My Husband’s Boss Took Me Out to Buy the Drinks

My husband had been insisting all week about that party. I told him to go alone and have fun, but he was determined to introduce me to his boss. “You never come to anything, and the guys are starting to doubt that I’m married,” he told me one night. I laughed in his face. All the wives of his colleagues knew me from the company’s daycare, so it wasn’t as if I were some phantom. But I agreed, more to avoid arguing than because I wanted to.

I started looking for something decent in the closet, and as I rummaged around, my ring caught on the fabric of a short dress I had forgotten at the back. I pulled it out almost by accident. It was made of fine, semitransparent fabric, with a neckline that promised plenty. Feeling it between my fingers, I imagined what I would look like wearing it, and something sparked inside me.

“This one,” I said aloud without thinking.

That was when Damián came in.

“Are you still not ready? Put on anything.”

“Anything?” I repeated, holding up the dress.

“Yes, that one. Come on, we’re getting late.”

“Fine, but don’t complain afterward.”

You asked for it.

I got dressed, put on my makeup, and applied perfume at my leisure, enjoying every step. I slipped into six-inch platform heels and draped a purple silk shawl over my shoulders against the cold. When I stepped into the hallway, Damián didn’t say a word. He only hurried me along with his hand while I tried to keep up without breaking an ankle.

***

When we arrived, I couldn’t quite tell what kind of gathering it was. There was a DJ, a buffet table, and hardly anyone sitting down: everyone was standing, drink in hand. I asked Damián whether it was a party or what, and he laughed and said, “A party, my love.” All I could think was that those shoes were going to kill me, though they did lift my ass in a way that made them worth it.

It didn’t take me long to notice the looks. People kept crowding together, brushing against me as they passed. At first accidentally, then with more intention: the back of a hand, an inquisitive finger or two. I stayed there, standing with my glass, chatting as if nothing were happening. Damián began taking me around to introduce me to his colleagues, and among them there was no shortage of whispered compliments, always when their wives weren’t nearby.

There was an empty chair in a corner, and my husband sat me down.

“Rest your feet so you can dance later,” he told me.

“You never dance.”

“Today I will. I’m going to get some drinks.”

As soon as he left, a guy of about twenty-five approached, with an easy smile and far too much confidence.

“So you’re Damián’s famous wife.”

“The one and only. And you are?”

“Rubén,” he said, holding out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, miss.”

I kept the conversation going for a while, amused by his boldness. He was standing in front of me while I was seated, which put a certain part of his body level with my face. I noticed. So did he. With so many people pressed around us, nobody paid attention to how close we were. I began to feel heat rising inside me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Damián chatting with some others without looking our way. I decided to take off my shawl so Rubén could get a better view of my cleavage. He swallowed and kept talking, though I no longer heard what he was saying: the music had gotten louder, and he had to lean close to my ear.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, his breath brushing my neck.

“Let’s go.”

He helped me to my feet, and once I was standing in front of him, he looked me up and down. We danced pressed together, brushing against each other, his hands sliding from my waist to other places with calculated slowness. I let him do it, gauging how far he would go. It was fun while it lasted.

Then Damián appeared among the crowd.

“Come on, I’m going to introduce you to my boss.”

I left Rubén standing there and followed my husband, who pulled me by the hand through the bodies. Every shove forced me to brush against strangers, and once again I felt other people’s hands taking advantage of the disorder. We reached a quieter group near the bar.

“Boss, let me introduce my wife.”

The man held out his hand. He was tall, much taller than Damián, about fifteen years older than me, and still solidly built, without an ounce of excess weight.

“A pleasure, beautiful,” he said.

“Mariela. Nice to meet you.”

“I already knew your name. You’re famous for your beauty among the ladies.”

“What a shame,” I replied, lowering my gaze with a smile that was anything but shy.

“Quite the opposite. They were right.”

Damián listened to his boss’s compliments as if they were his own personal trophy, edging farther and farther out of the conversation. In my platforms, I was a head taller than my husband, and even so, that man, Augusto, looked down at me.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked.

“I don’t think there’s any more of what I’m drinking.”

“No problem, boss, I’ll go out and buy some,” Damián offered.

“No, no. You stay. I’ll go; I have to step out and make a few calls.” And turning to me: “Come along, so you can choose it yourself.”

“Let’s go,” I said.

I glanced at Damián. He was left with an expression I couldn’t decipher, somewhere between pride and stupidity.

“We won’t be long,” I told him, and turned my back.

***

As soon as we crossed the door, Augusto put his hand on my waist.

“You really are very beautiful. A slender waist and a very generous chest.”

“Thank you,” I replied, letting him guide me.

“Now I understand the ladies’ envy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? What envy?”

“Gossip. Nothing important.”

On the way, he kept speaking into my ear, each sentence a little bolder than the one before. He opened the car door for me and helped me in like a perfect gentleman, and everything continued to seem normal until we entered the store. I walked ahead looking for the bottle, with him directly behind me. I stopped short when I found it on a high shelf and pointed.

“That one there.”

Augusto took me by the waist with both hands and gently pulled me backward. I felt his erection, hard and enormous, pressing against me through the fabric. God, that was huge. I didn’t pull away. I closed my eyes for a second and let the heat run through me.

The clerk greeted him by name. It was clear that Augusto was a regular customer.

“Good evening again.”

“Here I am, with my new friend.”

I said nothing, only listened. The young man looked me over and let slip a comment that made me blush and, at the same time, melt inside. Augusto made me turn on my heels, showing me off as if I belonged to him, and I could hardly believe what was happening.

“And isn’t she going to lend herself to us for the field meetings?” the guy asked.

“Not this one,” he replied curtly.

That sudden possessiveness, that “not this one,” aroused me like very few things ever had. We paid, left, and walked toward his car. He opened the door, and I sat down. Before I could get comfortable, Augusto remained standing in the open doorway in front of me and unzipped his fly.

He took me gently by the nape and pulled me closer. I opened my mouth as wide as I could. He was patient and firm at once, one hand on my head setting the pace, the other slipping beneath my neckline to squeeze one breast and pinch my nipple through the fabric. I gripped him with both hands, feeling its weight, its pulse, its heat. He pushed my head a little lower, and my body tensed immediately when he filled my mouth to the throat. I sucked eagerly, swallowing and adjusting as best I could while he let out a hoarse moan full of satisfaction. I licked the tip, ran my tongue along the shaft, and when I saw him trembling, I sped up, enjoying the sound of his ragged breathing. It took him less than five minutes to finish with a low growl, leaving my mouth and chin soaked with warm semen. I wiped myself with the back of my hand, dizzy with adrenaline.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, zipping himself up.

He walked around the car and took the driver’s seat. He opened the glove compartment, pulled out a small remote control, and showed it to me.

“Recline the seat. As far as it will go.”

I did it without thinking. I ended up almost horizontal. He lifted the hem of my dress, moved the fabric of my underwear aside with two fingers, and let out a low whistle.

“You’re soaked.”

Then I felt the vibration. A toy that had appeared from who knew where, turned on at the gentlest setting, while he started the car and drove back to the party. I lay stretched out on the seat, slowly writhing, and he took advantage of every traffic light to slip his hand beneath my dress, part the fabric, and rub my clitoris with precision, as if he knew exactly where I came undone. At times he opened my thighs a little farther with his knee, watching me from the corner of his eye, and I answered with muffled moans and an involuntary rocking of my hips. Heat rose between my legs, wet, thick, unbearable. I came inside myself just from feeling the way he touched me, the way he tensed my abdomen as he moved the toy, and the way he squeezed my nipples between two fingers whenever the car stopped.

When he recognized the entrance to the hall, he turned the intensity all the way up.

“We’re here. Finish quickly, before your husband comes looking for you.”

It didn’t take much. I had been on the edge for the entire ride. I squeezed my thighs together, let out a strangled cry, and shook all over against the backrest, soaking my underwear as the orgasm surged through me like a hot blow from my belly. He watched me with a satisfied half-smile until he finally switched off the device and put it away.

***

He got out of the car as soon as he saw someone approaching. I fixed my dress as best I could, adjusted my cleavage, and wiped my face with a handkerchief. I took the bottle and hurried inside, asking for the bathroom before anyone could stop me.

Damián saw me from a distance and gestured for me to come over. I answered with a “coming” gesture and went straight into the bathroom. I rinsed my mouth, took a good swig from the bottle to disguise the taste, and breathed deeply in front of the mirror. The woman looking back at me had flushed cheeks and an impossible-to-hide smile.

When I came out, Damián was waiting for me with a worried expression.

“What happened? You took forever.”

“I just couldn’t hold it anymore; I had to use the bathroom,” I lied.

“You smell strongly of tequila, my love.”

“You know I love it. I had a couple of shots over there.”

“Don’t drink so much,” he said, kissing my forehead.

The rest of the party passed in music and laughter. I only watched Augusto from a distance, chatting with others as if nothing had happened, and thought: if you only knew, Damián, what your boss just did to me.

That night, when we got home, my husband was surprised by how aroused I was. I fucked him like I hadn’t in months. And while he sank into me, convinced he was the reason, I closed my eyes and thought of another man, a reclined seat, and a silent promise that it wouldn’t be a one-time thing.