Fiona looked at herself in the floor length mirror. She lightly ran her fingers through her long wavy dark hair, parted down the middle, brushing it onto her tanned bare shoulders. She looked at her make-up, pursing her lips to make sure there wasn't too much red lipstick, and then checking the light black eyeliner and blue eye shadow that complimented her deep blue eyes. She leaned back and ran her hands over the tight black dress that hugged her fit but curvaceous figure. Thin straps went over her bare shoulders, invisible with her hair draped over her shoulders. The neckline was cut down possibly too low, revealing her ample cleavage but she smiled and pushed her breasts together, amplifying the effect. The dress hugged her hips and butt tightly then stopped short at mid-thigh revealing her long toned legs, clad in stockings. The dress was tight enough to see the garter belt beneath the dress, clipped to her stockings. The black heels were toeless with straps around her ankles and taller than she was used to wearing.
She took a few steps back and forth in front of the mirror, looking at how her hips swayed and how the bottom of the dress threatened to rise up with each step. She smiled to herself thinking about how her husband and their dinner guest would think when they saw her. She had rushed home after her day of work to start dinner and get ready. Her husband Philip was bringing the Dean of the Faculty, Tim McLaughlin, to their house to influence him in making a decision in Philip's favor for tenure at the university where he taught and did research. She figured showing off a bit would definitely help her husband since she'd seen the Dean checking her out before.
She was used to men checking her out. At 32 she still looked like she was in her twenties and her body was even more athletic and firm than it had been at any point in her life as she kept better care of herself. At her own work men flirted with her but she always kept it professional. Philip's colleagues also flirted with her but with them she flirted back thinking it wouldn't hurt and hoping it would help him at his job. Dean McLaughlin had flirted with her on many occasions, blatantly and in front of her husband and his own wife.
She hadn't minded the attention. The Dean was a good looking man. He was older but still in shape. His hair was turning gray and he didn't try to cover it up which she liked. The gray made him look distinguished. He had played football in his younger years and looked like he still hit the gym. She'd touched his arm once at a party flirting with him and felt a rock hard bicep beneath his suit jacket sleeve. He had light blue eyes that never left her when they talked. He didn't ogle her like some of Philip's colleagues and would actually have discussions with her.
Her husband on the other hand, while she loved him, had allowed the stress of his job to get to him. He looked older than his age, had a paunchy stomach, thinning hair, and watery eyes behind thick glasses. He worked long hours on his teaching and research. He was brilliant, so much that she couldn't understand much of what he did at the university, but he was also more concerned with his research than his marriage at times. She still loved him though. He needed her if nothing else.
She heard a timer go off in the kitchen and with a last look in the mirror left the bedroom, striding confidently on her high-heeled shoes. Her husband had called her at work that day to tell her they were having Dean McLaughlin over for dinner and ask if she could start dinner for them. She agreed happily. She knew this was a big deal. If they could get the Dean on their side then Phil would be a shoo-in for tenure. Then perhaps he could take it a bit more easy at work and they could take a vacation together, spend more time together, and get their marriage back on track.
On the way home she'd picked up the ingredients for chicken parmesan with pasta, Italian bread, and a salad. She could make that easily for three people. The chicken was breaded and cooking in the oven. Water was boiling on the stove, waiting for the pasta to be added. She checked the chicken and it was cooked through so she turned the oven down and left it in to keep warm until they finally showed up.
She didn't have to wait long when she heard the front door open as she was buttering the bread, readying it for the oven.
"Honey, we're home," Philip yelled.
"I'm in the kitchen," she yelled back.
She heard the front door close and heard the two men talking as they came into the house. She heard them go into the living room which adjoined the kitchen. The kitchen opened into the living room with only the counters separating the two rooms. The counters formed an L-shape with the long part between the living room and kitchen. The stove, refrigerator, and sink were against the wall of the kitchen so she had her back to the living room as she worked at the stove.
She looked over her shoulder into the living room between the counters and cupboards and saw the two of them talking.
"Take a seat you two," she said. "Dinner's almost ready. I'll bring you a couple of drinks."
"Take a seat Tim," Phil said. "I'll get the drinks. Bourbon on the rocks right?"
"That works," Tim said.
Fiona smiled to herself to hear Phil calling the Dean by his first name. That means things were already going well.
She finished buttering the bread, wrapped it up in foil, and turned as Phil entered the kitchen. He stopped short when he looked at her.
"Wow, honey," he said softly, then looked sheepishly to the living room to see if Tim had heard him.
She walked towards him slowly, letting him take her in, and put her arms around him so her face was just inches from his.
"You like?" she asked.
He just shook his head.
She smiled and kissed him lightly. He started to kiss her harder but she pulled back.
"Don't mess up my make-up," she chided him. "Besides you have a guest."
He squirmed against her and she could feel his cock already growing erect and pressing against her hips. He placed his hands on her hips and looked towards the living room to see if they were being watched.
"You look incredible," he said.
"I always do," she replied. "You just don't always notice."
He started to reply but she stopped him with a soft kiss. She pushed her hips against him and his growing erection, and then pulled back.
"Dinner's almost ready," she said louder. "Make the drinks and keep our guest company while I finish up."
With a groan Phil walked to a cabinet to retrieve two glasses, added ice, and poured in some bourbon. He took the drinks back to the living room with a final look at his wife.
"Here's your drink," she heard him say, "Oh, and let me take your coat. And have a seat wherever you want."
"Well let me say hello to Fiona first," Tim said.
Fiona was dropping the spaghetti into the boiling water when she heard Tim walk across the living room and into the dining area that was separated from the kitchen by the short part of the L-shaped counters. He leaned forward and just looked at her for a few seconds. Fiona didn't say anything as she added salt to the pasta and put on the pot lid, then turned to him.
"Hi, Fiona," he finally said, a big smile on his lips.
"Hi, Dean McLaughlin," she said.
"Oh, just call me Tim," he said.
"All right, Tim, how are you?" she asked.
She put the bread in the oven and turned the heat back up.
"Very good. It's very nice to see you again," he said.
Fiona bent over further checking the chicken, knowing that her dress was riding on up on her thighs and Tim was getting an excellent look at her butt and possibly even the tops of her stockings.
She closed the oven door, stood up, and straightened her dress, pulling it back down snugly.
"Dinner won't be long," she said.
"I don't mind waiting," he said and took a drink from his glass.
He was wearing a long sleeve white collared shirt and tie. He'd obviously been wearing a suit jacket, which Phil had hung up for him. The shirt fit his muscled physique perfectly. His eyes followed her as she poured herself a glass of wine.
Phil returned and immediately started talking to Tim who reluctantly turned away from Fiona and followed Phil back into the living room. Fiona started preparing the salad, cutting the vegetables on the counters, facing the living room, and joining in the conversation.
Phil and Tim had a few glasses of bourbon before dinner was ready. Fiona let dinner take a while so Phil would loosen up some and talk more freely with Tim. She led the conversation when he went off track and got him talking about his research in that excited way he did. Tim actually understood what Phil was doing and the two got into a deep conversation.
Eventually, dinner was ready and Fiona laid out the table and called them into the dining area. They ate, talked, and drank. The night went on and Phil started to slur his words some. Fiona didn't think it mattered since Tim had also had a lot to drink though he didn't show it like Phil. Phil was starting to look tired. He worked long days and was used to going to bed soon after getting home to get up early the next day. He was already past his usual bed time.
Tim was still lively and energetic. Fiona picked up Phil's slack in the conversation until it was almost just the two of them talking while Phil leaned forward with his elbows on the table trying to keep himself awake. Fiona found she liked looking into Tim's blue eyes as they talked. She also liked the bit of scruff on his face that had grown during the day. His blonde hair was thick and wavy, parted on the side, free of hair products and she found herself wondering what it would feel like to run her hand through his hair, so much thicker than her husband's thinning hair.
She shifted in her chair trying to get more comfortable, rubbing her moistening pussy against her panties, as she talked to her husband's boss, looking from his chiseled features to his broad shoulders and chest. His hands were even large and strong.
