A short bout of nerves

Kayleigh sat behind the wheel of her beat up Ford Focus in silence, the coupe purring in park in her boss’s driveway, her stomach squirming about what was going – what could happen. I can leave right now, she thought. Say goodbye to my job, say hello to an endless pile of debt. The blonde shivered, afraid of where that future could lead. And what would I tell Justin? That I almost slept with my boss? Would – would he leave me for almost stepping out on him? She chewed at her lip. Her husband had known before the marriage bed that she wasn’t a virgin, but his values were very – Puritan. They hadn’t even shared an apartment together with separate bedrooms before taking their vows, unlike her previous boyfriend back in college. Then it had just been a mattress on the floor and a fuck every night until the bastard had started cheating on her. Even worse, Justin wasn’t pushy about sex. Their first night had been short and quick, leaving her to fake an orgasm and wait until he was asleep to frig her clit until her pussy spamsed in satisfaction. Barely. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, her untouched – for a little over a week now, if Kayleigh didn’t count her own fingers – womanhood began to throb. Shit, she cursed, turning the key and letting the idling engine slow to a stop. Even my damn clitoris wants me to go through with this. It wants to be fucked. I want to be fucked. Shit.

Unbuckling the seat belt, she opened the door and stepped out into the cool night, the chill breeze soaking through her white, button-down blouse, her nipples stiffening beneath her thin bra. He hadn’t said what to wear, she thought, closing the car door gently to keep any neighbors from hearing, hoping none of them were the nosy type. Kayleigh had dressed comfortably in a white top and jeans – perhaps a little tight for going out to the bar to meet some friends for a drink, either of which might have been what had earned her the slight, disapproving look from her husband over his paper – and if he asked who he had seen there – she had deliberately picked one she had only frequented alone – it wouldn’t be a complete lie to say they hadn’t shown. She could easily say she had spent the night nursing a drink and chatting with strangers. Friendly chatting, of course.

Kayleigh stode up to the door of Ryan’s house, a one-story ranch that seemed out of sorts considering the paycheck he earned. I wonder what he spends his money on, she thought stepping onto the covered porch. Whores? Maybe. Maybe that’s why he’s inflicting this on me. It’s cheaper. With a steadying breath, she stood up straight, shoulders raised, her stomach still shaky, and knocked crisply on the door.

After a moment, it opened wide and her boss stood before her, still dressed as if for work, the usual dark slacks, white button-down and tie, today a solid red held down by a simple, gold chain.

“Kayleigh!” he smiled, greeting her pleasantly. “Please, come in.”

“Thank you,” the blonde-haired woman said nervously with a slight bow of her head, stepping inside, Ryan closing the door behind her. She looked around the great room. It looked normal, sofa, recliner, TV. Nothing unusual.

“Any troubles finding my home?” her boss asked, placing his hand on the small of her back and leading her to the sofa.

“No,” she shook her head, sitting down on the cadet blue, microfiber cushion. “Your directions were good.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” Ryan said, settling down close beside her and placing his right hand on her thigh, immediately beginning to gently stroke her leg. The married woman looked down at his hand caressing her, her heart jumping in her chest in fear. He’s being nice about it, she thought, but he’s fast. Not as fast as Bobby was our first night. No courtship there, we went right at it. Kayleigh fought back a sigh, a silent wish that she had waited longer for a night that could have been more magical, more – exquisite. Justin hadn’t met that need either, dammit.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” her boss asked.

“Please,” the blonde said politely, trying to smile at him. Oh, good, now I don’t have to stop and get something quick on the way home to prove my lie. He sniffed my breath before on other nights out to have a drink. I wish Justin could have trusted me more.

“I’ll be right back,” Ryan said, standing up and heading to the kitchen. She watched him go, fighting the butterflies in her stomach. Trust. That’s what marriage was all about. And now I’m breaking his, about to fuck a man not my husband, God help me. Not that He is here. Not now. I’m turning away from Him, on my faith. He helped my after Bobby, meeting Justin in the church where I had cried my heart out.

“Here you are,” her boss returned. She took the glass proffered, quickly raising it to her lips and taking a healthy sip of the white zinfandel as he sat back down, holding his own in the hand that had been on her leg.

“So – what did you tell your husband?” he asked after a taste of his drink. Kayleigh’s eyes nearly bulged. Now that’s a mood killer, she thought sourly. Not that it should matter to him. Men.

“That I went out for a drink,” the blonde-haired woman said softly, her gaze on her lap, tasting the lie once more. “I’ve gone out before with some of my friends.”

“Interesting,” Ryan said, swapping the wine glass between hands and reaching around her shoulders with his freed right hand, gently resting his palm on her shoulder, and began to press his thumb against her with long, soothing strokes. “A lie. I wouldn’t have that that of you.”

“Huh?” she looked at him, confused.

“It’s been - what? – a month,” he said pleasantly, “Since the wedding? And you’re already lying to your husband.”

“H-how can you say that?” Kayleigh cried in protest, color rising in her cheeks. “This was your idea, fucking around on him!”

“True,” her boss chucked. “But you could have told him the truth. Part of it at least.”

“I – I don’t understand,” she shook her head, her eyes wide.

“I’m your boss,” Ryan said, looking into her blue orbs. “Your job requires you to work for me day or night. Afternoons. Weekends. Holidays.” The blonde stared at him, jaw agape. “The perils of the salaried employee.”

“But – But –”

“Didn’t you read your contract?” he asked, his dark eyebrows rising up slowly. “It’s in there. No fine print. No promise of days off.”

“That’s – that’s not right!” Kayleigh gasped.

“You’re a salaried executive assistant,” he pointed. “More than a simple secretary, so FLSA doesn’t apply, and even if someone – anyone – were to argue with me about it, remember that incentive I offered you? I can declare it as a business expense as compensation for the extra hours you’re going to be working.”

“Shit,” she blinked. “Fully taxable?”

“Fully taxable,” he nodded.

“I – crap,” the blonde scowled. “It better be worth this.”

“I don’t think you’ll complain when you see your paycheck, once it begins to hit,” Ryan said softly into her ear, his breath warm and – she nearly shook – titillating. Kayleigh took a large gulp of her wine to hide her nerves.

“No more lying?” he asked, deftly swapping glasses with her as he began to nibble at her neck.

“N-no,” the blonde stammered, watching his left hand set the wineglass between her thighs, then began to stroke her leg through her jeans. “B-but –”

“But what?” her boss asked between kisses on her neck.

“I won’t be able to explain hickies or – or – anything else,” Kayleigh shook. His hand was on her crotch, fingers unsnapping the button easily and with languid ease pulled down the zip. She inhaled sharply, at the sudden touch caressing her womanhood underneath her cotton panties.

“I won’t leave any marks that can’t be explained away,” Ryan said.

“G-good,” she said, lifting the remains of his wine up and staring at the glass for a moment, then, without further thought, opened her mouth and tossed the last of the white zinfandel back in one gulp.