Chapter 1

"And the world's shrunken to a heap
of hot flesh straining on a bed."
-E.R. Dodds
British Classical Scholar

To be frank, I wanted her the moment I saw her, which is strange because she was 20 years older than me. But there was that certain something about her that attracted me to her, and I knew that if the feeling was even slightly mutual, I would act on it.

Courtney was the wife of a co-worker. Don had come to our company first as a consultant, and then as he proved himself with his performance, he was invited to stay on at a much higher salary. Moving from the cold midwest to sunny San Diego was probablly a mitigating factor, but just the same, he packed his wife and two kids up and moved to southern California.

He was a management specialist, and I was in Information Systems, working as the senior database analyst. As such, we had ample opportunity to interact both professionally and socially. It was the first social interaction, however, that started this entire...affair. And I suppose, after all is said and done, that that is what this is. Courtney has no desire to leave her husband or end her marriage, and I have no desire to become her husband or a stepfather to her children, both of which are only younger than me by a few short years. Frankly, all Courtney and I want to do is screw the living daylights out of each other. But I digress; it took me a while to get to that point, so I'd better back up and let you all join us here as well.

Don had invited me over to his new house for dinner and discussions about business. Wanting to appear friendly, I accepted. The door was answered by a goddess. She was somewhere between forty and forty-five, of that there was no doubt. She was short and slim and had a wonderfully warm smile, and dark, intelligent eyes that drew me in like a buglight. She reached out and shook my hand, introducing herself.

"You must be Dan. I'm Courtney, Don's wife." I smiled and nodded at her, too stunned to immediately speak. She took my windbreaker, and led me into the kitchen. It was one of those wonderful California kitchens, all light and air and room to manuever. A huge butcher-block counter dominated the middle of the room, complete with a working stove and ample room to prepare meals. An opened bottle of rose wine was on the counter, and she offered me a glass.

"Thank you, no" I said. "I'm not much of a wine drinker."

"Hmmm," she said, playfully stroking her chin. "I suppose you're more of a beer drinker, hmm?" I nodded, and she turned, opened the icebox, and bent down to rummage around the lower shelves.

At that point, I nearly fainted. She was wearing a light-colored (peach or ivory,) silky blouse, and tight, black pleated trousers that were now stretched tightly across her buttocks, revealing to me that although she could count four decades of time on this planet, she had fought Mother Nature tooth and nail. Her ass looked invitingly tight and firm, and I wondered for a moment how it would feel filling my hands as I thrust my slowly stirring cock into her cunt.

"Hey, Dan!" I heard from behind me, and turned to see Don staring at me from the family room. To my sudden horror, I realized that he'd caught me ogling his wife, and to add to my humiliation, I could feel myself beginning to blush. "You've met Courtney, I see," he said, indicating with a sweep of his hand his wife, still bent over in front of the icebox. I nodded, dumbly, and shook hands with her husband and my co-worker.

His big, meaty paw covered my own hand, and I wondered if we were going to get into one of those insane hand-squeezing tests. Perhaps I should add that although I'm six-three and 250, Don made me look like a dwarf. He was six foot six, and weighed close to four hundred pounds. And not an ounce of it, a single ounce of it...was muscle. He was a huge blob of a man, with swinging jowls that reminded me of those things on a chicken. (What do you call those, anyway?) I looked back at Courtney, all five foot three and about 90 pounds of her, and instantly, several questions jumped into my mind:

1. How did they EVER have children?
2. How did they NOW have sex?
3. And if the answer to #2 was "We don't",;
4. Would she like to sleep with ME?

But that was best put off for another time. Suffice it to say that I had an instant attraction to Courtney, but fearing for my own job-related political life, I decided to bury those feelings deeply inside.

Flash foward about two months. Don and I played golf more than a few times, went shooting more than a few times, and shared more than a few beers at his house before and after these various events. Every time I was treated to the sight of Courtney, and I began to realize that each succeding time I came over, Courtney was dressing more and more...well, suggestively. After two months, she answered the door in a pair of tight nylon running shorts and a t- shirt. It was obvious from the press of her nipples through the shirt that she was not wearing a bra, and I tried to keep myself from staring at her still-firm, supple 36C's. (We later measured...)

She knew (I know now,) that I was interested in her, and she was trying to encourage me without tipping her husband off. She had a basically happy marriage, as far as the straight emotional aspects of the relationship went, it was just that the sexual side had all but died. I wondered about that at all, but Courtney had shown me a photo album filled with snapshots just after she and Don were married, and I was stunned to see that if anything, he had lost weight since they were married. What a beautiful, petite woman like Courtney would see in a gargantua like Don was beyond me. But then again, love is blind, right?

Well, flash foward about another two months. Don's administrative assistant was pregnant, and had to take six weeks off to have the baby and all that. The company didn't want to hire new help, so Courtney voulenteered to work for free as Don's assistant. Which means, of course, that I got to see even more of her.

When Courtney started appearing at the job, I found it harder and harder to concentrate on the tasks at hand. She was always wearing chic business attire, but just the way she wore it turned me on. And then it started, the awful teasing that had me wondering what the hell was going on, if anything, between us. She would appear in my office to ask me a question about something, and lean over to show me or point something out, and I would always get a clear shot down her unbuttoned-just-enough blouse to see her creamy breasts being lightly cupped in some really outreageous lingerie. I always wanted to reach out and cup one gently swelling breast with my hand, and scrape my thumb across a nipple to see what it felt like...but since my office had front-facing windows and no blinds or shades, I always kept my hands to myself.

This kept up, and then she started touching me. Every chance Courtney had, she would touch my arm or my hands or my shoulders, the feather-light feeling of her fingers on my body sending butterflies directly to my stomach. I wanted her to touch me everywhere.

And finally, I did it. I called her on the intercom. As her extension rang, I noticed that my hands were shaking and there was an awful taste in the back of my mouth. I knew, instantly, what it was as I flashed back to my high school days, days when I would ask a girl out and pray to the mightiest God there was that if she did turn me down, that she wouldn't laugh and call me a silly boy.

"Hello?"

"Courtney." It was a word, not question.

"Hello, Dan." Her voice was soft and soothing.

"Do you feel it?" I asked, without any preliminary. I knew she would understand what I was talking about instantly, and I didn't want to preface it, give her time to build defenses.

There was the slightest of pauses, and then, "Oh my, yes. Since the beginning."

We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments. And then she asked, "Can you be discreet?"

"For a chance to find out how we are together...I wouldn't tell God himself if he appeared before me."

She chuckled at my exggeration. I clarified: "I have as much to loase here as you do, perhaps more."

"I have a husband," she said pointedly.

"I know you do. But, apparantly, you're not as married as he thinks you are."

There was a long pause. "I suppose you're right," she conceded. "But I do not want to divorce Don. I'm not in love with you."

"Neither am I. In love with you, I mean."

"I know what you meant," she said.

Another long pause.

"You can't come to my house," she said.

"I know. And you can't come to my apartment." My roomate also worked at the company in the Marketing department. Lawrence just wouldn't understand, and he had a huge mouth to boot.

"So how are we going to do this?" she asked.

"I don't know. I'm waiting for suggestions."

"It's not like I've ever done this before!" she snapped.

"Courtney. I wasn't saying you had. It's just that...well, you and I have both obviously been thinking about this for a long time. Do you have any ideas?"

When she answered, her voice was so soft and distant, I wondered if she was speaking to me...or something that was not quite there, not quite real. "When I think of you...of us...all I see is you and I together in glorious physical harmony." She fell silent. "I suppose that sounds corny."

"Not at all." My own voice had dropped a few decibels. I felt like I was in a church. "I knew the instant I laid eyes on you that...we would be wonderful together."

"Did you? Did you really?"

"Yes," I almost whispered.

"What took you so long?" she fairly cried. "I've been...hungry since I met you at the door. Hungry for your touch, your kiss...your cock." Her use of the word surprised, but did not shock, me. I was beginnning to zoom in on her erotic core. She was tired of playing The Good Wife, and wanted to have some physical fun. So much the better if it were someone who knew the score, didn't want anything from her that she chose not to give. Someone who was as intelligent...and as lonely...as she was.

That, of course, luckily, was me.

"Don has to travel," I offered. And it was true, he travelled often for the company, sometimes he was gone for weeks at a stretch, communicating through faxes and cellular phones and pagers.

"The kids," Courtney whispered. I could hear it in her voice, the desire to shed, if only for a moment, the emotional and societal restraints that her marriage and family that were keeping us apart. I would never suggest to her that she outright lie and scheme to her family to provide situations for us. That would be going too far.

"When Don leaves, if the kids sleep over friends houses...anything like that. Call me, at once."

"No."

My stomach dropped again. "It's..." she started. "Please don't take this the wrong way. I want to be with you very, very much. I want to explore every inch of your body and have you explore every inch of mine. But...I have a family, like I said. And more importantly, I have neighbors. I can't imagine making love with you in my husband's bed... and I don't want you to be seen coming and going when my husband is out of town. We have to think of somewhere... else."

My secretary appeared in my window, making motions like she wanted to come in. I held up a hand, staying her as I finished the conversation. "Courtney...I will think about...ways to make this happen. Until then, remember to act natural."

"What's natural?" she asked.

"What's natural is the fact that just talking to you, just hearing the sound of your voice over this telephone has giving me an erection that I'm going to have to beat down with a baseball bat! Think about that, Courtney. Think about the fact that every fiber of my being hungers for you, the feel of you and the taste of you. I have to go."

I hung up the phone without letting her respond, and motioned for me secretary to enter.

"Jeez," she said. "Did you win the lottery or something?"

Confused, I looked at her. "What?"

"You have a very strange expression on your face, like the cat that ate the canary or something."

I just smiled.

Chapter 2

"Tisn't beauty, so to speak, nor good
talk, necessairly. It's just IT.
Some women'll stay in a man's memory
if they once walked down a street."
-Rudyard Kipling

Two nights later, the phone rang just as I was drifting off to sleep. Lawrence and I had seperate lines into the apartment, because I mostly used mine to connect with the mainframe at work. Sleepily, I lifted it to my ear.

"'lo?"

"What are you doing?" I was instantly awake. Her soft, slightly husky voice was instantly arousing.

"I'm getting ready to go to sleep," I said.

She didn't say anything for a long, pregnant moment. "Ask me what I'm wearing," she finally said.

Agreeably, I asked. "OK. What are you wearing?"

"Well," Courtney said, "I'm wearing very, very high heels, almost five inches tall. Black seamed stockings, fishnet, with a wide weave. A black leather garter belt, black satin panties, and a demicup bra. What do you think of that?"

I let her stew for a second. "I'm thinking of what you would look like, wearing that."

"Well?"

"I think you'd look good enough to...eat."

"And to fuck, I hope." There she went again. At work and publically, she was always so ladylike and proper. And now, on the phone, having what I devoutly hoped was a private conversation, she was telling me that she was dressed like a slut and using words like "fuck."

"Courtney, can I ask you something?"

"Mmmmmm," she said, with a tone in her voice that led me to believe she was touching herself in very naughty places. "Go ahead. Ask me anything."

"How do you like your sex?"

"What do you mean?" Her voice was hesitant.

"Well...do you like it soft and gentle, or hard and rough? Do you like to talk dirty? Do you like giving or getting oral sex? Do you take it up the ass? What?"

There was a very long pause this time, and I was sure I'd gone too far.

"What prompted you to ask that question?"

"Well, in public, you never say 'shit' and 'fuck'. And I damn sure know that you don't normally wear the kinds of things you have on now!"

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Because," I said smugly, "I've been staring down your shirt for months!" She laughed, and then grew serious. "Dan...my sex life with my husband was never that great. We managed through trial and error to concieve two children. Aside from that, my sexual experience is next to nil. I've done what most good wives have done over the years: I fantasize, masturbate and read lots of trashy novels. You're the first man in a long time to make me feel attractive, feel like a woman again, like a sexy plaything. You have no idea how important that is to me, and how flattering it is coming from...from someone like you."

"You mean someone as young as I am."

"Well...," she hedged, "...yes."

"Look, Courtney. I don't know why I'm attracted to you, I just know that I am, and that I want nothing more right now then to be next to you, gently tracing the lines of your shoulders and necks with my fingertips, tasting the sweat at the base of your neck and behind your ears..."

"Oh...MY!" Courtney stage-whispered into the phone.

"If my age is going to be a problem...perhaps we should deal with that now. But I'd much rather tell you what I'm going to do with you the first time we're alone and free from interruptions."

"Oh, God...tell me, please!"

"Well, first...we'd dance to some slow music, to really get in tune with each other's body. I'm about a foot taller than you, so in heels, your head will be just high enough to rest on my shoulder. I want to feel your body next to mine, through our clothes, the gentle, pleasing weight of your breasts pressing against my chest as we sway to the music.

"I want to drop my hands to your incredible ass and feel you through the material of your skirt. A short, tight skirt that makes your legs look like they reach all the way up to your armpits. I want to lower my head and gently brush the hair away from your ears so I can get at that sensitive part where your neck and shoulder meet, so I can taste it with tip of my tongue, and gently, oh, so gently, suck at it. Not hard enough to leave a mark...but enough to let you know that I want you."

"Mmmmmm, don't stop," Courtney whispered.

"I want to pull away for a long, slow instant, to see your incredibly deep eyes locking with mine. I want to watch your mouth open slightly, in this little surprised 'o', so that I can move in and taste the heat and warmth of your lips against mine. I want to feel your fingers suddenely clutching at my shoulders as the kiss intensifies and wettens.

"I want to kiss that throbbing vein in your neck, the one that tells me that you're as scared as I am about fucking this up..."

"And then?" she fairly screamed. "THEN what?"

A sudden evil thought popped into my head. "I'll tell you the rest...when we can be alone." And I hung up the phone.

I sat up for about an hour, waiting for the phone to ring. It didn't so just before I turned the light off, I called her back. If one of the kids answered, I'd just disconnect.

She answered. "Hello?"

"I just wanted you to know," I said softly, "that you're the last thing I'm thinking about before I go to sleep."

And I hung up again.

The phone woke me at about seven.

"Hello?"

"I just wanted you to know," Courtney said, "that you were the first thing I thought about when I woke up." The phone went dead in my ear, and with a smile, I replaced the reciever and rose to greet the new day. It was a work day...a Friday, and I knew that Don was leaving for Florida... for three entire weeks. And I also knew that Scott and Kathy, Courtney's children, were leaving for summer camp for a month. Courtney did not know that I knew this.

Leverage. God, how I loved it.

And then, as always, she turned the tables on me. I was sitting behind my desk, smugly thinking of ways to tease and please her, when Courtney walked into my office. She smiled at me, leaned over and planted a quick peck on my lips, enough of a taste of her to make my cock start throbbing immediately.

"I've been thinking about you all morning," she said. "I've been so incredibly wet thinking about you touching and stroking and kissing me that I just have to give you these..." And then I noticed that she was holding something in her hand, something small and silky. It was her panties, little black lace things. The crotch panel was stained with her juices. She dropped them into my lap and turned to leave, stopping at the door to say one last thing over her shoulder to me.

"Just think about the fact that I'm not wearing any underwear under this skirt...for the rest of the day."

She smiled, waved a little wave at me, and then vanished back to her own office. Looking down at my lap, I rubbed my finger across the moist crotch of her panties, and raised the finger to my nose. She smelled like ambrosia, like strawberries in a soft summer wind. I kept those panties in my lap for the rest of the afternoon, letting them drape across my thumping cock. If anyone came in and asked me to stand, I'd be in a shitload of trouble, but I didn't care.