Do You Like My Smile Her Story

This story is based upon

Do You LIke My Smile

published by The Style Guy in 2019. I felt the original could use the wife's point of view, so I contacted The Style Guy. With his kind permission, I wrote this alternate version.

There is some sex, but the focus in on the evolution and consequences of an affair by a woman truly in love with her husband, but sadly in denial of the potential consequences from what she considered only a little fling.

This is my first submission to Literotica. I'm a literary virgin on this site and you are my first readers. Be gentle. I'd like my first time to be a good memory.

Copyright 2020

Do You Like My Smile

- Her Story -

Steve Miller looked over the resume of the new assistant HR assigned him. She was married... perfect. Married was his jam. It's on them, isn't it? It's their choice in the end. He provides opportunity. They make the choice. That doesn't make him a bad guy, does it?

Then again, nobody thinks they're the bad guy, do they?

As she arranged her new desk, he walked out to greet her.

Let the games begin.

"Morning Gorgeous" He moved closer. "I love your perfume." The moment of truth. Would she find his attention rude, or charming?

She smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Miller."

Nice. No harassment case this time.

"Call me Steve."

***

Joy Harrington loved her husband. Not that he was perfect. Who is? He snored, especially after a few drinks. They disagreed sometimes. And he left cupboard doors open,

the monster.

She chuckled. He wasn't rich or famous or any of those material things some women lust after. But, all the same, lust after him she did. She lusted after the kind, caring father of their three nearly grown children, the man who held her when she cried, the man who did his best, day in and day out, for the past twenty-seven years. He tried hard, and she knew it, to make her life and the life of their kids the best he possibly could.

Quick to smile, slow to anger. A friend in need. Chris was one of the good guys, a husband other women wanted, the soul mate some never found. He was a keeper, in every sense of the word. And she knew it. Yet, when Steve flirted, she flirted back. Why?

Her boss. That alone should raise a big, giant, red flag. He was single, she was married. Another, even bigger red flag, frantically waving, warning of danger ahead.

Red is such a pretty color, hot, exciting.

Tall, fit, dark-complected with steel-gray eyes, Steve was a hunk. Those eyes, always twinkling with mischief. Fun followed him around. He made work a pleasure with an easy air, confident smile and flirty remarks. Subtle, he was not. He never missed a chance to compliment her dress, her hair, her eyes. Weeks, months passed. When would she shoot him down, stop him cold, reject his attention? That never happened. The opposite in fact. She came to expect and look forward to his witty innuendo, double entendres and suggestive comments, the inappropriate touches, accidental of course. She laughed with and at him, enjoying the banter, toying with him and his continued failure to lure her away from her amazing husband.

She received flowers at work. She told co-workers she had the best husband ever. True. But her husband didn't send the flowers. Then came candy. She rewarded Steve with secret winks and smiles.

Then came lingerie.

Maybe it's time to stop this silliness

. Holding the high quality, lacy pink bra and panties, she decided,

maybe not just yet.

He shouldn't stand close enough to smell the zephyr thin trace of perfume she wore at work. But he did. Her heart fluttered when he moved behind her, touched her arm and whispered in her ear, "well done," as he returned the file. She looked up over her left shoulder. He smiled down. She smiled up. "Can we discuss this over lunch?" he asked, handsome, powerful, his hand lingering, softly caressing her arm. She thought about the compliments, the silly, naughty banter, the lingerie.

"I'd like that," she heard herself answer. And she did.

Many lunches later, after two glasses of wine and her bare foot caressing his leg under the table, she stared into his face and bluntly asked, "Why me?"

"What do you mean?" he replied, blinking his eyes and shrugging.

"Don't play innocent. We both know better. Why me? There are young single girls that would swoon all over you. I'm forty-four years old and I'm happily married. Very happily."

His smile grew. "Exactly."

"Huh?"

He took a swig of wine and answered. "Years ago, many years ago, I was engaged. It didn't take. She caught me making out with one of the bridesmaids. Quite a mess, that was."

"I can imagine," Joy agreed, shaking her head in dismay.

"My friends told me to shake it off. Get back out there, they said, dive back into the pool."

Joy remained silent, assuming, correctly, the story was not over. "So I dove back in. After a while," he looked at her with that damn devilish grin, "I learned I really liked swimming."

He lifted his glass but paused before he took a drink. Using those penetrating steel-gray eyes, he peered over the rim of the glass. "I'm not the husband type. I don't want commitment, kids and soccer games. I'm not that guy." He took a sip and set his glass down. "Your husband is that guy."

He let the words soak in. "I admire him. I'm happy for him, and for you, for the life you have together. But me, I'm the guy your mother warned you about." He grinned again. "Single women, whatever they say, in the back of their mind they wonder, could he be the one?" He laughed. "I promise you, I'm not. I don't do complicated. That's not me. I look for women who absolutely don't want commitment, who already have the one they want. My ideal woman, like you, is happily married."

He reached across the table, held her left hand and casually rubbed her ring. Looking back to her face he continued. "I look for a woman who wants, deserves, a bit of discreet fun, nothing public or embarrassing that could ever hurt her marriage in any way.

"You're a good wife, a caring mom, and have been for years. You've earned a bit of fun, don't you think? You deserve it. You know you do." He flashed that devilish grin again. "I have to tell you, after so many years in the pool, I've become a very good swimmer." He took the final swig of his wine, tilted his head and looked her in the eyes. "Tell me Mrs. Harrington. Do you like to swim?"

Joy squirmed in her seat. A shiver went down her back, causing a momentary tingle. She shook it off and giggled. "We are just talking about swimming, aren't we, Mr. Miller, not something wildly inappropriate like an office romance?" She gave a conspiratorial grin.

"Of course,

Mrs.

Harrington. Of course."

"Then, yes," she answered. "I love to swim."

Sensing a crack in her defense, he pressed for more. "Speaking of swimming, actually swimming, I have a great pool at my house. Can I show it to you sometime."

Her eyes looked away. She brought a finger to her mouth and chewed a nail, realized she was doing it and jerked the hand down. Finally she looked at her boss. "Maybe," she answered.

"Promise?" he asked, treating her answer as definitive.

"I don't make promises I don't keep," she answered, smiled, then chugged the last of her wine, firmly setting the glass back on the table. The irony of that statement, from a woman who promised in front of God and family to forsake all others, was lost on them both.

She stood to leave. He stood with her, walked around the table and lifted her hand in his. He intertwined their fingers. "You know you're special to me," he whispered.

"I know," she whispered back. She frowned. "Steve, I really am happily married. I love Chris."

He leaned close and whispered in her ear. "Of course you do. He's a good man. I would never do anything to hurt either of you."

Irony once again lost, hidden in a fog of emotion, desire. No thought from either that even undiscovered betrayal erodes respect, weakens bonds, hurts the marriage, the kids. Especially the kids.

Betrayal cuts deep. Apologies scab the wound. Time heals. But scars forever stay.

"Thank you, Steve. Knowing that you respect Chris, that you won't hurt him or me, well, that makes this... easier."

Works every time,

he thought.

What am I doing,

she thought.

***

Joy and Steve remained professional at work, at least when anyone else was around. She liked that, insisted on it. No hint of impropriety. Co-workers saw two professionals doing their job, nothing more. Not that the two of them didn't take time, when alone in his office, the door closed, to affirm their attraction.

The first time they kissed, her emotions ran wild. Her body tensed until muscles hurt. Her knees buckled. Emotions raced like untended children in the park. Thoughts jumped about like stones skipping across a pond. Guilt, arousal, excitement, doubt. In the end, arousal won the battle.

The evening after her first real kiss with Steve, she showered Chris with affection, reminding him of her love, that she was his and his alone. In her mind, she meant it.

The most dangerous deceit is self. Truth, wherefore art thou?

Time and lack of repercussions made the next kiss easier, more fun, less anxious. It lasted longer, the passion greater. Chris, loving, trusting husband, never knew, never suspected. Her guilt made her especially affectionate at home, to prove her love. Chris, unaware, never doubted it. Who then, was she really trying to convince?

She rationalized that her marriage was better than ever. The guilt driven affection she lavished on Chris made him happy.

A few stolen kisses with Steve and then I make sure Chris gets special treatment. Win, win.

Justification, rationalization, call it what you will. It made perfect sense... in her mind. No harm, no foul, nothing to see here. After all, she still loved Chris with all her heart, didn't she?.

Yes. That part was true.

She had no love for Steve. He was a jerk and a part of her knew it. A delightfully fun jerk. He was a taste of excitement, a secret thrill, a reward for years of being a good mom, a loving wife. She deserved a little dessert in life. At least, that's what Steve kept telling her. A kiss and a grope now and then, well, a lot of kisses and groping, where's the harm. All was well. Until...

"I heard you tell Susan that Chris will be out of town next week. Three days, is it?"

This was it. She knew what came next. "Yeah," she answered. "Tuesday through Thursday. He gets back Friday,"

"Well, Mrs. Harrington, Care to go for a swim?"

Still with the metaphor,

she thought.

Oh well, it does sound better than 'want to have wild monkey sex while your husband is out of town'.

"Umm..."

"You promised."

"Did I?"

He laughed. "Let me try to remember the words. Something like, 'I don't make promises I don't keep'. That was it, wasn't it?"

She knew full well what she had said. That conversation lay burned inside her brain, branded onto the memory circuits. Time to pay the piper, or reap the rewards, depending on one's point of view.

He interrupted her thoughts. "I have it on good authority that your boss needs to visit a client Tuesday afternoon, so he's giving his assistant a half day off." He laughed again.

"Tuesday afternoon?" she asked softly.

He leaned down, replying even more softly. "You'll be home in time for dinner. Normal day, normal time getting home. Your neighbors will see the same as what they always see."

"We don't know our neighbors."

"Even better. So, Tuesday afternoon, my place." He looked at her expectantly. She looked away, emotions jumbled, anticipation, arousal, fear, anxiety. Anticipation won.

She looked back. He knew that look. He smiled. "Tuesday," she whispered.

***

Chris woke with a start. He glanced down, surprised to see his cock, or rather not to see his cock, since it was buried inside his wife's mouth. This never happened. "Joy..." was the only word he squeaked out.

She slowly drug her mouth off his penis, letting it pop out with a slurp sound, looked up at his grinning face and, as sensually as she was able, explained. "Wanted to send my man off with something to remember." She started to put him back in her mouth, then looked up again, "And to look forward to when he gets home."

"It's only three days," he exclaimed.

"Want me to stop?"

Now wide awake, he chuckled and replied, "Hell no."

She gave Chris another send off at the airport, albeit only a kiss, a long, lingering kiss, and told him, "Come home Thursday night if you can. I'm lonely when you're gone."

"I'll be home as soon as I can. I'll miss you too, sweetheart." He entered the security line, presented his ID and ticket, waited to get cleared, then hustled forward.

After leaving him at security, she walked away but stopped a moment at the door to make sure he continued forward. Seeing him halfway down the line gave her confidence.

Yep, he's definitely getting on that plane.

She looked up at the information screen and saw his fight was, 'On Time'. Everything was working out perfectly.

She took her eyes down from the screen, anticipation bringing a smile to her face. Then she noticed Chris looking back at her from the line. He smiled at her and waved. She waved back.

What a wonderful wife I have

he thought.

Just a few more hours 'till I'm with Steve,

she thought.

***

With trembling hands, Joy directed her car into the driveway. She knew Steve lived in a nice neighborhood, but wow. This house was fantastic. The electronic gate was open when she drove in, but closed behind her.

He must be watching

, she thought. The gate closing comforted her. No uninvited guests could surprise them.

Steve stood in the open front door, smiling. As she drove into the rounded entry area, he pointed to the open garage door. She smiled understanding and pulled in beside Steve's Porsche. Steve walked into the garage behind her and approached her car after she stopped. He helped her out and offered glibly, "Welcome Mi Lady". He walked with her to the door into the house and pushed the button to close the garage door. As it growled closed, he pulled her into his arms to welcome her more warmly, sensually. The noise from the garage door ended long before their kiss.

"You sure know how to say hi," she stated, breathless.

"Let me show you the house," he offered.

"I'd love that. It's beautiful from the outside. I had no idea you lived in a mansion."

"No wife, no kids," he joked.

Joy tried to listen to what he said as they wandered about, but her anxiety was simply too high. Sensing, and seeing her nerves, Steve led her over to the bar and made her a Mojito. She gulped rather than sipped. A few minutes later, he made her another one. The second one she sipped, and let him play guide again.

He ended the tour without showing her his bedroom. "For later," he suggested. "We have lots of time, if not today, then next time." She had not committed to a next time, but he seemed to think of it as a given, and surprisingly, she found herself feeling the same way.

"Let's relax by the pool. We are here to swim, right?" he quipped.

"Of course," she quipped back. He showed her a changing room in the guesthouse beside the pool. She returned, wearing a nice bikini, and met him wearing his own trunks. The effects of the Mojitos were hitting her. Anticipation rose, anxiety fell.

Steve held a remote in his hand and soft music began playing from outside speakers. She had told him her favorite music during one of their many lunch dates. And of course, that was the music she heard.

Nice,

she thought.

He really knows how to heap on the charm.

"Sun, or water?" he asked, standing beside sun loungers near the pool.

"Let's sun a bit," she suggested, hoping to get even more comfortable before, well, before.

"Sure," he answered. "Do you need a refill?"

"Not yet," she replied, then laughed. "It's kind of a major afternoon in my life. I'd like to remember at least some of it." Steve laughed with her and for a while, they both relaxed into the comfortable loungers, enjoying the heat on their skin, the soft music in the background.

Steve reached over to take her hand as they lay beside each other. "This doesn't have to be a big deal. Just a bit of fun. No expectations, no commitments. Well, none from you. I do have a promise to make, though." He paused for dramatic affect.

"What promise?" she asked, taking the bait.

He casually tossed out, "I promise you the best sexual experience of your life. Excuse, me. I need to freshen my drink." He stood and walked to the outside bar, leaving her staring, mouth agape.

"Pretty sure of ourselves, aren't we?" she called after him, once she recovered.

He poured his drink and walked back over. "As a matter of fact, I am. Remember, I told you I've become a really good, uh, swimmer." Standing over her, he asked, "Wouldn't want you to get a sunburn." He reached for her hand. "Would you like to see the bedroom now?"

Without a word, she took his hand, rose and followed him to a massive master suite. Her first impression came from the high, sculptured ceiling. Equally impressive were the floor to ceiling windows framing the view to the wooded hills behind the estate. And then there was the oversize four post bed, with,

oh my God

, a mirrored wall behind it and a mirrored ceiling over it.

Jesus,

she thought.

This is a sex playground

.

"You like?" he asked, not expecting an answer. Instead, he pulled her into the room and began to undress her, slowly at first, interspersing little kisses and nibbles as each article of clothing came off.

She felt her heart beating so hard, she wondered if he could hear it,. She knew her skin had to be flush. This was the moment, the 'bit of fun' she had been craving since the seduction began months ago. She closed her eyes and savored each touch, each nibble, each lick on her nipples, her stomach, and then her clit. "Umm," she whispered as the sensations mounted.

Steve rose and held her naked body against his still clothed one. "Is it exciting to be with someone new?" She mumbled agreement, eyes still closed, savoring the moment. He maneuvered her to the bed and lay her down gently, then quickly took his clothes off and joined her.

For the next two hours Steve fucked her every way she had ever been fucked, and two or three ways she hadn't. During a break, when he went to the restroom, she looked into the mirror above her and saw her body glistening with sweat, satiated, drowning in pleasure. Her mind wandered.

He has to be taking some kind of pills.

She smiled and closed her eyes.

A moment later Steve slid into bed beside her. "Did I live up to my promise?" he whispered into her ear, before blowing gently into it.

She squirmed and dreamily answered. "Don't act modest. You rocked my world and you know it."

"In case I haven't, I have a special surprise to seal the deal."

"What are you talking about? She rose onto her elbow to look him in the eyes. "What do you mean special surprise?"

By way of answer, he rolled off the bed, walked to a nearby closet and removed a large saddle shaped object, dragging it into the room beside the bed. "Say hello to my little friend," he joked, quoting the famous Al Pacino line from Scarface.

Joy looked at the object, saw the phallic shaped rod in the middle of the saddle and almost shouted, "Oh My God. Is that... is that thing, do you expect me to sit... what the hell is that thing?"

He laughed. "It's called a Sybian. And yes, You sit on it. There's a controller to adjust the vibration levels and..."