All so innocent. Such a beginning. Carla knew that was the right words. Innocent.
Carla crossed her legs as she shook out her full mane of light reddish hair. Her mane her husband Ted had branded it years ago. Thick beautiful hair that she wore long and full growing up. It had attracted her husband even when they were in high school in that brief wild sexual fling that summer after graduation. He practically worshiped that mane, loving to have her completely naked out at the lake house his parents owned.
But life interrupted. College away for him; locally for her. Phone conversations often at first, then less and less; other boys had come around and that college graduate assistant and his hands and that night after the party where he made love to her all night long. And then her best friend had set her up with the guy in their math class and he was attentive and loving and she thought she'd marry him.
But Ted came back and they went back to the cabin and she was naked again on that lovely deck and he stroked her hair.
Was it really 35 years ago that they married, her only 20, he just turned 21? Two children, a great house, a good life, no regrets. Oh, she had discovered years ago that maybe Ted didn't quite have the same sex drive she did, but she knew how to sublimate. Parties, kid raising, events, charities and after the kids grew up, the job offer. Just some light bookkeeping work. Four days a week but she liked the work and she got better and better at it. How did she end up working directly for the CFO? And why did he tease her all the time about her 'mane' of hair?
It was innocent, she insisted to herself. After all, he was barely 35; she'd been married that long! But it was kind of sweet too, how he insisted that she should wear clothes that set off her hair and it had been innocent that he suggested that her figure was perfect for shorter skirts, even at her age! And the cute comment that day about her cleavage, well, it had been an accident that she had left that button undone. Hadn't it?
Carla shook her head. All so innocent. But today? She had come into his office, several forms, a critical short-fall in the regional office. Leaning over his desk, pointing to the figures, his face slightly turned upward toward her, her breast brushed the back of his shoulder, muscular shoulder. As she left, he said it.
Didn't he?
"Carla, light blue really is your color."
He said that right? Only her blouse was white, her skirt, maybe a tad shorter that should be..brown. Light blue?
She sat at her desk puzzled and she reached down for the folder lying on the low coffee table in her office. Looking down. Light blue. Her bra was light blue.
Innocent really. He might have been talking about a good color on her; yes, she did look good in light blue. When had she worn light blue in the office? She racked her brain. Light blue. Her bra, frilly, lacey bra, more underwire holding up her slightly sagging breasts, but very thin, her nipples always pressing against the fabric.
It was innocent. Surely.
Two hours later he walked by her desk. God, he was good looking, she thought. Barely 35, in the CFO job less than six months. Two weeks after he got there he moved the young woman out and replaced her with Carla. Experienced, he said. Knows her way around the company. Perfect for his right arm. Big raise.
"Carla," he said to her that Friday, only weeks ago, "You are absolutely valuable to me, but don't dress like an old lady!"
What did that mean? She's 55, damn it; what did he think she was, one of these young women who are always thinking of excuses to see Mike.
Mike, he insisted. Yes he was Mr. Williams to everybody else; only for her, he insisted "Mike". Innocent
"What...." she had begun that Friday, "What do you think I should wear?"
"Oh something sexier; something that shows off that body more," he laughed, and then quickly, almost too quickly, "Just kidding."
