married."
"Happily? How long have you been married?"
"Five years, almost six."
"Are you still lovers?"
Margie stared at her, wondering where this was going. "Yes. We make love almost every night."
"And does he satisfy you?"
"What?"
"Do always have an orgasm?"
Now Margie was being defensive. "Yes, sometimes two or three. Why are you asking?"
Mrs. Gleaves smiled, "Because lately Sam has been obsessed with your bottom."
"My bottom?"
"Yes, he thinks you have a beautiful ass."
Margie considered herself overweight with big boobs and a big rear. But Frank seemed to like her that way so she wasn't worried.
"My bottom?"
"Yes, and he loves your tits. He would like to push them together and wrap them around his cock."
"He told you this?"
"Oh, yes. When he mentioned it, I asked him if he wanted me to get bigger tits, but he said 'no.' Now I take great pleasure in winding him up. If I want to get him excited, I just ask what you were wearing and he starts telling me about your tits and ass. And when he's screwing me, I ask if he's thinking about what it would be like to screw you. That's really all it takes to put him over the edge."
Margie shook her head, her blond curls bobbing, "I'm glad it works for you. But I've got Frank."
Mrs. Gleaves turned and looked at Frank, appraising him, smiled, "Broad shoulders and narrow hips; and he brings you off two or three times?"
"Yes. I'm quite happy, thank you."
She placed her hand on Margie's arm, "Perhaps after the holidays, you and Frank can come for dinner."
"That would be nice."
"And I can get to watch Sam screw you."
"What? Frank would never allow that."
"Not even if he was screwing me?" She leaned in close and kissed Margie's cheek. "Merry Christmas," and she walked away.
On the ride home, Margie snuggled against Frank. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
Frank was non-commital, "Oh, you know. It wasn't too bad."
"You enjoyed talking to Claire?"
"Who?" but she could tell he knew who she was referring to.
"The braless blond in the red dress that was low cut in front. Could you get a peek at her tits?"
"Oh, her. Yeah, she was nice. But I didn't notice, was she braless?" Of course he noticed.
"Yes, and I don't think she wore panties."
He laughed, "Now you tell me."
"And you met Mrs. Gleaves?"
"Sandra? Yes, she was very nice, a little touchy feely for me."
"I can imagine. She wants to invite us over for dinner sometime after New Years. She wants to get to know you better."
"Works for me."
She reached down and rubbed the front of his slacks. "And she wants to watch Sam screw me."
Frank slammed on the brakes and swerved to the side of the road. He looked over at her, his jaw down. "You've been screwing the boss?"
She smiled, "No, I have not. He's made a few lewd suggestions but I've ignored them. Said I could get a raise and other perks. But I always brush him off."
Deep breath, "Okay, then."
"But Mrs. Gleaves wants you to screw her. She said I could watch."
"What the hell?"
"You don't think she's sexy?"
Frank was caught. He thought about it. "She's too elegant, too genteel. She's like 'The Queen.' And I'd rather make love to the Princess."
"I think that's her facade. I bet she's a hellcat in bed. Oh, and you're thinking about it, aren't you?"
He couldn't help that he was getting hard, "That's just because you're rubbing it."
She kissed him again. "Can I watch you fuck her?"
Frank wrapped his arms around her, "Never happen." He drove back on to the road and home.
*******
It was late January before Margie told him they had been invited to dinner at the boss's house. Margie told him it was dressy; he should wear a coat. But when he put on a paisley cravat with his button down blue shirt, she frowned, "Not that dressy."
She wore a full length black skirt that hugged her bottom and Frank wondered if she was wearing any kind of panty. Her gray sweater had a scoop neck that showed off her cleavage and she had her hair done up making her neck seem even longer.
Frank smiled, "I like your hair that way." And in a false accent, "It makes me vant to bite your neck."
She laughed, "Later, Dracula. Right now we're going to dinner."
As he helped her into the car, he realized the skirt was slit all the way up to her hip. When he got behind the wheel, he reached over and slipped his hand through the slit. She grabbed his hand and held it on her thigh.
"You know your boss is going to try to seduce you, don't you?"
"Well, if he tries, he'll be disappointed. " She squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. "I'd rather him want me than have me. If he's had all the girls Sandra says he has, I'll be the exception and a challenge."
Sam greeted them at the door wearing what Frank thought of as a smoking jacket. And a blue cravat. Sandra emerged behind him wearing a short clingy dress of shiny fabric that changed color as she moved. Her auburn hair fell to her shoulders and she smiled as she embraced Margie and then Frank, welcoming them.
In the living room, there were four glasses and a pitcher of martinis and as they were seated, Sandra poured. Sam lifted his glass and toasted, "To friendships."
Frank was thirsty and uncomfortable. He quickly downed his drink and Sandra refilled. They talked without really saying anything; weather, business.
A young lady in a maid's uniform came in announced that dinner was ready.
When they were seated, the maid served soup, then salad, then beef and potatoes. As they were finishing a sorbet, Margie turned to Sandra, "The meal has been wonderful. Did you prepare all this?"
Sandra shook her head, "Oh heavens no. Randolph from Cafe Francaise came in and prepared it all and Sally is serving. I do well to mix a drink from time to time."
They were sipping cognac when Sandra asked Frank to come help her in the kitchen. As soon as they were out of sight of the den, she turned and put her arms around Frank and kissed him His will power crumbled as she pressed her body against him. And his body betrayed him as he quickly grew hard. She could feel it and ground her pelvis against him.
He pushed her away. "We can't do this."
"Why not? You don't want to make love to the Queen?"
"What? Where did you hear that?"
"Margie and I had lunch. She said lots of good things about you. But she said you had never taken her from behind."
Frank shook his head, "Yes we have, We've done it dogie style."
"No, she said you've never screwed her ass."
Frank blinked, "Well, we tried it, but she said I was too big."
"I'm surprised. With a rear like that, I would think she would love it. I mean, as narrow as my ass is, I love it."
She pulled him into another kiss. She leaned back, "The next time you make love to her, think about me. Think about if I were there, you could turn me over and shove it in my ass." She pulled away and led him through the kitchen.
"I want to show you my new car." There was a small green convertible in the garage, its top down.
Frank frowned, "What is it?"
"It's a Volkswagen."
"Not like any I've ever seen."