As I touched up my makeup in the ladies room I thought about what was likely to happen when I went back to the table. No, that wasn't true — I knew what was going to happen — what I wondered about were the likely outcomes from what was going to happen. It wasn't every day that my boss asked me to "take care" of a large group of people and I had to wonder why he thought that I would go along with it. Granted that I was letting him bed me even though I was a married woman, but that didn't make me a slut. Or did it? I guess that would be a matter of perspective. I didn't think of myself as a slut, but it was a good bet that my husband would — if he knew. I would just have to make sure that he never did.
Once upon a time I was a fairly boring housewife and mother who stayed at home and took care of the zoo. Then the kids grew up and suddenly I was looking at an empty nest. For the first month I was in Heaven. No pressure and lots of free time for myself and then I ran out of things to do around the house. I quickly found that nothing but a steady diet of daytime soaps would turn your brain to mush so I got off my buns and went out looking for a job.
It did not take long at all to realize those twenty-one years of being a stay at home wife and mother did not arm me with the skills that would translate into the current job market. After two weeks of steady looking I had found nothing. Oh there were jobs I could have gotten; convenience store clerk on the night shift for one, but I wasn't the least bit interested in stocking shelves at oh dark-thirty or flipping burgers.
I'd just spent ten hours pounding the pavement answering ads with no luck. My husband was out of town — again — and I was in no mood to hurry home to an empty house so I stopped at a lounge to enjoy a drink. The drink turned into three and then the waitress came over and told me that a gentleman at the bar wanted to buy me a drink.
"Do you know him? Is he really a gentleman or is he just trying to get lucky?"
She laughed and said, "I don't really know about the gentleman part honey. He's in here two or three times a week and he has never caused any trouble and that's all I can say about him."
"Tell him I accept" and then I did something totally out of character and added, "Providing that he joins me."
As the waitress walked away I wondered what in the world had possessed me to do that?
His name was Bob and the word that described him best was 'pleasant'. He was pleasant looking, had a pleasant personality and he was pleasant company. Not much for originality though. His opening after the name exchange was, "And what's a pretty girl like you doing all alone in a place like this?"
I almost laughed, but since I wasn't the least bit interested in letting myself be picked up, but did want some company at the table I behaved myself. We talked and had several more drinks as I explained to him the trials and tribulations of my job search.
"I can sympathize with you. I'm having as much trouble finding someone willing to work for me as you are trying to find a job."
My ears perked up when I heard that and he noticed and laughed, "No, I don't think so. You just are not the type."
"How do you know that? We just met and you don't know anything about me."
"I know you are married."
"What has that got to do with it? Just what is the job?"
"You are probably right then. I haven't done any typing since high school."
"Personal assistants don't type; I have secretaries for that stuff."
"What does a personal assistant do?"
"Waits on me hand and foot. She takes care of all the little odds and ends that tend to clutter up an already too busy schedule. Follows along behind me with a pad and pen to make notes, reminds of appointments and meetings, sees to it that my dry cleaning gets sent out, makes sure that I remember important birthdays and anniversaries and takes care of a whole host of other personal needs."
"Sounds like just what I have been doing for the last twenty years — waiting hand and foot on two kids and a husband. What does a job like that pay?"
"My last assistant was making eighty grand a year before her husband made her quit."
"What would make a man make his wife give up that kind of money? That's more than my husband makes."
"I guess he didn't like some facets of her job. She didn't mind them, but I guess her marriage mattered enough to her that she gave in to him."
"What facets of the job didn't he like?"
"She had to travel with me on business three or four times a month and I guess he got upset at some of the personal things she had to do."
"Hell, my husband travels more than that. He wouldn't even miss me because he would be on the road too. What personal things didn't her husband like?"
"Look, I'm a very busy man most of the time and I don't have the time to take care of some things. One of the things that Mellisa did was arrange for some of my personal urges to be taken care of."
"You mean she arranged sexual meetings for you? Found you women?"
"What does that mean?"
"Sometimes she couldn't find anyone."
Suddenly what he was saying dawned on me. "Oh, oh my. And her husband found out?"
"No, he just suspected, but it was enough to make her quit."
"Quitting a job that paid that much just because he was suspicious? If it was me he would damned well have had to know for sure before I'd give it up."
By that point it was the booze that was talking, not the real me and when Bob said, "Are you telling me that you could take on a job like that?"
"For that kind of money? In a heartbeat!"
"Okay, let's get the job interview out of the way."
"My office is just across the street. I want to get you over there and fill out the application before you sober up and chicken out."
It had to have been the liquor because I wasn't that kind of woman or at least I didn't used to be, but five minutes after we entered his office he entered me. The surprising thing to me was that I didn't feel any guilt at cheating on my husband. Bob was the first man other than my husband to have me since the day of my wedding almost twenty-one years before. It was sex at its most elemental. I was on my back on Bob's desk with my skirt up around my waist and the gusset of my panties pushed to the side to give him entrance. He did lose his trousers, but he still had his shirt, tie, shoes and socks on. He banged away at me and I clutched his butt cheeks with my hands, wrapped my legs around him and moaned in pleasure. I climaxed twice before he came and when it was over he said, "That is going to be part of your duties. Do you still want the job?"
I guess that deep inside me there must have been some brazen hussy because I smiled and said, "I get that and money too? Hell yes I want the job."
"Okay, you're hired."
He got up and put on his pants and then he picked up the phone.
"I'm ready Paul" and then he walked back to me and offered me a hand to help me up. "Come on my dear. You are on the payroll now and we have places to go and things to do."
There was a limo waiting at the curb when we walked out the front door and a uniformed chauffeur opened the rear door for us.
"Paul, this is Chrissi. She's my new PA. Chrissi, this is Paul and you will probably be spending an awful lot of time with him from now on. Give Paul your address."
"But my car is in the lounge parking lot."
"I'll arrange to have it taken care of. You won't be needing it from now on. Paul will be picking you up at seven in the morning and bringing you home at night."
I was just a little bit surprised when he dismissed Paul when we got to my home. Bob saw my look.
"You did say he was out of town, right?"
I nodded a yes.
"Good. It gives me time to get to know you better."
That night I was treated to the unique and mind-blowing experience of sliding up and down on another man's hard cock while taking my husbands nightly check in phone call. I couldn't explain what had happened in the four hours since I had met Bob, but I felt no guilt or remorse at cheating on Glenn, none! I loved Glenn dearly and I would die for the man if the need arose, but it didn't bother me one bit to fuck Bob.
The next morning Paul was waiting when Bob and I came out of the house at six forty-five and on the way to the office I got my rude awakening. You know the saying that if it sounds too good to be true, it is? Well, getting eighty thousand a year for being Bob's PA was too good to be true. Bob had said that when Mellisa had left she was making that much, but that was her total with bonuses, commissions and a few other things like a clothing allowance, and company credit cards. The actual salary was four thousand a month, which was still very good money. I spent most of the day filling out forms for life and health insurance and all kinds of other stuff. Then I was turned over to Bob's secretary who sat me down and explain in great detail what I was supposed to do as Bob's personal assistant (she didn't say a word about the sex part) and then she handed me a list and three company credit cards and told me to take the rest of the day and purchase what was on the list.
"Experience has shown that you will need these items at one time or another" and then she handed me a second list. "Have these items packed and ready to go because there are times you will be going out of town on a moments notice and you won't have time to go home and pack."
I looked at both lists and saw that they were mostly clothes. A full-length evening gown for a formal affair, business suits, cocktail dresses and the like.
"Try to have them all by tomorrow. Paul will drive you."
That was almost six months ago and probably the most surprising thing to me about the job, considering the way it got started, was that Bob did not require my sexual services all that much. Mostly it was when we were out of town on trips and the sex on those trips was intense. Bob usually wanted to go all night and we usually did. At home we did have occasionally have some two-martini lunches that ended up in a hotel room, but it was rare unless my husband was out of town on business. If that were the case Bob would come over so he could be sliding his cock in me when I took my evening call from Glenn. For some reason he got a major charge out of that (for that matter, I did too) and doing it on Glenn's bed.
Bob had a philosophy — work hard and then go play. His day started at five-thirty and ended at six in the evening unless he had a dinner or some special event to attend. His theory was, "If you can't get it done in a twelve hour day it doesn't need to be done."
But those twelve-hour days were non-stop and many nights when Paul dropped me off all I wanted to do was soak my feet in the tub. A typical day for me started when Paul picked me up at seven. I had a cell phone that only one person — Bob - had the number to and between seven and five after seven it would ring and I would get my basic instructions for the start of the day.