CONFESSION OF AN HOUSEWIFE -1

“Stave will be angry,” my husband would often say when his projects were not turning out well. “You really have to worry about Stave there. He is a tyrant. We are all there just to serve,” he would say. I often wondered what type of man he was who could cause such trepidation in another man. I learned from my hubby that Stave had slept with their client’s sexy wife. My hubby told me he often overheard some women praising his ‘bedroom abilities’ in the lunchroom. “He sounds frightening. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with such a person,” I replied. One night I went with my hubby to his company’s annual party. I saw this very attractive man.

I noticed he kept looking at me from the stage. I would catch him out of the corner of my eye watching me while I was talking or laughing with other guests. After the show, he came up and introduced himself. He was Stave. I have heard about this guy a lot but never met him. He told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and he just had to talk to me. I was impressed with him – he was highly intelligent and fun to be around. We talked as if we knew each other for a long time. As we stood there chatting, he kept praising me on how pretty I was, how good I smelled, how nice I was dressed, what a nice person I was, making me feel incredibly special and attractive. Later when my husband joined us, I found myself in a small group heading off for drinks with him. The three of us spent most of the night together. I felt bad when the time came to leave the party and go back home.

My hubby and I talked about his boss the whole way home. Later that night, I started thinking about him. I thought I had to know more about this man. I wished I had schemed a way to meet him again later. The following day I called him. My heart was pounding a mile a minute. I felt that hot flash you get when you are nervous. I told him I had enjoyed his company very much the previous night. He told me he felt the same way. He told me that he also found me very attractive on the night. He was afraid to even go to the bathroom because he was afraid he wouldn’t find me again. He then told me he was with other people and would call me later. 

I suspected my hubby was the ‘other people’. I was unable to contain my anticipation of his call. Thirty minutes later, to my amazement, he called me and we talked. Once again I felt tongue tied. We talked for more than an hour. It was so refreshing to have a man that actually made me feel so beautiful. I really got to know him and thought this guy is a completely different person to the man he is made to be. He forced me to promise that I will meet him in one of his apartment next Saturday afternoon. On that Saturday I went to meet him keeping my children’s in the care of my husband.

If I’d known he was going to have this effect on me, I probably wouldn’t have come. He was too handsome, too charming and obviously had too much power over me. The power to make me weak in the knees and cloud my senses. The power to make me not only willing to sleep with a man I barely knew, but be on the verge of begging for his touch. He had to know I was putty in his hands, had to know I was his for the taking. And yet he’d asked permission to make love to me, and was still waiting for my answer. As much as I’d agonized over my decision to come here with him, the decision to go through with sharing his bed was easy. 

I wanted him, and regardless of his reasons for wanting me, there was only one response I could give. My lashes fluttered, and I opened my eyes to see him watching me closely, his expression intense and strained. “Yes,” I said finally. I felt the tension seep from his body, saw the lines in his face vanish. Then, before I could form another thought, he scooped me into his arms, his long strides eating up the distance to the bedroom. Once inside, he laid me gently on the made bed, then stepped back to divest him self of clothing. Rising up on my elbows, I watched him kick off his shoes, undo his cuff links, shed his jacket, tie, shirt and slacks. He came back to me in all his naked glory, so magnificent he made my mouth go dry. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he opened a drawer in the nightstand and removed a box of condoms, setting them on one of the pillows in easy reach. And then he turned his attention back to me, undivided, focused. The need swirling in my belly began to build and spread outward.

He traced the line of pale flesh above the scalloped cup of my black bra, never taking his eyes from me. Leaning in, he used his teeth to nibble and bite at my bottom lip. I opened to him, wanting more, wanting everything. And he gave it to me, covering my mouth, molding their bodies together, kissing me until I was limp and gasping for air. When we parted, Stave grabbed me by the waist and dragged me more to the center of the bed. Then he sat back and lifted my leg until the sole of my satin pump rested flat against his bare chest. 

He reached past my bent knee, letting his callus palms run up and down my thigh. Slipping off my shoe, he pressed a kiss to the inside of my bare ankle. I gave a gasp of surprise and Stave chuckled. I almost wished he’d hurry up to slow down the agony he was creating now, the heaving and writhing lust monster coming to life in my belly and between my legs. It had fangs and claws and was tearing at my insides, making me shiver and moan. And I could tell by the simmering, possessive look in his eyes that he knew exactly what he was doing to me. He switched to my other leg, following the same process, causing perspiration to break out along my upper lip, inside my elbows, behind my knees. When he finished, he glided his hand inside my leg and found that indeed I was not wearing panties. “That’s where I have wanted to be all night,” Stave whispered. Next, he reached behind me and deftly undid my bra, pitching the strapless garment in the same direction as my other lingerie. I fought the urge to hide my nudity with my hands or reach for a corner of the bedspread, reminding my self that I’d chosen this. 

And Stave wasn’t exactly the first man to see me naked. He was definitely more handsome and masterful than my husband. I couldn’t remember another man ever making me want him with just one look, ever making my mouth water or my body vibrate so strongly with unleashed desire. I felt like throwing out my arms and screaming, “Take me. Use me.” Stave moved to cover my body with his own, taking my mouth in a slow, bone-melting kiss. His broad chest, with its sprinkling of dark, springy hair, flattened my breasts and rubbed against my nipples. His erection, hard and hot, nudged my stomach. Digging my nails into his slick shoulders and back, I tipped my hips, trying to get closer, urging him to slip inside,