This story is true. I've taken liberties with the dialogue, because my memory has faded with the passage of time, and, of course, I've embellished the tale a bit in the interest of eroticism. Author's license, you know. However, the core of the tale remains true nonetheless, and, trust me, the events described herein were far more erotic in the doing than in the current telling. If you are under eighteen or do not wish to read sexually explicit material, exit now. In addition, this story revolves around an adulterous relationship. If you do not wish to read about wicked, sinful, taboo, steamy adulterous sex, exit now. All rights reserved.
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In my first year of college, I fell in lust with the girl who was to become my first wife. "Cute" was always the word that everyone used to describe her. And she was as "cute as a bug", 5' 1'' tall, petite, blonde hair, blue-eyes, freckles on her nose, and, oh yes, sexy. Also, she was a living, breathing sex machine. Damn that girl loved sex! We rutted like rabbits all during our freshman year and into the next, and we were married at the end of our sophomore year.
Life was good for the next several years. After undergraduate school, I completed law school and joined my family firm with my father and brother. By the time of the events detailed in this story, I had been married seven years and enjoyed a growing practice, an excellent reputation, two lovely children, a house, two cars, a boat, two dogs and two cats. Sex with my wife was still outstanding. We made love at least three or four times a week, and my wife was still an animal in the bedroom or wherever else we chose to enjoy our lust. She was up for anything I wanted to try, and I can't blame her or a declining sex life for the events delineated in this tale. Perhaps I fell from grace as a result of the fabled seven year itch.
Prior to my entry into the firm, my father and brother each had one secretary, and a third woman acted as a receptionist and emergency secretary. When I joined the firm, she was assigned to me. Shirley was her name, and she had been hired right out of high school at the age of eighteen. When we first began working together, she was barely twenty-one, and I was twenty-five. We were both essentially babies when we met, and we grew up together over the years.
Shirley wasn't beautiful, but she was luscious. She had the most beautiful brown hair that gleamed in the light and hung in natural curls around a peaches and cream face. Her eyes were large and brown also, but they weren't wide eyed. She had those sleepy bedroom eyes that the Hollywood starlets always attempt to emulate, but hers were natural wonders. And her mouth seemed always to be posed in a pretty little pout when she wasn't smiling or laughing. Shirley was a somewhat overweight, but she was the kind of plush plump that the classical painters loved to capture in their nude studies. Like the classicists, others, including myself and the entire Latin male population of South Florida, also love women with meat on their bones. Shirley's ample pulchritude just drove the Latin males in our community wild. Often, when Shirley returned from outside the office, she would either be red with indignation or blushing and giggling with girlish embarrassment after being assailed by the lewd whistles and the shouted, sometimes crude, compliments of our Latin friends.
Naturally, I noticed Shirley's obvious charms, but for the first three years of our relationship, that was as far as it went. I may have lusted after Shirley in my heart and loins from time to time when looking at her, but I had never contemplated making a pass at her. I had a good relationship at home, sexually and otherwise, and I wasn't looking for trouble, especially not at work. Moreover, Shirley always seemed to be very shy, and she was not only my secretary, with whom I had an excellent professional relationship, but was my friend as well. I certainly didn't want to jeopardize that relationship by attempting to expand it into the sexual realm. As the years rolled by, we became confidantes. Perhaps that's where the trouble, if you can call it that, started.
Shirley was married to her high school sweetheart and had one son. I later learned that she became pregnant during her senior year and got married under the gun. Hubby was a nice guy but was extremely immature and self-centered. He was always spending their money on toys for himself or on some hair-brained money making scheme that never produced positive dividends. They were always in debt, and by the time I came to know Shirley, her marriage was under a considerable strain, financially and otherwise. As in most cases, their troubles began with finances and ultimately spread to the bedroom. In addition, Hubby was extremely jealous of Shirley, and much of his jealousy was directed at me. He was constantly picking at her about me and, according to Shirley, was always making snide comments about me. Several times when Shirley was without a car, I offered to give her a ride home since we both lived in the south end of the county, but she always refused. She knew that an acceptance would only cause trouble at home. Hubby pulled numerous other petty little jealous stunts over the years as well, all of which irritated Shirley mightily. I was aware of all of this, of course, as a result of many conversations with Shirley about her various and sundry problems with Hubby, and we often laughed together at his childishness. I knew that neither of us had ever given him a reason to be jealous, but I just figured that it was a product of his immaturity. Actually, after all that has happened, I have often wondered if the relationship between Shirley and me would have ever crossed over the line into sexual intimacy if Hubby hadn't been so insanely jealous.
For three years our conduct was purely professional, or so I thought. What I was unaware of, however, was that during the past year Shirley developed a crush on me while becoming increasingly dissatisfied with Hubby and his antics. During that time I noticed several changes in Shirley's behavior. We had always teased and flirted a little with each other, but I noticed that Shirley's teasing and flirting had become increasingly sexual. In addition, now when taking dictation, Shirley began showing more of her lovely legs and body. I didn't know if any of this was deliberate, but I certainly took more notice of her increasing sensuality. Something was definitely simmering below the surface, like magma, and I felt the rising sexual tension between us. On the other hand, I was completely blind-sided by what happened one fateful evening.
Obviously, Shirley and I were together from nine to five during the week, and when I was preparing for a trial or working on an appellate brief, she would stay late to help me. It didn't occur that often, but it drove Hubby crazy. In a transparent attempt to keeps tabs on Shirley whenever we were working late, he would call repeatedly to ask some ridiculous question about nothing and to inquire as to when she was coming home. On the evening of the grand seduction, he had been particularly pesky, and Shirley had really become increasingly irritated. Finally, at a point when we had almost completed our work, he called for the fourth or fifth time. On this occasion, however, instead of patiently listening and answering Hubby's latest inane inquiry like a good little wife, Shirley exploded and told him that he was really interfering with our work, that she would be home when she damn well got there, that he better not call again, and that she would call him when she was ready to leave.
