A married woman owes her boss a favour

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“Do you swear never to tell my husband?” Did she mean Sandra’s husband or Graham?

“I swear.”

“Well, why don’t I show you what I’d do?” She grabbed her glass and drained it of wine, then got up from the table with the underwear in her hand. Then walked over to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

****

Fuck! How had this happened? Was this her fault? She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and splashed cold water on her face, trying to clear her thoughts and still her racing mind. In the charged atmosphere at the dinner table this just felt like the next step in a naughty game of chicken, but here in front of the sink the reality of it was hitting her. She wasn’t seriously considering stripping down into some skimpy underwear and letting her boss ogle her was she?

But she was. She’d been enjoying herself all evening and she was genuinely thinking about doing exactly that. Maybe it was the clandestine nature of the night, or the fact that pretending to be a bad girl was more enjoyable than she’d expected, but CJ had left her feeling incredibly sexy and she didn’t want that to end yet.

After a few minutes she’d made up her mind. She’d do it. He’d only had sex with one woman so if she stood in front of him undressed like this, he’d probably go off instantly anyway. She’d give him something to wank about for years and then go home with her head held high and her marriage vows intact. She was playing a tease sure, but that was all. He was expecting her to say ‘and scene’ at any moment, he was pushing her and she didn’t want to be the first to give in. It was a game of chicken and she wanted to win.

Resigning herself to this, she unzipped the back of her dress and wriggled it down past her hips, then stepped out of it and left it puddled on the floor. She paused again, took a few deep breaths to try and still her beating heart, then stripped off her own underwear and stood there, naked but for her high heels. She looked at the lingerie again and rolled it through her hands, the fabric was very thin and delicate and if it had been designed for Gemma, she’d almost certainly spill out of it. She might retain more modesty by walking out naked but it wasn’t like that was an option, so before she could think about it any further, she quickly pulled the lingerie on. She didn’t want to dwell long enough to talk herself out of it.

She had to admit, it felt wonderful and when she caught sight of herself in the floor length mirror, couldn’t deny she looked incredibly sexy. The thin knickers and bra were almost see-through but just about hid anything too much and they fit her curves perfectly. She’d always thought she was at least two bra sizes bigger than Gemma but her breasts were held firmly and looked amazing.

She then pulled a white cotton bath robe off the back of the door and slipped it on. She opened the door a crack and saw CJ across the room, still sitting expectantly on his chair. He looked incredibly pleased with himself too, as if he were waiting to see her poke her head out and say the safe words. She’d show him. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out.

CJ grinned from ear to ear when he saw her shyly emerge from the bathroom. He leaned forward and the lust she saw there gave her a surprising rush of confidence. What the hell, it was only a look after all. She was in control here and if he wanted her sexy, she’d give him sexy. She walked towards him slowly, swaying coyly from side to side and twirling the end of the cotton sash in her hand.

“So,” she said, pulling the robe open, “Is this what you wanted to see?”

And with that, she slipped the robe off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind her.

CJ’s eyes bulged and his mouth hung open in awe.

“Cat got your tongue?” she said with a pout.

“Sandra my dear…” he replied slowly, “You are nothing less than utterly superb.”

“So,” she calmly placed one hand on her hip, “You like what you see?”

“I do,” he gaped, “Could you…come a little closer.”

“Only if you promise not to touch,” she said.

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