Something I Never Told You

You ask me to wear something sexy, but not slutty. I agonize. You clearly want me to impress your coworkers and boss, but not distract. I settle on my clingy black dress, mid-thigh with halter top that ties behind my neck, open back, side slit. Thigh highs, medium heels. Since it's black I feel I can get away without a bra, the nipples aren't too obvious. I go sans panties, not because I'm feeling frisky, but because I don't want the panty lines to show.

As I walk downstairs, you eye me critically, say nothing, just nod curtly and walk out to the car. I'm a little pissed, actually. When a woman is making an entrance, that is NOT the way to greet her. And this is your stupid work function, anyway.

It's out in the sticks, a significant estate, and we join the clutch of cars in the drive. Maybe a dozen couples. You leave me immediately to go schmooze, and my mood is not improving. I know no one here, though I recognize the boss's wife, a blonde stick oozing collagen and botox, from the company website. And you literally couldn't be fucked to at least introduce me to anyone?

I pass straight through, out onto the patio, and at least the stars are out and the sky clear and magnificent. I'm aware of someone approaching, and I turn to see a distinguished-looking man approach, maybe 50, with a drink in each fist.

"I don't suppose I could sell you on a mojito, could I? Lucy, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, you seem to have me at a disadvantage..." I stammer. "But yes, a mojito sounds lovely."

"I'm Raul. I recognize your photo from Glen's desktop."

"YOU'RE Mr. Perez?"

He chuckles drily, "Let's go with just Raul, tonight, eh? Just another guy with a big house, a small company and a miserable marriage."

He hands me the drink and we clink, locking eyes.

"Speaking of which, you looked pretty pissed at poor ol' Richie-boy, when you came in. He obviously adores you; he has that beach volleyball pic of you on his screen-which is super distracting-but ..."

I find myself blushing. The pic in question is too revealing to be anywhere near company property displaying both pokies AND camel toe.

Looking down at my drink, I mutter, "I'm not good at hiding my feelings."

"You're not good at hiding all sorts of things," he says, chuckling and eyeing me openly.

I turn my head skyward again, to signal that he can look all he wants, maybe arching my back ever so slightly, and drawl, "New moon tonight, good night to see Saturn, I think."

'Oh my God, you're right. I 'd forgotten!" With real enthusiasm in his voice he continues, "'

Come on, let's go up on the high deck away from these stupid as "seen in sunset magazine patio lights.

"'

I'm not sure if it's a ploy to get me somewhere darker, or if it's sincere, and I realize, I don't care.

He motions toward a steep set of stairs leading up to a high terrace, his hand warm on the bare skin of my back.

He follows me up the stairs, and I wonder if I look good to him, my ass undulating at eye level...Probably not. His wife is a blonde stick, he probably thinks I look like an overstuffed pig. As the thought enters my brain, he dispels it: "God, I hope it's not too forward to observe that I could follow you upstairs ALL DAY!"

I laugh, truly delighted, "No, its not too forward."

I'm at the top of the steps and immediately see an impressive-looking telescope. I go to it and lean down, peering into the eyepiece.

"I don't mind a little ogling," I say distractedly, "Rich didn't say anything when I came downstairs, so I thought this dress made me look fat, or something..."

He uses his phone to direct the telescope at the right part of the sky, and fine tune the focus manually, until the tipped saucer of Saturn and the rings hove into view. I can feel him right behind me.

"The only thing wrong with this dress is that it's too long," he whispers.

"You can always make it shorter...just bunch it at the waist a little..."

It's a test, obviously. Will he? Or won't he?

Oh, he will.

"Like this?" he murmurs, sliding his hands along my hips on both sides, gathering the material, pulling it up, up, until the tops of my stockings are exposed. I can't look at him.

I try a feeble joke."Getting a little breezy in the ol' nether regions," I murmur shakily.

And then we stop talking altogether.

Gently he guides me to the low wall, above the garden where he brought me the mojito. There are people there now, and as I face them, propping myself up on my elbows, I hope I'll be able to stay quiet. I see Rich talking animatedly to Blonde Stick.

Raul doesn't enter me right away. I hear the zip of his trousers. Then feel him fumbling to untie my halter top...as the top half of the dress falls away, I'm torn between wanting Rich to look up and see my white boobs being mauled by the dark brown hands of his boss, or just to get away with it with no one the wiser.

The risk, the possibility of exposure, and Raul's warm breath on my bare back, has me practically leaking. Raul uses both hands, one to pull and tweak a breast and the other to very quickly find and dexterously rub my clit.

"Reach back and guide me in, darling," he murmurs, and then he is in me and it is so good the best feeling oh fuck I'm cumming...

He releases my breast and clamps a hand over my mouth to stifle my moans, and then with a grunt he is there too, and it is the best, the nastiest feeling, and I know I want to do this again. I want this man to take me in public, in the company restroom, on a picnic table, on the hood of his Tesla overlooking the 405...

He straightens up. Zips Up. Refastens my dress. I pull the hem back down.

As I descend the stairs, I see both blonde stick and Richie-boy looking up, her eyes narrowed suspiciously, Rich looking with a kind of wonder.

Preemptively I say, "Great scope, best angle on Saturn I've ever had."

Later, I drive us home. I had only one drink, after all, and as usual, you had way too many. You can take the boy out of the frat, but you can't take the frat out of the boy.

I'm still mad at you, but now for a different reason: I feel revved up, the illicit orgasm on the roof waking a long dormant dragon...and again, you'll be too drunk to fuck.

"What chu talk about with Perez?" you slur.

"Nothing much. Astronomy. Oh, and he has an in at Griffin, so we're going next Wednesday night for a little time on a big scope..."