The Work Wife

"Damn, baby, you look fine..."

A slow, knowing smile spread across her face as she walked slowly towards him. She had to know this would drive him crazy. Thigh high boots, skirt, and a deceptively sexy sweater -- seemed ordinary enough with a cowl neck, long sleeves, hip length, yet... the neck was open enough to show off her collar bones, and the gold knit hugged her breasts just enough to show off those delicious curves without looking overtly sexy.

She stood before him in the dim light, watching him as he eyed her up and down.

"Are your boots ... velvet?" he asked.

She answered with a nod of her head.

"Can I touch them?"

She laughed. "Of course, love."

His hand started at her ankle, slowly followed the curve of her calf, up the back of her knee, and slid toward her inner thigh. The boots stopped, but he didn't want to.

"Your skirt's velvet, too?" he asked, as he began running his hands up her thighs, gently resting them on her hips.

"Baby, you know I dress for you -- I like to wear things that give you an excuse to touch me."

He thanked his lucky stars she was like this.

"This skirt feels really nice" he said, as he hands began cupping her ass. "Really, really nice. The, um, skirt..." He never knew quite how far he could go, and he expected her to pull away. She didn't. She arched her back and softly moaned, simultaneously pressing her breasts into his chest, her ass cheeks into his hands, and her groin against his.

He groaned. "Oh my God... you feel amazing. You're killing me."

She knew. He knew that she knew. This was their agreed dynamic.

"Love, I think you're about to cross a line..."

Line? What fucking line? He didn't have any reservations, and all she seemed to have were curves.

He took a beat. He knew what she meant -- the fact she was "happily" married, and he was simply her flirt-partner at work. It had started pretty slowly, innocently... he was her "work husband" and when they would see each other -- one day a week, maybe -- there would be a passing "Hi honey" and maybe a hug. Everyone thought it was funny. His team would ask him, when they needed her, "Hey, where's your wife?" and would tell her in passing "Your husband is looking for you."

But it had slowly evolved -- a little more innuendo here, hug a little longer there... until recently it had become what he tried to explain to a friend. "It's just a game we play at work, like our own version of Words With Friends, but, dirty. And sometimes with touching." And he'd laughed. But he realized how ridiculous it sounded. Because even though they both said it was nothing, it wasn't. It was definitely something.

The shoulder massages had started with a side-comment she had made -- she said she was tense, and so he worked on her a little. And it was okay, because he was actually a Physical Therapist. That's what she said, explaining to their coworkers, smiling sweetly. He knew, and he knew that she knew, he was not actually a physical therapist, he had taken a P.T. course for one quarter in college, but it was a decent excuse, and it seemed that she liked him touching her just as much as he liked doing it. And she really did have a lot of knots and muscle tension. But as he worked on her, she would sigh, and moan. Christ, it had been more than a month since he'd heard sounds like that. He joked "Really? It feels that good?" She moaned a little louder, for effect, and they both laughed.

"What happened with your girlfriend, anyway?" she asked him. He didn't really want to get into the details with her, but he'd recently split from his live-in girlfriend. Between jobs and school, he was busy all the time, and not pursuing female companionship. But every time he showed up at this job, she was there -- she was beautiful, she smelled amazing, and she had really soft skin that she let him touch. So now, whenever they had more than two idle minutes together, he would "work on her shoulders". He kept his face neutral, and they would carry on a casual conversation, but he really was just trying to get her to make those bedroom sounds.

"If your husband walked in right now, would he just punch me in the face?" he asked as he was standing behind her, "working" on her neck. As usual, it had started as actual muscle work, and digging into knots, but by now he was basically tickling the back of her neck, and lightly touching her shoulders. She laughed. "No, I told him I hoped you'd be here today, so you could work on my neck. He said -- 'You are so lucky. I wish I could get that at work."

So, she didn't exactly tell her husband everything... selective truth telling. He didn't care -- he loved putting his hands on her, however it worked out. He rubbed down her arms, first on the outside, and then on the inside, slowly dragging his thumbs up the outer curve of her breasts as he went. She cleared her throat, and he laughed, and moved back to her shoulders. There were other people around, they just hadn't noticed. That had been part of the fun -- acting just a little bit naughty, in plain sight. They would carry on a conversation with a group of people, while texting suggestive things to each other. But just at work -- only at work. It was one of their unspoken rules -- as long as they didn't carry it through onto other days, they could act like it was just a game.

But now this -- with his hands full of her ass and her body pressed up against him, in the dark -- this was a whole new level. And he wanted to throw her stupid rules out the window, and her body on his bed. He would make good on all the innuendos -- everything he had said, and texted, and thought about, for months. He slid his hands from her hips then down her cheeks, her legs were spread just enough, he slid his hand right down the middle, underneath, and towards the front, his fingers curving upward... she sidestepped, rubbing her breasts across his chest as she went, whispering in his ear "Love, I gotta go. And you've got to get back to work."

Goddammit. She was going to be the death of him.

She was right, though. Less than thirty seconds later three people bustled by, and he did actually have a job to do. But a few minutes back at the grind, and all he could think about was grinding. She must have been reading his mind, because suddenly she texted him.

"It's so boring up here in the front office. I'm sitting on a cold counter, and wish I was sitting on your hot lap." He laughed a little to himself. The last time she had "innocently" sat on his lap, in front of his team, it had taken him a few minutes to stand, after she'd left. Just the thought of being inside her... he couldn't go there. Because once he started to think about it, it was all he could think about.

But he liked this game, so he sent back "Baby, you can sit anywhere you want on me. My lap, my face, you name it, it's yours."

She sent back a winky emoji. Cute, but not quite enough for him.

He wrote "Hmm... confused... does that mean you're looking for a place to sit right now?"

His phone pinged. "Haha, it was all I could send quickly. They were talking about 'pounding' and 'throbbing' in the office -- about Mark's headache of course, but I was distracted... thinking of you." And then the eggplant emoji.

He groaned. That did it....

"Baby, can't you get a hall pass from your husband, or something? I want you to come back here and sit on my 'hot lap' and I'll do some pounding with my own throbbing.... Heart. My throbbing heart."

Minutes ticked by, and then his phone pinged again.

"I've resisted long enough. I'm on my way."

He knew this would cost him. She would let him touch her over her clothes -- but only over. One time, he had been hugging her from behind, his thumbs circling her nipples, his groin grinding into her fine ass, and she had leaned her head back on his shoulder and moaned in his ear, her lips grazing the skin... but only just. That seemed to be another rule - no lips, no kissing -- no skin on skin (except the highly respectable neck massage). But it hadn't been one-sided. Her hands had been all over him -- she touched his face, his hair, up and down his thighs, in his pockets "looking for keys" or "finding some gum", all over his chest and arms and back. And she seemed to love giving him hugs from behind -- nearly the same height, she would come up behind him, giggling, and hug him with her front to his back, pressing her firm breasts into him. And she would say something like, "Sooooo good to feel, I mean, see you, love." And his team, at least a couple of whom were invariably hanging around, would laugh, and she would squeeze his arms and say "Hey, y'all, welcome to the gun show!"

As he waited for her to appear, he thought about it. She would touch him, and she would let him touch her, but never as much as he wanted to... and after she left, he would regret having let it go so far, because it was never far enough.

He leaned back in his chair and waited... closed his eyes and let the anticipation build.

"Hello, Love" she purred in his ear.

Immediately every nerve in his body responded, as her breasts nestled snug on either side of his neck. He sighed and reached behind him, his fingers laced behind her neck.

"How long do we have until the next team arrives?" she said, her lips on his ear.

Actually. On. His. Ear.

He was at 100% attention, sensing a seismic shift. "How long?" she repeated, tugging his earlobe with her teeth.

"Uhmmm" he was having a hard time with coherent thought... "maybe eight minutes?" he croaked.

She laughed low and said, "Plenty of time, love."

She moved from behind him to in front of him, as her nimble fingers began work on his belt buckle. "Baby" he growled, as her hands were all over him, belt undone, zipper down, her hands on his hips -- the actual feel of her hands on the skin of his hips -- sliding his pants down his thighs. She pushed against his chest, firmly planting him in the chair. She stepped back, and in one quick move, hooked her hands under her skirt, pulled her panties down and off. "How...?" he began to ask. She laughed softly again, hoisting her skirt up, revealing lace topped thigh high stockings, making it possible for her to be sitting astride him still wearing her boots, stockings, and skirt, though it currently seemed more like a belt. She sat, straddling him, halfway down his thighs, just centimeters from touching him, exactly how he wanted.

He could barely think straight -- this was beyond anything he thought possible. She cupped his chin in her hand, drawing his eyes straight into hers. "I want to be perfectly clear -- I'm not here for your throbbing heart. I want you to pound me with your throbbing cock."

Then she leaned forward and kissed him, and kissed him, and Jesus, she tasted like strawberries and mint. His hands were in her hair, his tongue in her mouth. She leaned forward slightly, put her hand behind her on the chair for support, then lowered herself directly down, onto his shaft. She was so hot, and wet... he shuddered slightly and groaned. She tugged on his lower lip with her teeth, and purred "Hold on baby, not yet..." She began to rock back and forth on his lap, her pelvis pushing against his. He kissed her neck, her ears, anything he could. His hands were on her back, in her hair, grabbing her ass as she rocked back and forth, like a boat on the ocean.

"You feel sooooo good, love. Just like I imagined." She said, arching her back and moaning softly. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, so many things he had fantasized, but he was caught completely off guard by this. He just stayed where she had put him and let her do what she obviously wanted. She grabbed the back of his head and kissed him, her tongue inside his mouth, tasting him. "Oh baby" she whispered, her lips on his, her hips continuing their rhythm. "I have been thinking about this for so long." Not as long as he had been thinking about it. And it was better than he even imagined. The way she tasted, the way she moaned, the way he fit perfectly inside her.

He had his hands on her hips, and held her down on him, as she continued to rock against him.

"Yes" she moaned "Yes. Ohhh god." He felt her begin to clench, and shake. He grabbed her shoulders and pressed her down, as he thrust himself up. She was biting his neck and panting. Again and again he thrust into her, and she moaned " Oh, ooohhhh."

He slowed down, so he could kiss her. So he could prolong this. He put his hands in her hair and kissed her. She ground her hips down into him. He kissed her again, and again she pushed down on him. Breathless, she whispered "Please..." He wrapped his arms around her back, holding her tight into his chest, and he thrust himself into her. Again. And again. He didn't know how much longer he could hold out. Then he felt her whole body tense, and she started to shiver against him. She whispered "Come on, baby. Now."

And he exploded inside her.

Next time -- please, God, let there be a next time -- he would undress her. He would kiss her all over, tasting every delicious inch of her. He would take his time, and he would watch her, he would savor every moment. This whole thing happened too fast -- not that he wasn't deliriously happy -- but he had thought if anything ever happened, they would have more time, and nudity, than eight minutes had allowed them.

She was collapsed against his chest, softly laughing, stroking the back of his neck. He was doing his damndest to not actually lose consciousness... the combination of pent-up sexual frustration and the unexpected fantasy fulfillment, combined with the totally mind-blowing orgasm he had just experienced, left him fighting for control. She kissed him softly, gently, and whispered in his ear "That was amazing." He stoked her back and said "No, love, you were amazing." She laughed low, and he kissed her again.

"Baby, I wish we could stay like this, but I think you'd better, um... hand me those tissues."

His eyes snapped open as reality reared its ugly head. They probably had less than two minutes before some of his team members walked right down that hall. He reached out to the table next to him and grabbed the box of tissues there. She quickly pulled a few out of the box and placed them in his hand, then grabbed a few for herself, and tossed the box back on the table.

She said "Ready? One, two, three, go!" and just like that she was off his lap. Panties back on, tissues in the trash, she was re-adjusting her skirt as he bucked his belt, and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt.

He was just about to say something when three team members suddenly appeared, and immediately started in on him. "Here you are... I'd ask what you've been up to, but it looks like you're having some marital issues." She laughed, and all the guys chuckled. She playfully slapped his check and said, "Bye love. See you next week." And with that she disappeared down the hall. A week? After what just happened, how was he expected to not see her for seven whole days?

One of his team members walked by with a slow whistle, shaking his head. "Man, your 'work-wife' is something else..."

He nodded in agreement, slapped his friend on the arm, and said "Buddy, you have no idea..."