THE FOLLOWING STORY IS TRUE. ALL EVENTS AND BEHAVIOR ARE FAITHFUL ACCOUNTS OF PAST EVENTS, ALTHOUGH NAMES HAVE BEEN ALTERED TO PROTECT MY POSTERIOR AND KEEP ME OUT OF COURT. WRITER'S LICENSE AND HUMBLE DISCRETION HAVE BEEN USED WHERE AND WHEN I FELT IT EXPEDIENT TO AVOID ADVERSITY OR TO ENHANCE EPISODE INTERVALS.
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A recent rainy afternoon had introduced me to my co-worker David's body. The excitement and satisfaction he, my liberal spouse and I enjoyed that day was still fresh in my mind and titillated my fantasies each time we worked together.
David had called a morning meeting to which I was invited. Later, after 'Much ado about nothing', as the other attendees filed from his office, I asked if he and I might have a short conference. Surreptitiously locking the door behind them, I turned, pulling the skirt of my dress up as I faced him. "You like?" I teased. "Just for you there are no panties under my hose," I said advancing to straddle his lap.
We kissed while his hands explored inside my dress. Slipping my hand inside my pantyhose I retrieved two fingers of nectar and spread it across his upper lip. "Let me know if that bothers you," I tormented as I wiggled out the door.
Both David and I are medium tall people at a five foot eight altitude, so I was surprised to discover the long-tall drink of a lady visiting our office was his wife. Six foot tall (I later discovered) and disgustingly thin (I gain weight just thinking about food) she wore her shoulder length reddish-blond hair in a sumptuously loose tangle. Soft folds of her full-length satin-green dress accentuated the delicate curves of a long waisted body. Encased in pale white nylons her equally lengthy legs flashed through the long slit of her full skirt. The most prominent curve she displayed though was her dazzling smile, whose exuberance animated our existence.
My office is down the hall and around the corner from David's so when this elegant vision drifted into my area I was quite startled. I'm not attracted to women, but this lady was so exquisite I felt a bit awed by her proximity. Admittedly, I was also a bit tremulous as the only thing we had in common, so far as I knew, was her husband. Wondering if she had gotten a whiff of his upper lip, I feared an unpleasant confrontation might be forthcoming.
"You're Susie, right? I'm Stephanie, David's wife," she said holding out her hand and brightening my office with her radiant smile. "David tells me we're invited to your home this weekend, but like all men he doesn't even know which evening or what time, much less what we should bring." Surprisingly, her long slim fingers gave my pudgy little digits a quite firm squeeze as we shook hands.
Unable to disguise my astonishment, my mouth gaped open, before I recovered sufficiently to stammer, "News to me! Sounds like our significant ... others" (dildos is what I usually say) "have been plotting behind our backs. Let me call my husband and I'll see if I can find out what's going on."
With the innocence of all males, Leo told me he had issued an invitation earlier that morning but hadn't gotten around to calling me about it yet. With forced good humor I suggested he might wish to help me clean our accumulation of debris before guests were due. His nonchalant "Sure!" gave me more irritation than comfort. We quickly fleshed out a schedule for a Saturday evening cookout and Stephanie agreed to bring wine.
Leo grudgingly spent the next two evenings as a char-person so that by the time we crashed Friday night our normal disorder was acceptably presentable if not elegant. Because he is, and always has been the better cook in our pairing, I accepted his offer to sleep late Saturday morning while he went shopping. When he nibbled me awake, just before noon, the steaks were already marinating.
Stephanie called in mid-afternoon asking what to wear so I teasingly told her, "anything will be fine, nothing's okay too!" The absolute dead silence this statement elicited quickly prompted me to amend my directive and I told her I was wearing a stretch top and short shorts. I couldn't tell if her, "Oh hey, that sounds fine," was strained or not. I found out Saturday afternoon when they arrived.
Often my shorts are a bit too snug, not to mention too brief, but never have I seen more skin revealed than Stephanie exhibited. The halter-band I was wearing stretches from just above my boobs to the top of my belly button, but hers was such a narrow ribbon it barely covered the small mounds on her chest. She told me later that her high cut shorts were left over from she worked as a cocktail waitress. It's a wonder my tongue has no holes through it as many times as I've bitten it squelching sarcastic rejoinders. Miraculously I managed not to ask if the club she worked at required the help to wear pointed ears and a fluffy tail.
