Barbara, a soon-to-be-ex-wife...

It was a surprise to her when she got the e-vite. Harold was her soon-to-be-ex-husband's boss. She had met the guy several times over the last couple years. It wasn't entirely unwelcome. Harold aspired to be eccentric, she decided. He invited his underlings to his little fancy get-togethers every so often. He played mediocre Spanish guitar, she had judged, but he was actually a very fine cook. Pan-seared steak, scallops, a nice syrah, a vegetable medley. She ate well at his last dinner party.

But, he was Nathan's boss, not hers. And she had just filed for divorce from that rat bastard. So she wasn't inclined to accept an invitation from his boss to get together. Especially with the vague Hugh Hefner vibes that Harold seemed to be trying to emanate. In fact, it seemed really inappropriate for him to invite her. She had discovered that Nathan was sleeping with the 19 year old intern that he met at Harold's office. The fact that Harold hired such a little hussy didn't speak well of the man.

But there was a little note appended to her invitation, below the generic invitation text. It seemed heartfelt enough. Harold was more than distraught that one of his senior employees was acting this inappropriately. But the girl didn't report to Nathan or to anyone who reported to Nathan, or anyone in the chain. Completely separate departments. He couldn't fire either of them for something that wasn't against the rules, but he assured Barbara in the note that he was completely on her side, and that Nathan was on very thin ice with him and the entire company. It would be quite the unspoken statement if Harold was still seeing her socially, and not him.

At the past few soirees, she had thought perhaps she caught Harold staring once or twice. Maybe he was actually more interested in her than she thought. Wouldn't that be something? Nathan runs off with some teenage airhead who barely got into the local state school, and she ends up with Nathan's rich, well-read, boss. He could always improve at Spanish guitar.

There was quite the walk from the parking to his house. It was set far back from the street, privacy fence, privacy hedge. She couldn't see her car when she knocked on the front door. Based on his previous parties, she felt good about her look. She had her blonde hair done up in curls; she had sprung for a new mani-pedi this afternoon. Her make-up was classy. A nice navy blue chiffon a-line. She should turn some heads, she thought. Show Nathan's co-workers what he was stepping out on.

She took a second to collect herself, and then lifted and tapped the knocker on the front door.

A big-breasted bimbo in a fetish French Maid costume opened the door.