The fact that she had then briefly worn just a tiny black lace string, vey sheer black stockings and a very tiny black lace bra was not unusual either. Nor was it in the least bit strange that a man whose delightfully hard shaft would very soon be invading her vagina had snapped open her bra and pushed it up so that his tongue and his teeth could worship her firm, pert breasts and their erotically rock-hard nipples.
She had noted between frissons that he was a very skilled and practised breast and nipple worshiper. She had also uttered little cries of delight and spread her legs even wider than ever as she felt her pussy lips opening.
It wasn't that her tiny black string had been pulled off her hot little mound and left for a while stretched very tightly around her uppermost thighs. Nor was it the delight of watching the lustful discovery as this was done, by a naked man showing clear signs of great passion, of the sexily manicured little triangle of hair she kept there.
It wasn't that a naked man's hotly questing tongue had pushed apart her pussy lips five minutes ago, either. Or that the firm tip of his tongue had then wetly and erotically, and with great promise of forthcoming delight, circled her clit, giving her immense pleasure.
It was none of these things. Moments of this nature happened quite often, especially when she was away on a business trip, as she was on this occasion. She often got hot for illicit cock (and not infrequently for the differently delectable delights of a hot woman).
When Em wanted away-from-home sex, she generally got it, one way or another.
As she had, just for example, she thought (with a suddenly apparent secret warmth between her legs) only the week before in Macao, on a short business trip from frequently visited Hong Kong, her usual hunting ground. She had summoned the city’s friendliest masseur (on the advice of a girlfriend who swore by him) and had loudly enjoyed three hours of sublime sensual and sexual pleasure (and two fantastic fucks) late in the evening in her hotel suite.
No, it was none of these things that made this evening’s entertainment unusual. It was two other things: It had not been her plan and the man was her new boss.
As a rule, Em avoided office entanglements, especially with the boss. For one thing, they tended to get in the way of her day job. She never allowed that.
Well, almost never.
She also tried to avoid situations in which she was engaged with someone Ambrose knew or might meet on his business circuit. This wasn’t because he mightn’t like it (he took the view that fidelity was a mental thing, not physical) but simply to foreclose on possible embarrassment to others.
It also helped to be coldly professional at work. Em’s firm rule was that no one should ever have reason to gossip about her. Ambrose did the same, she knew. As a general rule: Nothing was ever guaranteed to work out perfectly.
Tonight’s upcoming and thoroughly desirable misadventure, therefore, was outside the rules. That gave it an extra frisson, she had to admit. It was true too that when the new boss had arrived, just a week or so ago, she had liked what she saw – in that sort of way.
At their first one-on-one meeting her nipples had hardened and her pussy had moistened. She thought at the time that only someone who knew her very well and was as gifted with insight as Ambrose would have spotted this.
Apparently she had been wrong. Tonight, on a meet-and-greet overnight trip to another city with the new boss (an hour by plane from their separate marital beds) he had directly broached the subject over a late dinner at their hotel.
He had said, over the tapas plate they had shared as an appetizer, “We’re not at work now, Em. I have to tell you that you are a seriously sexy woman. I also have to ask you, do you play?”
Em had smiled and then blushed. This was also an unusual situation. She hadn’t had to answer. He knew what the answer was.
“Ah, so you are not the Ice Maiden,” he said with a grin. He put his hand on hers. “I thought we had shared a moment at our first meeting. I have to tell you that throughout that delicious thirty minutes I had a huge hard-on.”
He paused. “I felt very bad about that until I noticed you were having a moment too.”
Em blushed again. Her nipples instantly hardened. She knew that this would be plainly obvious through the light cocktail dress and the insubstantially inadequate little bra she was wearing. She found to her surprise that she didn’t mind that at all.
What did worry her was that her pussy had instantly moistened too, wetting the thin lace string between her legs and threatening to leave a mark on the expensive velour fabric of her chair.
“I don’t do office romances, David,” she said. “Well, that is, I almost never do office romances. I certainly have never done so with the boss.”
He squeezed her hand tightly and looked straight into her eyes. “A sound rule Em,” he said. “Like all rules, it should occasionally be broken, when circumstances demand.”
Under the table, Em pushed forward her left foot, which was clad in a very sexy and very high-heeled stiletto. She caressed his expensively socked ankle with the shoe’s shiny pointed toe.
He squeezed her hand tighter. “I have a hard-on that will eventually require your absolute attention, Em,” he said, with another grin.
She allowed the sexy little pink tip of her tongue to part her lips and moisten them in a very sensuous way. “I have a suddenly very hot pussy that absolutely demands the exceptionally close and prolonged attention of your cock,” she said.
They looked deeply at each other, thinking hot thoughts about what was soon to happen. The table waiter broke their reverie. He had brought their main courses.
Em ate her Caesar salad in quiet reflection. Her boss, whose brains she would soon be upstairs fucking out as only she could (he had a treat coming, she thought with an inner grin) ate his minute steak and salad in a similarly reflective fashion.
They drank some very nice pinot noir. Em was pleased to discover that as well as a liberal perspective on sexual adventure, her new boss had excellent taste in wine.
She considered the facts. He had met Ambrose and she had met his wife at the welcome drinks held a day or so after he’d arrived to take over as CEO. They’d had dinner together, the four of them, afterwards.
Over their entrees Ambrose and David had discussed Canadian mining futures. Over the main course, Ambrose had engaged David’s wife in a playful analysis of that week’s New York Times best-seller list. Em often wondered how on earth Ambrose managed to be so across so much. Although of course, it was his job to be across everything.
They had seemed to hit it off, Em thought, Ambrose and David’s wife, whose name was Ngaire and who had grown up in New Zealand and had rather engagingly spoken of fush instead of fish when she ordered the lemon sole.
She was a svelte and sexy blonde with nice legs and, Em judged from the conservative but promissory swell of her bust, very trim tits.