“I’m having a great time at work today.” Crystal’s voice purred down the phone line.
Andy settled himself back in his chair and reached for coffee. “Tell me about it,” he invited. He checked his office door was firmly closed, and switched the phone to speaker. When his wife had that silky tone to her voice, he knew he wouldn’t want to be disturbed.
“You left the house early, darling, so you didn’t see what I was wearing.”
He took her invitation. “Tell me.”
Her sultry sigh echoed around his office. “Today was the presentation to our new clients. Everything had to be perfect, so I took extra care with my appearance. My hair, my nails, my face. My… clothes.”
“What does your hair look like?”
“I washed it, gave it extra conditioning so that it shines like a copper penny. I’ve put it up in a French twist, but there are a few long strands on either side of my face.”
Andy closed his eyes and his wife’s face floated into his mind. He knew that style; that aura of professionalism, her flame-red hair contained in the sleek twist. The style accentuated her eyes, her flirty expressive eyes that could reduce a man to a drooling wreck with one single, sideways look.
“My make up is discreet, subtle, professional,” she continued. “And I’m wearing my charcoal gray suit with the short skirt.”
He knew there was more to come.
“And underneath…”
»» “Go on,” he said hoarsely.
“It’s as black as the night on our Mexican honeymoon, and it’s as sheer as a butterfly’s wing. When I button my jacket, you can see a triangle of lace at the top. But when I unbutton my jacket…”
Andy knew, oh, how he knew. The black lace camisole clung faithfully to Crystal’s full breasts, and a thin satin ribbon accentuated their ripeness. He’d seen that camisole often: in the privacy of their bedroom, on the secluded balcony of their honeymoon hotel, in a screened hot tub in the snow in Colorado, her rich auburn hair tumbling down over her creamy shoulders. Suddenly his office was too warm. He ran a finger around the inside of his collar.
“I kept my jacket buttoned,” Crystal continued. “Then, when my boss called me forward for my presentation, I slipped the top one loose. As I stretched with the pointer it slipped free, but I pretended not to notice. After a few minutes my jacket top was gaping open. The front row could see almost down to my navel. My jacket is a snug fit, so when undone, you can see my breasts.”
“Covered only by the black lace camisole,” supplied Andy, his voice suddenly hoarse.
“Yes. There was one man in the front row who was bewitched. I don’t think he heard a word of what I was saying.”
“So what did you do?” Andy asked.
“After a few minutes, I pretended to notice that my jacket was undone. I blushed a little, a sweet, embarrassed blush, and rebuttoned it. But then…”
“Then what?” Andy took a gulp of his coffee. It was stone cold, but he barely noticed. Crystal’s words had him transfixed.
“My presentation finished. I thanked everyone, and turned away to let my boss say the final words. I stretched up to release the screen.”
She paused, and Andy had a vivid picture in his mind. Crystal, in her somber gray business suit, reaching up. Crystal in her short skirt, stretching to unhook the top of the screen.
“Was the man in the front row still watching?”
“Oh yes. He hadn’t stood up. So when I strained to unhook the screen, he would have seen…”
“What would he have seen?” Andy closed his eyes, imagining his sexy wife.
“My stocking tops.”
“Which ones?” Andy’s hand clenched on the coffee cup and beads of sweat peppered his forehead.
“Black. Silky. Sheer. Your favorites: the ones with the lacy garter belt. You bought them for me from Hips and Curves for my birthday.”
Andy knew them well. Crystal’s lushly curving thighs, outlined in sheer black stockings that ended mid thigh. And above the lacy top, her creamy welcoming thighs. Desperately he wondered how he would survive the working afternoon, knowing what Crystal was wearing. Jealousy shot through him, pure and unadulterated hot green rage. This other man—some unknown business man—had seen what was his.
He took a calming breath. “Did the man talk to you afterwards?”
“Oh yes.” Crystal’s voice was as velvety as good sippin’ bourbon. “He made small talk about the presentation, but I knew what he was after.”
“Which was?” That shaft of jealousy again.
“He asked me if I would like to have a drink with him after work. He said it wasn’t often he met an attractive woman who knew how to dress well.”
“What did you say?” Andy’s fist clenched hard on his mug.
“I told him sweetly that I couldn’t, as I had to get back home to my husband whom I adore with all my heart. And then I thanked him for his comment on my fashion sense.”
Silence echoed down the line. Andy rested back in his chair.
“Darling? You okay?”
“Very much okay,” replied Andy. “I’m just wishing that we were at home, so I could see exactly how beautiful you look right now.”
“Me too. And then, I could show you exactly what sort of panties I’m wearing with the stockings…”
(((FIN)))
By Cheyenne Blue
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