Like Silk: Debut

1)

I ran my fingers across the soft and snug elastic, gently fingering the flowery lace detail. I stared into the full-length mirror. I looked good in black, and the frills of leafy detail fluttered teasingly at the top of my thighs. What a waste I thought, as I writhed around in my lingerie, lamps down low. Only thirty-five. All of my girlfriends were quite jealous of my lot, which was, on paper, a happy one. I lived on a newly built private estate in the suburbs, styled with large, white paneled, detached houses surrounded by porches and neat manicured lawns. Someone came every other week and gardened our street, that was part of the deal we got for neighborhood membership. My little palace sat at the end of the cul-de-sac, symmetrical and tastefully lit. Inside, worn, and rustic wood had been imported to visually warm each floor, whilst physical warmth rose from the under-floor heating system below. Deep faux fur rugs sprawled across them, and I'd spent many hours lying on them, staring blankly up at the brass shabby-chic chandeliers that hung stiffly from the new white glossy ceilings. Our furnishings were a coach-house show room; everything else was stone cold marble.

It wasn't just my house they envied; it was absolutely everything. I'd always looked after myself, despite the odd cigarette or drink. I wasn't a tower at five foot six, but I wore heels well and could still fit a snug size ten at my age. I had always had long, thick hair, but wore it in a loose pony most days so as not to damage it. I could scrub up well and had a good sense of dress for my shape. I didn't put as much effort in as others; I wasn't able to recreate the highly filtered, hugely made-up faces of the starlets of social media these days, but why would I want to? Men seemed to find it easy enough to approach me, and always looked disappointed once they spotted the wedding band I'd eventually move my hand to reveal. Hey, a little attention kept me from giving up completely.

Children were the only missing piece of the pretty picture, but something kept me, and Oscar I guess, from going that far. I stayed on my contraception, and we never discussed it. Not that I could have conceived anyway, you need to at least make love in order to do that, and for the last few years, we'd passed in hallways and bedrooms like ghosts.

Our tenth wedding anniversary had been the first time we'd invited people here, a year ago. I had married Oscar aged twenty-four, and he was twenty-two. The girls had made faces at his age, but 'love was love' I had stoically pounded each time they mocked his youth or inexperience. He fell for me first, because I was naughty, bold, outrageous, and very assertive. In those days, it was common knowledge, and I went on a few dates with men who had heard I could drink them under the table, or that I would go for the odd skinny dip if the mood struck. It was fun, and I was fun. He'd met me in passing a few times around our town, which was a much smaller place back then, but we knew some similar people and had often exchanged a "hi" at parties, bars or jogging round the park. I'd then finally struck up a one-to-one conversation with him when I'd decided to go shopping one Saturday at the computer store he worked at. He was a department manager at the time, and knew a lot about laptops, so I had picked his brains, ordered in a nice computer, and written my phone number on the receipt. I subsequently got a text that evening and had giggled with my girlfriends. It had said,

"I'm guessing this is Andi, the awesomely sexy girl who purchased the HP Pavilion dv6700t?"

"He remembered what laptop you bought?" Sophie, my oldest friend had sniggered.

"Well, I did write my number on his copy of the order receipt. I guess he had to process it. And maybe I wasn't the only Andi he served that day that both bought a laptop and left him their phone number!" I'd defended.

Sarah had laughed. "I really don't think he's got them queuing up babe" she said.

"Well, I think he's quite cute. For a bit of casual fun, anyway!"

We did have casual fun back then, and I had kept him at arm's length for a while. After a few months, he found himself out of a flat due to renovations on the rental property, and he'd asked me, really sweetly, if he could stay. It was fun, really, having my fuckbuddy around most days, and we started to bond over other things too. A love of cooking, TV shows, and he started to meet more of my friends as they dropped by. Before I knew it, we appeared to be co-habiting and had met each other's parents. We had a fish tank and shared a car. He'd begun by paying half rent on my place, but soon his home office collection grew, as did my wardrobe, and once he got promoted to store manager, then regional manager, we upsized. I guess he thought it best to lock it down, so we married in a small church in a nearby village surrounded by our friends and family. Everybody said how beautiful I looked. The pictures don't hang up here just yet.

Now he is an executive you should see our home offices. They're both in line with the rest of the house we purchased a just over a year ago. The house he purchased over a year ago, while I sat in our old flat, drank wine alone, cried, and texted Sarah back with "I'm fine, babe, how are you"

My office was one of the only carpeted rooms in the house, and it looked over the rainy little rear garden. My little pale grey cocoon, grey both inside and out. I worked from home sometimes when there weren't clients to meet at our PR firm. That had really been the majority of the time lately since Lucien had taken over. We'd been going through a little downturn of business, and Jasper the previous manager had left us in the lurch. Lucien was extremely nice to us though, and when I did go into the office, I always found a huge tray of pastries and the new coffee machine would be bubbling away. Ergo dynamic office chairs in bright wacky colors started to spring up here and there, and soon we had a clean efficient work environment, no new clients as of yet though. It was quiet these days, aside from the free jazz Lucien sometimes put on in the kitchen, and although the money was okay, we were often a bore, listless workforce.

That cloudy Sunday evening, as I tried on old lingerie that I had finally unpacked from the vacuum bags under the bed, I padded in and out of the office, sending out work emails. I shimmied off the black lace shorts and placed them in one of my already overstuffed drawers and rummaged back in the vacuum bag. I fished out a pair of panties, in a deep plum silk, and stretched them in front of my face. I gasped as I remembered them, or, more specifically, the last time I'd worn them; St Valentine's Day, four years ago. A cream silk ribbon wove in and out of the gusset, tying up the open seam from right at the front, to, well, right at the back. I blushed, thinking about their obvious design; I would have forgotten about these, were it not for my sudden urge to organize the rest of my clothes. I slipped them on; almost getting my toes caught in the fussy ribbon tied hole in the gusset and wiggled them onto my hips. They still fit beautifully. I couldn't help but giggle at myself for even owning them. I sat on the side of the bed and peeked at myself in the mirror. I dared to open my legs slightly, and the ribbon strained, flashing soft pink me though the gaps. When would I ever need crotchless panties again?

I heard a ping from the office and wondered who might have actually responded to one of my last-minute Sunday evening emails, intended to be at the top of my colleague's inboxes first thing in the morning. I threw a short dressing robe over myself and scurried down the hallway into my office. That's when the email had come from Lucien.

"Bonsoir everybody."

Oh gosh, I don't know why but I could hear his deep rumbling voice when I read emails from him, and his thick Parisian accent, which made everything sound haughty and expensive.

"I have booked a big trip for us all, and instead of working in the super boring office next week as we have nobody coming to see us, we will go to the nice resort at the Red Forest place. So, come to work on Monday with your suitcases for one night's stay only, and we will be going for the spa, pool, tennis and then meetings about how we can create a really good team. Obviously, the majority of you know each other for many years now, but I do not get the chance to know many of you so well just yet. So, this will be really good opportunity to find out what everyone is really like! So, see you all there in the morning,

Lucien B."

I stared blankly at the screen. We're going on a team building trip? A residential one nonetheless! Horror coursed through me. I'd gradually cut down my interaction with my colleagues over the last few years, quite successfully, and now Lucien wants us to go and spend a night at a leisure resort? I rose from the plush swiveling chair and paced. I started at the tall shelf of books on the other side of the room. I guessed this might be my chance to finally read some of these, I've had them stockpiling for a couple of years now. That was my solution! I could get paid to sit under a tree, or in the café, and read. Attend the meetings, put forward some tame suggestions about software updates, mind maps and personality tests, keep to myself, enjoy the free food and gym, then slip off early on the Tuesday. Perhaps get some of the redecorating done in the downstairs cloakroom that I wanted to do.

I sat back down at the computer and decided to do a bit of stalking on my new boss. His picture was good, in fact on one particular search result it was more than good. He wore thick-rimmed spectacles, which poked out from beneath his glossy black unruly fringe, and his dark brown eyes sparkled behind them. A slightly open, pale blue shirt framed his tanned collarbones. How had I never noticed how hot Lucien was? His lips were sensual, but firm as he smirked at the camera, showing dimples in his stubbly cheeks. I shifted in my chair, my temperature suddenly rising a little. I clicked on the link to see what it was about. "Workforce happiness in France is at a national high." I giggled. If we could get high at Façade LTD, we'd all be a lot happier.

There was a link to a video website channel called "LucienBissetMondeProfessionel." I followed it and there were several videos to choose from! I scanned quickly and picked one of him wearing sunglasses and an even more open shirt. Good lord, he appeared to be on a yacht! A beautiful sun-drenched boat, off of a coast somewhere. I took a breath and pressed play. He began to drawl in French, I couldn't understand a word, but the obnoxious smile playing around his lips told me that this was another "work" project for him. I wonder what lucky colleagues got to go on this trip. It looked like Cannes, from what I remember of Cannes, and I imagined that PR firms might have many clients there. Maybe I should move there? The sunlight on his dark chest highlighted the soft salty moisture on his skin, and I practically salivated.

The office door swung open, and I jumped. It was Oscar, of course.

"What 'cha doing?" He quizzed, squinting at Lucien's wrinkled nose and gleaming white teeth, I had accidentally paused on the cutest smile I'd ever seen.

"Just being nosy, babe" I said.

"Who's that?" He asked

"That's Lucien."

"Who?"

"Lucien Bisset, our new manager at Façade UK" I reminded him

"Oh yeah, I forgot Jasper left. Shame, he was a good lad."

"He was stressed towards the end though"

"What's Lucien like then?" Oscar seemed genuinely interested.

"I wouldn't rightly know; I've not had much chance to meet him properly." I replied. I nearly continued on about the trip, but Oscar shrugged and slipped back through the door, whistling as he padded down the hallway to the staircase. I heard him plod down the stairs to the beat of his own tune.

If I'd seen him watching videos of a hot woman, I might have wondered what he thought of her. Maybe Oscar did wonder what I thought of Lucien. Or maybe it did not occur to him in the slightest. I typed my confirmation of attendance to Lucien and sent it off, but before I could switch off the PC a reply pinged back so fast, I almost jumped.

"See you there mystery woman ;)"

he had written. Cheeky bastard. He was referring to the fact that I worked from home as often as I could. Could he blame me for wanting to save on petrol these days when there weren't many bonuses up for grabs?

I switched off the computer and picked up my phone. I considered sloping down the stars to join Oscar for a bedtime cup of tea, but a better idea lurked beneath that. I crept back to the bedroom and swept my lingerie unpacking aside. Deal with that in the morning. I drew the curtains and slipped into our enormous four-poster bed.

I grabbed my phone from my handbag on the nightstand, and opened the video app. I searched LucienBissetMondeProfessionel and there it was, my new favorite channel. How had I not noticed him properly before? He was smoldering. I selected a video of him in a luxurious looking grey suit and pale cream shirt, complete with charcoal woolen tie. I pressed play, and he began to explain something very earnestly about workforce satisfaction outside a shining smoked glass executive building, presumably somewhere in Paris. My eyes hovered over his tanned collarbone once more, and I imagined tracing it with my nose.

What was I doing? That's my boss!

But I let his voice wash over me again, and I focused on the soft fronds of dark hair peeking from over the loose tie. I imagined loosening it slowly, inhaling a poisonous cologne that burnt the air, and how it might feel for him to put his strong, lean hand on the small of my back as I slowly undid his buttons, one by one.

I imagined the sharp scratch of his stubble on my neck as he ran his tongue down my collarbone, and the firm, muscular pushes below of a bulge forming.

I slipped my hand down to my panties and fumbled for the ribbon, jolting as I brushed past my swelling clit. That was fast, I thought. I teased for the end of the ribbon, and found it soaked. Oh god. I pulled it loose and stared at the blue glow of my screen, and Lucien's strong lips clipping away in his delicate language. I slid a finger down the open gusset, and I felt my temperature rise. I imagined those strong lips parting mine, and his muscular tongue pushing at my aching clit. I circled it with my finger, and shivers ran through me like I hadn't felt in an exceptionally long time.

At that moment, I heard footsteps on the staircase again, and a yawn from Oscar. For fuck's sake. I quickly shut off the video and threw my phone back into my handbag and tried to look as thought I was asleep. Shit. I'd left the ribbon of the pants loose in the bed. I'd left the pants on myself! He might be surprised. He might like it...

I could dream that one day my sex life might return. Oscar wandered into the en-suite to brush his teeth, so I took my chance and scrabbled for the ribbon. I balled it up with the panties that I had whipped off and threw them into my handbag as well. I shut my eyes and felt the bed move as Oscar eased himself in next to me and rolled over to face away. I blurred into dreams of smoky glass, French cologne, and strong, brown hands.

2)

I awoke slightly late that morning, the bed was empty next to me, and I could hear that Oscar was downstairs. I jumped out of bed and threw myself into the shower, scrubbing furiously. Memories of last night's daydreaming, which turned into night dreaming, swam in my head. What kind of a lunatic decides to try to get off to a video of their boss talking about work? I dragged my suitcase out from under the bed and threw it atop the unmade duvet. Two pairs of panties, two pairs of tights, toothbrush, toothpaste razor, black heels, black dress, work shirt, skirt and bra, phone charger, laptop. No shower gel or shampoo, I'd be using Red Forest's finest.

When I made it downstairs, dragging a comb through my wet hair, Oscar was pouring coffee into my favorite mug. It was my favorite because it was gigantic, just like a bowl with a small handle.

"Did you know, Andi, that in France they just drink coffee from a bowl. No handle. They dip their pastries in it, like a treat, apparently!" Oscar told me.

"What made you randomly come out with that?" I asked, suspicious.

"It was just on TV babe."

"You learn something every day, huh." I took my coffee and sipped, burning my tongue a little.

"What's the suitcase for?" Oscar spied it, sitting sheepishly in the doorframe.

"So, we are going on a work residential. Well, I am, not you. To the Red Forest Resort up near Colham Park."

"Oh? How long for?"

"Just the one night. I'm not really looking forward to it to be honest."

"Do you have to go?" Oscar asked.

"Well, yeah. I mean Lucien's already paid for it all, so I guess we have to. Anyway, you know the firm is stagnating a little; it might actually pay off to do some team building. Why do you ask anyway, will you miss me?" I asked hopefully.

"I'll be fine," Oscar said earnestly, as if I'd been asking genuinely and not coyly. "I can crack open a few beers and play some video games."

"You know, you can do that whilst I'm here Oscar, I'm not stopping you"

"Yeah, I guess, but... you know" he said, grinning, and turned back to his coffee machine to froth himself a mocha latte, as he did most mornings.

I smiled glacially and sipped my coffee. No, Oscar, I don't know. I like beer too, and I really like video games. I used to like you; and you used to like me as well.

I got to the office about ten minutes late, and everyone was standing around. It made me laugh; they looked like children about to embark on a school trip. There's something unsettling about seeing coworkers in jeans and hoodies. The email specified casual dress, so I'd put on some smart leggings, boots and what I thought was a cute dress, a blue felt smock with large crochet pockets. I still felt the need to go smart casual, I guess I'm kind of old fashioned that way. Lucien was wearing jeans, tight ones, and a baggy forest green jumper. He had mountaineering boots on and a backpack! He looked like a complete nerd, and for some reason, it made me want to launch myself at him. We weren't going hiking, so what was with the getup? Everyone else was pretty standardly dressed for an awkward British day out, a few designer anoraks, some old trainers here and there, and a lot of "funky" scarves. I died a little inside. Even more ridiculous were the ones clutching their smart black leather briefcases against their cargo pants.

"Ok, ok people," Lucien yelled in his drawling accent. "Now we see everyone we are waiting for; we can go onto the coach guys!"

"Sorry I'm late!" I called, and I barged through the office to the opposite side where the double doors were open and a shining black coach was waiting, engine rumbling noisily.

"No problem, no worries" he laughed, lounging against one of the social media department desks, and gave a comedic wink. "I am stealing you all away tonight! Everyone must be having to say the long goodbye to their husband and wife this morning, no?"

I gave him an exasperated look, one eyebrow raised, and he mirrored it, before laughing again and turning to somebody else to tease them.

"You look nice, Andi! Lovely dress!" cooed Sophie from accounts as she trudged up alongside me across the gravel.

"Thanks, Soph" I replied. "Are you looking forward to this?"

"Ah not really" she admitted. "There's a bar though, so let's hope Lucien's put a few hundred behind it. Workplace satisfaction? Sounds like a great idea to me" She chuckled.

"Yeah, might be ok once we've got a few wines in us!" I agreed and scrambled onto the coach.