tagLoving WivesThe Smirk

The Smirk

byKingBandor©

"I'm not going to beat around the bush, Michael. You're a smart man, and I can tell you see yourself as a straight-shooter. So, I'm going to shoot straight with you," my wife's boss said, sipping a neat glass of expensive Scotch just after our wives had excused themselves from the table to powder their noses.

I stared at the man. I disliked him immensely; he came across to me as an arrogant, self-absorbed blowhard. He dressed in a flashy, Italian-made suit that I would never be able to afford on my salary as an investigative journalist for the local newspaper. I didn't know what he had on his mind, but I was curious, so I let him keep talking. He'd had this smirk on his face that seemed to say "I'm better than you and I know things you don't."

"Alright," I told him, as I removed my hand from my pants pocket to sip my glass of much cheaper bourbon. "Shoot away."

The smirk got even smarmier. I hadn't wanted to punch someone in many years. The smirk on his face was rapidly bringing the desire to do him bodily harm to the top of the list of things I felt like doing at the moment.

"I'm going to fuck your wife," he said with absolute confidence.

Well, that wasn't what I was expecting him to say. I mean, I had known for some time that was his goal. I had warned Debbie several times that I thought her boss had sinister motives, but she told me I was nuts. To hear him put his desires to words so directly, so blatantly, was a surprise. He was an arrogant prick, and now I definitely wanted to punch him in the face and wipe off that lingering smirk.

He paused, letting his words sink in, with the smirk still in place. He seemed to be enjoying himself. I took a deep breath and willed myself not to react. I could tell he wanted me to be shocked or angry, to protest or make a scene so that he could humiliate me more than he already had. Years of playing garage poker had given me the ability to keep my feelings well hidden. He was watching me closely as if he were trying to detect a tell, some nervous tick that he was getting under my skin. Instead of reacting the way he expected, I grinned.

"Oh really?" I asked. "You sound pretty sure of yourself."

"I'm always sure of myself, Michael," he said, grinning back at me. I had never seen someone grin and smirk at the same time, but this prick just did. "I'm going to fuck Debbie, as much as I want, whenever I want, and there is nothing you can do to stop it."

I felt like a superhero in a comic book facing some costumed arch-villain. You know, the bad guy who is so sure of himself that he has to give a speech revealing his dark plan so he can rub it in the good guy's face and revel in a false sense of superiority. I read a lot of comics as a kid. Ok, I admit, I still read them as a grown-ass man. All those long-winded assholes were narcissists with bloated egos and a strong sense of entitlement, just like this dickhead sitting across the table from me.

"You can try to stop it from happening," he went on with his discourse. "But, it is inevitable at this point. You're in a no-win situation. You're playing in a game you don't understand against a master player. If you try to warn her, she won't believe you. The more you protest and pull her away from me, the harder she will resist and the faster she will be in my bed."

I felt my rage rising higher and had to focus my breathing to keep my face from turning bright red. I could not believe the unmitigated gall of this prick. I've hated dickheads like him my whole life. Bullies. Spoiled little rich kids. For him to speak so confidently about Debbie letting him fuck her was nauseating. I couldn't imagine her ever cheating on me and certainly not with this douchebag. Then again, stranger things have happened. Pocket aces don't always win.

"You're damned if you do and damned if you don't. Do nothing, and I will fuck her and claim her as mine. She most likely would hide it from you, trying to protect your feelings and maintain your pathetic marriage, while fucking me behind your back. Fight the inevitable, and she will turn against you, and not only will I fuck her, but you'll lose her completely. Fight me, and I'll destroy your lives after I've fucked her anyway."

I was seething on the inside. My left hand was resting on the table, but my right was on my lap, hidden from his view. I was clenching it in a tight fist, ready to lash out.

"Did you practice this speech just for me, or have you given it to a bunch of other poor schmucks before me?" I asked, continuing to grin. I saw a slight twitch in his left eye. I wasn't reacting the way he wanted, and he was getting pissed. That was a tell. I had struck a nerve.

"Your wife is enamored with me. She respects me. Hell, she may even be falling in love with me. She's practically given herself to me already. I could have fucked her by now, but I'm playing the slow game. I want to be certain that when I make my move, she will submit completely to me."

"Why her?" I asked.

"Well, it certainly is not because of her looks. She's not what anyone would call hot. She's far beneath my normal standards. I've improved her, of course, getting her to wear sexy clothes to the office for me, sending her to the best stylists in town and hiring her a personal trainer."

I had wondered how we were paying for all of that. My wife had told me it was a benefit given to all of the executives at her level. I also struggled with understanding why he wanted to fuck my wife if he didn't find her attractive.

"I could have far younger and sexier women if I wanted them," he explained. "But, that's boring after a while. It's purely a dominance thing. I get off on taking happily married women, in love with their husbands, and getting them to betray their spouses and submit themselves, willingly, to me. That's far more satisfying than rutting with an air-headed bimbo."

"And why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice even and emotionless.

"I want you to know, in absolute clarity, what is going to happen and what your wife is going to be doing. I want you to wonder every night when she comes home if I fucked her. I want you to lose your manhood, letting me fuck her and doing nothing. "

This bastard was one sick puppy.

"Is that what gets you off?" I asked with a slight chuckle. "It's not enough to fuck a man's wife, but you have to try to cuckold him and humiliate him, openly, and rub his nose in it. Is that what it takes to get your tiny limp dick hard enough to penetrate my wife?"

The smirk disappeared, and his face turned red. I felt a stab of satisfaction.

"I'm going to enjoy taking your wife more than the others," he said with a scowl, revealing something that I caught instantly. "I'll make sure to fuck Debbie in the ass just for sport and then make her suck me after. I'll send her home to you like that. You may want to buy extra strength mouthwash."

I stared at him intently. I was on the verge of losing my cool and jumping across the table. He must have seen my reaction because the smirk came back.

"Oh, I know that Debbie never lets you fuck her in the ass," he said, gloating. "She told me. She won't deny me that pleasure; I can assure you."

I swallowed hard.

"You said 'the others'," I said, trying to get my emotions under control. "So, you have done this to other employees? Their husbands just let you fuck their wives?"

He laughed. "I've fucked every woman on my staff, and their husbands all knew about it. A few tried to fight me, but they lost, and I fucked their wives anyway. As I said, it is inevitable."

I knew this sick bastard needed me to blow up. It would feed his twisted perversion, and I was determined not to help him get off.

"What's to stop me from going to your wife or her father?" I asked him, searching for a way out. I didn't know much about his company, but I had learned that he married the owner's daughter many years ago and had taken over the day-to-day operations when the old man had a stroke.

He laughed. "Why would they believe the husband of a disgruntled former employee? It wouldn't be the first time that people tried to extort money from me with lies and unprovable allegations."

"Former employee?" I asked. "She still works for you."

"Not if you don't cooperate. I'll fire her for cause and ensure Debbie never works in the field again. You don't want to fuck with me. Play along, and she'll be well compensated. Fight me, and I'll fuck her anyway, then throw her away. As I said, this is a no-win situation for you. The best you can do is to accept the inevitable, ignore it and try your best to live with the knowledge that when she's not with you, she's giving her body to a real man."

Just then, I saw our wives returning from their long trip to the powder room. He noticed my gaze and saw them too. "Now, be a gentleman and keep this conversation between us, Michael. Take your time and think it over. As I said, I'm going to fuck her no matter what you do. You have to decide how much your marriage means to you."

The smirk disappeared as he painted on a big, warm smile. He stood, like the gentleman he wasn't. I rose to my feet, too, just as the ladies arrived back at the table. Debbie smiled at me, nervously, giving my upper arm a gentle squeeze, then sat back down between her boss and me, much closer to the prick than I liked. I glanced at him, and he shot me the smirk briefly, followed by a wink that conveyed a hidden meaning.

"Did you boys have a good chat while we were gone?" Debbie asked as she adjusted her little black dress. It distinctly looked like she had taken off her bra while in the restroom.

Her boss placed his hand on Debbie's shoulder, while his wife sipped on her cocktail, seemingly oblivious to the attention her husband paid to my wife. "Yes," the asshole replied, "I was explaining to Michael about some of our future plans and how our success is inevitable."

Debbie didn't react to his hand, and that made me even more uncomfortable. It was as if she was so used to the physical intimacy his touch implied, that she didn't notice it, even when he was doing it in front of his wife and me.

I needed to do something. I would not tolerate Debbie giving herself to any man, especially this one. I decided on a risky course of action. I was hoping that things had not progressed so far with my wife that I would push her into his waiting arms. However, at this point, I had few alternatives. Debbie would have to choose between him and me. I was determined to deal with the ramifications of whichever choice she made.

"Yes," I said, smiling at Debbie, "if everything goes the way your boss explained it, you may changing jobs soon, and I suspect you'll have to work a lot of late nights and weekends."

Debbie glanced at her boss then back at me with a puzzled expression. "Oh? Why is that?" she asked.

Her boss had said I considered myself a straight shooter. He had no idea just how straight. When he hesitated to respond, I plunged forward into the icy water. "Well, it sounds like you will have to be spending more time with him because he's going to turn you into a paid whore when he starts fucking you."

Her boss nearly choked on his Scotch. Debbie's mouth fell open. Her boss's wife gasped, "What did you say?"

Her boss dropped his hand from Debbie's shoulder and sputtered out a protest, "How dare you say such a thing?"

"Well, I'm just repeating what you said five minutes ago," I told him, "You said you are going to fuck my wife and there's nothing I can do to stop it. You said you would fuck her just like you've fucked every other woman on your staff and that if I protested, you would fuck her anyway, then fire her."

"Michael!" Debbie shouted, "What are you doing?"

Her boss jumped to his feet. "You son of a bitch!" he yelled, "How dare you!?! I've been nothing but a gentleman to your wife. What kind of game are you playing?" He glared at Debbie with feigned indignation.

Debbie was staring at me in shock like I had lost my mind. "Debbie, I would never lie to you or do anything to hurt you. This is precisely what I had warned you this asshole was trying to do. You can either leave with me now or stay here with this dipshit. If you choose to stay, then he's right, and you are his slut. If so, don't bother coming home. I won't be a cuckold. "

"Michael, this is crazy!" Debbie exclaimed. "It's not like that at all!"

"You should leave, Michael" her boss declared. "Debbie doesn't deserve to be treated like this. You're jealous of her success and trying to ruin her career."

Everything seemed to freeze as if time were standing still. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.

I pulled my hand out of my pocket, clutching the digital voice recorder that I carried with me at all times. I was a writer, and I used it to capture ideas that came to me throughout the day, or to conduct interviews. I pressed a button, and his voice rang out loud and clear for all to hear:

"I'm going to fuck Debbie, as much as I want, whenever I want, and there is nothing you can do to stop it."

Her boss's wife turned on him, her anger lashing out. "Again? You cheating bastard! You swore you wouldn't do it again!"

Debbie's eyes grew wide, and tears began to well up.

I pushed a button and the recorder advanced. You could hear him telling me about destroying Debbie's career if I didn't play along and how he would still fuck her, before throwing her away.

"You're a pathetic little loser!" he yelled.

Debbie started shaking her head. "No, no, that's not true. Michael," she said, hesitating to catch her breath, then turned to her boss. "Michael is not pathetic! He's not jealous of my success, and he is not a loser!"

"All the women?" her boss's wife asked. "You've fucked all the women that work for you?"

Her boss stepped back, staring at his wife. "Of course, not," he said, growing defensive. "He's doing this to attack me, to blackmail us."

"You're an asshole!" his wife yelled, "When I tell Daddy, you're finished!" She grabbed her purse and stormed out of the restaurant.

"I thought you respected me for my work!!" Debbie snarled, "You son of a bitch! That's why you've made me work alone with you all those evenings! That's why you offered to be my mentor! You bastard! You've been trying to seduce me!"

Debbie grabbed her wine glass and threw the contents into her boss's face, showering him in dark red.

"I fucking quit!" She yelled, then stomped away, grabbing my hand, "Let's get out of here, Michael, before I puke!"

"Sure baby," I said, then turned back one last time and met her boss's gaze. He glared at me furiously.

"How's that for straight shooting?" I asked as I returned the same smirk he'd been giving me all evening.

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by Anonymous

If the above comment contains any ads, links, or breaks Literotica rules, please report it.
by johnadp04/20/19

Regarding The Anal Thing

The boss was obviously trying to get in the husband’s head and was using the information he may have gotten very innocently from the wife to insinuate a level of intimacy between himself and the wifemore...

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by KingBandor04/20/19

@HDK Seriously? Do you have nothing better to do?

I openly admit mistakes in many of my stories. They are full of them. I am far from perfect.

I find it funny that you and sbrooks cannot stop commenting on my story so negatively. Does it really bothermore...

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by sbrooks103x04/19/19

Names?

You didn't give the characters names, except for the boss's wife?

Um, MC, Michael, his wife, Debbie, boss's wife - ???

If you can't even keep your explanations straight, why should we believe your othermore...

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by Harddaysknight04/19/19

One must give credit where credit is due.

Most writers either apologize for their errors, or blame their editor, dementia, the moon, or Putin. We have something far more original than the plot of this story in the comments. You have to love thismore...

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by sbrooks103x04/19/19

@KB Re: Red Herrings

Yes there a clues that may be interpreted different ways, but when you have the narrator make this statement, "Debbie asked as she adjusted her little black dress. It distinctly looked like she had takenmore...

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