Part 1
Hating the boss is an American tradition, and rarely was it more deserved. My boss was a USDA-prime idiot, and I was his number one scapegoat. Whenever something went right in the department, he took the credit. When something went wrong, I took the blame.
In a time of consolidations and layoffs, I wasn't willing to make waves. At thirty-eight, I was about six years older than him, and his aggressiveness was likely to get him a position in senior management soon. I'd get my chance then. Or at least, I'd get a new boss, which was almost as good.
His biggest problem was that he had no imagination. No grasp of subtlety whatever. He bulldozed his way through problems and people alike, leaving those who worked for him to put everything right.
Of course, he was incapable of recognizing this. He considered that his employees were fortunate to be working for him, and believed that we thought of ourselves as his pals.
So he would always invite us to company-sponsored events and regularly held parties at his home. I had heard that these were great affairs and that his house was large and beautiful, but I had always excused myself and stayed away.
Then came the time when I simply ran out of excuses. The party was being held at a prestigious hotel, on a Tuesday evening. Glen made it clear that he expected everyone to be there, with spouse or date (which was not a requirement that I could fulfill). So I gritted my teeth, donned my best suit, and joined the gathering.
I suffered the exchanges of pleasantries with my co-workers politely. They are fine people, and we relate well both in business and socially, but as one of the few singles there I was out of place.
Sometime into the evening, and, apparently, sometime well into the Scotch, Glen accosted me and demanded that I let him introduce me to his wife.
I heard him begin, "Dear, this is Matthew..." and fumble for my last name - which he often forgot, even sober - before I looked up and saw her.
She was wearing a bored expression, but even so, she was stunning. She was several inches taller than Glen, perhaps an inch shy of my 5' 11" height. Her pale green dress contrasted her Mediterranean skin tone, dark and warm. It was shaped to reveal a narrow, tantalizing hint of cleavage of the same warm, inviting, hue. Midnight-black hair in loose curls cascaded down around a slim neck.
"Matt Perez, Mrs. Davies," I helped her husband out. "Good to meet you."
I held out my hand. She clasped it in a practiced squeeze. Her grip was warm and soft, but she was only partly successful at hiding the boredom she was obviously feeling.
"Maria, please. May I call you Matt?" I nodded agreement and she continued. Her English was perfect, but a trace of an Italian accent confirmed her Mediterranean origins. "I don't recall meeting you before, and I'm certain I would have remembered having the pleasure."
Was it my imagination, or was she hiding a smile at the construction of that sentence?
"No, ma'am - Maria - I don't believe we have ever met. I haven't been to many of these company events. Now I see they can be much more stimulating than I thought."
A quick narrowing of her eyes made me believe that she had noticed the emphases in my reply.
"I make a point of attending every one that I can," she responded. "With Glen traveling as much as he does, I won't pass up the chance for us to come together. It's so rare that we can do that."
I could not refrain from glancing at my boss, to see how he was reacting to her innuendo, but it seemed to be passing over his head. His eyes were glassy, and he had a happy smile on his face.
Maria, on the other hand, wore an expression of interest. An almost predatory look had replaced her boredom.
"And who do you come with?" she asked.
Substituting "do" for "did" would have aroused suspicion in anyone with more imagination or less alcohol - Maria's English was far too precise for it to be an accidental slip - but it skimmed right by him, and told me clearly that I wasn't misreading her language; she was enjoying a game of verbal footsie.
"No-one, I'm afraid. I haven't had anyone to come with in several years. I have been quite out of touch with company affairs."
"Oh," she protested, "but company affairs can be the best kind, can't they, Glen?"
"Yes, of course, dear," replied my boss, in the tones of one who long ago lost the conversation's thread.
Maria's eyes were bright now, no trace of boredom remaining. "Here, dear," she said, handing her empty glass to her husband. "Get us all a drink while I talk to Mr. Perez for a moment. Get yourself a double," she added, as he seemed about to protest.
"Matt, please," I objected as my boss walked away, in that perfectly paced walk which readily identifies a drunk.
"So, Matt, she asked, more subdued, after he was well out of earshot, "how do you like being under Glen?"
Seeing the way she behaved around him, I took a chance. "Truth?" I asked, and she nodded. "I'm not fond of the position."
"That makes two of us," she said, so quietly I had to strain to hear her. "Let's compare notes sometime."
I caught sight of Glen absolutely-not-staggering back with our drinks. Maria affected her look of polite interest again; this time it was not competing with boredom.
"Dear," she said as he passed out the drinks, "It seems that Mr. Perez and I have much in common. I'd like to have him at the house sometime. You would come, wouldn't you, Matt?"
"Unquestionably," I replied, as she hid a smile behind her hand.
Composing herself, she held her hand out to mine again. "Please stay in touch, Matt," she said, as she took my hand. "I think we should see more of each other." As she released my hand, she inconspicuously trailed her fingers over my palm.
"I'd like that," I said sincerely, then nodded good-bye to Glen before he started getting suspicious - and before either of them noticed the strain in the front of my pants. Fortunately, my dark suit didn't readily show the changing shadows.
I left the party almost immediately. I wasn't sure whether I could trust my understanding of what she had implied to me, but it was fertile ground for fantasy.
So I returned home and fantasized.
On the following day, the boss called me into his office. Uh-oh, I thought, he has sobered up and played connect-the-dots.
I need not have worried. I think that even had he remembered the whole exchange he wouldn't have known it for what it was.
"You made a big hit with my wife yesterday, Matthew," he began. "She told me to persuade you to get to more of our parties. We're having one at our home next month, and I'd like for you to be there."
"I'll do my best, Glen," I replied. Sincerely, for once.
"She's Italian, you know. I met her there a couple of years ago and brought her here."
I listened to him extol her virtues for a while, thinking "she's too good for you," and "what could she see in you?"
Eventually he let me go, with another promise to be at his house next month.
That same evening, I was working late with two or three others, well after Glen had left, as usual, when she walked up to me. Her dark eyes were soft, and she filled her thin knit sweater and tight blue jeans deliciously.
"Would you help me to look for something in Glen's office?" she asked.
"Sure," I said. "It's good to see you, Maria."
We entered Glen's office.
"You too, Matt," she said, as she closed the door. My heart skipped a beat as her dark eyes looked into mine.
"What are you looking for?" I asked, my voice a little hoarse.
"You, Matt. I wanted to invite you to the house."
"Oh," I said, "Glen already did that."
She was taken aback for a moment. Then, "No, not that. I'm having a pool party on Saturday. Glen will be out of town, and he doesn't know about it."
"Glen doesn't know?" I repeated, and she shook her head. "How many people are you inviting?"
"Including you and me?" She watched me closely. "Two."
I felt a thrill form in the pit of my stomach. "Just you and me?" I asked. She smiled slowly. "I'd love to," I said.
She put her hands on my shoulders and her lips on mine. Her breasts grazed my chest through my thin shirt and the taut knit fabric of her sweater. Her kiss was brief but sensuous, hinting at passion. I felt myself getting hard.
She pulled away from me and handed me a tissue from Glen's desk. "Wipe off the lipstick before you leave. Say, around 2 on Saturday afternoon?"
I nodded dumbly as she opened the door. "Thanks for the help," she called to me as she left.
I wiped my face and waited for my erection to subside before leaving the office.
The next couple of days at the office were worse than usual. I was only biding time until Saturday. Glen didn't announce his trip, and I was on edge. If he didn't say anything before he left, should I try to call Maria?
I even began imagining that this was a conspiracy to get me into trouble.
Finally, he announced on Friday morning that he was leaving for a week. This was a fairly characteristic strategy; the later he told us, the harder it was for us to get advance work out of him, and the more we'd have to cover for.
Usually an evasion like this would make me angry. This time all I felt was relief and added eagerness.
Although I tried to curb my enthusiasm, I still arrived ten minutes early. Maria seemed pleased to see me. She was dressed in a thin wraparound housecoat. I could see her swimsuit's straps under the wrap, but not the suit. The short coat revealed most of her striking legs; long, dark, with smooth skin and long, slender, bare feet.
She greeted me with a brief, friendly kiss, carefully holding the wrap closed around her. She asked if I wanted a grand tour; I accepted, and she showed me around. She didn't seem to take much pride in the house, as if it were Glen's showpiece.
The house was indeed beautiful, though the decor seemed almost clinical. A little like a model home; perfectly decorated but with no character. It was in the center of a huge lot; a couple of acres, I guessed.
Tour complete, Maria took a bottle of wine out of the fridge and put it in an ice bucket to take outside. I followed her out with glasses.
"I'm glad you came," she said, as she set the drinks down. "I enjoyed talking with you the other evening more than I've enjoyed anything in a long time. I'm just sorry it had to be so brief."
"Is there a problem? I liked talking to you, too, and I've been looking forward to this afternoon, but I'm not used to being invited over by beautiful married women."
She looked at me critically for a moment. "Later," she said. "Yes, there's a problem, but it doesn't directly concern you. I invited you here and now because I wanted to. Working with Glen might help you to understand - but later. For now we forget about him - about it."
I poured the wine and handed her a glass. I raised mine and said, "To Maria, the loveliest housewife I know."
"Hah!" she said, but drank anyway. She set the glass down half-empty and unwrapped her coat.
I nearly choked on my drink.
She was wearing a one-piece swimsuit that belonged in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. It was white, stark against her tawny skin. Two pieces of thin fabric, attached to a skimpy bottom piece, narrow where they crossed above her navel. They widened very slightly, barely holding or hiding her full, round breasts, before being tied in a knot behind her neck. Her dark aureole were clearly visible on either side of the narrow strips, and her nipples shaped the fabric.
She preened slightly as I studied her. I had responded instantly to the sight, and my swimsuit beneath my shorts had become much too tight.
"When you suggested we see more of one another, I thought..." My voice tapered off.
She smiled and picked up her drink. I finished mine and set my glass down. "I hope you enjoy what you see, Matt. I'm not planning to remove anything else."
I tried to hide my disappointment. To be presented with such a vision, made for me alone, and then to be told that it ended there - it was hard to accept. Granted, she was another man's wife - my boss's wife, for heaven's sake - but she didn't seem like a person who would lead me where she was unwilling to go; who would make promises she wouldn't keep.
What promises? I reminded myself. All I had were word games and innuendo.
"So, when do I see more of you?" she asked.
"Umm... in a moment." I replied, and tried desperately to get my mind off her until my erection had waned. She looked amused, and my face became hot.
Eventually I figured I was safe, and stripped off my T-shirt and shorts. I sat and sipped my wine, swimsuit hidden by the table.
We talked and drank for half an hour or so before Maria suggested a swim.
"Are you sure that suit will survive the water?" I asked, quite seriously. "It doesn't look very practical to me."
"It is quite practical for its intended purpose," she replied, "but I think that it will survive water, too."
Again, I recognized that this Italian beauty had an excellent grasp of English subtlety. "Where did you learn English?" I asked, as we made our way poolside.
"All through school and at an American language school in England," she said. "Then here, of course, from radio and books. And TV."
I noticed that she didn't include Glen's name. Likely her English had always been better than this.
Determined to present a macho image, I dove in without checking the water temperature. It was fine, but as I surfaced on the other side of the pool, I tasted the water. It was slightly acrid, and quite unpleasant. I came up coughing and spluttering. Maria was sitting on the edge of the pool, laughing at me.
She lowered herself gently into the water - no, diving in that swimsuit would probably be quite unwise - and swam over to me. She explained that the pool didn't use chlorine, but a different system which was Glen's preference. The water tasted strange, and had a soapy feel.
We swam for a while, played a two-person game of volleyball. This seemed to have us crashing into each other even more than a team game; but then, that was the point.
When we tired, she started the hot tub. We took the wine and glasses over to it and sat side by side.
Maria sat silently in the warming water. Finally she spoke.
"I've hated this," she said. She was looking towards the house, away from me.
"You hate - what? The house? The pool? Sitting with me?"
"The house. Here. My life. Not you, or I wouldn't be telling you this. I think you would understand."
"Would it be a fair assumption that this has something to do with Glen?"
She scowled slightly. "Tell me something," she said. "How does he do so well at the office?"
"To be quite frank," I replied, "he doesn't. He fails trivially, and he fails catastrophically. The big failures get his name known, then when we... when we pull his nuts out of the fire, he gets credit for a miracle."
She nodded. "I thought it would be something like that. We were married in Sicily, and I thought he was such a charming man to have such power. Now I know that the charm is superficial, and the only power he has is in his imagining. How he fools so many I do not understand."
"Why do you stay with him?" I asked bluntly.
"Why do you?" she challenged.
"I don't have much choice," I replied. "Since I get no credit for my own work, I have very little apart from him. I would have to start my career over."
"It has been almost the same for me," she said. "I have had no life but for him. I did not have my green card. If I left him before it was issued, it may never have been. I love Sicilia, but this is my home now, even though I share it with one whom I despise."
"I take it from what you are saying that something has changed."
Her dark eyes burned. "My green card came through last month. He doesn't know. Soon now, he goes and the decorator arrives."
"You plan to keep the house?"
"It is my house, not his, not ours. The lawyers here and in Palermo were very expensive but very good. We will not divide up my property like a child sharing her toys."
"Forgive me, I didn't realize," I said.
"Please, it is not a problem. What is a problem is being a guest in my own house, being a... an accessory to his life, to his ego, so that he can say 'Look at my pretty wife, I got a good deal on her in Italy.'"
"Is it that bad?" I asked.
"It is worse," she replied, fiercely. "Sometimes I want to scream and run from the room. Sometimes I want to get fat and cut off all my hair so that he will not want to show me off."
I put my right arm around her shoulder and held her against me. Her proximity was making me hard, and I was glad of the hot tub's foamy surface.
"I think I can answer one question I would have asked," I said. "You have tried talking to him about it, and he isn't capable of understanding the problem."
She nodded agreement. "Matt, I'm Sicilian. I was raised to argue, and loudly, even when I get everything I want. You think I would have let this continue if we could talk about it? He can't hear me, and the louder I am, the more deaf he becomes."
I had no more to ask. What she said rang perfectly true to me. When Glen hit an issue he didn't want to understand, especially if it challenged his way of thinking or his ego, it was as though the problem simply did not exist.
I reached across to her right shoulder with my left hand, and turned her to face me. She rested her chin on my shoulder and put her arms around me. I could feel the damp swimsuit against my chest - and I could feel the warm flesh which flowed around the narrow top. My suit was painfully tight.
"Matt," her voice came from behind my ears, "did you come here today to see me, or to try to get revenge on Glen?"
"To see you," I said quickly. Then, after a moments thought, "Though had you been married to someone else, I may not have come."
She leaned her head back and looked at me. "If I were married to someone else, I wouldn't have invited you, much as I would have liked to. Thank you for being honest."
She leaned in and kissed me. Beginning gently, she allowed the promise in our earlier kiss to develop into reality. Her lips caressing mine and her tongue stroking me spoke of a desire as powerful as mine was for her. I was confused. Her comment about her swimsuit earlier made it clear that she didn't want to go any further, yet we had just talked about being unfaithful to her husband without any regrets. Now her kiss was demanding that we take each other now, and I wanted more than anything to do just that. I wanted to rip her clothes off and spend an eternity making lo...
I laughed, and broke the mood. She pulled away and looked at me as though I were crazy.
"I just now figured out what you said earlier."
"Oh, that." She relaxed. "I've been wondering which of us lost our suggestive English skill."
"Me, I'm afraid," I said. "You're too good for me. I've been trying to hide my disappointment all afternoon."
"Not very successfully," she retorted. "Now, where were we?"
She put her arms back around me and our lips joined eagerly. Excitement threatened to overwhelm me as I ran my hands over her bare back, then up to work on the knot of fabric behind her neck. Of course she wouldn't remove her swimsuit. Not if I removed it myself. And I was certain that I would enjoy what I would see.
When I unfastened the knot, the two strips of cloth were dragged away by the whirlpool currents, and with them went all barriers to intimacy.
I slid my hands over her shoulder blades and under her arms. As I started stroking her breasts she squeezed the back of my neck, pulling my mouth against hers. Our tongues locked together as I kneaded her breasts, and my erection strained painfully at my swim trunks.
We slid off the ledge into the center of the spa. I squatted on the floor, buoyed by the water as she wrapped her legs around my waist. In this position her head was above mine and her breasts at the height of my shoulders. As she pressed her face down into mine, my hands returned the pressure to her breasts at I squeezed against them.
I tweaked and pulled on her hardening nipples. Then, lifting her slightly with my knees, I brought her right breast to my mouth. I chewed gently on her nipple, then took as much of her breast as I could into my mouth, sucking hard and kneading with my tongue. She tightened her legs around my waist, pulling herself against me. I transferred my attentions to her left breast, and she stroked my hair as I ran my tongue around.
I put my hands under her, and set her down onto the ledge, my tongue still tickling her left breast. I picked up several mouthfuls of the chemically tainted water on the way, but I had become familiar with the taste. After setting her gently down, I lifted her again, a couple of inches off the ledge. She was still supporting herself by holding the back of my neck, and as I eased her swimsuit over her thighs she held me tight against her breast and sighed.
I ran my hands down her back and squeezed her butt. I pulled her against me, and she rocked slowly against my stomach. As I lifted my head and licked her nipple, she took her arms from my neck and supported herself on the ledge. She lifted her head to watch me as I nipped and nuzzled her firm, smooth breasts and tongued her hard nipples. Her face was flushed and she was breathing heavily. She kept moving against my stomach, and I maintained the pressure against her butt.
Still holding her against me, I backed up and kissed her stomach. My arms were still around her, pressing her thighs against my chest. I threaded my left arm under her knee and held her right thigh with my left hand, then did the same with my right arm. She watched, eyes wide and dark, as I moved my head lower and stroked her pussy with my chin.
I looked into her eyes. "Oh, please," she said. "Yes. Please."
I smiled and raised her further out of the water, then ran my tongue down, over her pussy. I felt her shiver. I licked the edges of her labia, only very slowly sliding my tongue inside.
She twisted in my grip, trying to drive herself against me, but I held her back and kept slowly running my tongue around. She whimpered slightly as she tried to press against me.
I moved my left hand behind her to support her one-handed. She opened her legs wide as I lifted my right hand between them and stroked her pussy with my finger. Then I used two fingers to open her up, and pushed my tongue deep inside. I heard her gasp as I slipped my tongue in and out.
She started pushing firmly and rhythmically against my fingers. I moved my tongue higher and pressed against her clit whenever she pushed.
She started gasping, but as she pushed at me quickly, I backed off, and she let out a strangled cry of frustration as I slowly licked her. I slipped my fingers back out and kneaded her butt with both hands.
I pressed my tongue against her clit as she started to move again. She moaned softly. As her breathing became labored I stroked her swollen clit roughly. She gasped and pushed against me. This time I didn't draw back, but dragged harder on her clit.
As her arousal grew beyond control, she moaned loudly, then cried out, "Now! Please! Oh, yes! Yes!" I dragged her clit and scrubbed it between my lips, sucking hard. She squealed and ground against me as she came, panting rapidly. I kept sucking and rubbing her clit, and she shuddered as her panting slowed. Occasionally she murmured, "Oh! Oh God!"
When I released her, she righted herself. Locking her face to mine, she kissed me savagely, pulling hard on my swimsuit. I managed to interrupt her long enough to untie it, but my cock was so erect that her efforts were quite painful. When it was off, I caught her suit, which was bobbing about in the spa, and dumped both swimsuits on the deck behind her.
I pulled away from her and leaned backwards. Resting against the far side of the spa from her, I slid my legs under hers. As she slowly relaxed, eyes closed, her thighs drifted down onto mine. I eased forwards and down, seeking entrance, then up, guiding myself in. Her eyes opened wide as she felt me enter her, but with no hesitation she hooked her legs around me and pulled me in. She built up a rhythm, drawing me in and releasing me, and very soon she was rising to another climax. I pushed myself deep into her as she came, and I felt her body quivering softly around me. I stayed as calm as possible, so that I wouldn't come too, and as she relaxed I withdrew.
Crouching on the bottom of the spa, I lifted her and floated her to me. I lowered her, entering her, and she shivered. I found her mouth with my lips, grazing her tongue with mine, drawing her being into me. Her expression was ecstatic, her face and hair slick with water and beads of sweat. Her eyes were closed as we rocked; she floating around me, her only connection to the world through the caresses of my cock within her. The water treatment system may have left an odd taste, but the soapy feel was gently lubricating; my cock was gliding sensuously into her.
Maria drew away from my kiss, resting her head on my shoulder. Her face towards mine, her eyes closed, she had a smile of satisfaction, and wrapped her arms around me. I alternated between fondling her butt, pulling her firmly over my stiff cock, and caressing her back, squashing her delicious breasts against my chest.
When she started to moan gently, climbing to another climax, she tightened around me. I knew I would not be able to keep from coming for long. I took her breasts in my hands, pushing her away from me. She lifted her head and looked into my eyes; a look of intense pleasure, of affection, of longing - all of these things - as, hands behind my neck, she drew my face to her left breast.
I stroked her nipple gently with my tongue, then pinched it between my lips as I slid my tongue over it. As I took her breast into my mouth, I reached back down to her butt and pulled myself strongly into her.
Unable to hold back much longer I drove my hips against her, powerfully, holding her firmly by her shoulders and sucking on her breast. I was rewarded with a cry of delight as she was propelled towards another high, and we were both gasping noisily as I exploded within her and she shuddered around me, sharing that most intimate of experiences as we came together.
Maria lifted my head from her breast, and we exchanged a sloppy, passionate, exhausted kiss as our pleasure descended to manageable levels.