Getting ready for your interview

You slapped at the alarm with one hand as it dragged you from the dream. Your other hand (you realized with a bit of vague disgust) was between your legs. With a groan, you rolled out of bed, trying to strike the cobwebs of sleep from your brain. Greg was gone, probably at work, and it was almost eight in the morning.

You'd had another dream, like the ones before. You'd been at work... but then there had been some kind of orgy? You'd... you'd been pretty hot, actually. In a cheap, slutty sort of way that made your breath feel heavy.

The night before came back to haunt you. You'd cheated on Greg with Aimee, and then lied to him about it. Like some cheap slut. Like the woman in your dream. Some part of you was just a little turned on, thinking of that. You needed a shower.

As you felt the hot water course over your body, you struggled to assemble today's plan. You had an interview in 4 hours, and with Greg at work with the car you'd be taking the bus. You mapped the office's location on your phone, and found a bus stop near the coffee shop you'd visited the day before. You could catch the bus there to your interview, and spend the rest of the day figuring out what was wrong with you. If this continued, you would need to see a psychiatrist or something.

You gathered your things from the mall and started putting them away in your closet, blushing as you remembered your purchases on Saturday. Explaining *those* to your husband would be a problem for another day. How had Aimee talked you into buying a skirt *that* short? Or into that tiny little tube top?

Your interview outfit, at least, was modest and professional. You slipped on the black pencil skirt with a smile, but found yourself struggling with your bra.

No matter how you stretched it, your favorite bra wouldn't close. Had your chest grown? Had you gained weight? Frustrated, you tried your other bras, then you hefted you boobs, sighing at the distractingly pleasant tingle between your legs. *That* was new... you were were especially sensitive today, apparently.

With a sense of dread, you fished out one of the bras you had bought at the mall with Aimee. It was a lacey black push-up bra that she'd **** on you when you'd told her you didn't own any. The store was sold out in your size, so you'd sized up. It fit, if a bit tightly, and you stood in the mirror, checking yourself out. The result was that your boobs were pushed together and up, forming more cleavage than you'd ever had before. You could lose your phone in there! You looked hot, but still classy. Sort of.

You pulled the blouse on, and were relieved to see that the white fabric was opaque enough to cover the bra. It was a little tight across your chest, but still looked good. You slipped the jacket and high heels on, then gave yourself another look in the mirror. This could work.

You checked the fridge for breakfast, frowned at the empty space where groceries were supposed to be, and mentally added that chore to your list.

Five minutes later you were walking toward ToASTEd, the cute little coffee shop from the day before. You made good time, though the four inch heels gave you some trouble at first, and had time before your bus to grab coffee. You finished your drink on the bus (you ordered the same thing as the day before) feeling better as the caffeine hit your brain.

By the time the bus dropped you off downtown, you were feeling better about your upcoming interview. You'd been a software engineer back home! You could handle a simple secretarial job! You felt another wave of gratitude towards Aimee for helping you get this interview, and then started taking apart the *other* things you felt about Aimee.

You'd been with only two men before Greg, so your experience was admittedly limited, but the sapphic, drunken sex you'd had with her the day before had been the best in your life. Was it her experience? Something told you that Aimee had been with a lot of partners. Could it have been that you were cheating? The possibility hurt to consider, but it was admittedly real.

The great sex aside, Aimee had gone out of her way to befriend you and had taken you under her wing. She'd spent two days with you and you'd enjoyed it all. Sure, she wasn't the smartest woman you'd met by a long shot, and she seemed a bit oversexed, but she seemed to genuinely care about you. There was something there, and part of you wanted to pursue it.

On the other hand, you were married; Greg had been your husband for almost a year. You loved him, and he'd been nothing but supportive of you.