The Theft of Our Lives 01

We both took a drink of water to cool ourselves down after the erotic retelling of Emma's unexpected shower adventure. Kissing my wife goodnight, I laid down and thought back to my participation in the meeting once I was called in by Hank.

**********************************

It was nearing 5:00 p.m. that afternoon and the meeting still hadn't broken up, at least I assumed, since no one entered or exited during that time.

Suddenly, my desk phone rang.

"Ray, shut down your laptop and join us in my office," Hank requested with a serious tone. "The week is over, but we have more business to attend to before you go home."

Pausing, I was uncertain to what he was referring. Obliviously, I hadn't connected the reason for my wife's presence at a tense business negotiation.

"Emma is smart and all, but she doesn't know our business and couldn't possibly contribute to closing a deal. It just doesn't make sense," I pondered naively, perhaps still in denial this was all happening.

Knocking respectfully, I entered when the automatic security buzzed me into the secretive lair. What I found didn't particularly surprise me -- Hank, Ike and Ted seated in three expensive leather easy chairs in a semi-circle.

On a nearby table a bottle of high-end champagne was set chilling, unopened with several flutes next to it and apparently on stand-by in the event of concluding what appeared to be a stalled deal. Each man held a snifter of fine cognac, swirling the contents in their glasses, as did Nicole, seated at the conference table before a stack of spreadsheets.

"Have seat on the sofa, Ray," Hank offered politely but clearly reflecting the strain of the discussions so far.

"Ted's a tough customer," he praised obsequiously, speaking to me but for Ted's benefit. "We're beginning the next phase of the process, but I wanted to take a step back and provide insight into the many tangible benefits of a deal with Allenby, so I thought it appropriate you join us."

Whether coincidentally or not, I'm not honestly sure, at that moment the bathroom door opened, and Emma sauntered uncomfortably to the center of the room. I still didn't understand the reason for her presence until I noticed something simply unavoidable once it caught my eye.

My modest wife's top few buttons of her blouse were undone, tastefully revealing a generous hint of cleavage. Worse, she was clearly braless, leaving her giant breasts unrestrained with the dusty rose of her silver dollar areolae embossing the fabric of her semi-transparent blouse and surely discernable to even an unfocused eye.

Emma's presence had no other purpose than as a lure for Ted Jenkins -- an opportunity to temptingly flaunt the flesh of Allenby's married sex toy, the lovely wife of a discredited high-level employee, before the interested eyes of the hardened businessman.

Without overtly stating it, my provocative wife's appearance was designed as a prelude to Hank's plan for closing the deal with Ted over the weekend once tempers cooled and rational minds prevailed -- an alluring coming attraction and not-so-subtle glimpse at the true benefits of working with Allenby.

Quite frankly, Emma was on display to Ted in an obvious ploy by Hank impressing upon the lecherous businessman the type of otherwise unattainable favors he could expect.

Honestly, I was a little surprised Nicole Westridge didn't show any reaction, and simply assumed from that point on that as a high-level executive she was privy to our mutual employer's intentions and too intimidated to object.

My curvaceous wife paused nervously, standing with one long leg forward in an awkward attempt at striking a seductive pose. I knew from experience she'd never dress or behave in such a suggestive manner unless she had no choice and Hank's detestable orders clearly required the salacious presentation.

"Ted, I want you to meet Ray Tyler," Hank introduced me, sitting meekly on the sofa in a position of undeniable inferiority. "Should you bring us substantially all your business, Ray will be the dedicated account manager overseeing all your order activity."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jenkins," I offered, standing to shake his hand with Ted barely acknowledging my existence.

"Stay seated, Ray, no need for his over-familiarity with mid-level staff until the deal is done," my powerful boss shot back firmly, putting me in my place with the reference to my diminished place in the hierarchy.

"This lovely lady is Ray's wife, Emma," Hank explained, turning to my apprehensive spouse standing clothed, yet with her most obvious charms on exhibition for Ted's perusal.

"Good day, sir," my wife responded politely as required, dipping to a subservient curtsey in a manner no doubt recommended by Mrs. Ogawa.

Emma's jello-y tits bobbled loosely within her blouse as she did, and I had no doubt she was self-consciously mortified by her shameful appearance.

"Emma fully supports her husband's career and does whatever it takes to help Ray successfully tend to his client's every need, both professional and personal," Hank suggested with not-so-subtle innuendo.

"No task is too, how should I say it politely, meretricious, for her able talents, and Ray certainly concurs," he added, conclusively noting my active approval, just in case his unmistakable message wasn't clear enough.

I caught my breath with the bold statement and saw Emma squirm at its certain implication, unfortunately sending her unleashed tits roaming again within her blouse. Her gorgeous legs shifted slightly with tension, drawing Ted's focus to the glorious stems on which she precariously balanced while on show.

"When you buy Allenby, you buy our people, and all that that implies," my uncompromising employer assured.

Hank has a tremendous gift for conveying an idea without actually saying it, essentially offering up my wife as a bonus and highly appealing benefit to working with our company.

I was stunned, and looking at Emma's face go ashen, I suspect she was too.

Sex with my mid-50's boss was bad enough as penance for my transgression but whoring out my respectable wife to another man -- a powerful client, was something neither of us expected. We were both speechless -- disbelieving, but also unable to protest as doing so would certainly ruin our lives and those of our children.

Hank had to know we were thunderstruck, and from the shit-eating smirk on his face I think he relished it. Regardless, he didn't give us time to recover our wits or express our displeasure.

"Emma, be a dear, pour Ted and the rest of us more cognac," my charming boss asked with saccharine charm.

Astutely eyeing the decanter of golden-brown liquid on the nearby table, my dutiful wife left her position to obediently comply, happy to no longer simply stand in place to be ogled by the men.

Without thinking, she leaned to refill Mr. Jenkins's empty snifter not realizing her tall stature and his low seat level combined required a severe bend at the waist allowing the top of her blouse to open widely granting Ted a plentiful view of her big, freely hanging tits.

It was just as Hank intended, and while I'm doubtful Emma had enough buttons undone for Ted to actually see her nipples, it was more than enough to give the grinning older businessman a sense of the bounty my boss was offering in the form of my luscious wife.

"Ohh," Emma peeped quietly when she realized the indecent spectacle she provided our guest, drawing upward immediately but saying nothing indicating her embarrassment, with the pinkish glow flushing her cheeks all that was needed in sending that message.

Still, she dutifully filled the remaining snifters as requested, but with greater care about showing her assets before setting the decanter on the table when finished.

"Thank you, Emma, and for your presence today. That will be all," my satisfied boss said pleasantly, his purpose for my unnerved wife's presence served for the moment.

"Now, go home and make arrangements to be gone Saturday night," he said directly thereafter.

"Huh?" we both wondered, looking at Hank quizzically and not understanding his intent.

"You and Ray join me at the harbor at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow," he instructed. "No need for luggage, everything will be provided. Just bring yourselves and don't be late!"

"What about our kids?" my wife asked apprehensively.

"Your kids are adults. They can take care of themselves for a night," he chided, anticipating her question.

"He's right, Kerri and Kellen will be fine," I reassured Emma after we left the office, trying to ease her worries and not let on about my concerns as to what sordid 'next step in the negotiations' he had on the docket.

"I know, I was just hoping for a weekend together as a family," she conceded reluctantly, taken aback by the sudden change of plans but without an option.

I recognized it as a needful plea for some sense of normalcy after a truly bizarre two weeks, but that wasn't to be.

END CHAPTER