I could hear the click of the keys on Carly's computer in the next room. It was Monday and she was finishing up the payroll. I was at my desk signing checks, paying for the booze I sold in my bar, and paying for a bunch of other things that make it more profitable to work for someone else. I called my place 'Casablanca' and sometimes even thought of myself as 'Rick', the bar owner played by Humphrey Bogart in the classic movie of the same name.

Every time I signed checks I wondered if I had done the right thing five years ago. I had been thirty-five when I decided to chuck my corporate job in the big city and move to the island. I guess it was worth it. I was my own boss, that is if you don't count the bankers, lawyers, accountants, bureaucrats, employees and customers who were always telling me how to run the place. And having a nightclub on a resort island did have certain benefits.

The 'benefits' showed up between four and five, every weekday afternoon. For the most part they were affluent young housewives who stayed on the island during the summer months. Their husbands worked in the city and only came to see their families on the weekends.

As the sun's tanning rays began to dwindle in late afternoon, the bikini-clad women would migrate from the beach to the clubs on the bay side of the island. (The sunsets were breathtaking, and after dark, the view of the bay and the city beyond had much more appeal than the lifeless ocean.)

The swimsuits were usually, (but not always), hidden to some degree by a 'cover-up'. I don't know who the creator of those things thought they were kidding; there wasn't much cover-up, it was mostly show-off. In any event the watching was a lot of fun and I was usually at my table in the bar around four to view the scenery, especially on Mondays when I didn't work into the evening; it was a good time for me to meet someone new.

Most people also considered Carly to be one of the 'benefits'. She looked as good as the best from the beach and even though she didn't wear a bikini to work; she always wore very beachy attire that highlighted her many assets. Sometimes she would join me in the bar when she got finished at five. It didn't hurt my image one bit to be seen sitting with such a tantalizing young woman but she had kind of a dampening effect on my chances with the house-wives there. Most women didn't want to compete with Carly. But the real problem with Carly was that not only was she my employee, she was also married to my best friend.

As I continued to sign the checks I thought about having worked with her earlier in the day. Carly had been having some problems booking the previous day's business. I had pulled up a chair next to her. The smell of her, as usual, had been intoxicating. Even though I'm sure it was some exquisite perfume she always wore, that smell, to me, was Carly.

It was the island and most dressed quite casually. For most of us, casual meant sloppy, but not for Carly. She apparently spent a lot of time on her appearance each day. Even though she had already worked for me for a month, I hadn't seen her wear the same outfit twice. Today, she was dressed all in white, probably a tennis outfit.

As I had pulled up my chair, she had reached down to itch an imaginary spot on the upper-most part of the thigh next to me. I couldn't help but look. Her action had bared her thigh almost to the waist and caused her already short, pleated skirt to rise several inches higher in front. She hadn't bothered to push the skirt back down. That was Carly.

I had been looking right at the front of her panties. My organ grew in my shorts. After Carly had worked there only a couple of days, I had given up trying to hide my reaction to her constant teasing. She seemed to like the idea that she could give me a hard-on so easily and who was I to complain. Once I had gotten used to it, working with Carly had become a lot of fun.

Yes, she had gotten me to look, (as if I might not). I had focused on her knit top with the zipper up the front that wasn't really as far up as it should have been. Carly never wore a bra. Her tits were quite firm and only jiggled enough so you knew they were real.

Today, the shape of her protruding nipples was evident through the tightly stretched tennis top. Carly had pretended to talk about the accounts before us but she knew I was severely distracted. She looked satisfyingly at the growing bulge in my pants. I had gotten up carefully when I finished helping her.

But now, I was jolted from my day-dream by Carly, in person, walking into my office. No, I hadn't been imagining it, she really was beautiful. Her long brown hair framed a face that could have been on the cover of a magazine. Her nose might have been a little too prominent but the coal black eyes and pouty lips kept me from focusing too much on that. She had come into my office to bring me the paychecks.

"My back is killing me," she said as she stretched out face down on the couch opposite my desk. "Can I get you to give me a back rub. I'm all tight and I need to get loosened up a little."

I walked around the desk. I wanted to run my hands all over her body. Her short skirt barely covered her heart shaped ass and the backs of her thighs and legs were fully exposed, inviting my attention. I knelt on the floor next to the couch and began working my fingers into her back, loosening the muscles she said were so tight. My hands occasionally stroked her sides. Feeling the sides of her breasts was gradually eroding my resolve regarding her being an employee and my best friend's wife.

Carly suggested, "I can take off the top if it will make it easier for you."

My cock was already sticking straight out in front of me. I had probably not wanted anyone as badly as I did her and I'm sure most people will think I had lost my mind. Maybe I had, but I said, "Not a good idea. One of the bartenders might come in and it wouldn't look very good." I didn't really believe what I said. If she had offered even the slightest argument I would have caved in. But she didn't. She heaved a slightly disappointed sigh, reminded me that it was already after four and I should be out front. She said she'd join me for a drink after she finished up her work.

I sat at my usual table. It was to one side of the room and near the opening to the outside, affording me a nice view of all the women at the bar as well as those at tables on the patio. The view was as usual, quite extraordinary - lots of scantily clad young ladies, beautifully tanned legs and even a few protruding nipples on those that had removed their bikini tops before putting on the cover-up. The bartender brought me a Scotch and Soda. That was all I ever drank so he didn't have to ask.

It was not unusual for me have a bulge in my shorts from my thoughts about my lovely customers. Tonight it was more than just a bulge; it was a real honest to God erection. But it wasn't from the customers. I was still thinking about Carly and realizing how stupid I had been. I hadn't yet gotten to the point of congratulating myself for what a wonderful friend I had been to her husband Jack. I was only thinking about what I had missed.

Jack and Carly had only been married a few months. Jack had met her last fall at one of the other island nightspots. Jack had brought her over to meet me and I had seen the two of them a couple of times before their surprise wedding. Every time I had seen her she looked at me like she was ready to take me to bed. This was not because I was so damn charming; she flirted with most men. Her interest in Jack sort of surprised me. It isn't that he's not good looking, but his banker ways, (that's his profession), seemed a little too steady for her. I figured her for the more flamboyant types.

They got married quickly and unceremoniously, during the cold months when I had closed my business and was away from the island. After I got back we hung out together a lot. It was obvious that he worshiped the ground she walked on, but I was surprised to find that she also seemed very genuinely in love with him.

As I got to know her, I came to understand. Not only could she have any man she wanted, but Jack encouraged her to do so. Jack had a sexy wife and she had the man she wanted as the father of her children. They both had what they wanted. They were very happy. Who was I to criticize.

Carly came into the bar and sat at my table. While she was waiting for her drink she asked, "Have you found yourself any entertainment for the evening?" I'm sure she wasn't used to being turned down and I could tell from her tone of voice that she still wasn't too happy about it. I really should have been flattered to even have been given the opportunity. After all I was fourteen years older than her and my slightly geeky look was not really in her league. I did okay with the women in the bar, not on my dashing good looks, but because I was the bar owner and I lived upstairs. Some women were attracted to that and I took advantage of it.

I told her, "Nope, probably going to spend the evening alone reading a book." I knew that no matter how well I might have done with tonight's crowd, I would still be thinking about what I had already passed up. I wasn't going to be much good for myself or anybody else.

Apparently my answer satisfied her. As we had another drink, the cloud between us began to dissipate. Just before leaving she said, "Jack and I are going to have dinner and a few drinks at Joe's around seven. Why don't you join us." I thanked her for the invitation and told her I would probably be there.

Joe's was the island locals place. It didn't have a great view, a great location, a band or anything like that. But if you were a local, you would surely run into someone you knew there. It was the 'Cheers' bar, a place where everyone knew your name. When I got there, Jack and Carly were already at the bar, having a drink and talking to another of the locals. John was behind the bar and he brought over my Scotch and Soda as soon as he saw me. Carly was still wearing the knockout tennis outfit from earlier in the day. Sitting up on the barstool really showed off her great legs.

When I sat down they were talking to Tadd, a piano player that entertained late nights at Casablanca. I sat between Tadd and Carly. I guess her itch hadn't gone away yet. As soon as I sat down, Carly started to scratch her upper thigh again. Like before, I got a fabulous view of her leg, all the way to the waist, and as before, the skirt hiked up and I got a little peak at the panties. Jack might have been ignoring the exposure, but I sure wasn't. Carly looked at the front of my shorts to be sure she was having the desired effect. She was.

When Tadd left, Carly asked me to move down one so she could rest her legs on the stool between us. She put both of her legs up on the stool, spreading them as much as the stool would allow. Her feet, covered in white canvas shoes and short athletic socks, were practically in my lap. When I looked in her direction, (which was the only direction I was going to look), I was staring up the insides of her thighs and looking right at her panty covered pussy. It was erotic and my soldier was standing at full attention in my baggy shorts. I imagined that I was licking my way up the insides of those thighs and lapping up the juices from her honey pot. I am sure that Jack knew what I was thinking but he didn't seem to mind.

After a couple of drinks we moved to a table so we could eat dinner. It was a good thing that the show was over. Carly had been an unmerciful tease and I don't think I could have stood anymore. After dinner we had a couple of more drinks at the table. Then I suggested that we go down to my bar and play some darts. Jack and Carly were definitely up for this but they lived just a block from Joe's and had walked. Casablanca was over a mile down the island. They asked if they could ride down with me.

I told them, "Not only can you ride down with me, but I will even take you home later, that is, if you can forget how many Scotch and Sodas I've had."

At Casablanca we had a couple more drinks and played a few games of darts. It was after ten on a Monday night and you could have shot a gun through the place without hitting anybody. When we were playing darts, Carly took every possible opportunity to rub up against me. When writing down the score above the dartboard she always stretched up as much as possible, making sure that Jack and I, as well as the bartender, got a really good look at the backs of her legs. This was pretty much normal Carly type of teasing. I could handle this okay. It was the thoughts of her on my office couch, and her legs spread in front of me on the barstool at Joe's, that I could not get out of my head. Jack was a lucky man, I think.

I suggested that we take our drinks upstairs to my apartment where we could sit out on the deck and watch the lights. I had converted an old two-story house into Casablanca. The upstairs had been four bedrooms, but after the changes it had become a very comfortable one-bedroom apartment with a kitchen, living and dining area. I had built the deck on top of the lower porch, which faced onto the bay. As we sat there in the warm night air, Carly noticed my telescope at one end of the deck.