It's a Start: Josie's Version

Things happen. September isn't a busy time for accountants, but an opportunity crossed my desk that was too good to pass up. A firm in Cleveland, let's call it Mr. Big's Company, was interested in buying a small company near Richmond, where I lived. I'll call that one Little Richmond Company. I had a call from Big Co.'s president. "I was talking to some people at Capital One, and they said your company is one of the best little accounting partnerships in the city, and you're one of the best account executives. Is that true?" We talked for a while: what Mr. Big wanted was an audit of LRC: "Not a standard audit, I want someone who will go inside, find out where the problems are. I'll pay you your standard rate for a three week investigation. Do a good job and we may use you for all of their accounting services if we buy them."

That is a big deal for a small partnership. I did the audit. There were some things their own accounting department overlooked, some contingency accounts that were too big, and some undervalued inventory that made the real net worth of the company much more than the books said. The in house accountant told me they did that for tax purposes. There were some things going on in sales that were not accounting matters, but if half of them came true LRC would have to expand fast. It happens that one of my other clients used LRC products, and from them I learned the growth potential was understated in LRC's projections. "We wanted to be conservative" is how their chief financial officer defended their analysis.

Mr. Big was delighted to learn they were getting more value than they expected.

Mr. Big came to Richmond and invited me to help him during the negotiations. The wheeling and dealing went on for 2 days. It was pretty clear terms would be settled on the next day. "I will want to celebrate," Mr. Big told me. "I won't leave until Friday. Have dinner with me tomorrow, we'll talk about what your partnership can do for us when the deal is closed."

There was a little something extra going on with Mr. Big: he was a sophisticated flirt. He might have been in his late 50s, but he carried an aura of sexual power about him, one of getting what he wants. In the conferences he was all business, but in private meetings and planning sessions with me I saw him looking at me a little too intensely and there were those little touches on my arm and shoulder that were almost intimate. I was thinking it would be bad to mix business and erotica, but he was surely a 'possible'.

Tony knew what was going on professionally, of course, and that night I told him about the not quite professional components.

"Is he a possible?"

"Maybe. Somehow I imagined it would be a younger man. Mr. Big is in his 50s, but he just radiates power." I thought for a couple of minutes. He was handsome, he smelled good, he was fit and healthy. I knew he spent almost an hour in his hotel's workout room every day. "Yes, he's a possible."

Tony was silent for a while. "It could be tomorrow, not in two months. Wow."

"I don't know if he wants any more than just to have dinner with someone who isn't out to sell him something, honey," I said.

"But if he wanted more, would he get it? Could he be the one?" Tony asked.

"Would you want him to be?" I wasn't taking sole responsibility for this.

"Uh – this makes it real. I want to have sex with you right now," was the answer I got, and during that rushed and hot sex, he confessed: "I'd like him to be."

We had a quiet breakfast the next morning. I wanted Tony to make love to me, to reassure me, but he was distracted.

"Call me later," he asked as he was leaving.

My own meeting lasted only until 2 and then the deal was sealed. "We'll let the lawyers do what they have to, but they'll just be sure what we agreed to is written correctly," was the last thing Mr. Big said. "I run my company, you run yours. Lawyers are hired help, right?"

LRC's president and their conservative chief financial officer nodded their agreement. There was a handshake and a simple letter of understanding was drafted and signed.

"Now," Mr. Big said, "I want to take Josie to the best restaurant in Richmond to celebrate. Where do you recommend we go? If it's less than perfect, I may reopen these negotiations."

There was a whispered conversation between the two local executives, then Mr. Leio, the president, said he'd have to make a call or two.

When he came back he gave Mr. Big the address of a private club. "I reserved a private room for you," he said. "They expect you at 8."

We said our goodbyes, and I drove Mr. Big back to his hotel. "Should I pick you up at your home?" he wanted to know.

"I know the city better than you. I'll pick you up instead."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you in something other than business clothing," he told me. "Mr. Leio told me formal dress is appropriate at his club. I brought my tuxedo."

"Thanks for the warning. I'll see you at 8."

When Tony saw me home he asked the obvious question. "I'm meeting him later, I have to dress. We're going to the Commonwealth of Virginia Leader's Club."

"I've heard of that place. It's very exclusive, I've never been there. Is he a member?'

I explained how the location was chosen.

"What are you going to wear?"

"I have some nice cocktail dresses. He's wearing a tuxedo."

It took me from 5 until 7:30 for me to get ready, and women reading this will understand that took some rushing.

It was a pale white dress with an irregular hemline, a few inches above the knees in some places, a few below in others. Spaghetti straps held it up. The front was modest, but the back scooped really low.

"Is that new?"

"I bought it for Somerville, but I thought tonight. . . "

"What are you wearing under it?"

"There's no way I can wear a bra with this. But I have pantyhose on, of course."

"That's it?"

"Tony, are you having second thoughts? I can change. . ."

"Uh," he said, "No, no. It's just happening so fast. . ."

"Tony honey, you've been talking about this for months."

"I know. You said you're going to pick him up?"

"Yeah, and after dinner I'll take him back to the hotel. And then, we'll see."

"How are you going to let me know what's happening?"

"I'll be going to the ladies room often, that's how, and now I have to go."

"Before you go," Tony told me, "I want you to know you look wonderful, and I love you." I left a husband not sure about he wanted. This was going to be played by ear, but my instincts were telling me it would go as far as I allowed it to.

Mr. Big – OK, I didn't call him that –"To my friends I'm Brian" – was a perfect gentleman on the way to dinner. He stood close enough to me to project power and intimacy (ladies reading this will know what I mean) without doing anything overt.

"There's dancing in the lounge at the hotel, at least there was last night," he said as we were finishing the most elegant dinner I had in years. "Would you join me? I'm enjoying the evening and wouldn't want it to end."

"I'm enjoying it too. Of course I'll go to the lounge with you."

I told my husband our plan from the powder room and he said "I'm going to go there, I want to see him dance with you."

"Tony, I'm not sure that's a good idea," I started to say, but I finished the sentence talking to a dial tone. Well, he wanted to see some of the action. I reminded myself I wanted him to think of me when he masturbated, and this is what he wanted to think about. I'd show him his wife enjoying herself dancing and being warm and affectionate. It's what he's been asking for, and maybe it would be practice for Somerville.

It wasn't a big surprise to see Tony at the bar when we got to the lounge. The live band was playing a nice mix, some slower tunes, and some fast. Brian was obviously well schooled in dance. He was so smooth he made me feel good about my own clumsy movements.

By the time we finished our second drink – Tony might have had three – the band moved to a slow set. We were not the only couple standing, wrapped in each other's arms, hardly moving, just close, bodies conforming to each other.

There was even an ear kiss: it was easy for Brian to do, since I was tall. I responded with a sigh. I wanted him to know I enjoyed what he did.

He was ever the gentleman. "I saw your ring, is that a wedding ring or is it a protective device?"

"Oh, I am married," I told him.

"I'm sorry to hear you have a husband waiting for you at home."

I saw my husband watching us and answered truthfully: "He's out tonight too. I don't think he'll be home until very late."

"Does he know you went to dinner with me?"

"Of course," I assured him. "He said he doesn't mind if sometimes I'm out with another man that I think is attractive. A man like you, for example."

Could I have been any more clear that the night was ours to do with what we wanted?

"So that ring really is protection only when you want it to be.'

I held him a little closer and said "Yes, only when I want it to be."

He was polished. He didn't say another for another half song. We stayed on the dance floor, and the band started "Unchained Melody."

"I'm enjoying dancing here with you," Brian said, "but I have a large suite upstairs. I'd like even more to be with you there. Would you like that as much as I would?"

"Give me a moment," I told him.

We went to our table and I excused myself. Tony answered his cell phone on the first ring. "Have you seen enough?" I asked.

"Has he propositioned you yet?" Tony answered my question with a question.

"He invited me to his room, is that what you mean?"

"Yes. Do you want to go?"

"We've been talking in questions, Tony." I was a little impatient now. "This is what you've been talking about for months. Do you want me to go, or do you want to forget about this fantasy?"

"I don't want to give up the fantasy."

"I want to go. Do you want me to?"

"There was a raspy "yes," then he cleared his throat. "I want to wait down here, I want to be close. Don't spend the night."

I hung up and started back, then paused a moment. I had an erotic idea. I went into a stall, pulled my pantyhose down to my ankles, sat and removed a heel, got them off that foot, and repeated the process with the other side. I rolled the hose into a tight ball and walked in along the bar, past Tony. I hoped I could pull this off. Tony was facing the bar, trying to ignore me, but I took his arm as if he was an old friend. "Hi, Tony," I said, "nice to see you here." He turned, said something, I'm not sure what, and I ended the conversation with "I'll see you around," and left. I dropped my hose in his lap.

Brian noticed me talking, and I said something about "he's an old client."

The band started to play that that Louie Armstrong thing about Skies of Blue, and I pulled Brian to the dance floor.

He folded me into his arms again and asked "Are you going to accept my suggestion?" after a suitable interval. He was making it easy to reject it. Or, maybe not. He was a very confident man.

"Of course. I wondered why it took you so long to make it. Were you hoping to find someone more attractive?" That was my insecurity kicking up again.

He pulled me tighter against his body. I could feel heat and hardness. "You have to know I think you're smart, and attractive, and desirable. It's you I want."

"And," I said, hardly believing it was my voice, "I want you. Let's leave after this song."

The song ended, Brian called for the check, scrawled a signature, and stood, offering me his arm. I saw Tony watching me leave the room with a man who would expect to know me as intimately as he did. It seemed to me everyone in the place knew what was about to happen.

It was what my husband said he wanted. I wondered if the reality was as good as the expectation for him. I wondered if it would be for me.

Tony was walking into the lobby as Brian and I went into the elevator. It was time to continue the show. Brian pressed the button, and before the doors closed I moved into his arms, a kiss, our first kiss, started. Tony saw that. I wondered if he watched the numbers above the elevator door increase, then stop on 14.

It was a beautiful suite, the living area had a glass wall overlooking the city, and --"the bedroom is over there,"-- that room had a wonderful view, too.

I stood at the bedroom window while Brian adjusted the room lighting. It was not dark: softly lit might be a better description. The bed was already turned down and he pulled the coverings more completely off.

I could see his reflection in the window as he folded his coat, removed the cummerbund, tie and cufflinks and then came behind me. His hands wrapped around me as he bent to kiss my neck. It was done with such authority and at the same time gentleness that it was not like anything I had ever experienced before.

His hands were on my belly, and I put mine over his, and backed into this man. It was delicious, it was so sexy, feeling him behind me, and seeing out reflections in the window. We were too high for anyone outside to see. One part of me that I didn't know existed said "too bad no one can see in. I wish someone could watch. I wish Tony could."

It was erotic to my sense of touch and to my vision. My knees were feeling weak but I could feel the insecurity that had been so much a part of my life melting away. I WAS desirable. This powerful man wanted me! I wanted him, too, not just because it was something Tony wanted. It was vindication, a demonstration I was a whole person, desirable not just for my accounting skills, but for being a woman too.

He began stroking me, hands moving over my hips, and lower, then up my sides, onto my arms, and down again. His touch was like fire and ice on my body.

My dress had a sash: it drew the garment in to define my waist. As his hands moved higher I moved them to it. The ends were in a simple bow, and when he pulled the ends it just fell away. It was the first piece of clothing a man other than Tony removed from me in too long a time to remember.

Without the sash, my dress hung freely and moved as his hands did. The window was a good mirror. I watched this silver haired man behind me kiss my neck, my ear, watched his hands move. He moved a little away so he could bend more easily. His hands moved down: I could feel them and watch them as they moved over my dress, then below my knees until they were on my skin. He said nothing about the absence of hose. Did he know, was he that observant?

The down motion stopped, and his hands started up, the hem of the dress began gathering on his wrists as he rose, his hands moved up along the outside of my legs, and the dress rose until his fingers traced over my hips to my waist. The reflection in the window showed my dress bunched at the hips, draped over my front. I felt sexy and was sure I looked that way too.

"Just lovely," he told me.

I put my hands on his wrists again, and drew them to my front, I could feel the fire of his fingers as they traced to my navel, and pressed against my belly, pulling me against his own groin. Those fingers were on skin, above my own warm moist place, above the place that wanted to be touched.

"I thought it was only you under that dress, and I'm so glad I was right," he whispered.

I turned my head so I could meet his lips, and a delicious kiss started, and tongues started, and somehow, I don't know if it was me, or him, but somehow his fingers began moving down, I could feel them on my pubic hair, then on the inside of my upper thighs, and I widened my stance just a little bit, and his fingers drew my hands, or my hands guided his fingers, I don't know which, but they moved towards my center: they touched me.

They touched me!

It was the lightest touch, but a shocking touch, a confident touch.

I was having trouble standing upright, my knees wanted to buckle. They might have, but I felt so light, it seemed I could float on those fingers, they could lift me to the stars.

One of those eternities of pleasure went by with that kiss and those touches. Then his hands moved away. I didn't want them to, but they pulled out from under my dress, and he moved away an inch or so, too, so that warm body wasn't pressing into me any more.

I watched as he reached behind me, to that tricky little clasp and zipper on the back of my dress. Well, it might have been tricky for most men but in the time it took him to caress my back he had it undone. I could feel the zipper travel its 6 inches. The tension in the dress across my breasts just faded, it hung freely from my shoulders, not much more protection than a towel might be.

He turned me around, and that next embrace, that kiss, those hands, those fingers, all took me along the path of ready and wanting.

Then he let me go.

It took him only a moment to remove the studs from his shirt and remove it, he folded it casually but properly and dropped it on a chair.

He just lifted a foot and pulled off a shoe and sock, and repeated that performance with his other leg. Somehow the shoes found themselves side by side, the socks neatly folded over on them, all done effortlessly – seamlessly.

He didn't stop there. His trousers were next, and found themselves folded over the chair back. He wore black silk looking boxer briefs, and they left little doubt this cool sophisticated man was also human. The front of his boxers was distorted, pushed out by his arousal.

"Í think it's fair to say we're two consenting adults here. Some women," he said, "like to claim they were forced to have sex. I don't think you're one of them."

I knew about sexual harassment suits and what such a thing could cost this man.

"You're right, I'm not. I'm here because I want to be. "

"Will you take your dress off for me?" he asked. He sat on the bed, watching.

I just reached behind me and pulled at the straps, then found the dress material and lifted that too. I watched him as the dress neckline rose and blocked my vision, and continued pulling at the dress until I could see him again. But now I was nude, except for my heels. I had never in my life been naked except for high heel shoes before!

"More beautiful than I could imagine," he said, reaching for me.

In a moment we were alongside each other, wrapped in an embrace and a kiss: I could feel his erection pushing against me, the most blatantly sexy thing I had felt in years.

After the kiss he rolled on his back: his shorts were tented by his erection.

I knelt beside him, put my hands on the elastic waistband at his hips. "May I?"

He bridged, and I just began drawing those shorts down, over his flat belly, over the start of that dark patch of hair. Then there was his shaft, slowly being revealed by the waistband as it moved down.

And down.

Finally, he – it – his penis – sprung erect. It was different: as long as Tony's, but thicker.

Oh my.

He lifted his legs, and I finished removing that garment: it wasn't going to be needed any more.

"You're so thick," I told him.

"It's nice of you to say so," he said. I was on my knees beside him when he said "Please kick off those shoes, I want you totally nude." I thought having their women wear heels in bed was a turn on for men. Maybe so, but not for this one. I took them off. "I have this thing, I'm not proud of it, but I have this thing. I guess it's a power thing. I love to make love to a woman who's married to someone else, but I have never made love to a more beautiful woman than you."

My self confidence needed him to say that.

"Now, get on me," he said, and I lay on him, kissing him, feeling that erection between my legs.

"Have you ever noticed," he said between little kisses to my neck and throat, " how men love to watch their women go down on them, while most women like to be still with their eyes closed while their men do them?"