The Maneater

"Thank you, Marcus, we'll be there in a minute." I said looking up at him, and I felt a little wetness of wishful anticipation between my thighs.

Meeting Marcus the first time I came here, with his athletic, weightlifter build, I thought 'Wow, he looks good!" Then with his smile and perfect host manners, I almost drooled, thinking "I'd REALLY like to feel him between my legs.' And when I looked at Marcus today, rewarding him with a cheerful smile, I again thought 'Yeah, I'd do him!'

I say that often to my husband; "I'd do him" when I see a handsome guy somewhere. And Ted knows I mean I'd have sex with the guy if we ever met under the right circumstances. But when I asked Ted for a hall pass from our marriage to do Marcus, he said " If you get a hall pass, I get one, too."

"Okay. I don't want you going out without me, so forget it."

"That's just as well," he responded. "Marcus knows too many people in my company, but you can do him if we meet him at a swinger party."

So, I'm hoping Marcus is in the lifestyle. Then I might get to see and play with that taunt, dark, muscular body.

Counselor

I left work at three o'clock for my first counseling session. I didn't change clothes from my usual work attire, dressed as I was this time in black slacks, conservative white blouse, comfortable flat shoes, and wearing my stylish office glasses instead of the black-rim glasses Ted saw me with in high school. And the only jewelry I ever wore to the office was my wedding ring. I save my necklaces, and all other jewelry for use in strategically planning my flirting look with evening wear to highlight body parts for my targets.

Most men don't realize how some women use jewelry to manipulate them. The right necklace such as a one-inch-wide red heart-shape pendant dangling above my cleavage draws their eyes by pointing down to where I want them. On my first date with Ted when we were eighteen years old, I sat across the table from him "absent mindedly" (yeah, right) holding the necklace chain and swinging the heart a little. I thought: 'Be a good boy and follow that shiny pointer down!' I experimented, trying to hypnotize him with the view down my low-cut blouse, with the shiny heart swaying back and forth. Unfortunately, even then, my husband never fell for those tricks, and he called me on it by saying 'You're deliberately trying to distract me.'

When I'm on the prowl, going to a party where there's a potential for other female predators, I'll wear bracelets and an extra ring on either my right or left hand (only one, because I don't want to over-do it.) It gives me discrete control over the sparkling baubles to wave and draw a guy's eyes away from my competition.

I choose the right shoes and I have several anklets to choose from when I want the whole-body look. 'That's right, look all the way down to the sparkle on my ankle and back up to appreciate the whole package.'

Some women use tattoos to try standing out as individuals in a crowd. They think a tattoo will make them unique. But I'd never put something permanent on my skin. My body's a blank canvas, which I exercise daily to smooth and shape, to accessorize as my mood changes and the situations suggest. Every time I get ready to leave the house, I strive to paint the best picture for the occasion: Staid, prudish look for the office, a stylish mom-next-door look for the kids' school or community events, or the 'you want to fuck me' look for the evenings. A few years ago, we were in Key West for Fantasy Fest, and I even dared to spend the evening pub-crawling Duval Street wearing only body paint and my four-inch cork heel sandals. (The competition there was fierce!) Fortunately, the police didn't notice that detail of NOTHING else. But it was the right picture at the right time.

Today, I'm wearing my respectable work clothes and wedding ring when I stopped at the counselor's office on my way home.

...

This small waiting area near the elevator in the office building served several counselors, each with their own specialty in things like marriage counseling, substance abuse, or child development. The counselor I was waiting for is on retainer with our company for employees with workplace related issues.

One of the office doors opened, with an older gentleman standing just inside. He quickly glanced around noticing me as the only patient waiting, and asked "Jan?" I stood, nodded, and he beckoned me in.

He was probably in his mid-sixties, tall with gray, full head of hair, and handsome for his age, about fifteen to twenty years older than me. But he surprisingly retained a rather athletic build for his age. So, yeah, I'd do him.

As we entered his office, he waved a hand toward the nearest of two comfortable chairs facing each other, the further chair being closer to his desk.

"Have a seat here, Jan," he said and offered "Can I get you something to drink? Water? Soda? Coffee? These are very informal sessions, and we should be comfortable, as if we're two friends talking. I'd like to keep it on a first name basis, so please call me 'Mark'."

"No, thank you, Mark," I replied, as I took my seat with my back to the door.

He sat in his chair, then turned to retrieve a notebook and pen from his desk. "First, I'll start by saying, anything you say to me is confidential, and won't be repeated to anyone else. Your company is paying for three sessions, but this is still your private time to get away from them and talk about any work problems. Your supervisor, Glenn said you might have some anger management issues with others at the office. Do you agree with him? ... And don't feel like this is an inquisition or that you must answer every question. If you ever want to change the subject, say whatever you'd like to talk about."

"Glenn says people complain that I'm too abrasive and sarcastic," I replied. "But I don't get angry, so he's wrong if he told you that. I just have a low tolerance for stupid."

His eyebrows went up in surprise at that. So, he should probably work on his body language and those telling signs. It's never a good idea to show people what you really think.

"Could you be reacting inappropriately when you perceive someone as stupid?"

"It's not just my opinion," I said in frustration, seeing how this was starting. "There are accounting and controls rules they're required to follow. Those rules are all there in writing. When I find people not following those rules, I explain it to them. But if I have to repeatedly explain it to them, then they're objectively stupid! And when I've already told someone they're stupid, after that, I'll add "I'm sorry, I thought you would at least remember you're stupid."

He chuckled, saying "Well, if they're not learning, then you might be right."

I reassessed my opinion of where this was going, seeing he might be reasonable. So, I might have some fun talking to him.

"Can you give me some examples when you have to repeat yourself?"

"One manager submitted a travel expense for a hotel room, which he shared with a female employee during a three-day conference, and she was also claiming the same room rate for reimbursement," I said, in irritation. "They asked the hotel to prepare a second receipt with her name for the same bill! I told him they're morons! That's fraud trying to get the company to pay for the same hotel room twice. And he's married! They could have both been fired over it if we let it go through. Then he'd have to explain to his wife why he lost his job, shacking up with another woman. I mean, who risks getting caught screwing around on his wife by squeezing a few extra dollars out of a travel expense? And he argued with me about it, saying they both deserved the money, since they could book two separate rooms, and still sleep together!"

"Did you try to protect the female employee too?" he asked.

"Of course! She understood as soon as I told her. Allowing anyone to get improperly reimbursed for things like that could be caught in an audit and would cause a negative finding. We have to catch those things before they're paid, or we have a controls failure."

"Does it irritate you that you uncovered an affair?"

"In some ways," I answered honestly. "She's stupid for having an affair with a married manager. What was she thinking? If she wanted sex during a business trip, she could have picked up any guy in the hotel bar! Instead, she's doing a company manager with the risk of getting caught here. Or is she so weak with low self-esteem she thinks he's the only guy who would do her? And I really have zero respect for weak women."

"How do you feel about the manager's infidelity?" he asked.

"He's a pathetic man, if he has to use his position to get a woman," I pointed out. "And if she's manipulating him trying to get a promotion, then he's an ignorant manager! But rumors began when someone noticed those duplicate receipts for the same room number. So, it's only a matter of time before his wife finds out."

"You didn't tell their spouses?" he asked.

"Their spouses don't work for the company, and I'm not the morality police," I pointed out. "My job's accounting, budgets, and controls for audits. I let the rumormongers have their own fun preying on each other. That's why I don't dress sexy or flirt with anyone at work. I'm not going to be the target of gossip. I had enough of the cat fights in high school, against the cheerleaders and other popular girls, the ones I called 'The Bitch Squad'."

"Could you tell me a little about yourself and those cat fights in school?" he asked as he began jotting down some notes ...

Dinner after work

My husband was lighting the second candle when I came from our bedroom to the great room after my shower. Ted came home early from work today, showered and was busy in the kitchen with dinner when I arrived. Now, he had the lights dimmed for a romantic setting: white tablecloth, two tall red candles, flowers in the center, and a basket of dinner rolls on the dining room table. The place settings were perfect, including linen napkins, salads, and a nice red wine. I recognized a song by Keiko Matsui from our favorite jazz playlist softly playing in the background.

He held my chair as I sat at the table with my back to the high kitchen counter, giving me the best view across the living room to the cozy fire in the fireplace. Reaching over the counter, he picked up two plates to set one in front of me with the grilled tenderloin steak and his home-made red wine reduction sauce, chateau potatoes with garlic, and the roast balsamic asparagus he had prepared. Then he carried his own plate around to take his seat across from me.

"This is nice," I acknowledged with a smile, as I picked up my wine glass.

"It was my turn to fix dinner, and I wanted to surprise you," he said as he picked up his wine glass and took a sip.

"Raising the bar for me to do the same?" I asked. "Or were you hoping to get lucky tonight?" I added with a chuckle.

"I'm lucky every night," he sweetly admitted.

"I had my first counseling session today," I started as we began to eat. "The counselor, Mark started by wanting to know why I was there, with the abrasiveness at work. But it turned into more of a 'Get to know me' session, with him asking a few questions, mostly about my past."

"That makes sense," Ted observed. "He's trying to discover the things which shaped your underlying personality, those things which can't be changed with a few counseling sessions. Then he can work around any other more transient experiences. Did you get around to talking about Gretchen and the high school girls?"

"Yeah, I mentioned how Gretchen was a neighbor and the thing about the Barbies when we were young."

"Good," Ted noticed. "That business you described about Gretchen's family buying her and her sisters EVERYTHING made for Barbie is where you got your favorite phrase."

"Yeah, 'I wanna be like Barbie, that bitch has everything!' I told him that."

"Did you tell him anything about us, and how we got together?" he asked.

"No, I didn't get to any of that yet," I admitted. "It was mostly about those bitches in high school advising all the boys to ignore me and Marlene, and some of the pranks I pulled on them to get even."

"How about when you poured that red food coloring onto the back of Brad's neck, before he went onto the football field to pick Gretchen up straddling his shoulders. She was wearing her white cheerleader uniform shorts."

"Of course!" I said proudly. "That was one of my favorites. When the cheerleaders started their high kicks in front of the spectators after that, everyone noticed the red stain on her shorts. The school nurse rushed out to pull her off the field and into the locker room!"

"Did he think you were being too mean with that one?"

"No," I said. "By the time I got around to that story, I had already prepped him with some of the mean jokes those girls threw at me and Marlene, ... you know, like those barnyard animal jokes and other nasty rumors they spread. I think when he heard how Gretchen's mother was called into the nurse's office over that prank, Mark was ready for Gretchen to get what was coming. That bitch deserved the humiliation!"

"When will you get around to talking about your attitudes at work?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "So far, he likes to hear me talk. And you know me, I can talk forever. I'll have to wait and see how it goes next week."

"What do you feel like doing this evening after dinner?" he asked. "Watching another episode of our latest series on TV? Play a game of pool downstairs? Or a porn video and fucking in the living room?"

"Hah! You're hoping for a blowjob tonight, and I don't feel like it, so that's not happening," I said. "... I think I'll watch one of my chick flicks. You can either join me as my pillow on the couch or go downstairs and watch your SciFi junk."

"You could let me pick the romance movie," Ted said. "I think 'The Dark Knight Rises' has a good relationship between Batman and Catwoman."

"That's not quite what I had in mind," I replied, "... but, maybe."

...

Girl Friends

Another week went by, and at work, I noticed the computer's clock showed 11:15 am. Too early for lunch. As I started to open a batch of documents to review for the next client, Lisa came around the tall wall of my cubicle. She looked great today with her lithe figure in slacks and conservative white blouse, wearing four-inch heels as usual. She says tall heels pick her up closer to eye level with most of the men in the company, and it's a necessary pain in the feet and calves for any woman trying to climb the corporate ladder. It keeps men from looking down on her.

Plopping down into the empty chair beside me, she casually reached for the side drawer of the desk, opening it to withdraw the big bag of peanut M & Ms. Pouring a few into her left hand, she popped one into her mouth.

"So, what brings you down to visit us at ground level?" I asked in a joking tone. Most of us referred to the senior managers and those working on the upper floors of the building as those 'living in the clouds.' Lisa was on temporary assignment on the top floor before her next management position in her career path.

"I need chocolate," she exclaimed, tossing another M & M into her mouth, then added "It's been one of those mornings."

"I replenish those waiting for your return," I said sarcastically, indicating the candy "... waiting for almost a year."

"I stopped by just over a week ago!" she pointed out in surprise. "... How's my latest replacement doing? What happened?"

I leaned over to look around her to see that Glenn's office door was closed. Leaning toward her, I quietly said, "I preferred the way you managed the office years ago. You always took responsibility for making decisions. Even Brian, the last manager, was better than this one. I get the impression from Glenn he likes to 'pass the buck' and blame others."

"What's he done now that's irritating you?"

"He insisted I go to counseling for my attitude before he 'recommends' me for a pay raise," with two fingers on each hand clawing the air as quotes. "We both know that's not how things work at this company. I told you years ago that I was good enough at accounting to know how budgeting works here. They approved your section's budget for the next year before the performance reviews. So, I knew you made your own decisions allocating the increase to each of us from the payroll line."

"Yeah," Lisa admitted. "That's why they don't allow employees to discuss salaries. It would pit them against each other vying for a bigger piece of the limited pie, and cause resentment with those who get the smaller piece or make everyone angry at the managers. You were the best, and you always deserved the biggest raise. But you knew I couldn't give it all to you."

"And I was cool with that," I said calmly. "I liked working here. I even told YOU to make sure I wasn't the only one to get the highest raise, that you needed to reward at least the top two employees to reduce tensions."

"I take it that's not what Glenn's doing," Lisa almost asked.

"No, he's claiming its senior management who decides how much I get, and I'm supposed to go to counseling to convince them I deserve the raise. I just hate that he's lying to me. He's treating me like I'm stupid."

"If you don't like it, you could always go over his head to his boss," Lisa said. "Stan is a fair guy, and you know Beckie, his secretary will get you a half hour on his schedule if you want. But, honestly, Jan, it couldn't hurt for you to talk to a counselor. I told you before a lot of people around here complain about your attitude and being hard to work with."

"Only the stupid ones complain," I pointed out. "I get along with the smart ones."

"I'll grant you that," she admitted. "... Try going to counseling with a positive attitude. He might be a good sounding board to help you focus your frustrations. But don't change. I like that I can always trust YOU to tell me when I'm screwing up," she added with a smile.

"So, what's happening up there with senior management?" I asked to change the subject.

"The usual, nothing you haven't already heard from corporate announcements or the rumors. I'm under consideration for another promotion to a director position. But Grant will probably get it."

"'Good old boy' network?" I asked.

"Not really," Lisa admitted. "He's good at his job, and I've been dropping hints of taking early retirement."

"Why would you retire early?"

"Lenny and I are having some issues at home," Lisa started. "He's talking about quitting work, buying a motorcycle, and touring the country."

"Mid-life crisis?" I suggested.

"No, he's five years older than me and closer to regular retirement. And that stage of his life was over fifteen years ago when he bought the Corvette. ... We're just not having sex very often and I saw him watching porn on his computer."

"Are you having health problems?" I asked.

"No!" Lisa quickly blurted out, shaking her head. "I'd like it more often. But by the time he comes to bed, I think he's already taken care of it himself."

"Offer him a blowjob," I suggested. "That always works with Ted when he's stressed. And he'll never say no."

"Lenny doesn't go for oral," Lisa admitted. "He says things like 'What if the kids ever found out their mother's a cocksucker?' or 'You expect me to kiss that mouth after my cock's been there?' I think he's a little homophobic."

"And maybe a little judgmental?" I suggested as a question. "Sometimes I like sucking cock. I like to watch his expressions change as I explore with my tongue, finding the right spot to make him twitch and catch his full attention."