The Office Perk

by F H John

  The car ride home is long because I drive slowly and I take the scenic route. When I do finally arrive in the driveway, his car is sitting there. I knew it would be. My husband is religiously loyal and dependable.

  I walk through the front door with my head hanging. My clothes are fixed as much as I could fix them, but they’ve been through a traumatic experience. I know how they must have felt.

  “How was…” Jim says to me. I don’t look up. I can’t. His words freeze as if they were shot with a magic ice gun and I cringe as I wait for his words to turn into fearful or hurt or anger. They don’t.

  “I’ll draw you a bath, sweetie. It looks like you’ve had a full day,” he said.

  He turns without another word and heads for our bedroom. I’m stupefied. I was prepared for any reaction, other than that one. I follow him into the bedroom, half-afraid that he’s tricking me, luring me into the bedroom so he can hack me into pieces with a machete I never knew he owned, tucked away in the closet, waiting for this day to come. He doesn’t have a machete. When I arrive in the bedroom, I can hear the bathtub running. I walk around the corner and wait in the doorway leading in and he’s leaned over the tub, swishing the hot, soapy water with one hand. He’s humming our wedding song and hearing it brings tears to my eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Jim,” I say. My heart is pricked by his kindness and the love I know he has for me. It kills me to know I could betray him so utterly and I’m filled with regret.

  He turns around and smiles at me. Without saying a word, he rises to his feet, coming to me. He reaches up and begins to unbutton my blouse. His lips purse and the song continues from where he left off. I’m so confused by his strange, almost disconnected behavior that I want to ask him what’s going on, but I can’t. No question seems appropriate, so I stand there and let him undress me. When my body is naked before him, he slides his finger down my stomach. I try to draw away from him, not wanting him to find what I know is still there. Evidence. I didn’t clean my colleagues cum from between my legs. I know there is some dried there and there is probably some goo left inside of me. He takes a hold of my shoulders and draws me closer to him and he slides two fingers into me. When he draws them out, my worst fear is evident on his fingers.

  “Definitely a busy day today,” he says, but he isn’t horrified by it. He sniffs his fingers and I cringe, as he tastes the slickness on his fingers.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up before dinner.” He guides me to the bathtub and I step in. I’m dumbfounded but I don’t argue with him.

  He bathes me tenderly, gently washing every inch of my skin, lovingly caressing me with soap and he whistles while he works.

  “Jim, I won’t…”

  He rushes his hand to my lips, pressing the words back into my mouth before I can speak them.

  “Do you love me?” he asks me.

  “Of course I do. I love you so much, I just…”

  His finger goes back to my lips again. “Don’t make promises to me that we both know you will never keep and don’t explain yourself. Just be honest with me about whether or not you really do love me.”

  Tears come to my eyes and I nod. “I do. I’m so sorr…”

  “Shhhh,” he says. “It’s okay. Don’t apologize.”

  “But how … how can you still look at me like that? Like I’m the only woman in the world for you after what I just did?”

  “Because you are, Naveah. I don’t love you because my penis is the only penis in your life. I love you for all of the other things you are and for all of the things we talk about and because I know that you love me. I believe you when you say it.”

  I realize as he’s speaking to me that he hasn’t just figured this out. He’s known for a while. “How long have you known? When did you figure it out?”

  He smiles at me and shakes his head. “You don’t even realize it, do you?”

  “Realize what?”

  “Where do you go when we make love? Wherever it is, it must be far, far away, because you rarely say my name anymore. How long have I known? I’ve known from the very first time you told me, Naveah. You confess all of your sins when we have sex. You tell me everything as you beg me for my permission to keep going.”

  I can feel my eyes bulging in my head. All of those times I thought I was keeping my deluded fantasies to myself while we made love, but the moment he says it, I realize that he’s right. I don’t. He makes love to me and my mind is somewhere else, but my mouth is in the same room with him and as my imagination roams free, my mouth relays to him what I believe I am only saying in my daydreams.

  “Oh, God, Jim. I’m awful! You deserve so much better than me. How could you ever stay with me?”

  He laughs. “At first, I didn’t want to. At first, it horrified me. There you were lying beneath me as I poured my heart into passionately loving my wife and suddenly she is calling out another man’s name. It made me mad, so I started screwing you hard with hate in my blood, hoping you wouldn’t like it, but you did. You loved it, but that’s when I knew you weren’t really there with me. Not completely, because you started confessing to me that you already fucked this other guy and that you liked it. You also said you wanted to keep doing it. You begged me to let you. You said you still loved me but you begged me to let you fuck other guys. Finally, after hearing your confession, it started to turn me on, I said yes. So you kept going, but I think you started doing it more often, because the names started changing.”

  “God, I suck,” I said.

  “Me too then. It’s kind of hot and I don’t want you to stop. Not unless or until it stops making you happy. You realize you’re not as bitchy as you used to be anymore.”

  CHAPTER 3

  All Perked Up

  Jim and I talked most of the night away. Talking is what we do best, I guess, but that night it was different. We were both excited. It turned out that he was as naughty as I and for the first time, I felt like we were connected for a reason. It felt like we had something deep in common. I was a naughty girl and he was a naughty, naughty husband. He actually liked that I was fucking other, more macho men.

  When we were done talking, I laid beneath him and told him about all of the naughty things I let the partners do to me that day. He fucked me like an animal and I came like a rabid bitch in heat. I was in heaven. For the first time, the man I truly loved, fucked me the way I wanted to be fucked. To top it off, he fucked me that way with love in his eyes—greedy, lusty, love.

  I awoke the next day exhilarated and I felt free. I floated to work. Even though I guess I should have known that I had my husband’s permission, I suppressed that for whatever reason and my guilt over what I was doing behind his back was weighing me down more than I realized. With his permission and support, I was ready to be naughtier than ever and half of the reason was because I couldn’t wait to lay beneath him again, confessing my naughty sins to him as if he were my path to redemption. In a way, he was.

  Things were different when I reached our floor. The women were all gathered on one side of the office and the moment I cleared the elevators, they all glared at me. Their arms were folded in front of themselves and their glances were sharp and pointed directly at me. The snake pit was empty, but all of the interns were lined up along the corridor wall.

  “What’s going on,” I asked as I headed toward the front of the line, which led to my boss’s office. In front of the interns, were all of the partners. Mr. Bower was in the front of the line.

  Everyone watched me with eager anticipation as I continued my march to Brycort’s office. When I got there, Bower stepped aside eagerly, ushering me into the office.

  “Take off your panties and lay here,” Brycort demanded. He was pointing to a large leather footstool in the middle of his office. “The boys and I were talking last night and we decided that you aren’t really company property until all of the men in firm have had you. We figure it best to get that out of the way as quickly as possible.”

  “Wow,” I said.
/>   “Can you handle that?” Brycort asked me.

  “I think my husband would be pissed if I didn’t,” I said. “He’s adamant about me performing every task that I’m assigned.”

  Draw me a bath, Jimmy Boy! I’m gonna need one tonight! Today will be a busy, busy day.

  Excerpt from Party Favor 2

  CHAPTER ONE

  Only for Me

  1

  “Why do you do that,” I asked Giselle. It was five-thirty on a Monday night. The guys would be over to watch the football game soon. Giselle was getting up from the couch and I knew where she was heading. She was going to the bedroom. When she came back, her sexy booty-shorts would be history, along with her revealing, white tank top. She would replace them with baggy jeans, a loose fitting jersey and her hair would be tied back into a ponytail. She might even throw on a baseball cap, Tomming it up. She didn’t mind dressing sexy for me, but she kept it in the house and she never let other guys see her that way.

  That was very different from when we met. I did what everyone says not to do. I married a stripper.

  “This body is for your eyes only, tiger,” she said with a wink. She obviously knew what I was talking about without explanation.

  I got up from the couch and followed her into the bedroom. “It doesn’t have to be that way, you know. I’m not the jealous type.”

  “It does have to be that way, Ronald. You are my man. I’m happily married to you and you alone.” She already had her shirt off. Her breasts were still firm after five years of marriage. We couldn’t have kids but neither of us really wanted to, so we never checked into why.

  She grabbed a bra. It was the kind your mother would wear to a Tupperware party. “Why does it matter to you what I wear when your friends are over.”

  I hung my head. Did she really want me to answer that?

  “I don’t know. I’m proud of you that’s all. The guys like checking you out, but …”

  “I don’t make it easy for them. So, I’m a trophy to you?” she asked. She had her arms folded in front of her and I knew I was in shaky waters. I had to be careful.

  “In a way. You know I love you. You know I appreciate everything about you and you’re much more than just a trophy to me, but I can’t lie to you, Giselle. You’re gorgeous and the guys talk about you. I have the hottest wife in the bunch. They all know it, and I like that. I don’t have to tell you that I’m the least likely guy to marry a ten.”

  That was the painful truth. I got lucky in many ways. I’m just your average IT guy. I’m not a computer programmer, but I do know the logic. I came up with a software program that saved my company millions upon millions. It was a fluke. It came to me in a dream, but it shaved off production time on our exercise equipment, saving hundreds of man-hours a day, and when I showed it to the company, they jumped at the chance to buy it from me. I made millions on the deal. I still work for the company, because I like working, but I don’t have to.

  She doesn’t have to work either, but she does. I love that about her too.

  She smiled. “You think I’m still a ten,” she said, glancing down at herself.

  “We all think you’re a ten, sweetie. It’s not just me. You’re a stone cold fox.”

  She dragged her shorts down, and shook them off sexily. “I’m a ten for you, Ronald. Only for you, but thank you for reminding me that you still find me sexy.”

  “At least tell me why. The guys are always hounding me to get you to skimp it up a little. You did…”

  “I used to be a stripper, Ronald. Those days are long gone and good riddance to them.”

  I stood there looking at her, trying to grip whatever she was trying to say, but I’m not much of a mind reader and I can’t say that I understand women at all. If they were computers, it would be so much easier.

  She watched me watching her with my empty gaze and her shoulders slumped suddenly. I could see her mind churning thoughts like a mill does butter. Finally, she held her hand out. I took it and she invited me to sit on the bed next to her.

  “I don’t know how to say this, Ronald, so I’ll be blunt. I think I’m still a good woman, but I need you to understand that I was lucky. I can’t tell you how many girls I worked with who let that job get the better of them. Most of those girls end up turning to drugs. They let that job become a lifestyle. A lot of them slept with countless customers and many of them bounce from rehab to rehab. Being a stripper and giving your dignity up for money and men isn’t easy. It takes its toll.”

  “Did you ever do any of those things?”

  She looked at me with her sexy blue eyes. “Drugs? No. I never came close. I don’t like them at all. At first, I didn’t like dancing for guys. I hated it. It made me feel disgusting, like I was selling myself short, but I did it because I wanted to pay for my school.”

  “You didn’t seem like you hated it to me.”

  “By the time I met you, I didn’t. That’s what I’m getting at. Do you know why I love you as much as I do? Why I’m soooo, loyal to you?”

  “You saved me, Ronald. I was on the verge of giving in. I was sitting on the laps of fifty different men every night, grinding away, giving them erections and making them cum in their jeans. I was getting good at it, but feeling them against me made me want more. Guys think it sucks that there are rules about how far you can go. Sometimes it sucks for the girl too. If she thinks the guys is cute, she doesn’t want to keep his pants on any more than he wants to keep them on. Sometimes she wants to fuck him as much as he wants to fuck her. I saw every customer as a challenge and all I could think about was making sure they had a good time—making sure they forgot about their wives, or their money problems, and making sure that they got their release. I did it for you, but I did it for fifteen other guys that night before you got there.”

  “I still don’t get it,” I said. “Is that so bad? Wasn’t that your job?”

  “It was becoming more than that. I was starting to think about letting guys take me home. I was starting to want to do more than just sit on their lap. I was starting to want to feel them inside of me. I wanted to see those hard dicks. I wanted to suck them. I wanted their cum on me … in me. I was becoming a slut, Ronald.”

  “Wait? You came home with me that night. You did those things with me.”

  She laughed, but not because it was funny. I think she felt relieved that she got it off her chest and that I wasn’t horrified by it.

  “Exactly. I am so lucky that it was you and not somebody else. I’m about as lucky as a lottery winner is and not just because you’re rich. Because you’re a sweet sensitive man, who takes care of me, loves me, respects me and talks to me.” She was looking at me with a sincerity that made my heart quell.

  “I guess I kind of understand. I think.”

  “Let me put it to you this way. I’ll give you the choice and I’ll let you make it. I’ll dress sexy for your friends. I’ll dress as sexy as you want me to. If you want, I’ll even walk around the house naked. What I won’t do, is tell them no. I won’t, because I can’t. You’re friends think I’m hot as fuck. Okay, fine. But you have to understand, Ronald. I might not show it, but I think they’re hot as fuck too. They’re buff, exercise fanatics who love their jobs and love their bodies. I don’t let myself think about those things because if I do, I’ll rip my clothes off and fuck the shit out of them. Even if you were watching. It’s like being an alcoholic and I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but it’s the truth. I wish I could change it, but I can’t. Once a slut, always a slut, I guess.”

  “You’re not a slut, Giselle.”

  She smiled. “Thanks for the sentiment, but realizing that I am, is what keeps me from doing something stupid. It keeps me focused on you, which is where I should be focused. I love you, Ronald. I love our life. I don’t want anything to come between us or that.”

  I’ve been married long enough to realize that when your wife is right, she’s right. They have instincts about things and when they display them, it’s
always best to listen. She was telling me not to go there, so I went along with her. I got up from the bed, grabbed her baggy jeans and handed them to her. She looked at me and smiled.

  “Thank you for understanding,” she said. I winked at her, kissed her and went back to the living room.

  She came in a few minutes later, all covered up, as she always did on Monday night. She sat close to me and snuggled while we watched some B.S. TV. It was our normal routine. I supplied the house and the huge television, the rest of the guys brought the snacks, the beer and the banter. Life was good and I learned something new about my wife, so I was happy.

  We watched for a while in silence and then she broke it.

  “So, you don’t judge me?” she blurted.

  I still had a few lingering thoughts about our earlier conversation, but those thoughts were fading. I was into watching Charmed, mostly because of Alyssa Milano and I had to think about what she was asking.

  “For what?”

  “You know,” she said. “I essentially just admitted to you that I want to fuck the shit out of your friends.”

  I shrugged and chuckled. “I’m no different, really. You have some pretty hot friends too and I’m not gay.”

  She laid her head on my chest again facing toward the television. “I guess I should be honest, since I’ve already spilled the beans. I hate football,” she said.

  That got my attention. In the beginning, I had my friends over and she always went out with hers. That didn’t last long. After a while, she started staying home and she said she did it because she used to love football and she wanted to start watching it again.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No,” she said. She looked up at me and batted her eyes. “I said I loved it because I wanted to be around the guys. It drove me nutso knowing that all of this testosterone was wasting away here every Monday with no estrogen to enjoy it. Being here on Monday nights turns me on so much that I usually frig myself off two or three times a night. Are you mad that I lied?”