The Boss's Wife

I really can't talk about the specifics of my last job. I can tell you that my supervisor was a prick. He was egotistical, selfish, and always looking for a way to win over his superiors. For the sake of this story, we will call him "Bob". He was one of those shorter than average guys who thrust his weight and chest around like he owned a place. It became apparent after working with him for nearly ten years that he ran his home the way he did work.

His wife, Heather, was a loving and devoted woman who took as much of his verbal nonsense as she could. Through it all, she smiled and did the duty of a loving wife. Everyone in the office thought she had the patience of a saint. I had seen her from afar quite a bit but I never got within a few feet of her. That changed one Wednesday afternoon as I was summoned into Bob's office after I had misplaced a file. A file he found on his desk under the mound of paperwork that he had not filed yet with his boss. As I pointed this out to him, he rose his voice about me challenging him. Anyway, about three minutes into his rant, Heather comes in to have lunch with him. She had brought him a home made meal, so that they could talk about something that was on her mind or some problems between the two of them. The moment that she came into his line of sight, he grew silent and bore into her with eyes possessing intense anger.

She nearly stopped in her tracks. Her head lowered and she came into the office, slowly and almost afraid of what he was going to do. I wondered if he was abusive. The bastard.

That was when I finally got to see her up close. Heather was a little taller than me, long blonde hair that went down to the middle of her back. I would discover she was a year older than me and had been both a model for Liz Claiborne and an extra in several off-Broadway musicals before she met and married Bob. She reminded a lot of Cindy Crawford, body wise but her face was a cross between Kathy Ireland and Jewel Staite. She wore a gorgeous sun dress that covered her slender legs and hid some, but not all of her womanly frame.

She looked at me quite curiously as if to say something, but she remained silent. All three of us were either angry or frightened. I assume that a lot of different messages were being sent out. Turns out I was right. I left them to talk and he closed the door behind me.

I thought I was done with my work day but got picked to stay late. It was becoming something of a habit, staying late with the boss.

This pattern continued for three more work days and I was able to leave work on time that following Tuesday. I snuck out in hopes that I would avoid Bob. I was successful. I opened my door, took off my damned jacket and threw off my fucking heels. I gritted my teeth and growled, glad to be home and free of him. I had found out that I would be assigned to a group going to the Katrina-devastated regions for an audit. Yay me, right?

I reached into the fridge and pulled out my wine bottle. No glass. Straight from the bottle. It had been one of those days. I began unbuttoning my blouse when there was a persistent knocking at my door. I was surprised to see Heather at my door. I wondered how she had discovered where I lived. Turns out that Bob took his work home with him every night and left employee files out in his home office. That would come back to bite him in the ass very soon, by the way.

She apologized but she needed someone to talk to. While I had this gorgeous woman at my door, I was annoyed that I had not even unwound from work and now work was at my doorstep again. I invited her in and sat her down. I asked her if she wanted something to drink and she refused.

Turns out that Bob had been spending increasing amounts of time "at the office" recently. Heather was becoming suspicious and had driven past our place of work several times before hiring a private investigator. A few photos had incriminated me as his mistress and when she saw me in the office that day, she wondered even more about me. Our silence as she entered did not hold well either. The private investigator had apparently been focusing on me for a few days and reported his findings to Heather. I was in the clear.

Because I was a senior official, she figured I might know more about what was going on. I told her that I was sorry but I couldn't help her. I knew nothing about any affair.

She began to cry and I wiped the tears now streaming down her cheek and held her hair back from her face. God, she was beautiful. And Bob was an asshole for hurting this wonderful creature. I tried to comfort her as best I could, reaching for a nearby box of Kleenex. She looked at me and asked me if that offer for the drink was still good. Of course it was, I told her.

We spent the next two hours talking about life. I told her about my divorce and the affair that led me to it. She seemed amazed that I could have turned away from a marriage of 20 years and start from scratch. I told her that I had no choice. It was toxic and draining me. As I talked more about how I discovered myself and how much I came to look at that dark time of an abusive marriage as a growing period, she seemed to warm up more to me.

I discovered she wasn't just a beautiful looking woman, she was lovely on the inside as well. She had a laugh that could make even Ebenezer Scrooge become lighthearted. The way her eyes lit up in moments of suspense or fun was amazing. I sat there looking at a woman who was not very different from where I was eight years earlier. Luckily, I had John. She had no one to turn to. Not yet anyway.

Heather was clever, insightful, and very giving. Somehow she had fallen into the rut of being told she was no good and useless. I did what I could to help her change that. My words could only do so much, though.

The time was getting late and she realized that she needed to go. She stood up and thanked me for listening and for being so thoughtful. I looked into those blue eyes of hers and told her that the pleasure was mine and that I hoped we could do it again soon. She seemed on the verge of crying again, when I stepped in close and grabbed her hands in mine. Softly I held them and leaned in at her downwardly held face to get her to look at me. I don't know what made me take the chance, but as she looked at me I took a step closer, rose on my toes and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

It was soft and tender. I had wanted to do it so much earlier than this but was afraid of being too forward and far too advantageous of the situation. I let go of her hands as my lips brushed hers again. This time her lips began to part, welcoming mine. My hands went to her hips and she took a half step towards me. Her hands found their way to my waist. I tilted my head, kissing her again. Our tongues met, only for a brief moment before she tore away from me.

Heather grew rigid, her face seemingly mortified at what had just happened. My mood bottomed out. I know that I wore a look of disappointment and sorrow. I apologized for my actions and she both smiled and burrowed her brow. I could tell she was confused. I knew that look. I knew what she was thinking. I had been there before.

She turned, thanked me for the night and left. I stood at the doorway looking at her as she walked double time into the night. I took a shower, thought about what had happened and went to sleep.

I went to work the following day and it went by uneventful. I kept thinking about Heather and our brief kiss. I wished it had turned into something more. I was sure that ship had sailed given her reaction the night before.

I opened the door to my place, turned on the lamp and kicked off my heels. I threw my jacket off on my sofa and got a glass from the cabinet and poured myself some wine. I sat down onto my couch and turned on my stereo. The soothing sounds of BB King soon began to play, caressing my soul, erasing the frustration of another day. I was about four songs into my cd, a duet with Dr. John called "Is She Is or Is She Ain't My Baby", when I heard a knock at my door. I mumbled in french and put my glass down, stood and opened the door.

To my welcomed surprise, it was Heather. She smiled at me and asked me if it was ok for her to come inside. Who was I to deny entry to this beautiful lady? I guess I could have since it was my place, but I couldn't do it. She took off her denim jacket and handed it to me, I put on the coat rack where I should have placed my work blazer.

Heather looked at me, rubbing her arms. It wasn't cold, she was noticeably nervous, which she admitted. I told her that there was nothing to be nervous about and offered her both a drink and a seat. Both she accepted. As I went into my kitchen to get a glass and the bottle of wine, she apologized for her abruptness and departure the previous night. I told her that I understood. I told her I was sorry if I had made her uncomfortable. I got no response. I continued to be the pleasant host, surely she did not come to my place for no reason at all.

I was right. She wanted to talk. After she left me, Heather had given a great deal of thought about things that I had said. She recognized that she had fallen into a rut and became trapped in the perils of marriage; giving up her life to become someone she wasn't and over time she lost herself. She came to believe what her husband told her she was. Worthless and not good enough to be on her own. She recognized that it wasn't the truth and the man she had dated was not the man that she had married. Heather had given too much of herself to someone who did not make comparable sacrifices. I told her that I was proud of her.

She told me that I was a good friend to her, despite my not needing to be. She thanked me as she sat forward, setting down her nearly empty glass. Those blue eyes turned to me, her lips parted and she smiled while the eyes began to become misty. She admitted that she was afraid of what had happened between us. I knew she meant the kiss. It was not completely unwelcome to her, but she had never kissed another woman, aside from her mother or daughter. This was definitely not one of those kind of kisses. It scared her to think the thoughts that she had. That she was kissing another woman and one that she found attractive. She, like me, had wanted more but had to process her emotions.

I told her I understood and that I found her incredibly attractive and would not want to hurt her.

She looked at me, took my hands in hers, and leaned in to me, "I know."

She kissed me. I was stunned at first. It was warm. Inviting. I parted my lips as she kissed me again. We leaned into one another, as the kissing continued. It was soft, tender, and explorative.

I pulled away, looking at her, trying to read what she was thinking. "Do you want this, I mean..."

Before I could finish my sentence, she giggled like a little girl, "I do. Will you make love to me, Angelica?"

I could feel her heart beat, I responded to it and placed my arms across her waist and pulled her to me. Everything was out in the open now, no hidden desires were left, no shadows to crouch in. The needs we both felt were about to be realized and I wanted nothing to stop it. In a swift motion, she drew me into a long, deep kiss. We melted into each others arms, safe and secure as we explored each other.

Heather then became amazingly forward. Gently, she guided me down to the soft embrace of my sofa. I relaxed, weakened by the strong grip of lust. Her fingers traced a slow, erotic path down the front of my shirt, loosing every button in their way. Gasping, I arched my back at her touch against my now bare skin. Her hot breath preceded the moisture of her tongue as she traced tempting lines along the side of my neck. At my bra strap, she paused and looked into my eyes, asking for both silent permission to continue on her journey and to revel in her actions as she did so. With a nod, I granted her rights to my intimate paths. Gingerly, she removed that restricting device from my heaving body. Soft lips brushed the skin of my breasts, a flicking tongue searing my flesh as it explored my womanhood. Ever so gently, she inhaled the unyielding nipple that stood out from my body. I writhed uncontrollably as our bodies melded into one heaving, groaning mass. As suddenly as our encounter began, she stood up. I cried out, not wanting to be left so needy by my lover. She merely smiled, tending to the task of shedding her own restrictive clothing. I felt alone, abandoned without her sultry body pressed against mine.

My body undulated wildly as I anticipated her return. My thoughts, however curious, were lost as my companion returned and pressed her nude self against me. Slowly, ever so deliberately she began exploring and tasting my trembling flesh. Her slothy procession downward drove me to new heights of frustrated lust. But, despite my greedy need for satisfaction, I was unprepared for her arrival at my sweltering cavern. Hot breath caressed my soft, shaven lips as she sat poised at those heavenly gates. Vaguely, I heard a strangled cry that I recognized as my own, animal-like and savage. Acting of it's own will, my back arched violently against my husbands chest as she delved between those folds. Moaning, she tasted the sweetness of my lust, sampling it like a fine wine. Gone was any embarrassment or awkward doubts, my mind was firm in its desires. I needed the satisfaction that this woman could give me, even if our coupling was only a brief fragment of my life. Like an unstoppable tsunami, lust crashed over me and flooded my body with previously unknown sensations. With a talent unlike any that I had ever experienced, she tasted the sweetness that drenched my tight button. Her tongue's spasmodic journey tortured me; no two touches were even remotely the same. My body quivered and thrashed about in response to the heady stimulation. My voice failed me, leaving me only primal grunts to express by approval of her ministrations. As I floated down, finally released from the grip of the Herculean orgasm that she induced, my lover maneuvered to my previously unexplored regions. Shocked, I realized that she had begun licking the tight recesses of my posterior. I tensed my body, reveling in the feelings she provoked. An involuntary reaction to the occult-like worship of those sensitive tissues. Long moments stretched by, each one demanding a stop to the excruciatingly delightful exploration. Her moist digit entered my sphincter as she lazily traced circles around my overworked clitoris with a soft finger. I screamed and writhed, a helpless hostage to this hedonistic therapy. A final, overwhelming climax wrenched itself out of my body, leaving me shaking and helpless in its wake. I drifted serenely in its wake, unwilling to pull myself away from my euphoric state. A brief kiss adorned my lips, my friend's gentle announcement of her departure. Vainly, I attempted to move my unwilling body. She smiled, whispering for me not to move. She had given me a beautiful gift, one that I could not repay in my present state. I was not prepared for Heather to be the gracious lover. I had anticipated pleasuring her.

Now I had my chance to do so.

I went down slowly, seductively, holding her gaze. As I neared her pussy, her delicate scent wafted into my nose. I sniffed discreetly, luxuriating in her femininity. Instinctively, I said "Open wide." She pulled herself open even wider. She was mine. I inserted my tongue in her gaping hole as deeply as I could, and then licked up the length of her slit. There was her musky, sweet taste again, and I delighted in it. Her wetness lathered my tongue and I made certain she could hear me swallow her. I french kissed her for a while and entered her with one finger, then two. The whole time she was holding her pussy open to receive my favors. I had her trained already. I rubbed some of her ample wetness on her cheeks. I took her right hand in mine, took her index finger and inserted in her. I inserted mine too and we rubbed our fingers together inside her. I removed my finger and put two of hers inside her. I watched her finger herself for a while as I held her open. I then removed her fingers and put them in her mouth so she could taste herself. I repeated this several times, pushing her fingers into her pussy, then pulling them out and putting them in her mouth. I then licked her some more. I paused to crawl up and kiss her mouth. She was breathing heavily and kissed me deeply, her wet fingers on my face. I returned to her pussy. I tickled her clit and took her finger again and placed it on her clit. I moved her finger so as to rub herself and then she took over. I watched her masturbate for a minute while I held her feet and rubbed her toes.

Here was the girl who had never made love to another woman and was now masturbating in my bed at my behest. Her face winced and her breasts jiggled with her movements. I then returned to finish the job, placing my tongue inside her while I rubbed her. It was another grand orgasm. She squirted into my mouth and I cherished every drop before I swallowed. Again, I made sure she knew I swallowed her; I was setting an example I wanted her to follow. She squeezed her breasts during the throes of her orgasm. Soon she settled. I held her open and very lightly kissed her inside, carefully avoiding her sensitive clit. We ended with me holding her in a spoon position, kissing her shoulders and neck, basking in the afterglow.

We rested for a moment but she began to stir and I was already restless. I rolled over to look at her, drawing in my bottom lip as she looked confidently into my eyes while fingers slowly began to trail over her belly. She began to finger and play with herself while I watched and helped. Before I knew it, I had given into the sensuous desire of watching her and began to masturbate myself. We reached the throes of orgasm and fell back into each other's embrace sated for the moment.

A few hours went by and I got up, pulling her with me. I told her that I was going to take a shower. She admitted that it was getting late and that she needed to get home to Bob. We kissed on the lips and I left for the bathroom. As I left her, I saw her gathering her clothing and put it back on her body.

As other lesbians, bisexuals, or just bi curious women can tell you there is something seductively delicious and risqué about making love to a woman, especially a woman who is new to self pleasuring and sex with another woman. I wanted to do something special for her, so in the shower I shaved myself totally smooth.

When I came back out into the living room, I found her still there. I had come out naked and semi wet. I blushed at my gaffe and she laughed heartily. She said that she couldn't leave without giving me a goodbye kiss. I teased that I might not let her go now.

She watched as I sauntered over to where she sat on the arm of the sofa. I leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips. It deepened quickly, our lips blending together as one as our tongues began to dance a familiar tune. I pull away as I stood her up and against me.

"I'm not letting you go yet." I cooed against her neck.

"Ok," was all she could muster as my tongue traced the pulsing vein on her neck.

I undressed her on the couch. She rubbed all around my slit. I was as smooth as a baby. I was sitting back with my butt on the edge of the cushions, my smoothie hanging over the edge. She was on the floor in front of me. My pussy was yawning open and dripping wet. Her face was six inches away while she played with my labia. She had developed a nice touch for a novice. She skittishly moved a bit closer, perhaps three inches away. She hesitated and looked up at me and said, "Maybe the bed will be more comfortable..." As she said the word "comfortable," I put my hand on the back of her head and gently pushed her to me and held her there, causing the word to be muffled, as she said it with her lips pressed against my smooth, wet pussy. It sounded so cute. She took to my pussy like a fish takes to water. She started tentatively, then continued eagerly. She had picked up on the way I had licked her and now mimicked my style. That was fine with me. I sat back and teased her blonde hair as her tongue penetrated and her lips explored. She flashed me those baby blues and made me finger myself as I had done her. I told her to stick out her tongue. I put that finger in her mouth and on her tongue, fingered myself again, and repeated. I rubbed some on her nose, too. I put my weight on my feet, lifted my butt off the couch, and rubbed my smooth pussy all over her pretty face as I held her head steady. Her face was even more beautiful glistening with my wetness. I was almost there and her finger on my clit took me the rest of the way.