After Edward left, I continued to work swing shift, was accepted at work as one of the "girls", enjoyed their company but remained aloof. In truth, I was not like them even though I tried to be. The twelve years of my parochial school had left their indelible mark.

I yearned for the part of me lost when Edward left. Each day I dressed, put on makeup, combed my hair, dabbed on perfume, I did so for his absent approval. He too left an indelible mark. I remained his Asian doll.

It wasn’t enough to fill the void. I pined for his smile, voice, caress, and sophistication. That’s what I told myself. In truth, I missed the affair’s forbidden excitement, the epicure dining, most of all the attention of being someone special. Friday nights slipped by uneventful, no longer was I the object of a maître d’s or sommelier’s attention. 

My internal trinity was in conflict. My God the Father’s mind yearned for Edwards intellectual stimulation, Jesus Christ’s heart ached for his love and Vixen’s Un-Holy Spirt meowed for his stroking.

Please, me now, now!

Like the Siamese cats in the Disney movie, Lady and the Tramp I hummed these lyrics to the movie tune:

I am horny if you please
I am horny if you don't please
There is no finer Vixen than me
I like, you pet me quite a while
Meow, meow, Vixen, wants it now, now.

After a year of marriage fidelity, my mind and heart joined Vixen in a chorus, humming the ditty.

We are horny if you please
We are horny if you don't please
There are no finer than we
If we like we let you pet us quite a while
Meow, meow we want it now, now.

While aligning at work the ditty would pop up. In the spring of 1978, a year after Edward walked on the plane and out of my life, an engineer walked in at Nortec while I aligned wafers. The Trinity didn't flirt for his attention; they didn't even notice him when he boldly approached while I was bent over aligning and asked.

“Hi good looking. How, about having lunch together at break?”

Looking up from my microscope, I refocused, I scanned him. His alignment pleased me.

“I don’t eat cafeteria food. I bring my lunch. Cafeteria food’s bad.”

“I know but I didn’t bring lunch. You can sit with me while you eat yours. I’m just asking for us to sit together.”

“You’re pushy. I’m aligning now. Pick a seat. When I go to lunch, I’ll decide if I sit with you.”

I bent back down to align. He strode off, de-boldened.

When I carried my lunch bag to the cafeteria, he was sitting alone at a far corner table. I sat across from him, opened my plastic lunch container and nibbled on the chicken I brought but didn’t look at him.

He finally asked. "Cat got your tongue? It’s okay. I’m glad you decided to sit with me. What’s your name?

I looked up. “Cobra”

“Cobra, are you venomous?”

“Careful, I might bite.”

My tongue darted out in warning.

“How about you and me, we go on a date? Let me see if I can charm you not to bite."

"I'm married".

"So am I".

"Í don't see a ring".

"Don't wear one but I'm married."

He was ten years older, good looking but bald on top and a bit on the short side, say five feet nine inches. I figured Italian. He had a nice voice and smelled good. He was sure of himself in demeanor, an Alpha male.

I looked directly at him. "Are you good enough to date me?"

He didn’t flinch or look away but smiled, self-assured. "I'm good, yes, very good. If you go on a date with me then you will know I’m good."

I knew the best response was to mock him. Engineers assumed line girls were attracted to them. I was never, ever, going to be his F and F. I wanted a prince Edward, an Omega. "Who are you and what do you do here?"

"I'm self-employed. I’m an electrical engineer working on contract. Nortec contracts me to fix equipment when it breaks down. I fix it. You can call me Enrico."

I looked directly at him, again darted out my tongue for his attention. "You can call me Cobra. You may be good but I've never dated a Mexican electrician. My husband’s an engineer."

Insulted he replied, "I'm an electrical engineer, not an electrician and I am Italian, not Mexican."

Knowing Italians tended to look down on both I retorted. "Well, you look Mexican or maybe Portuguese."

He smiled instead of protesting. He realized I was teasing. “So, you do bite. I still would like to charm you.”

"Where would you take me on your date?"

"Where ever you like."

"I like shopping, my husband never takes me."

"I’ll take you shopping".

"You need to be a real engineer to afford what I like. You need a good credit card. I like nice things."

Laughing at my brashness he replied. "I like to be treated nice when I buy nice things."

"Get me perfume so I can smell good for you."

"What kind?"

"That's for you to decide. I need to know if you are a Cheap Charlie cologne or Good Charlie perfume."

"I'm Good Charlie Perfume, you'll see."

Finished munching my chicken I replied. "You better go fix the equipment or they’ll contract another to do it."

I got up and went to the girls' table. They’d been watching from afar and began their innuendos and teasing as I sat down.

The next lunch shift, he was sitting at the same table with a wrapped little box. I sat down and opened it, Shalimar, a half-ounce. 

Setting it on the table I glibly replied. "A half ounce, you’re only good for half a date?"

He stared, stunned with no cocky smile. He took the package and wrapping, put them in his coat pocket and left without a word. It didn't matter if we went out or not. If we did it was going to be on my terms. That was what my mind said but Vixen said a half-ounce was fine.

The next lunch he had an ounce bottle, boxed but unwrapped as if to say he too was indifferent.

I opened the box, then the bottle and applied dabs behind my ears and on my wrists. After a few moments to merge with my scent, I placed one wrist under his nose. 

It was our first contact. He lost his indifference. I lifted my hair on one side and let him put his face to the nape of my neck and sniff. I was wearing the dangling gold and pearl earrings of Edward of yore. He attempted to kiss my neck but I pulled back and told him. "We're not on a date yet."

Tired of my banter he replied. "Are we going out or not?"

"I would if I had something to wear."

"What, a nightie"?

"I need a nice dress and shoes to be nice on a date."

I wrote my sizes on a napkin to let him know I was serious. He was upset as if I was making him a fool. I got up, left to the girl’s table but turned around on leaving, smiled as a flirt and said, "Make sure you don't get half a dress and one shoe."

"It better not be half a date."

"I don't do half dates."

The next shift, Thursday, he wasn’t there. I assumed his interest had waned. Friday, however, he showed up and explained he had worked Thursday at another facility.

"I got you a nice dress and shoes. They’re in my car. You want to see them?"

"Get them and I will try them on in the ladies’ room. If they look good, I will let you see me wear them."

I wasn’t going to degrade myself rushing to his car as if I was a cheap F and F. He came back with an Emporium bag and handed it to me. I didn’t look inside and went to the ladies’ room to examine his nice. The quality of the blue dress, with white embroidery, was okay but the shoes weren't what I’d pick to match the dress. Together, however, they made their statement. He wanted nice and sexy.

I put them on. The dress hem was three inches above my knees. The three-inch heels pushed me forward. I put the dress and shoes I wore to work in the bag and the bag in my work locker.

With my smock over my new dress, I strode back to his isolated table. Walking across the cafeteria I crossed my footsteps to provide emphasis from the high heels. Their clicking on the floor raised the heads of the girls at my regular table.

Standing before his table, he stared down at my feet in the shoes he selected and smiled. "How’d you like the dress."

I lifted my smock as if to show the dress but pinched it with the smock so it rose too. He briefly saw my panties.

"Oops!"

I dropped the smock, bent over and crossed my arms, as if embarrassed.

"The dress looks great on you. You promised a date."

"Meet me Sunday, ten in the morning, at the Stanford Mall fountain."

"Not more shopping?"

"I said, I like shopping, but my husband never takes me."

I got up, took a few steps with heels clicking to go back to work, stopped and turned back to him. He obviously had been watching my posterior sway. I opened the front of the smock so he could see the dress then left him smiling at the table.

The girls quizzed me but I told them I was just teasing and wasn’t interested. “He’s a joke. If you girls want him, he’s yours. You can have the dress and shoes too.”

In truth, after a year of marital fidelity, I was swept off by my feet, not by him, by my repressed wantonness.

The next morning, I showed hubby the dress and shoes, his first response, “How much?” I put them on plus a dab of Shalimar. He took me with dress and shoes on. Confirmed they aroused male interest, I hung the dress in the closet and put the shoes underneath. I was back in the adultery saddle, galloping to an affair rodeo, breaking in a new horse.

Sunday morning, adorned in the dress and shoes, I arrived at the Stanford Mall fountain prior to Enrico’s scheduled time, went to the second level of a woman's store and found a spot to observe the fountain. I dawdled among the clothes racks until he showed up, ten minutes early. He eagerly scanned the shopping throngs, looking skeptical. I enjoyed spying and observing his fretting, worried he was making a fool of himself.

Surreptitiously, I exited the store, waited a few minutes at a distance and strolled back five minutes late. He smiled broadly seeing me, relieved he wasn’t a fool and at my wearing the dress and shoes he’d bought.

I led him to the bistro where I first had tea with Edward. He ordered coffee and me tea, served in its little silver kettle. He loaded sugar and cream in his cup as he informed me, he didn't drink tea. I told him he needed to expand his taste and coffee like whiskey is best drank neat.

To keep his attention, I tugged the dress’s hem with my right hand which wore Edward's sapphire ring, tapped a heel on the tile floor and swayed close when refilling my cup so he could smell his Shalimar. I sipped with my teacup in my wedding ring adorned hand and could tell the invasion of another man's territory excited him. It all kept him focused while he pretended to be aloof. His pretense failed. The guppy’s tail fluttered.

He glanced about now and then, to see if we were observed by the esplanade shoppers, nervous about being seen with me. I suspected he’d been caught before cheating on his wife and had domestic turf issues, this was confirmed later. Once my tea was finished, I swung toward him, got off the stool, gave him a panty flash and announced.

"I need to get a few nice things for our date."

"I am not buying jewelry."

"Of course not, I'm married and don't want your jewelry. You’re not important enough."

He flushed but didn’t reply, his relief at no jewelry overcame his desire to snap back. I led him into the Emporium Department Store at one end of the Mall. My short dress and high heels attracted the attention of others. He kept a nervous distance and acted as if he might walk away, but followed.

We rode the escalator to the second floor, he one step below while he glanced about attempting to discern what he would get stuck buying. He glanced furtively at my legs as the escalator rose then loosened up when I entered the lingerie section at the landing.

I went to bras and flipped through the racks while he stood back milling around as if he wasn't with me. He was wandering toward sleep wear to escape. I called him back. "Do you see anything you want me to wear?"

I held an expensive bra of satin up to my breast. He nodded acquiesce. I gave it to him to hold and moved to the panties. There, I held different pairs in front for him to choose from. He selected a nylon bikini with lace.

Holding my selections, he was sheepish, thinking what next? I picked up a garter belt and sheer nylons and announced.

"we’re done, we got nice things."

I steered him to the cashier. He pulled out his credit card, thought better of it and paid with cash. On the escalator ride down, carrying the bag, he asked. "Am I going to see you wear nice things?"

Not responding, I motioned him to follow me to the Mall parking lot. I walked briskly to my car, now a 914 Porsche, not a real Porsche but one at least one with the logo.

Its bucket seats rode low to the ground. I pulled open the driver’s door and sat down with my legs outside, the dress hem high on my thighs and let him leer.  I took the package then swung my legs in, shut the door and rolled down the window.

He put his right hand on the door as if to restrain the car from escaping and asked again. “Am I going to see you wear nice things?”

"Tonight, at eight, I’ll meet you at the San Jose Airport Holiday Inn lounge. Get a room. If you behave, I’ll model for you."

"In nice things?"

"Why do you think I selected them. Do they look like they’re for a half date?"

I started the car, sped off shifting gears and looked back in the rear-view mirror. He stood staring at the receding car. I smiled to my mirror.

This guppy will come fluttering his tail.

On the way home, I stopped at a Payless drug store and went through the embarrassment of purchasing condoms.

Home by noon, I changed clothes, stashed my new acquisitions, hung the dress in the bathroom to air out and Hubby and I took the kids to our parents for our weekly BBQ.  As we drove over, I thought how hubby no longer brought the subject of swinging up. His swinging was with porno videotapes. At the BBQ and ride home I was sullen, distracted by watching rodeo on TV, and thinking of how not to get bucked off.

Back from the BBQ by 6 PM, the kids now in the den watching TV, I dropped my bomb. “Nortec called. There’s a quick 8 O’clock meeting to learn how to operate a new alignment machine."

” On Sunday night?”

” It’s the only time they can do it. We run 24/7. The engineer promised it’ll be under 2 hours. I’ll get paid for it.”

Initially, I was going to use the shopping ruse but decided the risk of his insisting on coming with the kids was too great.

He was inquisitive, accepted the lie but remained suspicious. He stayed in the bedroom while I got ready and was shocked when I came out of the bathroom wearing the new bra, panties, garter belt and nylons, the latter I’d never worn. Before he inquired about them, I said.

“Do you like my new undies I got for you? Don’t get too turned on until I get back tonight.”

While putting on makeup, he grilled me who the engineer was. I answered. "Some nerd named Enrico, Mr. Enrico as he insists. A bald Italian guy, pushy too, but I don’t know much about him. I’ll tell you more when I get back."

He attempted an advance as I got up from my makeup table. “Wait, wait, I’m already late. The meeting will be over in a couple of hours.”

I slipped into the dress and heels and asked him to zip up the back. After zipping me up he pressed my buttocks to him and attempted to lift the dress hem. I pushed him away, said again I was late and he could have it when I got back. I went to the den and kissed the kids. They liked the smell of Shalimar.

Standing before the empty space, where once there was a fish tank I thought of my new male guppy while putting on lipstick. I kept one eye on hubby flashing his tail, pouted my red lips, rubbed them together to even out the color, let hubby, cheek peck kiss and left at 7:30.

Out of the driveway and around the corner, my Desoto, turning the corner away from home’s visibility, I feltthe rush of freedom.

The 914 turned the corner, the rush was not to freedom, it was to the threshold of adultery’s addiction,  

It was a half-hour drive to the San Jose Airport, Holiday Inn, a four-story structure, subsequently demolished and rebuilt as a mid-hi-rise. I’d discovered its romantic rendezvouses potential accidentally after Edward left. Driving nearby, needing to use a restroom, it was a better option than an untidy service station. Subconsciously, I realized its potential as I peed in its lobby restroom.

Its entrance driveway led to an enclosed parking lot screened from street's view by the surrounding hotel, restaurant, and lounge. It’s location at the confluence of the Bayshore and Nimitz freeways provided convenient access. One a car passed the entrance it was concealed from the only street frontage, North First Street. If seen by someone known, entering or exiting, the need to use its restroom provided a plausible alibi. Proximity to San Jose’s Airport meant most guests were from afar. The only exposure risk was recognition being in the elevator or a room corridor with someone going to a room, excellent negative odds. If the near impossible happened, the familiar face would be there for the same reason and we would pretend not to see each other.

Calculation off its affair potential reflected my subconscious libidinousness which knew what I didn’t admit, I missed subterfuge, and sex. I drove on left lane of the Bayshore. My 10 O’clock return home was not the impetus. I sought what I missed, illicit sex.

Early, I parked a couple blocks distant to time my arrival five minutes late, then pulled in and parked near the front lobby, exited and walked to the lounge. There, he sat in a secluded booth where he could observe those coming and going. I sat opposite him but said nothing, not even hi. Happy I wore the dress and shoes he’d bought but probably more because I came at all, he broke the silence with.

"What other nice things I bought are you wearing?"

"You didn’t buy me anything, there’re gifts."

Instead of retorting, he put his hand on my knee. I pushed it away.

"A gentleman waits until served."

"Do you think I'm a gentleman?"

"No, you’re crude. You need polish."

The waitress came. I ordered a glass of white wine and he a beer which he drank out of the bottle. He stared at me intently, obviously aroused, a guppy flashing his tail colors. He asked, "Why do you think I'm crude?"

"You quaff down your beer out of the bottle with a glass sitting in front of you. If you had polish, you’d take your time to pour it in the glass, enjoyed watching it foam up and the smell of the beer as part of its taste when you drink."

"What about you? Do you have class?

“If you’re a gentleman with class.”

He poured the rest of his beer in the glass. We bantered until my wine was nearly gone, he impatient. I held my wine glass up, took a last sip, looked at him through the empty glass and said, "Times up."

Before he could reply, I walked swiftly to the lobby, not indicating if I was staying or leaving, he delayed paying the bill. In the lobby I stood between the elevators and the exit, turned and looked back at him. He fumbled in his wallet, paid cash, left without waiting for change and walked quickly towards me, perplexed if to get angry over my quick departure or smile at my hurry to model.

When he caught up, I strode to the elevators, pushed the up button and the door of one opened immediately, as if to say, no more delays. I entered.

He rushed in behind, pushed three and we stared at each other as the car rose with my perfume and his after-shave comingling. When the door beeped opened on the third floor, I let him hold my hand and lead me down the corridor.

He stopped at room 314, took out his key, opened the door, and looked at me, unsure I would cross the threshold. Vixen meowed he needn't worry. I boldly stepped in.

In the room, a dozen red roses sat on a table with a bottle of Champagne. Next to them was a card.

I surveyed the room without hesitation, unlike entering Edward's apartment on our first night together.  There was a king-size bed.  The curtains were drawn. Satisfied, I bent over to admire the roses and let the rear hem of my dress rise, his first glimpse of my class act.

Ignoring the champagne and card, I waltzed to the bed, pulled all the covers off, led him by the hand and sat him on its edge. With the lights on, I undressed him, shirt hung on a chair, pants folded on the seat and shoes underneath.

I moved deliberately to be back home by ten but not hurriedly. He tried to speed the action and reached over and pull me close. I pushed him away and told him if he didn’t behave, he wouldn’t see me, model. I had him take off his socks and throw them by the shoes, pulled his V-neck T-shirt over his head which revealed a hairy chest to offset his baldness. He was muscular trim but the beginning of a beer belly was evident.

Telling him to sit up a bit, I bent down, and pulled off his jockey shorts and tossed them and his T-shirt next to the socks.

Sitting exposed, he was vulnerable before me fully dressed. Looking at me, his penis inflated, proclaiming its intention of my being its next conquest. I stared at it impressed as it rose up but made no comment. Erect it was the largest I’d seen but I’d only seen two. My husband's and Edward's were in the six to seven-inch range depending on their arousal. Enrico’s was definitely a circumcised eight.

He reached for me again but I pulled back and told him, “Sit still and wait. If you are a good doggy your bone will get its treat.”

“When are you going to undress and model?”

“I want to make sure you are paying attention before I model. Are you ready to see me, model? "

His eight-inch member rose a bit more in rapt attention, his reply, I turned around and told him to pull down the dress zipper my husband recently pulled up. Un-zipped, I turned to face him, slid the dress past my shoulders and let it fall around my shoes. Hushed, he stared at the panty, garter belt, nylons, and the satin bra, his “gifts”. He inched to eight plus.

Stepping out of the dress, I bent over, picked it up and draped it over the other chair in the room. I went to the bathroom. My heels clicked on the tile floor.

With a large towel, dampened in warm water, I approached the bed with cross steps to undulate my hips. I hushed any comment from him with an index finger to my lips. It was time for action, not banter.

“Sit up straight on the bed's edge. Good, spread your legs and knees but keep your heels on the floor. Good, now with your feet flat on the floor, lay back, stare at the ceiling and spread your arms up on the bed. Good boy. Don’t move while I prep you.”

I knelt between his parted legs and bathed his pubic area with the towel. Like his chest, it was hairy turf in need of mowing. For now, I swayed his erection about in wonder. He tried to rise but I pushed him back and warned again to behave and follow instructions.

I revealed what Edward taught me about male anatomy. Teasing him to the brink, I stood up. All his doubts were gone. There was no banter, wisecracks or resistance, only anticipation.

I stepped out of the panties. With shoes, bra, garter belt and nylons on, I climbed on the bed, ready to mount my steed. I pulled a condom out of its packet, tore open the foil, centered it on his member and rolled it down to the end of the shaft. He took it all. He moaned, "No way, no way" while pleading into my eyes to let him up and do me fast. Instead, I commanded.

” Stop pestering. Cobra’s doing the modeling, not you.”

He wasn't thinking about the price of perfume, dress, shoes or lingerie now. I squatted down and straddled him, his erection my saddle horn.

"Okay cowboy I am ready to ride. We’re going to see how this bronco bucks and once broken in, gallops." He tried little jerks up against my orders to stay still. My bronco wanted out of the chute. I whispered to be a good horsey, follow directions and stay still until I told him to buck.

With my high heel spurs tucked under his ankles, I directed his hands to my buttocks. "Ready to ride," I exclaimed, "chute’s open! Let’s see if you can buck me off the saddle!”

He bucked uncontrollably as if a real bronco. I hugged his neck to avoid falling off, rode him hard and egged him with slaps of my free right hand. I wished I had a crop to whump him faster. Soon his spastic bucking broke to a galloping rhythm as he exclaimed repeatedly, "No way!"

I replied, “Whoa! Who, cowboy whoa!"  In a frenzy, we climaxed together.

I had a great ride, hopped off, laid next to him and kicked off my shoes.

After we stopped perspiring and our sweat had evaporated or been absorbed by the sheets we bantered. Soon I could feel his penis swell up again, not as big as before but big enough; he was ready to ride again, broken in but ready to gallop as the rider instructed.

I rolled back and spread my legs. He hopped out of bed. “Here are your shoes, put them back on.”

“No, here’s the condom package, put one on.”

 He fumbled about in his haste. I took it from him, tore one open and watched him roll it on. I laid back and let him gallop me to the bed, now horse broken but still a steed. I scratched his back with my nails in climax, marked him for his wife to see if she looked.

Spent, he looked at me perplexed as we laid apart. I think he was worried about how his back looked. I said, “You’re not an Italian lover.”

“No, no, I’m an Italian lover. How do you like Italian?”

“You got a big penis but a cold heart, you’re not real Italian, maybe Sicilian."

“No, no, I’m Roma Italian; my heart’s Italian.”

“Your heart’s cold, cold heart, super penis, Sicilian Italian, you’re like Spumoni ice cream. How about you’re Mr. Supini?”

He loved the tag and thereafter he was Mr. Supini. We’d been in the room for an hour. I got up, gathered my clothes, went to the bathroom, used a wet towel to clean up and dressed. I twisted open the vials of shampoo and conditioner and tore open the soap bars so they passed the "maid can take home" requirement.

While I re-applied lipstick, he asked if I was satisfied, as if he was a great lover and I should be grateful.

I turned from the mirror and asked, "Was it a half date?"

"A ten."

"When Cobra saw a dozen roses, she thought it could be a twelve".

I picked up my purse, walked toward the door but stopped in front of the table. I left the Champagne untouched but took two roses and the card which I read in the elevator and threw away in the lobby. It was trite, saying how much he wanted to meet me. He’d met me. Now he wasn’t going to forget me.

I arrived home just before ten. Hubby asked how the meeting went. I told him the engineer just wanted to brag about a new eight RAM mega chip and I’d left in a hurry. Aroused, he wanted to have me with the garter belt and nylons on. I took them off, showered and said he could have it in the morning. He tossed and turned all night and bright and early was rear spooned next to me. I turned to him and let him have it, pleased with my successful mission.  

Afterward Enrico and hubby pestered me to wear the nylons and garter belt again. They were too complicated. I threw them away and told them I’d get a set for them to wear and make love with.