Unrelenting

Just then our waiter came by, and I quickly ordered "one last round." As a good wife, Sherry, "my" wife, knew it was a sin to waste things, and she would have felt guilty about wasting those two drinks I had just ordered. So she sat back in her seat and just waved goodbye to her friends.

After the waiter brought our drinks, I began to talk about some of the things Sherry had told me earlier about her life, using them to make compliments and flatter her. I told her how impressed I was by the way she had handled the challenges in her life. I remarked on what a strong, accomplished woman she was, and how unique it was to find someone as lovely as she was capable.

Sherry just listened quietly, but I saw her blush once or twice, so I knew she was lapping it up. I could tell that she was beginning to think about herself in a different way, feeling a bit more confident and self-sufficient than she had earlier in the evening. Equally important, I could tell she was beginning to think about me in a different way. People always appreciate those who recognize their best features.

I stood up and took her hand. "Let's get out of here," I said. "I don't want you to think I'm trying to ply you with too much liquor so I can take advantage of you." My grin told her that I was joking, but my words put the thought into her mind that her ardent admirer might actually be interested in her that way.

My European car was brand new, and I knew she'd be impressed. I also knew the car would make her feel more comfortable with me. After all, perverts don't drive luxury cars, do they?

"Hey, why don't we stop and get a cup of coffee?" I asked guilelessly.

Since she had already gotten into my car and we were underway, there was little she could do but agree, and besides, a coffee shop was obviously a safe place.

Only I didn't head to a coffee shop, I drove straight to my apartment. I was still chatting with her, so she wasn't paying attention until I pulled into the garage and parked. "Where are we?" she asked. "I thought we were going to stop for coffee."

"We are, silly," I laughed. "I'm going to make you some really good coffee at my apartment," I said, as I smilingly tugged her out of the car.

If the car made a favorable impression, my apartment really blew her away. Once I'd begun to be successful at sales, I'd sprung for an interior designer. He might have been gay, but he was good, and my place now looked like a spread in Architectural Digest.

Of course she wanted to see it, so I led her from room to room, saving the master suite for last. After she'd looked around, she turned back to me and said, "Oh, Larry, this is so beautiful it must be wonderful to sleep here." I knew a cue when I heard one, and I gathered her into my arms and turned on the corn. "It is beautiful, Sherry, now that you're here."

Before she could respond to such a cheesy line, I kissed her firmly on the mouth. And before she could react, I broke the kiss and slid my lips around to her ear, kissing that sensitive organ and whispering more compliments. Then I slid my lips lower and began kissing from her jaw line and down to her collar bone, lifting her chin between my thumb and forefinger to expose her throat. As I continued, I could feel her breathing accelerate. My fingers reached behind her back to her zipper, and as I eased it down, I continued running my lips down into her cleavage while my fingertips caressed her bare back.

Then, before she even realized what was happening, I had her bra unclasped, which allowed me to kiss her breasts, moving slowly but inevitably toward her nipples. Her hands clasped the back of my head and pulled me into her bosom.

As we'd stood there, I'd worked one of my legs between hers, and as I bent her back, she relaxed her thighs, allowing my leg to rub up against her clitoris. It must have felt really good to her, because she groaned and allowed her arms to fall back loosely until they hit the top of the bedspread. As she lay there with her eyes closed, I reached around to unfasten her skirt, and then it was an easy matter for me to slide it down her legs and off.

As she lay there, I reached down to caress her legs, starting at her ankles and slowly working my fingers higher. As they reached her inner thighs, I saw her hips start to pump, and I lifted her legs up until they were over my shoulders. Then I grabbed the crotch of her pantyhose in my hands and gave a savage yank, ripping a wide hole in them. She startled at the sudden noise, but dropped her head back onto the bedspread as my lips and tongue began to make their way where my fingers had just been playing.

I slid the crotch of her bikini panties to one side and began to lick the outer lips of her pussy. A moan escaped from her mouth. Using my fingers, I pulled her lips apart, revealing her snatch and, above it, her clitoris, straining to emerge from its hood. Using my tongue and then my fingers, I began to stimulate her, and her arousal level accelerated to a new level. When her moaning told me she was ready, I unbuckled and unzipped my pants, then quickly pulled down my boxer briefs, letting my cock out to play. It had been ready for quite some while.

I reached out and pulled a condom out of the dresser drawer as I continued to lick and kiss her pussy. I swiftly rolled the condom down over my cock. I had become quite adept at doing that one-handed.

Quickly, I rubbed my latex-sheathed cock all over her pussy to lubricate it, eliciting more moans from Sherry. Then I firmly and smoothly inserted myself into her pussy as deep as I could go. She sucked in her breath; then, as I began long-stroking her, she began to gasp and pant, moaning every time I bottomed out in her.

I continued stroking into her, gradually increasing the pace until I was pounding her into the bed. Now her panting had changed to little screams that increased in volume and frequency until she shrieked loudly, went rigid all over and then collapsed helplessly. A few more thrusts were all I needed to get my rocks off, and then I flopped down on top of her.

We both must have dozed off, because I woke up about an hour later. I reached over and jostled the sleeping woman. "Hey, Sherry, better wake up, it's late." She opened her eyes groggily and looked around, disoriented. I pointed at the clock on the nightstand, and she suddenly jerked upright. "Omigod, I've got to get home! My husband will be going crazy!"

She quickly put her clothes back on and straightened them as best she could. I grabbed my car keys and walked her out to my car. The only conversation was her directions to her home, but I heard her muttering to herself, and when the headlights of one of the few oncoming cars illuminated her face, I thought I saw tears on her cheeks.

She had me stop just short of her home and quickly got out of the car. Leaning back in the doorway, she stammered, "We shouldn't have done this. I mean . . . I can't see you again. I'm sorry. . ." Then she turned and fled up the driveway to her home.

After pulling into a neighbor's driveway and turning around, I left her to her fate. I had no idea how she was going to explain herself to her husband, but that was her problem, not mine. I wasn't worried. If it came down to an issue, I doubted she could have found her way back to my place, and I hadn't given her my real name.

As I drove home, I thought back to how much I had enjoyed the evening. It wasn't the sex – the truth was she was a passive lover -- and while she was pretty, she was nothing special. Nevertheless, tonight had been a bigger thrill than I'd had in a long time, and I realized that it was because of the seduction. Getting the broad to do something she hadn't intended to do proved a major turn-on for me, no doubt about it. My only regret was I couldn't be around to hear the conversation between her and her husband.

After that encounter, I began to shift my focus to seducing married women. They became prized targets for me. I quickly found that while the process often took much longer than I'd been used to, the thrill of victory made the wait worthwhile. Besides, if I got horny I could always drop by a singles bar and find a piece of ass.

Once I began to target married women, I had to evolve my tactics significantly. For starters, I had to change my hunting grounds. The wives I wanted normally didn't graze at the local pick-up bars. So I began to look in new habitats: the health club, the grocery store, the shopping mall and the office.

The next change I made was to adopt protective camouflage. I went to a pawnshop and bought the cheapest gold wedding band I could find. Married women are on their guard when a single male comes prowling, but a ring, I found, would disarm them long enough for me to make my move. The ring also gave me an easy excuse when I was ready to end the affair: "We're going to have to break things off – my wife is getting suspicious."

After a few safaris into the suburban jungle, I got pretty good at bagging my game. That pretty young housewife doing the grocery shopping was happy to advise a helpless married man on how to prepare a nice meal for his wife. The next time she saw me in the produce aisles, she was willing to accept my invitation to have a cup of coffee together. Soon she was looking forward to meeting me, and the meetings got longer and the conversation more intimate. The next thing she knew, her heels were reaching for the ceiling of a motel room, and her new friend was driving her to ecstasy.

By the time that liaison ended, I already had my next target selected: a secretary who worked in the office at my company. Normally, I don't go hunting where I work because that can lead to some awkward confrontations. But I decided to make an exception in Lori's case.

Lori Jones presented me with an enticing mix of qualities. She was in her late twenties and had recently moved to the city from some small town when her husband, who was some kind of an accountant, got a new job. As a result, she didn't have a lot of friends and family around, and seemed a bit lonely. That was a vulnerability I thought I could exploit.

She was also quite pretty, and underneath the modest attire she always wore to the office, I could tell that she had a hot body. Her behavior was likewise modest. She never took part in the inevitable office gossip, nor did she join the little group that would head off to happy hour every Friday afternoon.

Yet despite her appearance and demeanor, I sensed that there was a passionate woman locked inside just waiting to be unleashed. For example, I overheard her expressing strong disapproval of certain movie stars and their behavior, which she considered to be immoral. Most people would assume that such an attitude would make her seduction-proof, but I saw it as an indicator of her fascination with that lifestyle. She might not approve, but she was definitely reading about it.

Have you ever watched one of those documentaries about lions hunting on the African veldt? Once the pride picks out a potential victim, the first move is to separate the animal from the rest of the herd.

The first day of my hunt, I made it a point to keep an eye on the break room. When she went to get a cup of coffee, I followed shortly afterwards and asked if I could join her. I made a few innocuous comments about the office and then headed back to my desk. I didn't want to do anything to get her defenses up.

I had noticed that she tended to eat lunch by herself, so a couple of days later I took a sandwich I had purchased earlier and brought it into the break room. Seeing her sitting alone, I asked if I could join her. It would have been awkward for her to refuse me --- which I was counting on – so she invited me to join her. I asked her why she was eating alone and she confided that she really didn't know many people at work all that well. I commiserated with her on the difficulty of moving to a new city and told her that my wife and I had gone through the same thing after college. She had been just a little uneasy when I first sat down with her, but at the mention of my wife I could see her relax. Now she knew that I wasn't some single guy trying to put the moves on her.

I made it a point not to encounter her every day, and I was careful to alternate between lunch and coffee breaks. That served to allay her suspicions on the one hand, while keeping her uncertain when her "new friend" might show up. I also hoped it might build a little anticipation.

Not all my absences were part of a careful plan. The fact was that there was a lot of work to do in the office because the state government had just released a major Request for Proposals for highway signs worth tens of millions. If we could win the job, the company would have a banner year and the lead salesman would get a spectacular bonus. That salesman just happened to be me.

So while my plan to seduce Lori slowly unfolded, I was also busy pumping all my contacts, looking for the one thing that could give us the edge we needed to win. You see, with a Request for Proposal, all of the competitors had the same information and specifications. Likewise, all of us had the capacity to fulfill the contract at a comparable level of quality and on the required timeline. Furthermore, past experience had shown that the prices we quoted were likely to be so close to one another as to make them virtually equal. So the question was: what was the X factor that would make the difference to the Commission? If I could sniff that out, it might just give us enough of an advantage to win. All the lions could smell big game in the air, and the anticipation just fed the hunger we all felt.

A similar hunger fed my eagerness to carry out my conquest of Mrs. Lori Jones, so I decided it was time to move to the next phase of my plan. Accordingly, the next day I was waiting empty-handed in the break room when Lori came in with her sandwich. "My wife forgot to make me a sandwich for lunch today," I told her, "and I don't really want to eat alone. If you'll keep me company, I'll treat you to lunch." When she hesitated, I reached over and, with a big grin on my face, grabbed her sandwich and casually tossed it in the trash. "Now you have to eat with me," I laughed.

She might have been a bit surprised by my bold action, but she laughed with me, and since she no longer had anything to eat, she really had no option but to accept my offer. So I led her down the block to a quiet little sandwich shop, close enough not to be threatening but away from the rest of the office so we could talk more freely.

While we ate, I used the opportunity to get her to talk more about herself, her husband, her family and her dreams. I've never met a woman who didn't love to talk about herself and her feelings. In the process, they usually wind up revealing a lot more about themselves than a man ever would.

Lori was no exception. I soon learned that she loved her husband dearly, but their marriage seemed to me to be a rather dull affair. They had been high school sweethearts who had married while still in college some seven years ago. They were so busy getting settled in their new city and working at their new jobs that they hadn't had much time to develop a circle of friends. I learned she wanted to start a family but her CPA hubby pragmatically wanted to wait until they were more financially secure.

As I listened, I made a number of mental notes to myself:

• Unexciting life: could be a sign of potential discontent
• Lack of friends: needs a confidante
• Disagreement over starting a family: husband doesn't understand her
• Not very experienced: likely only with one man

None of these things were necessarily indicators of a propensity to cheat, but each offered a potential opening I might be able to exploit to my advantage.

I felt like I'd made a lot of progress, but I didn't want to alarm her by revealing too great an interest. So, looking down at my wristwatch, I said in a surprised voice, "Gosh, look at the time! I've been enjoying our conversation so much that I didn't realize that lunch hour was over. We'd better get back to the office."

It was clear that she had lost track of the time, and she was probably surprised that she'd been talking so long. The trip back was quiet, but when I dropped her off at her desk, I made a point of touching her arm and telling her, "I really enjoyed talking with you. Maybe we can do it again sometime." I hurried away before she could respond, but I saw her smile before I turned away.

Maybe none of that sounds very exciting to you, but to me it was exhilirating. The lion inches through the tall grass with infinite patience. It knows that its prey is attuned only to rapid movement; there is no perceived threat from the apparently resting beast.

Let me explain the progress I made so you'll understand just how good I am. First, I'd gotten her out of the safety of the office, while simultaneously isolating her from her herd of coworkers. Second, I'd gotten her to open up about herself and her feelings, which not only gave me valuable information for the future but also established a precedent of intimacy that I could use to my advantage. Finally, I'd paid her a small compliment which she'd accepted, and I'd made physical contact with her, another precedent that held greater significance than the act itself. Not bad for a single lunch, I'd say.

My next lunch was with the director of the state's civil engineering department. Normally, this would be frowned on during the RFP process, but I told him I had an old baseball mitt that his Little Leaguer son might like and I wanted to drop it off. (I'd actually bought a brand new glove and scuffed it up enough that it looked used.) I knew better than to ask him directly about the contract, but I did ask him innocently if he'd seen anything innovative in signage on his recent visit to another state. Either the guy hadn't seen anything very interesting or he was playing his card very close to his vest. So I came away with nothing that day but the check for lunch and his gratitude for his son's new baseball glove.

Two days later I dropped by Lori's desk a couple of minutes before she normally went to lunch. "Hey, Lori, how about going out for another sandwich with me? I really enjoyed our conversation the other day, and would like to pick it up where we left off."

I saw her glance over at the lunch sack beside her desk, and I quickly reached over, grabbed the bag and held it over her head. "Shall I throw this one away too, or would you rather save it for another day?" I asked playfully. She grinned at that and agreed to go out to lunch with me if I'd return her bag.

This time when we went downstairs, my car was parked at the curb, and I opened the door for her to get in. She hesitated, but I spoke up quickly. "I'm getting tired of sandwiches for lunch every time. Besides, there's something I'd like to talk with you about and I'd just as soon others don't hear it."

If there's anything women like better than talking about themselves, it's hearing something juicy about someone else. Her feminine curiosity overcame any reticence she had about leaving with me, and we were soon seated in a cozy little bistro where we could talk.

After the waitress had brought our food, Lori looked at me expectantly, curious to hear what revelation I had to make. I gave a small sigh and twisted my face into a look of pain. "Lori, are you and your husband passionate with each other?"

She gave a little gasp at such an intimate question.

"I'm sorry," I said hastily, "I didn't mean to ask you that. It's just that my wife seems to have lost all her interest in sex. I just wondered if every woman goes through that or if it's just her."

Lori's look of embarrassment was now replaced by one of concern and compassion. "Oh, Larry, how terrible that must be for you!" she said, reaching over and taking my hand. "To answer your question, I don't think most women feel that way. I certainly haven't experienced any lessening of desire."