A Simple Business Arrangement

After a while, Boz began to ask her to dress certain ways, classy but sexy, and, with little or no discussion, she began gathering suggested, suggestive clothing that she would keep at work in a garment bag hung in the staffroom closet. And as her special wardrobe became increasingly racy, she found herself secretly flushing and glowing at her own naughtiness.

Geri started to realize how reserved her sexuality had actually been, BB – Before Boz. Early on, she'd admitted to herself, that she'd been a bit of a 'tight-ass'. Still, she'd been amazed at how sex had gotten ever more enjoyable as she incrementally let herself go. And the more thrilling it became the easier she found it to offer herself more and more completely.

Although she had never even considered it BB, somewhere in that first year she gave up her anal virginity. Her husband had suggested a few times, early in their marriage, that they try it up the dirt-chute, but she had always refused, saying it was dirty and perverted; unnatural.

Now, Geri could clearly recall lying there with Boz, glistening with sweat, spooning in the afterglow of the first round of yet another adulterous assignation. Gently, Boz scooped back across her still sensitive pussy, spreading some of their mixed juices over her ass, then wiping the rest on his swollen glans. Subtly shifting his hips, he seated his plum firmly against her rosebud. Geri was too mellow to notice more than his soothing touch. Without actually pushing, he swiveled his bum, twisting his cockhead against her anus. Scooping more overflow from her dripping vagina, he continued to smear their conjunction with natural lubricant. As he twiddled her nipples and blew kisses at the back of her neck, the delicate rubbing relaxed her bottom. She didn't even notice that his erection was spreading her ass, slowly, incrementally.

Somehow, he'd coaxed her onto her hands and knees, then, kneeling between her feet, hanging onto her hips, he'd gradually leaned in, applying an ever so slight increase in pressure, until he'd just popped in, his cockhead breaching her sphincter. "Ow! That hurts!" she'd complained, twisting ineffectively against his gripping hands. But, then, it wasn't really pain, just an odd fullness – extreme fullness. At first, he didn't move, but gradually he began short, slow strokes, which increased in amplitude, until he was sawing in and out.

Geri surprised herself, when, in short order, she began to rock back to meet his every insertion. She couldn't believe the sudden arousal that flared in her fundament, blotting out any shred of discomfort she had felt. Her rectum began to spasm, gripping and releasing in time with his thrusts. She felt him stiffen further, as he pulled convulsively at her hips, barking out his climax. She could feel him jetting his seed deep into her firmament, his semen splashing into her bowel.

Geri smiled at the reminiscence, and thought, to herself, she was certainly no longer 'tight-assed' – neither figuratively nor literally. It was like they'd discovered a new erogenous zone, and it was not dirty or perverted. She was sorry that she had not given in to her husband's long-ago requests. Nevertheless, back to the business at hand: "Now," she'd announced in silent self-congratulations, "I can consciously and deliberately 'give it all'! After all, that is what I'm being paid for!"

Amidst all that – her burgeoning sexual growth and development – she worried that sex with her husband was starting to feel pale, pallid by comparison. Rationalizing yet again, she decided that it wasn't that sex with Boz was better, just different. Sex with Paul was powered by love. Sex with Boz was powered by lust. Yeah, just different.

One afternoon, after many months – many trysts – Boz said, "Hey, why don't we forego room service this time, and, just for a change, eat in the restaurant." Geri's eyes went wide and her mouth rounded into a perfect, perfectly silent 'O': "The shape perfect," Boz thought, "for sucking cock;" but, he, wisely, kept that observation to himself, adding, out loud, "Oh, don't worry. We'll be discreet. I'll get us a table along the wall, out of the way." While Geri considered the consequences of being seen by someone she knew, she was also titillated by the element of danger. Ultimately, she assented.

They always sat in a back, corner booth, where they could see all of the other patrons– close to an exit, just in case evasive action was required. It worked out just fine, and they enjoyed the illusion of having their affair out in the open.

Then, on a Friday night, well into the second year of the arrangement, in their regular hotel room, after their usual regimen of sex, Boswell announced a change in their routine. "I'm not going back to New York tonight."

"Oh? Do tell." It occurred to her, vaguely, as it had in the past, to wonder if Boz had someone at home. If she, Geri, was, in fact, the "other woman." Once more, she didn't ask, preferring not to know.

"I'm heading to Ottawa to attend a big convention, and...," leaving a rather dramatic pause, he gave her a rather enigmatic look, before continuing, "I was wondering if you might join me for the weekend." Geri met his stare with a stony silence, as she mulled over the proposition. Was this a date? How did it figure into their business arrangement? Her husband was in Montreal at a big business meeting, until the middle of the next week. Did Boz already know this?

She started to say, "I'll have to think about this," but had really already made up her mind before she finished the sentence. She continued to rationalize her situation by allowing herself to believe her husband was being unfaithful whenever he was out of town. In any case, this was only a business arrangement. Undoubtedly Boz would have some fair – what? – 'remuneration package' in mind.

"Paul," she told herself, "is a businessman." Once again, she deluded herself into believing that he would approve of the deal – of such a lucrative business arrangement. "Yes," she concluded, "he would be okay with this." And so, after relatively little considering, Geri smiled and replied, "Yes, I'd love to accompany you this weekend."

Boz beamed. "I've taken the liberty of packing an overnight bag and gathering some clothing for you." Surprised, Geri raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. Boz went to the closet, and, with a sweeping gesture, showed her what he had bought for her: a slinky, sparkly evening gown – a backless sheath with deep plunging rear and a skimpy halter neck, split high up the thighs – elegant and sexy; an outrageous pair of glittery silver stiletto heels; and, in a carry-on bag, some slinky lingerie with thigh-high stay-ups, along with a simple casual wear outfit. Geri was impressed. Everything appeared to be the right size. "You'll have to trust me," Boz pointed out, "as we haven't really got time to try it all on. We're leaving almost immediately."

Having expected Geri's acceptance – if somewhat presumptuously – Boz already had the tickets, which he flashed. Geri was rather at sixes and sevens, initially, but she was quickly becoming stoked – both excited and apprehensive at the prospect of this new adventure. They just had enough time for a quickie, to quell the fires of anticipation, before checking out of the hotel, and heading for the airport in a limo.

During the flight, it was Boz who behaved like an excited teenager, unable to resist persistently groping Geri, who spent her time playfully shushing him and batting his hands away. In the taxi into town from the airport, Boz managed to rip Geri's panties apart and surreptitiously insinuate his fingers into her quim. She responded by flooding his hand with her feminine juices.

As his fingers stroked and poked, swirled and prodded, Geri couldn't believe how worked up she was getting. Seizing the advantage, Boz finger-fucked her mercilessly, until she was quivering and panting. Clutching at Boz's arms, Geri eyes glazed as she roared towards an orgasm.

Suddenly Boz removed his hand and sat up straight, conversing calmly with the driver as they pulled upto the hotel entrance. With a heaving chest and trembling legs, her pussy throbbing spasmodically, Geri struggled to recompose herself as Boz helped her from the cab. In the room, Geri watched Boz, as they opened their bags and hung their clothing, waiting for the slightest indication that he intended to take up where they'd left off in the taxi. Instead, he gave her a curious look, then said, "You haven't asked me about the – er – fee for the weekend. What was it you've said before? 'Let's get the money out of the way first'?"

"No," Geri protested, "I was being facetious! I didn't mean..."

"Twenty-five hundred."

"What?"

Boz smiled, "Twenty-five hundred dollars for the weekend. I know you're worth every cent."

Geri paused a moment, taking it all in – what he said, what he didn't say. And she realized that, as ever, she wanted to give him his money's worth. It was all like living in an erotic fantasy. Yes, she continued to delight in the thrill of being bad, as evidenced by the warm glow reigniting in her core.

As Boz turned to the closet and began to undress, Geri scooted around him and dropped to her knees directly in front of him, reaching into the open fly of his trousers to retrieve his flaccid cock. But he surprised her by pulling her up and swinging her onto her back on the bed. With a cheeky grin, in one smooth motion, he dropped between her legs, flipped up her skirt, and planted his face into bare, damp bush.

Stroked his tongue the length of her slit, gathering her dew, bothering her clitoris, inflaming her arousal. Without a word he set to eating her, taking her tantalizingly close, before backing off, then diving in again, over and over. Geri couldn't stand it – whimpering and writhing as she drew ever more close to orgasm.

Suddenly he stopped. "We've got a dinner to attend. Hut, hut," Boz announced. "We need to get dressed."

"But... but... I'm so close," Geri whined. "Come on," she complained, "A quick quickie. Just let me..." As her hands sought out her weeping pussy, Boz lifted her up by the arm, off the bed."

"Later," he scolded, unable to hide the underlying mirth, "For now, you'll just have to wait."

Disappointed, but resigned, Geri donned the gown, going, necessarily, braless and wearing only the tiniest thong possible. Assessing herself in the mirror, Geri was justifiably pleased: her breasts stood out pert and firm, her figure was pleasing, her long legs, glimpsed through the side slits, were shapely.

Once again she reminded herself that her husband was probably dicking some chick even then, and that, she convinced herself, makes it all right. "Besides," she rationalized, "he'll never know."

They took the elevator to the convention dinner hall, and, in short order, were seated. Part-way into the initial presentations, Boz whispered to Geri, "Sorry for being a little bit anal, but, you know, I could see the string-line of your thong as you exited the elevator. It detracts from your perfection." Geri waited silently for him to continue, leaning her ear his direction. He chuckled a bit before going on. "D'ya think you could go into the ladies' room and take them off?" Turning his head, he detected her slight nod. "Bring them back and I'll hang onto them."

Geri stood up, picked up her clasp, and turned from the table. "See you in a bit," she purred. In the stall, she quickly pulled the teeny underwear down and stepped out. She noted the coolness of the air on her vulva – the gusset of the thong was already damp. Gripping the brief garment in her hand, she exited the washroom and made her way back to the table, smiling at the thought of her near-nakedness amongst all those people. As she resumed her seat, she handed her underwear to Boz in a ball, flashing him a sly grin, before, ostensibly, returning her attention to the speaker.

The presentations broke for a delicious dinner and, as their wine was topped up, both Geri and Boz chatted easily with their table mates. Geri took what opportunities she could to lean into Boz while emphasizing a point, pressing her boobs against his arm, or drawing a finger coyly down his sleeve to drop her hand onto his thigh, reaching, for just a moment, to touch his package. His retaliation was swift – finding the slit in her dress, he slid his hand through her uncovered pubes, to surreptitiously part her labia and strum her clit. Her arousal, which had finally faded into the background, flare intensely.

Almost immediately her chest began to heave, her breath becoming ragged. Boz smiled benignly as his fingers played a tattoo at her inflamed quim. And he played her masterfully, once again, bringing her infuriatingly close to orgasm, then letting her cool her jets ever so slightly – up and down, again and again, over and over.

Clutching at his arm, Geri leaned in to whisper in his ear. Her eyes watered and her head swam as she pleaded with him to stop. She could feel her face – her face and her chest – glowing, burning red. "Please," she whimpered, her lips brushing his ear, "Puh-leaze... You can't keep me hanging like this!"

"Watch me!" he chuckled.

Fighting to keep her voice low, she hissed, "I'm going to cum!" She even tried to appeal to his sense of self-respect, as she sputtered desperately, squirming against his fingers, soaking the chair, and the back of her gown, "I'm going to embarrass us both!"

Meanwhile, across the convention floor, a delegation arrived late, having flown in last-minute from Montreal. Brought in by a medical tech company that were using his company's control products, Paul, Geraldine's husband, settled in, then surveyed the room for familiar faces. With a conscious effort, he hid his complete shock at seeing his wife cuddling up against another man.

Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, he leaned over to his host and, in a surprisingly neutral voice, asked, "Who is that fellow, over there, sitting with the woman in the glittery silver gown?"

"Oh, him? Now, let's see – that's Dr. Dunhaven – Boswell Dunhaven. He's big time neurosurgeon in New York, although, I believe he does some consulting work, out of TO."

"And who is she? The woman with him?"

"Don't know..., but I've seen her with him, before – actually, a few times lately. His current paid escort's my guess."

While Paul and his colleague continued watching, the unsuspecting Boz mercilessly redoubled his attention to Geri's clit. His ministrations were, of course, rewarded, as Geri finally crashed over the edge, and exploded into the long-pending orgasm.

She struggled valiantly to be inconspicuous, pulling herself tight against Boz's shoulder to cover the quaking of her body, and dropping her head to hide her heaving chest and gasping mouth. She was, in fact, quite successful in disguising her climax; but, Paul recognized the signs – and knew what had just occurred. In his preoccupation, he didn't get much out of the rest of the meeting.

After the conference dinner, Geri and Boz got back to their room and fell directly into mad, thrashing, wild sex. It was their first fuck in Ottawa, although it was their third or fourth of what seemed to be a very long evening. As they lay panting, side-by-side on the bed, luxuriating in the warm afterglow, Boz noticed the voicemail light on the room's phone. Without giving it any thought, he played the 'one new message' on speaker.

"Hello, Dr. Dunhaven" – the caller even pronounced it right – while Geri's blood ran cold. She, of course, recognized the voice. "This Is Paul McCarthy, Geraldine's husband. Please let her know we'll need to talk when we're both back from our trips. Thanks."

Geri's jaw dropped, for a moment – WTF clearly written across her face. They sat frozen for a long moment, before Boz shrugged. Geri responded with a what-can-you-do? look of her own; nothing could be done now.

Boz let his robe fall open again, and was wobbling as he grew to full erection. He nodded at the glassy-eyed Geri, who shrugged, then dropped her robe from her shoulders. Naked once more, she stepped into his arms, and took his firm cock in hand. "After all," she chided herself, "I have a professional transaction to complete." And so, they carried on, if somewhat stunned, Geri, understandably more so than her consort.

Still, the obligations of a simple business arrangement, and the escape into sexual arousal quickly overrode the shock of discovery and the worried anticipation of consequences. They were just bridges to be crossed when they got to them.