Two Birds

It really wasn't supposed to be this way. When my wife first explained the job to me, it sounded too good to be true. She could dump her job in a rather large city, move to a small town, manage one third the number of people and still make the same money. It sounded so good, a major reduction in stress for the same pay. She jumped at the chance, and before we knew it, we were living the small town life.

Now we had no illusions that there was no price to pay for going small. Going to a play in small town USA usually means the high school auditorium. The museum is a dusty exhibit of some glory days around the turn of the century. And shopping? Well, we can get what we need most times, but almost never what we want.

The people were pretty nice, except when we ran afoul of some clannish relationships which had been in place for generations. So, with so much going for it, why was my wife complaining so damn much? In a word: Cathy. It seemed that one person was making up for the headaches of the two thirds of the staff numbers that my wife had dropped. It seemed that a couple of times each week I was hearing about some ruckus that Cathy had caused or blown out of proportion. Frankly, I was getting sick and tired of hearing her name.

I had only met Cathy a couple of times when visiting at my wife's office. Cathy is tall, almost six feet, and very slender. She didn't look very curvy as she has a sort of permanent slouch, probably as she is uncomfortable with her height. Her jet black hair is cut short in a page-boy. My wife assures me that her big brown eyes and open smile, hide the soul of the devil and the teeth of a piranha. For the most part, I didn't think about Cathy except when my wife was complaining or when I was wondering what kind of car she drove and whether I could really cut those brake lines.

All that changed two weeks before Christmas. No, it wasn't the spirit of goodwill or seasonal cheer that changed things, it was the employee Christmas party. Now, the annual party was a big deal in this small town, even if it was held in the backroom of an out of the way local restaurant. It was one of the few chances that people had to kick up their heels and show off a bit, outside of the occasional wedding. Personally, a root canal sounded better than spending the evening with a bunch of people my wife usually complained about, but I was told it was a command performance.

My wife and I arrived a bit early, she wanted to stake out her territory and try to get only those she could still stand to sit around her. My goal was much more modest: get through the evening without saying anything stupid. So, I was just sitting at the table, nursing a drink and watching with great interest as the employees filed in.

Some of the women were dressed casually, or no more dressed up than for a restaurant meal. Those women clearly had not received the memo or something as most of the women in attendance were dressed to the nines. Some women favored floor length gowns, these were mostly, but not exclusively, the older women. Some women favored form fitting dresses, ranging from knee length to well above, with heels much higher than I would have guessed. I was looking forward to the dancing that was to follow the meal and short program, according to the agenda. And then Cathy walked in.

Gone was the mousy page boy, replaced by a perm that turned her hair into a shorter and darker version of Andi McDowell's. And gone were the polyester pants and shirt that made up her work attire, replaced with perhaps the shortest of the form fitting dresses, a completely dazzling red number. Gone too was any discomfort about her height. She was wearing full heels, and she proudly stood tall revealing an extremely feminine profile. Her small breasts pushed at the red material, and her nipples poked out slightly, looking a bit like maraschino cherries. I took in every detail with enormous appreciation, the black hose, the slits on the side of the dress that was already impossibly short, the matching red lipstick and nail polish. I knew that if this was a piranha, I was going in the river!

Of course I had a major problem in this. My wife. Normally, my flirting with another woman at this kind of affair would be accepted or overlooked, she understands my needs pretty well. But not with her arch-nemesis! Not with Cathy! In fact, I was already feeling like I had looked her far too long and intensely already.

I was not at all surprised when Cathy and her husband chose to sit at another table, and my wife breathed a sigh of relief. However, I was pleased at the location they did select. Cathy ended up at the end of a table kitty-corner to us. I had a clear view of her in profile, right down to her coquettishly crossed ankles. Wait! Did she look over and smile at me?

As dinner progressed we made eye contact several times and I could feel my interest level seriously rising. Normally I might have asked her to dance at some point later in the evening and after getting fully aroused gone home and made mad passionate love to my wife. But I would never hear the end of slow dancing with Cathy, so that was not going to happen. Is Cathy giving me the eye? Or is it my imagination?

In fact all through dinner she seemed to be glancing in my direction. I assumed pretty quickly that it was to drive my wife crazy, but the effect on me was much worse. At first the glances were quick, and if I made eye contact she would shyly look away. As the evening wore on the glances lingered and the smiles became more open. Unfortunately the longer glances from Cathy gave more time for my wife to shoot me glances of disapproval. I had a fine line to walk to be sure.

But disapproving glances were not enough to keep me from looking in Cathy's direction, especially after dessert arrived. It was about that time that glances from her were accompanied with a very slight wriggle of her rear end, accompanied by her recrossing her legs. When recrossing her legs, her thighs were in full contact and she rolled her hips a bit so that the upper and lower leg traded places while touching along the full length the whole time. Just imagining what must be happening under that microdress was enough to convince me that I could not possibly stand up until everyone else had left the table.

Finally, the dinner and program ended and people began to move around. Some headed for the dance floor, others for the door. Little knots of conversation moved around the room. People began to drift away from our table and the pressure in my pants began to subside. Unfortunately that pressure relief did not last long.

Along with a number of other couples, Cathy and her husband had taken to the dance floor. When she danced fast, the hem of her dress shimmied and shook and seemed to be a neon sign advertising the charms that lay beneath. When she danced slow, she wrapped her hips around her husband, who let his hands wander all over, and occasionally under the little red dress. At the rate things were going I would not be able to stand up until after New Year.

Finally, the DJ and the dancers took a break. After a bit, I worked my way to the bar and then down a narrow hallway to where bathrooms were. The hall was a bit dark and narrow. As I was squinting my way down the corridor, a door just in front of me opened and I found myself face to face with Cathy. I tried to maintain my composure.

"Hi Cathy! Great party tonight."

"Oh Hi, Bill. I didn't see you there. Yes, it is quite an evening, but it always is."

I paused a beat or two, hoping my pounding heart would not be heard in the quiet hallway. "Cathy, you really look stunning tonight..." She smiled broadly but looked away slightly. Another pause as I feared, perhaps, that our interlude was over. But she continued smiling as she looked up.

"Thank you. I noticed you looking at me," she said quietly. Even though Cathy had a reputation of speaking her mind, I was not quite ready for such an immediate opening. I stammered a bit.

"I just couldn't help myself in the presence of such beauty. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable." Now it was my turn to look down a bit shyly. But her grin was ear to ear.

"You're so sweet. And not uncomfortable...maybe a little tingly," she said in a husky voice. Just as my knees were about to buckle, she pointed to a doorway just a little way down the hall.

"Let's go in there, it's a little more private." She turned and took a few quick steps, those long legs goading me on. I headed toward the door, wondering what pleasures might lie behind it.

To my slight disappointment the door that she lead me through was not an abandoned cloakroom, but a back door to the restaurant part of the building. About a dozen tables and booths were scattered around the room. As she came through the door Cathy pointed to a booth and I slid in. Before I could slide in very far, she had taken up a position next to me. Our hips were just touching, so I decided not to slide further into the booth. No one had noticed our backdoor arrival.

As often happens, I was bit tongue tied in the presence of a beautiful woman. Cathy broke the silence, "I better not stay long, my husband will miss me."

"I would think that would be almost immediately," I said smiling. "He certainly was very interested on the dance floor," I added with a sly grin.

"Oh that's Kevin. Mr. Macho in public, but at home -- nothing." I nodded but didn't know what to say, so she continued. "This year will be better, I told him not to drink. The last few years he was embarrassing. And when we got home he was completely useless. Maybe this time he'll save some of his interest for home."

I could see now why she was such a problem in the office. If she could tell me, a virtual stranger, about all this, I could only imagine what she would have to say about the company salary structure or who was doing their job well. She certainly said exactly what was on her mind. I also could not still help wondering if she was using me to get back at my wife in some way. If she was, I didn't mind so far.

"Well, he doesn't seem real smart to me. I can't imagine what would be more important than taking care of a sweet, beautiful woman like you." She smiled, so I continued, "I would be torn between dancing and taking you home, but I am sure there would be time for both."

I felt her hand land as delicately as a butterfly on my leg. We looked into each other's eyes. The silence now was not at all awkward. She sighed "He's just more interested in beer than...love," she said, choosing the last word carefully. I squeezed her hand.

"Yeah, I suppose. But you would never get any sleep with me around."

"You're so sweet," she said and squeezed my thigh "But I better get going before both my bosses get mad." She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and stood up. Her waist was at my eye level and the view was perfect as she turned and went back out the door. I relaxed a few minutes and finally got up myself. I worked my way to the front of the restaurant before heading to the banquet room to collect my wife. When we made love that night, I have to admit I was still seeing that red dress in my mind.

At the risk of admitting how shallow I really am, I will admit that pretty much every time I closed my eyes for the next two weeks I saw that dress. Those legs. That hair. Those eyes, lips, hands and everything else. My wife didn't seem to mind the outbreak of extra amorousness, but I dared not tell her the reason. My lust outbreak had pretty much run its course by the first of the year, but would soon be inflamed again.

A week after New Year's I found myself with nothing to do on a Friday. I stopped by my wife's office to see if she needed any errands run. The first person I ran into in the hallway was Cathy. Her hair and nails were just like at the party, but of course the polyester work clothes had returned.

"Hey Cathy, how are you doing?" I chipped merrily.

"Just fine, Bill. It's really good to see you." It was clear that our little restaurant encounter might not be the end of the story.

"Got big plans for the weekend?" I asked. Her eyes lit up at first, then her voice dropped into a slight whisper.

"Kevin's out of town for the weekend. And somehow I managed to get my boss to give me the afternoon off." I was inclined to overlook the way she spit out the words "my boss" in light of those gorgeous lips.

"Sounds like fun, I'm sure you'll find ways to occupy yourself. I'm out running some errands myself." Her eyes lit up again. Her voice got just a bit softer and she looked over her shoulder as she answered.

"Me too. I'll probably be at the Lucky Market in about 45 minutes." She looked at me with clear invitation in her eyes. A huge smile plastered itself all over my face.

"Ok, Cathy," I boomed out "Have a great weekend, see ya around sometime!"

A half hour later found me a Lucky's. I grabbed a cart and did a quick circuit of the store. Just a couple of customers, no one I recognized. Not long after that I spotted Cathy in the produce aisle.

"Hey stranger," I said as I sidled my cart up to hers.

"Hey fella," she smiled and winked. "What are you doing?"

"Just looking for something very special," I said trying to be cutsie. But she refused to play the cutsie game.

"I know. I just love the way you look at me, you have such a hunger in your eyes. I wish Kevin would look at me like that." Once again, she left me a bit speechless.

"Well, you are delicious looking..." I stammered. She smiled warmly, but also in a way that indicated that the game was over.

"Why don't you come out to the house and we can talk more?" This was an invitation I was not going to refuse. "Come out in about an hour. I'll be done shopping and such by then. You know where Snow Hill Road is?" I nodded. "Good. Go down to Snow Hill, take a right. About a mile down the road there will be another right, take it. There are only two houses, we are the one on the left."

"Ok, I got it," I said. "About an hour?" She nodded "Sounds great."

Cathy looked quickly around and reached over and lightly kissed my cheek. In my ear I could hear her sensuous whisper, "I am really looking forward to it." With that she grabbed a bag of apples and placed them in her cart and continued up the aisle. Walking the other way, I pushed my cart into the long cart snake and headed out into the bright, crisp sunshine of a winter's day.

The next 45 minutes were the longest of my life. On the one hand I was absolutely breathless with anticipation. On the other hand, I still could not help wondering if some kind of trap awaited me. I imagined Cathy's husband bursting in and beating me senseless. I imagined someone jumping out of a closet with a camera -- taking pictures which would be mailed to my wife. I imagined lying with Cathy in the warm afterglow of lovemaking turning to me and saying "That will teach my bitch of a boss to mess with me!" I almost went home instead. Almost.

Almost an hour later I found myself turning onto Snow Hill Road. Somehow I sensed that being late would start things off on a bad foot. Gravel crunched under my tires as I pulled into the driveway of a modest home. The garage doors were closed, so at first I was not sure anyone was home. Perhaps she had changed her mind. Or perhaps luring me in anticipation to an empty house was going to be hoax enough. I looked up and down the country road. No cars were parked along the road and none were visible at the house across the street. I stopped the engine and headed for the front door. I rang the bell. My palms began sweating profusely when the door unlatched, but did not swing open. I heard Cathy inside say "Come on in, Bill."

Half expecting a lead pipe upside my head, I slowly pushed open the door. Cathy stood a few feet back from the door. She was stunning. She stood there in a blue, silky, satiny dress, that was not much longer than her little red number. The color was luxuriant, perhaps a midnight blue. The neckline was a bit exotic, perhaps looking a little oriental, which set off Cathy's dark hair perfectly. She was not wearing stockings, but her creamy skin curved deliciously down to blue heels. Her feet were slightly crossed and she looked just a bit shy, like a girl on prom night. Any apprehension I felt a moment ago evaporated, along with my ability to filter my thoughts.

"My god," I said quietly "Cathy, you are absolutely beautiful." I heard myself saying each syllable of "absolutely" as if they were separate words. I clicked the door closed behind me. Cathy extended both arms with her fingers pointing down. I reached out and took her hands in mine and she lead me into the living room and over to the sofa. As we walked our eyes were locked onto each other. Reaching the sofa I sat down, and she snuggled in close.

I was transfixed by the situation at first. She was so close and so desirable. Time stood still for a few moments. Slowly the scene seemed to thaw and we began to talk. Just small talk at first, the weather, the latest movie to hit town, nothing terribly important. Our eyes remained fixed on each other we talked and I couldn't help notice the lovely, subtle fragrance she was wearing. After a little bit, our conversation turned more serious.

When our small talk hit a lull, she put her hand on mine. "I can't remember a man looking at me the way you do."

"Maybe you should try dressing like this all the time?" I tried to joke.

"Well, it does seem to get results!" she laughed. But then looking right at me she said, "But you looked at me differently even the first time we met." I kept on smiling even though I couldn't exactly remember the first time I saw Cathy, there were so many first meetings that day. She continued, "Some guys look right through me, but I could see some hunger in your eyes."

"Yes, there is something there. Every time I look at you I feel a magnetism..."

"I can feel that too. It really turns me own, knowing how much you like what you see."

"Oh and I do like it very much. God, you look fabulous in those little short dresses." She actually looked a bit shy when I said this.

"I don't usually dress this way. I bought these before the Christmas party. I wasn't sure if I could really wear one in public." She paused and gave me a sly grin. "But it was worth it when I saw the eyes pop out of your head at the party."

Now it was my turn to shy up a bit. "Was it that noticeable? I was trying to be cool about it." I looked up and Cathy was grinning like a fox in a henhouse.

"Oh you might have been cool, but I sure noticed. I got a little more turned on each time you looked over. By the end of dinner, I almost couldn't sit still."

"I noticed. And it had a major effect on me. By the time you hit the dance floor, I couldn't even stand up..." In her usual direct way, Cathy ended the conversation by planting her lips square on mine. Cathy's lips were warm and soft and moist, just like they looked. There was nothing dainty or shy about her kiss. Her tongue entered my mouth immediately, filling me with sensations of passion. We kissed long and deep. When our lips would part for a moment, she would smile and grunt "God, that was nice." And she would kiss me again. We kissed for quite some time and even though her manicured nails would occasionally grip my thigh or run down my spine, our body contact was minimal. Our lips were fully engaged, but everything else, it seemed, was awaiting further instruction.

That instruction was not long in coming. Cathy broke off a kiss and looked at me a bit strangely. It was certainly a look of desire, but not one of animal lust. She looked at me longingly and asked "Would you like to dance?"

I was a bit taken aback by the question, but not about to turn down the invitation. I have been known to decline dances, but not this time. I smiled and said "I'd love to," and then looked down at my winter clodhoppers, "but these shoes..."