I would talk to her when I could. She was forty-one, ten years older than me, but whenever I talked I felt the flutter in my belly that told me it was...love. Susan had sleek black hair and large firm breasts, long muscular legs and feather-soft fingers.Susan was also married. Her husband was my boss, Jeff. But everyone knew Jeff was a bigamist--his first wife was his job. Jeff didn't treat Susan like a smart, sexy woman ought to be treated. I wanted to be the one who gave Susan what her halfwit. By the time I had finished dinner preparations and had the oval round baking dishes out of the oven and steaming temptingly on the table, she was well into the lower half of her second margarita, and now demonstrating the predictable effects. (I was lagging sadly behind and was barely halfway through my first). We lit the candles, but dispensed with any ideas of opening the wine. At this point, we calculated that adding fruit of the vine to the mix would not be in our best interests. Besides,. More

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