Sexy married woman seduces his boss

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When she walked in a little before 7:00, she was radiantly beautiful. She’d had her full, shoulder length, platinum hair freshly bleached the previous week and it appeared she’d had her nails done professionally sometime earlier in the day in the same shade as her frosted, hot pink lipstick. Her cream-colored, business suit had a short, tight skirt and her shapely legs looked great in tan pantyhose and pink spike-heeled pumps with dainty ankle straps. She’d accented her pink satin blouse with multistrands of iridescent pearls and matching earrings.

She turned several heads when she strolled in, flashing her dazzling smile at an obviously impressed Beau…giving him a warm hug…noticeably pressing her buxom little body against him longer than necessary. Holding him close, letting him get a good whiff of her intoxicating perfume, she looked up, directly into his eyes, and purred flirtatiously,

“Well I’m just so glad you could finally make it down, Beau. I told Rick after the meeting in Colorado that I sure was hopin’ I’d get an opportunity to get to know you a lot better, cher.”

There was a noticeably suggestive emphasis on “lot” which she drew out in her Cajun-inflected, Louisiana drawl, “laaahhht bettah, shayah.”

We had a couple more rounds of drinks at the hotel bar then decided we’d best get some food. Beau had knocked back four bourbons fairly quickly, more than I’d ever seen him drink before, and was showing signs of their effect. I was surprised at his pronounced difference in demeanor this evening…he was definitely loosening up…it was evident that his very correct business English was lapsing into a more relaxed black idiom. Most tellingly, he hadn’t quit grinning since my gorgeous little Dixie Pixie walked in.

For her part, even though they were both early-thirties, Blondie behaved as if he were the most worldly, sagacious, charming man she’d ever met. She feigned fascination with his every word, smiling warmly at him and gazing into his eyes while listening raptly to his tales of corporate intrigue. She laughed heartily at his every feeble attempt at humor, flirting shamelessly. I foolishly hoped that her behavior could be attributed to nothing more than a good wife’s earnest efforts to be especially nice to her husband’s boss.

The restaurant Blondie selected was in the entertainment complex just down the street. The complex included three differently themed bars, one of which had a dance band playing during happy hour and on into the evening. At the restaurant, the combination of our continued drinking and the muffled, thumping beat down the way was making Blondie tap the table rhythmically with her long pink nails and move her body provocatively to the music. Attentively watching her movements, Beau teased,

“I don’t suppose you like to dance, Blondie?” My Dixie Pixie replied with an unbelievably sexy, hot pink pout of those full lips, sighing with contrived exasperation,

“Well of course! I love to dance but ol’ stick-in-the-mud there doesn’t. All he ever wants to do is sit back and watch me prancin’ around half-naked for his viewin’ pleasure.”

Beau raised an eyebrow at that too-candid revelation and looked at me appraisingly, a crafty smile on his face, and, I was willing to bet, forming an interesting mental picture of my wife “prancing around half-naked.” Tilting her head at him and smiling sexily, Blondie cooed,

“I bet you’re a real good dancer aren’t you, Beau?”

Beau gamely responded with a big grin, “Sure, all us black dudes got natural rhythm, you know.”

Peering into his eyes, Blondie winked suggestively and murmured,

“Mmmm, I just bet you do. An’ I hear tell that comes in real handy for other things, too, tu sais (you know) cher?”

Cutting a sly glance at me, she purred,

“You know, Beau, ever since I was a jeune fille (young girl) growing up over in Baton Rouge, I’ve always heard such interestin’ things about black men, such very interestin’ things.”

Gazing steadily, she smiled seductively and murmured,

“Sure makes a girl curious, you know?”

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