Her New Boss: A Hotwife Novel

by Lexi Archer

  I was surprised to realize that my cock was already stirring again. There was just something about this experience that was turning me into a stallion. I glanced down and she followed my gaze, a smile coming to her face.

  “Ready so soon?”

  “What can I say? This fantasy really turns me on.”

  Kristi leaned forward and kissed me. “Then wait until I tell you the rest.”

  The rest? My cock was suddenly standing at attention. I suddenly had to know exactly what had happened. Kristi rolled on top of me, her wet pussy rubbing against my rock hard cock, and she opened her mouth. I couldn’t wait to hear her next confession.

  Only first she looked down at me, searched my eyes. “You know this is just fantasy, right? I’d never cheat on you.”

  I grinned. “It’s not cheating if you have my permission.”

  Kristi rolled her eyes. “It’s cheating if I say it is, which is why this is just a fantasy.”

  Of course that didn’t stop her from launching into a new fantasy that jumpstarted round two. And I couldn’t help but wonder how willing she’d be to go from fantasy to reality since she seemed so cool with this so far.

  5: The New Boss

  I couldn’t get anything done today. I was just too distracted. Distracted by everyone pretending that they actually liked Johnson when most of the people in this department wouldn’t shed a tear when we were looking at his backside.

  But mostly I was distracted by what had happened last night with Derek. I mean I always knew that there was something going on when I talked about guys checking me out, but having suspicions and having those suspicions confirmed were two very different things.

  Not that it would ever happen. I suppose it was a fun fantasy, I’d enjoyed spinning out those stories for him even if I didn’t want to admit that to him, but it was never happening in real life. Both because I was a happily married woman who wasn’t interested in stepping out on my husband and because if I was perfectly honest it’s not like there were any guys in the office worth stepping out for.

  Whatever. I needed to try and concentrate on work. I felt like I was the only one trying to actually get some work done today. Everyone else was enjoying the unofficial holiday thanks to Johnson leaving.

  I shuffled through another pile of papers deposited on my desk by my asshole dinosaur of a boss who was terrified of using computers because they might rise up and take over the world at any moment or some other bullshit. My only satisfaction was the sure knowledge that today was the day a big old asteroid called retirement would be sending that particular dinosaur to a well deserved extinction.

  Of course thinking about that dinosaur going to extinction got me to thinking about Derek. That naturally led to thoughts of what happened last night. To thoughts of me getting naughty in my cubicle which I wasn’t going to do no matter how intrigued I was by the idea. “Craig” was completely fictional. A fictional hunk of a stud, to be sure, but fictional to be sure. Guys like that didn’t work in offices like this.

  "Come on Kristi, you're going to miss old Johnson's retirement.”

  I nearly had a heart attack and jumped. I turned to see Pam standing at my cubicle door smiling at me.

  “Startle ya?” she asked.

  I fixed Pam with a withering stare that left no doubt as to exactly how I felt about attending Johnson's retirement party. Not to mention that even if I did somehow like the guy after a year of constant abuse it's not like I had time to attend his little retirement shindig thanks to all the work he'd piled on me because he'd decided to shove all his remaining responsibilities on me and take an unofficial early retirement a few months back. That pile of paperwork he’d tried to foist on me the night before was only a small part of the massive piles of work he’d pushed on me.

  Pam smiled and I couldn't help but lighten up a little and force a smile of my own. Poor Pam was as much a victim of that old crank as anyone else in the department, myself included.

  "As much as I'd like to see that asshole's back side walking out the door for the last time, I've got too much of his crap to wade through," I said.

  "That bad, huh?"

  "Oh no, not bad at all," I said. I grimaced. Johnson had gotten his final revenge on me in a way. I left early, and by early I mean I left on time for a change, assuming he was going to go through his work after all. Only to come in this morning and discover he hadn’t done any of it and I was stuck putting off work I needed to do today rather than working late the night before.

  God how I hated that old asshole!

  "I only have all of his usual crap and everything he's been ignoring since he decided to retire on top of it. You know how it is. The whole company won't get their paychecks on time if I don't pick up the boss’s slack!"

  "Do you need help?"

  I couldn't help but smile a genuine smile at the offer. Good old reliable Pam. "No, but thanks anyways."

  My grin widened. "There is one thing you could do to help out."

  "Anything," Pam said.

  "Be sure to take a video of that old prick walking out of this office for the last time."

  Pam grinned. "Will do boss."

  And with a salute she was gone.

  I sighed and looked over the piles of paperwork around my cubicle. It was going to be another late night at the office. At least I’d gotten a fun night with Derek last night. Of course thinking about that fun just distracted me and made me useless for getting any work done which definitely wasn’t a good thing.

  I hated this paperwork! Why were we still using paper for payroll? Maybe if the old dinosaur had figured out how use a computer instead of relying on me to translate his paper hardcopy work into "that digital crap," as he so eloquently put it, I'd be able to streamline and truly computerize the process and save a shitload of money for the department.

  And a shitload of time for me, I might add. Time enough that I might be able to go home and spend a little with my husband on a regular basis for a change. No. I wasn’t thinking of Derek. I was thinking of work. And hoping that we got some relief when the new guy, I suppose I should be thinking the new person but given the good ol’ boy network in this company I figured there wasn’t much chance of the new person being a woman, showed up.

  Not that I held out much hope. What was the old phrase in that old song Derek always listened to when he was working in his studio? Something about old bosses and new bosses and the gist of it was that management boiled down to "same shit, different boss." There was no doubt in my mind that old Johnson's replacement would be another dinosaur, slightly younger but still ancient, whose only qualification was having a good golf game with the company's CEO.

  I picked a pile and started typing. These weren't going to finish themselves.

  I was so engrossed in my work that I didn't notice the suit leaning against my cubicle door. One moment I was trying to translate Johnson's ancient chicken scratch into the payroll software, the next moment I nearly jumped out of my skin as someone cleared his throat.

  I looked up at my visitor. And nearly jumped out of my skin for a completely different reason.

  Oh. My. God.

  Never in my time at the company had I seen a man as perfect as the specimen before me. Dark hair just long enough to look a little shaggy in all the right places, an angular jaw with just the hint of a beard, a thick neck running down to wide strong shoulders. The suit looked more expensive than anything I could afford even with a couple months of pay. Definitely nicer than anything dad used to pull out every Sunday for church. And oh the wonderful way he filled out that suit. Obviously there was some muscle on the guy from his broad shoulders to the way the arms on his suit bulged as he leaned there grinning.

  And the way he held himself, one elbow against my cubicle door staring down at me with an eyebrow raised to complement that cocky grin. This was my cubicle. My personal domain at the company. And this guy was oozing the sense that he owned the place and everything in it.

  Now why did that send
a chill through me? I took a deep breath to suppress the butterflies rising in my stomach. Why were there butterflies rising in my stomach? What was happening to me? Why was I thinking back to that fantasy I’d just told my husband would never happen and thinking that maybe I’d been a bit premature?

  Who was this random hottie standing there sizing me up with those deep brown eyes and that that delicious smile on a mouth begging to be kissed? Begging to be kissed? Where did that thought come from? I was married damn it!

  "Who the hell are you?" I asked.

  I didn’t mean for it to come out quite that harshly, but some of my anger at what I was thinking came through. That damned cocky and oh-so-kissable grin widened.

  "Well you certainly have no problem expressing yourself," he said.

  This Adonis in an Armani suit, though oddly he didn't wear a tie, kneeled and scooted into my cube on his knees. Even bent down like that his eyes were practically on the same level as mine sitting in my chair.

  "I didn't see you at the retirement party," he said.

  I waved my arm in an expansive gesture that took in the mountains of paperwork piled on my desk. "Yeah? You can thank Mr. Johnson for that. I had a bit of work to do instead of pretending to care about his party."

  "Hm. Johnson did mention you were a little behind in your work," he said.

  The grin never left his face, though I desperately wanted to smack it off. Johnson had the nerve to say I was behind on my work? And who was this guy anyways sauntering in here like he owned the place and asking me about how I did my job?

  "That asshole," I said.

  "I felt the same way when I talked with him. It was hard coming up with a few nice things to say about the old codger when we did the whole transfer of power thing," he said.

  "Wait, what? What transfer of power thing?" I asked.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. We haven't been properly introduced," he held out a hand. "I'm Ryan. The new head of HR."

  Oh.

  Oh shit.

  6: Changes

  The look of complete and utter panic must have been obvious from the way he grinned and shook his head, sending his hair waving back and forth in a way that had me imagining running my hands through it as it tickled against my cheeks while he leaned down to kiss me with those perfect lips. No. I shook my head. Derek was the only one who needed to be leaning down and kissing me with any sort of lips. Plus I needed a clear head now more than ever.

  Ryan let out a wry chuckle. "Why don't you join me my office, Kristi?"

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!

  But I didn't have a choice, did I? Oh I suppose I could just quit right there and save him the trouble of firing me, but I wasn't going down without a fight after what Johnson said about me. Feeling numb all over, well except for a small part of my mind dedicating its attention to the hypnotic sway of his obviously muscular ass moving under that expensive suit, I followed him to his office and my certain doom.

  He gestured for me to take a seat but I barely noticed as I sat down in a brand new and very comfy leather chair that was nothing like the old plastic junk Johnson kept in here. I stared at the room that had been my prison so many times before.

  It amazed me what a difference a little decoration made. I figured I'd been in that damned corner office hundreds of times since starting here straight out of college a few years back. In all that time somehow the place always felt stuffy, ancient, and claustrophobic. Not surprising since those were the top emotions I felt whenever I saw old Johnson walking towards me.

  But apparently the decorators had already been at work. The windows were thrown open. Windows? I hadn't even realized there were windows in the room. Johnson must've kept the blinds closed for so long that a solid layer of dust formed over them making them look like another wall.

  Was that a new desk? The desk before was some salmon colored metal monstrosity with fake plastic wood on top that looked like it rolled off the manufacturing floor at about the same time Johnson rolled into management back in the '70s. This new desk was an impressive mahogany number that had a faint but pleasant wood finish smell to it.

  "Like my decorating?"

  I looked around the rest of the office. Aside from the desk there wasn't much else which was to be expected with a new manager taking over, but still. Getting facilities to do anything was like pulling teeth on a rabid raccoon. That they'd moved so quickly on swapping out this desk was impressive.

  The only thing that remained from Johnson’s time was a plaque thanking the company for donating the building for the Midnight Marathon opening ceremonies. It looked like the plaque was from the ‘80s back when they first started doing that which showed just how long Johnson had been around.

  "I suppose it's okay if you're into wood working or whatever," I said

  Ryan rapped his knuckles against the desk and it responded with a couple of very solid thunks. No imitation wood in this room, that was for sure.

  "I can't say I'm particularly into woodworking, but I understand this is the best. I insist on always having the best."

  I shifted in my seat. The intensity of his gaze and the way his eyes ran down my body instead of the desk as he talked about always having the best made me think we weren't talking about woodworking. Not entirely. I had to admit the thought that he was talking about me wasn't entirely unpleasant. Derek would have a field day with that when I told him about it.

  Still. I needed to be completely professional. I was the one who shot my mouth off in front of the new boss like an idiot.

  "Is there a reason you called me in here Mr. Arnold?

  Ryan waved a hand. "Please, none of that 'Mr.' stuff in here. You're what? 22? 23?"

  I blushed at the bank shot compliment, though I’m sure that’s exactly what he was going for. "I'm 27. Not that a girl's age is any of your business."

  "That settles it," Ryan sad. "We're practically the same age. You’re only a couple of years older than me! You calling me Mr. or sir would just be weird. Please, just call me Ryan."

  I couldn't help but smile, even if I was mentally calculating exactly how many days it would take managing this department to crush that burning optimism and leave a dead-inside middle management husk similar to old Johnson behind.

  "I'm glad we settled that," Ryan said. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Now, on to business, um, uh, is it Mrs. Thomas?"

  "If you're not going to be formal then I suppose there's no reason for me to be either. You can call me Kristi."

  Ryan's smile widened, though I didn't see what was so special about being on a first name basis with my boss. It would take some getting used to after all stiff formality that Johnson insisted upon. To his face, at least. Everyone always referred to him as "the old asshole" whenever he wasn't around. Sometimes even when he was around and his bad ear was turned to whoever was talking.

  "So how can I help you Mr.," I paused and grinned despite my best efforts to stay professional. The scandalized look that crossed his face was just too delicious. "Sorry. How can I help you Ryan?"

  To my surprise he came around the desk instead of sitting down in what looked like a very comfortable and expensive chair. Instead, he perched at the edge off his desk right front of me. I caught the faint hint of some cologne that brought to mind ripping off suits and button up shirts and made me feel a touch light headed. I couldn't be sure whether those thoughts were from some deeply buried mental association or whether those thoughts just came to mind because of how damned hot Ryan was sitting there on the edge of his desk. I was uncomfortably, achingly, aware of the way his chest strained against the blue shirt he wore under that suit jacket. I realized I was daydreaming about reaching out and giving one of those pecs a squeeze and gave myself a mental slap. I was a happily married woman. I needed to remember that.

  "Kristi, I think we can help each other out here," Ryan said. One hand rested on his desk while the other was on his knee making him look for all the world like the captain of some old timey sailing ship s
urveying his domain.

  I gave myself another mental shake. What was wrong with me? I really needed to stop getting caught up in ridiculous daydreams if I was going to work with this man. Granted, this day dreaming was way better than trying to avoid looking at Johnson's saggy man tits, but I had to get a hold on myself.

  "How do you figure?" I asked.

  "All that paperwork on your desk? That wasn't your work wasn't it?"

  I looked down. "No."

  "Look at me Kristi."

  To my surprise I felt a strong hand cup my chin and move my face up until my eyes were locked with his. I felt guilty at that touch, though I didn’t know why I should feel guilty about another man touching me. For a moment it felt like he was staring straight into my soul. And instead of slapping that hand, my God it felt like fire against my chin, I stared back transfixed.

  Then the moment was gone. I took his hand in mine, ignoring the tingle of pleasure that shot like electricity from his hand to my stomach and all destinations south. Reluctantly I pushed him away.

  "Please Ryan, let's try to keep things professional and remember that I’m a married woman.”

  He grinned. “So you’re saying if you weren’t a married woman I’d have a chance?”

  I blinked. That was definitely inappropriate. So inappropriate that it sent a thrill running through me which was even more inappropriate! I decided to just ignore it and concentrate on his question. “You're right. Most of that work piled on my desk is payroll that Johnson decided he wasn't doing any more since he was so close to retirement. And I was the lucky person caught picking up his slack."

  Ryan nodded, stroking that thin beard as he listened. I wondered if that would scratch at all in the middle of a kiss. No. Focus on the job and not on the fact that I needed to head down to the company gym and take a nice long cold shower.

  "So you've actually been doing the work?"

  "For the past year. Although to be perfectly honest most of Johnson's "work" could be avoided if he'd ever bothered to learn how to use a computer."