Malcolm Scott.

The Boss.

Malky to a very select number of people.

The man who lusts and intensely desires another man’s wife.

LUST an interesting word

Lascivious

Uncensored

Sexual

Thoughts

Mrs. Chastity Jones.

Isn't there a song about that?

1972 performed by Billy Paul banned my some radio stations for having immoral lyrics

Oh yes my thoughts ARE very immoral where she is concerned!

Me and Mrs Jones. Except there IS no me and Mrs Jones.……….yet!

Mrs Jones, oh let's just call her Chas, is my PA.

She is quite brilliant and one of the smartest ladies I have ever met, and Ive met a LOT. I hasten to add not all of them were real ladies.

I had of course scanned her CV before her interview.

29

Graduate in Business Studes and Economics from Glasgow University

Fluent in French and Italian.

Married!!! That was important. I do not employ single females. It avoids possible complications. Unfair perhaps but I am the Boss so I decide.

For my PA, I require only the best. Intelligent, focussed, efficient. Her appearance must be smart. Whether she is a looker is not an important factor.

Interview day came. I had seen 4 very suitable ladies but something was missing which I couldn't quite identify.

I had pictured Mrs Jones. Chastity!!! Unusual name. I hope her husband had not found her name to be applicable.

She'd be well groomed, wearing a white shirt and pinstriped suit was my guess. Possibly a brunette.

Most likely dull ,but efficient.

A knock on the door and I saw Chastity Jones for the first time. I stood up ready to shake her hand.

The world stopped. I stopped in my tracks. I think I stopped breathing.

The room filled with her scent, which I now know is Chanel, Coco Mademoiselle.

I have seen and bedded many beautiful women, but she was different.

Very short blonde hair, about 5’5” tall , piercing blue eyes, almost the same as my own, very, very pretty with a confident smile.

She was not wearing a suit but a black dress which was very classy but moulded to her exquisite curvy body. She wore a slim gold watch.

I’m fairly sure it was a Patek Philippe, small gold hoop earrings and a gold wedding band on her left hand. Surprisingly she wore no sparkling diamond engagement ring.She carried a black designer tote bag. Valentino.

It felt like an eternity but lasted a split second. I quickly regained my composure and took her outstretched hand to shake.I can only describe it as feeling as though an electric shock coursed through my body. She felt it too. I know she did. Her smile faltered momentarily.

I really didn’t need to interview her. The moment I laid eyes on her , the job was hers. I also know the moment I saw her, I wanted her with every fibre of my being.

I conducted the interview as professionally as possible. I sat behind the large, antique mahogany desk. So grateful for its bulk. My penis and brain were making appointments I couldn’t keep. I was throbbing.

She wasn’t dull, thank God. She was quick-witted, had a sense of humour and mischief . She answered with efficiency and asked questions of her own. Impressive.

Her voice was different too, no North East lilt, but the lower timbre of a Glaswegian. Quite a cultured one though and not the rougher tones made so famous by the one and only Big Yin , Billy Connolly.

I welcomed her to Scott’s and arranged that she would start work in a month.

The annual Christmas Charity Ball was 6 weeks away and I issued an invitation to her and her husband , Lucky bastard I hated him, I fervently wished he’d be struck down by the plague and therefore not able to attend. We shook hands and she left leaving her scent behind.

Fast forward 6 weeks to The Marcliffe Hotel and Spa. Scott’ s Charity Christmas ball was an event in the Social Calendar in Aberdeen. It was beautifully decorated for Christmas , cosy relaxing areas with sumptuous sofas lit by log fires and to pinch a line from Love Actually “Dark Corners for Dark Deeds”. Oh please let that be true . Wait a moment, I’m the Boss, always in control, affable but slightly aloof.

Susan was my partner this evening. Beautiful, sexy blonde, wearing a skin hugging silver dress which could not possibly have room for underwear beneath it . I knew I needed a distraction for the evening ahead .

With Susan , I knew the evening would end with Sex, really good sex. She was very adventurous and she had good hands, mouth and tongue as well as a tight, wet pussy and voluptuous breasts and butt. She also knew there were no strings attached, no complications. I was divorced and determined to remain unattached. It was sex, perhaps a few expensive trinkets thrown in, but that was it. She knew there were rules .

I was chatting to some high fliers, so called captains of Industry, when I spotted them arriving.

Oh god my groin was reacting yet again!

She was dressed in red. The material clung to her like a second skin, pretty sure she was naked under the red. There was a long slit up the side and a deep Vee down the back. The front was comparatively modest . No hint of cleavage or tantalising hint of her breasts. Again the same simple but expensive jewellery. She was mingling superbly, putting people at ease, making them laugh. I groaned inwardly. This female had totally bewitched me and this just couldn’t happen. She was married. That was a taboo for me. Then I focussed on her husband, Tony, by her side.

No!!! This couldn’t possibly be the man who bedded her. Fairly tall, immaculately dressed, reasonable face but he looked as boring and coventional as Fuck! I’m a good judge of character and this was no horny stallion.

I bet he undresses in the dark and leaves the light out when they make love. They certainly don’t Fuck and he probably doesn’t watch her expressions and her body during it.

I bet he wears fucking pyjamas.

The night seemed endless. I tried to focus, to network. I tried to avoid them but knew that behaviour was wrong and would arouse comment.

With a fixed smile on my face and clutching the sexy Susan’s arm I joined them. Quick introductions all round. His handshake was limp. I expected that. I bet his dick was limp most of the time too.

He spoke in plummy tones, obviously private school education. Edinburgh?

I wanted to punch him. What the fuck was Chas doing with this guy?

At last the evening ended. I'd taken a suite in the hotel. By the time Susan and I reached it, I was a mixture of anger, frustration and lust. Yep that word again. I pushed Susan against the wall. One swift movement and the silver dress lay in a pool at her feet. Of course, I was right. She was wearing nothing except a pair of lace top, white hold ups. I devoured her against that wall. I removed nothing except my penis which I rammed into her while I grabbed her boobs and kissed her ravenously and deeply.

It wasn't Susan’s face I saw but Chas’s.

We fucked the whole night, every position imaginable except anal. Not for me.

I was relentless and determined to exorcise Chas from my head. I would NOT think of that wanker touching her!

It didn't work. Exhausted, I fell asleep after arranging a limo to take Susan home, sporting a satisfied smile and a diamond bracelet.

I don't sleep with the women I fuck. One of my rules. It then becomes too personal.

I had to sort this out. I am ALWAYS in control of my emotions. I also am a troubleshooter. I decided that I would have an extended time at Scott’s in New York. I would conduct business in Aberdeen, till I was sure Chas knew the clients and procedures. It was hard, bloody hard but I managed.

When the plane lifted off from Aberdeen airport bound for New York, I sat back in my comfortable seat in Business Class and breathed a sigh of relief, sipping my excellent malt I convinced myself this crisis in my well-organised life would pass.

Fast forward. Same seat, same malt but the destination was Aberdeen. I opened my pilot's case and removed papers and files to work on. Amongst them were letters etc of thanks from Clients. On top was a white envelope handwritten by Mike. It said.

“A token of appreciation for your help. Thought this was a fitting gift for a Scot. It is not your traditional English Rose but a Wild Scottish Thistle“

Intrigued I opened it to reveal the contents. I was stunned. It was a calendar. A fabulous calendar with one subject only. Beginning with a modest sweet January and ending with a completely naked seductive December.

Mrs. Chastity Jones!

I closed my eyes. I was hallucinating, superimposing her face to these pics. It couldn't be……… could it?

I looked again. The short blonde hair, the blue eyes were unmistakably my PA.

The blood rushed to my penis, my breathing was laboured. I headed to the toilet. Please let it be vacant. It was. I had a massive erection and dealt with it as best I could.

The rest of the flight passed in a haze.

This changed everything. This Chas had to be serviced and thoroughly. This was no shy woman being satisfied by a wimp. I WOULD have her and fuck my rules about married women.

I am now in my office behind my mahogany desk. I am impatient, very,very impatient. I know Mags has contacted Mrs Jones. I know Chas has seen The Wild Thistlle Calendar. She knows that I know.

What is she thinking?

There is a confident knock on my door. It opens and there she is

“Chas, The Wild Thistle”