The Boss's Wife
It was three summers ago when the foreman from the factory, Angelo, asked me to give him a hand building a deck off of his porch. We weren't friends at the time, not exactly; I was "the new guy" at work and hadn't made any friends yet, and Angelo was a good guy to know, so I said yes. After all, he was the guy who made my schedule, decided whether I'd be turning wrenches or degreasing machinery all day, and whether my vacation time took place in balmy July or the frigid winter.
Angelo liked to get pretty tied on Friday nights so he told me not to come before two o'clock on Saturday, in the high heat of the afternoon, but a large poplar in his yard and a steady breeze made it bearable. I pulled up his driveway at just before two, parked, and approached the side door where the deck was to be built. Lumber was stacked waiting, and four concrete feet for mounting the posts were laid out marking the layout measuring only about eight feet in length by four feet in depth; all in all, a pretty simple job.
I knocked on the door and waited.
After receiving no answer, I knocked and waited.
Looking around, I noticed that Angelo's black Dodge wasn't there, and I realized that he wasn't either. I'd just turned back towards my car when a woman's voice called out to me from the yard, "Hey, you looking for something?"
I spun around to find a tall woman in a red bikini leaning against the side of the house, she was barely thirty, and I initially assumed she must be Angelo's daughter. Her hair was the color of fire, and my eyes immediately appraised her despite the fact that she was looking right at me. Her bikini bottom was tied by a bow on each hip, and I felt my jeans get tighter at the fantasy of pulling two little strings, and the heavenly treasure that surely laid behind that little triangle of pink spandex.
Realizing that I was staring directly at her crotch and that she was watching me stare, I diverted my gaze to the pile of lumber. "Sorry, yeah... I'm... (what WAS my name again) Chris, I'm looking for your father... I'm supposed to help him with the deck."
"Cemetery," she said, smirking.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well," she explained, taking several steps towards me, "if you're looking for my father, that's where you'll find him. I'm Angelo's wife, Angie."
I couldn't hide my surprise; she had to be close to two decades Angelo's junior, and her beauty made me wonder what hidden talents he must possess to have been blessed with such a gift. My heart began to beat faster as she approached and extended her hand, palm down as though she was expecting me to kiss it (and I considered it,) her tightly toned body jiggling ever so slightly with each step until she stood before me. I awkwardly took her tiny hand in mine, marveling at its warmth and gave it a brief shake before taking a step back. "Nice to meet you."
She gave me a good long look before teasing, "Don't worry, I don't bite... much."
Just then, Angelo's truck rumbled up the driveway behind us, he climbed out and approached carrying a box of nails. Apparently he'd forgotten to buy them when he'd purchased the lumber. Upon seeing his wife standing there in all her majesty, he barked at her, "Angie! Go inside and put something on!"
With that she gave me a wink and turned towards the house and I saw that her bikini bottom was a mere thong, and her beautifully round ass was totally exposed. I quickly averted my eyes and found Angelo glaring at me suspiciously.
"What were you talking about?" he demanded.
"Nothing!" I said, a little too loudly. "I just got here!"
He looked as though he was about to say more, but then took a deep breath and wiped his mouth before giving me a slap on the shoulder, "Okay, forget about it... let's get started before it gets hotter."
We worked throughout the afternoon and into the early evening, it was a long hard day made even harder by the fact that I couldn't seem to do anything up to Angelo's standards aside from handing him tools and carrying the lumber. I kept my head down and did as he said, but my mind was never far from Angie; her chiseled features, and those two little strings keeping her bikini bottom on.
It was almost seven by the time we finished, and my stomach had been growling for hours with nothing in it except warm water from the garden hose. When we were finally finished, I was tired and my clothes were soaked through with sweat. I couldn't wait to leave. I helped Angelo collect the tools and carry them to his modest garage and got my first glimpse at the backyard, which he clearly took pride in.
A flagstone path ran from the house back to what appeared to be a shed disguised as a cottage surrounded by a garden of colorful Geraniums and Lilies. Seated on the little porch of the shed on a rocking chair, Angie sat reading a book from under a wide brimmed sun hat with her long tan legs crossed. She'd put on a pair of cut-off shorts and a white t-shirt over the bikini, but it did nothing to diminish her beauty. I immediately diverted my eyes, only to find them drawn back to her for another glimpse; a huge risk with her gorilla-sized husband standing so close to me.
"Angie!" he barked at her, causing me to jump.
She lowered her sunglasses and smiled back at us, "Yes dear?"
"Get dinner on the table, we're finished."
Angie snapped her book shut and dropped it on the chair as she rose and crossed the yard towards the house. "Is the boy staying for supper?" she asked.
Angelo looked at me for a moment; he clearly would rather I didn't, but after a moment he sighed and nodded, "Yes, the boy eats too."
"Kay," she said, smiling. "We're having pork chops... should I do them in the oven?"
He flapped his hand at her, "No, you don't do them right in the oven, I'll do them on the grill."
As Angelo headed for the grill just beside the deck we'd built, muttering something to himself, Angie pointed at me and curled her index finger. "Come on inside and freshen up, I'll show you the guest bathroom."
At the suggestion, my heart began to pound. I half expected Angelo to say something in protest, but he seemed focused on the grill. I followed her inside, willing myself to NOT stare at her ass as I did. As we entered, she tossed her hat on the kitchen table and pointed to a set of stairs leading down into the basement.
"Bathroom is downstairs, there's towels under the sink."
I turned to thank her but she'd taken a plate full of raw pork chops from the counter and was carrying it out the way we'd come in before I got the chance. I padded down into the basement where Angelo had made himself something of a rec-room with an old recliner parked in front of an even older t.v. and a small wet bar with a frosted mirror.
I followed the hall until I found a small bathroom with a tub-less shower and a dirty sink; obviously unused by anyone except Angelo. I took a towel from under the sink and held it under the faucet while I stripped off my shirt before ringing out the towel and wiping myself down.
"Need anything?"
Angie's voice made me jump and I spun around to see her leaning against the bathroom doorway. "Jesus... what are you doing down here?!?"
"I live here," she said plainly as she came inside the bathroom, backing me against the wall and pressing her body against mine.
