Remodeling Carla Ch. 04byGeorgeDaBuilder©
For George, it was back to work as usual, after a weekend that would probably shape the rest of his life. A longtime customer, turned friend, Carla, came to him for personal relationship advice and it snowballed into a sexual awakening for Carla; and for George too for that matter.
Now they were sort of in flux. The friendship remains intact, if not stronger, but only time will tell if it will move beyond that.
Carla however, was a little on edge. Her husband, Frank, had just returned from a long and evidently prosperous, business trip. From their home, they ran an internet based travel service. They catered to large groups that wanted someone to handle all the details, from travel to accommodations. Frank had a way with people, so his role was to negotiate both ends of the deal. He contracted with resorts, hotels, cruise lines and such. He also met with the groups and corporations that paid for their services. A personal, hands-on touch is what made them successful. It also required Frank to do a lot of traveling.
Carla was the organized one. She implemented all those things that Frank had promised and made sure that everything ran smoothly. Together, they made a perfect team, at least on the business side. The business was a gold mine and they were making money hand over fist. But as any small business owner can tell you, it is hard to enjoy the success, when you have no one to take the reins when you are not around. Their business consumed their lives.
For Carla, that all changed this last weekend. Suspicious of her husband being unfaithful, she turned to George for advice. She got more than just advice, and it turned her world upside down. She found a new passion for life, and a desire to try to experience as much as was possible. On one hand, she hoped that she was wrong about Frank and that he could share her dreams. But on the other hand, after just two days with George, she had doubts that Frank could ever keep up with her desires. George may have spoiled her for eternity.
Part of Carla's plan to lure her hubby into her web was to publish photos of her self on a bikini website that she knew he frequented. After only two days on the site, Carla was amazed at the response to her pictures. There had been thousand of hits and hundreds of responses. The notes to her were everything from the polite comment on how good she looked, to nasty recitations on what they would do if they could get her out of that suit. All the comments helped to boost her confidence. As of yet, she hadn't gotten any feedback from Frank, and wasn't sure she ever would.
A week passed and she tried to maintain the status quo. She didn't change her appearance, still wearing her favorite little shorts and shirts. Almost always barefoot, her lustrous brunette hair tied back in a pony tail, it was business as usual. On about that seventh day, while standing at the filing cabinet, she glanced in to Frank's office to see him staring at his computer monitor. Looking up slightly, she could clearly see in a reflection in the window, one of the pictures of her that she had posted on the web. "Now we'll see what happens, "she said to herself.
Well nothing happened! Carla was more than a little perplexed. That night, Frank initiated their weekly sex. "Now we'll see if we've turned up the fire," she thought again. It started with what counted as foreplay. She knew better now, but she played along. After a couple minutes, Frank was prepared to do the deed, and instead of just rolling left, on top of her and assuming the missionary position, he rolled right and reached under his pillow.
Back on his back, he held in his hand a condom package. She looked at him as he tore it open and began to roll it on. He held up the package, smiling, and without a word, pointed at the words "For Her Pleasure." They had never used condoms in the past. Evidently, he thought that the little ridges on the outside of the condom were all that was needed to take her to the moon. Now rolling left and assuming the position between her legs, he unceremoniously began the mating ritual. She was grateful it was pre-lubricated. He stuffed himself in and she began to count. Making it all the way to twelve, Frank stiffened and groaned. "Better than the usual six," she thought. Taking a second to kiss her on the forehead, he carefully extracted himself and rolled back to the right. Removing the condom and executing a two pointer into the adjacent wastebasket, he was quickly asleep.
Getting out of bed to "clean-up", she went to turn off the bedside lamp. Next to it laid the condom package. "For Her Pleasure", my ass she thought. Closing the bathroom door, she pondered the introduction of condoms into the routine. Opening a drawer, she reached in for her favorite hairbrush. Leaning George's favorite ass into the counter, she fantasized that the lacquered wood handle was really her George, holding her hips, his mouth on hers to suppress her moans. In her mind, he drove deep, each time lifting her off the floor, his pubic bone kissing her clit. Many more than twelve strokes later, her faithful beech wood lover brought relief. Her thoughts of George lingered as she slept through the night.
The next day, Frank received a call from an old client. There was some kind of corporate buyout in the works and they needed to throw a meeting together, away from the company headquarters so that all the big-wigs could discuss how they could profit from all this. Frank needed to get to their favorite resort ahead of them and make all the arrangements.
Frank flew into Carla's office, barking orders. "I need a ticket to St. Croix ASAP! Get me headed east and I'll start arrangements for the resort, golf and all that from the road." Unfazed by his abruptness, she had him booked through to the Virgin Islands within a couple minutes. Packing up his laptop and calling a cab, she had him packed and out the door in 45 minutes.
Not five minutes later, she was sitting on the couch with a glass of wine. She texted George, "I miss you. XXX."
George was in a meeting with a supplier when his Blackberry chimed. Reading her message, he smiled and replied," Miss you too, in a meeting for another hour, call me when you can."
Watching the clock, she called him right on the hour. "Frank had to leave town suddenly, so I called to see if we could get together, there is so much I want to talk to you about," she said.
With disappointment in his voice,' "I'm sorry sweetie, I'm having dinner tonight with some people I'm going to build a house for and then I fly out tomorrow to their house in Colorado for three days to check it out." Sensing her disappointment, "How's this sound? I get back Saturday afternoon; I'll take you out to dinner that night. You pick the place."
"Okay," she said in her pouty little girl voice. "It'll cost you, you know."
"I'm sure it will be worth it," he answered.
"Bet on it," she said. "And George," she paused, breathing deeply, "I really have missed you, hurry back."
"I will baby," making a kissing sound.
Dinner that night before went well, and George was up early packing. Just as he was about to leave for the airport, he heard his computer emit that annoying "You've got Mail" sound. Nearly ignoring it, but having a minute, he went into his office and opened his inbox. Waiting was mail from Carla. Opening it, it read, "Just a little something to hurry you along" and attached was a JPEG. Opening it up, he found a picture of Carla wearing a black lace bra and little g-string panties and a pair of high heel sandals. A message written in red seemed to be floating next to her head. "Getting ready for dinner", it said. He could see the corner of the camera over her shoulder. She had taken a picture of her reflection in her wardrobe doors and written the message on the mirror in lipstick. "Clever girl," he thought. George adjusted his boxers as he downloaded the picture to his Blackberry.
It was a busy couple of days for both of them. George met with his clients and toured their home outside Denver. He also met with their interior designer and architect. The architect and George knew immediately that they would have no problems working together. The designer was another story. Maybe 10 or 15 years older than George, this old battleaxe made it clear to both he and the architect that she was the one who was really in charge. George saw a long, pot-hole riddled, road ahead.
Carla too kept busy. Constant emails came in from Frank with confirmations on hotel rooms, golf and dinner reservations and the like. All of the pertinent paperwork, billings, etc. also came direct from the different venues. In the case of the hotels they used, Carla and Frank requested constant updates on charges to the rooms. More than once they had discovered more than business expenses being charged to a room. The occasional escort service charge was not uncommon.
Reviewing the first day's updates, Carla perused the hotel's charge sheet. Not much action yet as Frank was the only one checked in among the 16 rooms they had booked. The Board of Directors was trickling in the next day. Ready to set aside the fax, she noticed a charge to Frank's room. It was common for him to get room service, or have some clothes cleaned. The word 'Spa" jumped out though. First off, Frank was not the spa type, and he was too busy to relax at this juncture anyway. He wouldn't slow down until everything was in order and underway.
Shooting off a quick email, Carla inquired as to whether or not there was mistake in this charge. Waiting for a response, she looked at the dollar amount. "Holy shit," she exclaimed out loud. If Frank did get a massage, it must have come with a 'happy ending'.
A response from the hotel popped up in her inbox. Indeed, the charge was to Frank's room and attached was a list of the services scheduled for later today. It included a mud bath, with facial; a manicure and pedicure and a massage. The guest's name was noted at the top, Stephanie.
Carla's mind began to reel. "Ah Fuck," she exclaimed. Was Frank really cheating on her? Pausing she thought to herself "Hells bells Carla, you can't get too bent about it; look at you and George." Slumping back in her chair, she threw her feet up onto the desk, pondering the situation. Looking at her dainty feet and her polished little piggies, she relived the foot massage she had gotten from George. Unconsciously, her hand wandered downtown, where the humidity was on the rise. A brush to her clit snapped her back to reality.
Sitting back up in her chair, she thought hard. With what she had with George, she found that she wasn't really all that upset with Frank. Yeah, she was pissed, wondering how long this may have been going on. Was it just 'Stephanie', or were there others; a girl in every port as it were. If Frank did have girls scattered all over the globe, he sure had her fooled.
The more she thought about it, the more confused she became about her own feelings. She loved Frank, or at least she thought it was love. But after a little time with George, she wondered if Frank really loved her. There was none of the outward attention that George showed with her. Frank certainly never leaned her up against the kitchen sink, grinding into her ass, running his hands through her hair, nibbling on her neck, just loving her up. No, Frank never did that. Maybe it wasn't his nature, but god how she loved it. And it was all so comfortable. She could imagine a life with George, a very happy and horny life.
She sat for hours trying to rationalize it all. She would put herself in Frank's shoes, trying to see through his eyes and dissect his thoughts. How would he feel if he had caught her with George's face buried in her pussy? "First," she thought, he'd be grossed out. "Poor Stephanie, maybe she's as naïve as I've been."
Bottom line, they both had been fooling around. That was her next step; she had to make sure Frank was boinking this girl, Stephanie. "Boinking, that's it," she said to herself. "That explains the condom. How sweet, he was trying to prevent me from getting whatever STD the little skank gave him."
Taking a deep breath, "Calm, calm," she told herself," you may be the pot calling the kettle black here. I'm sure she's a lovely girl." Thinking on it a little harder, she realized,"Crap, this was a last minute trip. She has to be local talent." Now she was a little more pissed. She was going to have to go to a clinic and get herself tested. "Damn it Frank!"
Confirming Stephanie's presence turned out to be a piece of cake. Carla emailed the hotel again and requested a reservation list for all the rooms. The list gave the names of those that were to occupy each room. They did this routinely to assure that they had the right bed configurations. Can't have two captains of industry sharing a double bed, can we? Running down the list, there it was, Frank slipped up and let them list Stephanie in his room, probably for room charge privileges. They also had a single king bed.
Well, short of a confession, Carla knew he was guilty; guilty as she was. "So much for those wedding vows," she thought. She rationalized that she and Frank were of the same mind. It was something they would have to address when he got back home. Now, feeling unburdened, she had a date to get ready for.
George had had enough of Colorado. More than that, he really had his fill of the grating interior decorator. He wasn't looking forward to her being part of the team. Helping him get through it all was Carla. Teasing little text messages during meetings were a pleasant distraction. Though not a big fan of flying, he found himself anxious for his westward flight home.
Carla too was looking forward to George's return. With Frank's dalliance all but exposed, she felt free to take her relationship with George to the next stage. She made reservations at a swanky Italian restaurant downtown. Dom's, reputed to be an old mob hangout, was known for its great traditional food, extensive wine list, but more importantly it was one of those dimly lit, romantic places. She requested a nice private booth.
Next, she had to get a new dress. She had already given George a preview of the rest of her apparel. She was leaning toward a simple little black number. Nice and short to show off her legs, low cut in front and tight to accentuate her ass. She also had one other little surprise for him and she made an appointment for that. A little unsure, she hoped he'd like it.
The night before his flight home, Carla called him at his hotel. She filled him in on their dinner arrangements. Carla thought it best that they meet each other at Dom's. Leaving her house dressed to kill and leaving with George might raise the suspicions of her nosy neighbors, she said. Agreeing to the arrangements, they kicked back, just talking.
The conversation led back to tomorrow nights dinner. "I've never been to Dom's before, have you? "He asked.
"No, 'She said, "I just heard that it's good food and very romantic. You do like Italian, don't you?"
"Yeah, 'Eye-talian' is one of my favorites," he kidded in a terrible southern accent. "Don't s'pose my jeans and flannel shirt are gonna cut it though. What's a feller s'posed to wear to a fancy place like this'n?"
Slipping into her best provocative Mae West impression, she countered, "Well big boy, a girl likes to see a well wrapped package, ya know, so she can guess what she got before she unwraps it."
Laughing at her equally pathetic, but none-the-less seductive attempt, "Okay, I give; no more corny accents, please!"
Loving his laughter, she dropped out of character, but continued with an x-rated lilt. "All I will tell you is it is dark, candlelit, red leather and tablecloths. And I plan to take advantage of it all."
Deciding to leave well enough alone, he bid her goodnight. "I can't wait to see you tomorrow."
"Me neither" she sighed "Goodnight lover."
Neither slept well that night in anticipation of picking up where they had left off, too long ago.
Date night finally arrived. Carla in her little Honda, pulled into the restaurant parking lot looking for George's truck. Somewhat disappointed that he wasn't there waiting for her, she pulled into a spot and then headed for the entrance. She wasn't used to navigating in 4" heels, but a look in the mirror told her they were the right choice. The lift accentuated the shape of her calves and thighs, and her butt bumped out of that little black dress, sure to be noticed.
And noticed she was. Backlit by the light from the entry, she stepped into the bar with the confidence of a model on the catwalk. George, along with the rest of the patrons was captured by her beauty. Her hair, hanging loose, swung with the rhythm of her hips. The form fitting dress and her bare legs, hinted at her hidden assets. There was something else about her, something that gave her an even more exotic look, but George couldn't put his finger on it.
On seeing her, George stepped from the bar. Seeing him, her eyes brightened and with a sultry smile, she made eye contact and slowly crossed the room, never breaking contact. "Damn," she thought, "He cleans up pretty good."
Much to the disappointment of everyone else in the room, she stopped in front of him. Still eye to eye, George stepped in and put one arm around her waist. Pulling her in, their lips met; wet heat. "You look exceedingly beautiful tonight," he said.
Breathless, she looked up and said, "I didn't see your truck, I thought maybe I had been stood up."
"Not a chance in the world baby," he said. "Not a chance in the world I'd miss out on this," his eyes traveling down her cleavage.
Kissing once more, they became conscious of the little show they were putting on. They could feel the envy of others in the room, it was so obvious the bond they had. "Let's see if that secluded booth you bragged about is ready yet," he said.
The young hostess, trying to compete with Carla, sashayed through the tables, leading them to a booth in a smaller room. George's eyes followed, until Carla delivered a sharp, but playful elbow to his ribs. Getting them seated, the hostess turned and with even more exuberance, made her way back toward the front of the restaurant. Carla watched George following her departure. She dropped her hand below the table, into George's lap and gently squeezed. "Just checking," she said.
"Sorry sweetie, but I am just a guy, ya know."
"I'd like to think that you're my guy," she said, snuggling up to him.
"In fact," she said, "let me fill you in on what I've learned in the last couple weeks."
While they waited for their drinks, Carla filled George in on Frank's escapades in the Virgin Islands. She went on to explain her feelings about the whole thing; about how her feelings for George more than outweighed her anger over Frank. She went on that she saw this as some kind of divine intervention. That she and George were meant to connect at the same time that Frank's involvement with someone else was exposed. She rambled on, bubbling with enthusiasm, that this was just meant to be.
Then silence. George had sat there, quietly listening, never uttering a word in agreement. Suddenly terrified, Carla questioned herself, "have I overstepped my bounds; read this all wrong? Is George ready for all this?"
Cautiously, she turned her head to look for his reaction. Straight faced, he looked into her eyes for what seem to her to be an eternity. Then came a smile that she would remember forever. She matched him smile for smile until their lips met for a kiss that rivaled any that either had ever had before. They would have still been in a lip lock if not for the sound of their waiter clearing his throat. Smiling, but not embarrassed, they quickly chose the first thing they saw on the menu. Agreeing with whatever wine the waiter suggested, they patiently awaited his departure. As though to finish what the waiter had interrupted, they kissed once more, confirming their feelings for one another.