Hot, Wet and Wanting to be Wild

The last six months have been horrible and obviously not just for me, but what a year to get promoted in! I’ve never had so much work to do, and most of it has had nothing to do with my career, education, qualifications, or experience. Being in charge of a few dozen people has meant loads of coronavirus-influenced planning, organisation scheduling/re-scheduling and re-aligning roles to suit each individual’s domestic arrangements as much as their professional competence.

And that has meant I’ve become Guidance Woman – come on Marvel there’s a new superheroine film you can make and I don’t even want paying for the idea!

I know that very few people are experts in pandemic planning, but I’ve had to decide where desks are situated, routing a one-way system round several offices, who can come into the building on which days to ensure social distancing, where sanitisers are placed, what can and can’t be touched/used, and of course who has to wear fucking masks and where they can and can’t go with/without one!

Am I competent to make those decisions?
Have I got any of them right?

Nobody’s been to check & nobody’s died – well nobody from our company and we’ve got 400+ employees spread over six locations in two countries anyway – so I’m assuming it’s been done correctly. But it’s not been fun. And nothing else has been either.

But I’m now off work for two weeks – not going anywhere except the gym to get rid of the three extra pounds I’ve put on; partly because it’s been closed, but mainly because I’ve been too busy to exercise properly or eat anything other than ready meals – so today is the first day of sweat soaked – or soapy suds soaked 🙂 – planning!

Who, what, where and how has yet to be decided, but hubby is not enough – he’s been fucked so many times in so many ways that as much as I love him: been there done that!

Cheers!

One Month After The Day Before

Hubby told me that he’d always known Mr RM was gay, and was (is) surprised that I’d been surprised! Hubby says that any (every) man who is so obsessed with their appearance to Grant’s extent must be gay, and that people like me who think it vanity are “idiots” – he’s going to pay for that insult when I think of an appropriate punishment 🙂

Apparently, heterosexual men go to gyms to get fitter, bigger or stronger, not to get more definition to their muscles. Men who want to do that are either professional body builders (and they may still fall into the next category) or are so obsessed with the male form that they must be gay. They know what “attractive” men look like because they find men attractive, and therefore want other men to fancy them.

Hubby then expanded his “theory” to include too-perfect teeth and a haircut which costs a day’s wages. And then he added spending too much money on clothes, “acting all sensitive” and getting overly friendly with him !!!

Quite what he said to Grant I don’t know, but he was furious when I showed him the security camera footage (more the taking of such a liberty than any homophobia), and came back happy that he’d negotiated some sort of cost reduction for our garden which was now “top priority”.

And that just left me wondering if RM knew her husband was (is) gay, and whether their “perfect marriage” is a sham for public consumption, and if so, to what end?

Not-Perfect Pictures

Other than letting Grant  (that’s RM’s too-good-to-be-true husband’s name) know that our alarm system only protects the house, I can’t think of any reason why hubby would have mentioned the cameras. He could possibly have said that they’re motion-activated, and record whatever moves in front of them, and maybe Mr RM either forgot or didn’t care.

Anyway, as hubby & I were both at home for most of the last three months – I went to work on Thursdays, he had occasional days elsewhere – we didn’t have the alarm or cameras turned on, so whenever there was activity in the garden (probably 2 or maybe 3 days at most in any given week which means a “two month” job still isn’t finished), nothing got filmed.

But last week, I went back to work full time, my husband left for 15 days to follow his “normal” work pattern in an “abnormal” environment, and we turned the full security system back on.

The outside cameras are freeze-frame stop-motion or they’d be constantly filming cats, birds and fucking party balloons (we get about 1 a month stuck in one of our trees but I’ve no idea where they come from!), but the one in the summer house records for 30 seconds every time something happens in front of it.

Which for the last two days has included Mr RM proving that he doesn’t know there’s a camera inside! Hubby gave Grant a key so that his crew has electricity, water, a toilet and somewhere dry to store materials, not so that he would have somewhere to fuck his boyfriend!!!!!

I’m not bothered about anybody’s sexuality – my best friend is gay, and I’ve “experimented” – but WTF!!!!
What a liberty! My summer house, my furniture, my landscaping taking longer than it should!!!!

Four months ago, I wasn’t even sure that I wanted to fuck Mr RM – ok I wanted to, but wasn’t really sure I’d actually do it – but 100+ days of excitement-free social deprivation had convinced me to do something – anything! – as a reaction to the monotony, but those fantasies will now remain just that: fantasies.

I don’t know if he’s fully gay or bisexual, but I do know that I don’t want to do anything with (or to) him anymore. His “perfection” was a large part of the appeal, and now I know he’s not only unfaithful to RM, he’s not even classy enough to get a room!

Lights, Cameras, Action?

Hubby told me earlier that he instead of letting RM’s husband have a house key – not that he didn’t trust him, but that who knows what sort of crew he’s bringing and what they’re like? – while he carries out our landscaping (I don’t recall Mr RM ever suggesting that he might want access to the house/kitchen/etc, but hubby says he probably will do), he’s going to give him the shed key as that’s got water/power & toilet facilities.

It takes away the possibility that someone might “accidently” meet me semi-naked in the kitchen, or be able to leave their workforce (apparently that’s what “a crew” is) and come into the house for something other than the pretext on which they might have been invited, but on balance it’s fine by me. We’ve got a security camera on the side of our house which points at the building’s door/window, and one on the inside which works on a motion sensor, so that means I can watch what goes on remotely for a few weeks, and maybe use whatever I see to help with formulating some sort of plan if I do eventually decide to fuck RM’s husband.

Two Questions, One Answer, One Resolution

I met Cassie yesterday at an exclusive diner/restaurant about halfway between our respective houses to have lunch and a catch-up.
And there were no beds, no privacy, and no possibilities for either us to suggest anything more than food and shared wine even if one of us (or both us?) wanted our meeting to be anything other than a conversation between friends.

All well and good for an hour.
And then I asked her about us, and if she had any ideas why we’d become more than just friends, why we’d felt like we did about each other and did she think about what we’d done, or just remember it.

She told me that she’d admired and envied me for ages.
Not so much for my work – but she’d always been very appreciative of that – but my looks, my poise, my confidence, how I carried my self, how I dressed: everything.
She said she’d watched me change over the last three or four years, and wanted so much to be like me. She wanted to be confident, sexy, desirable, and feel worshipped instead of ignored by men (“just one man would have done”!) .
She said she’d have been happy just to be my friend (although we were always friendly), but when she became more than that – “a confidant, a conspirator and eventually eternally grateful for being given the chance to fulfil fantasies that have changed her forever” – the way she felt about me changed as well.

“Not love, but some sort of desire to be like me, or to be me, or to be with me” and when she kissed me out of gratitude, adoration, whatever, I didn’t push her away, and she found it so pleasurable that she didn’t want to stop. And as I confessed yesterday, neither did I, and nor do I now.
She laughed like a drain.
“Ok” she said, “neither of us are lesbians, and neither of us have been with any other women or want to, and now we both know why I’ve been attracted to you, but what is it about me that’s had you … um … experimenting?”

I reached across the table, grabbed both her hands and confessed that “I’ve been trying to work it out for months, but haven’t got a clue.”

We finished lunch giggling like guilty teenagers, split the bill and kissed in the car park before going our separate ways with me telling myself that the next time we meet up it needs to be somewhere with a bed/privacy/possibilities just in case Cassie was having the same sort of thoughts that I was all the way home.

Sext and Lies

I asked RM over lunch what had happened after Friday’s text and whether she’d reported it to HR, told her husband, blocked the number, etc and got told “no”, she’d “done nothing”, but hadn’t received any more.

I left it at that, but Jen told me she rang and left a voice mail politely asking whose number it was. No “stop messaging”, no nastiness, no threats to call the police/HR, nothing. Just a very pleasant sounding request to know who her anonymous admirer was (or is?).

Jen’s decided to turn the phone off (it’s an old one she doesn’t use anyway) because she doesn’t want to risk upsetting Els (it’d be very difficult to explain, especially as RM apparently has the potential to “play for their team” 🙂 ), and didn’t know how to reply, so that’s the end of it.

What’s puzzling me now though, is why did RM leave the message, and why did she tell me she hadn’t done anything?

Well that, and wondering about what it’s like to fuck about with a man who’s got a ring through the end of his dick like Cassie’s Toy-Boy!

Secret Valentines

So many things happened on Friday that it’s taken me two days to take it all in.

1. RM got the anonymous text Jen had sent, brought it to me to but didn’t say anything other than vaguely wondering if I suspected a colleague, replied with Depends why you’re asking while stood by my desk, waited to see if she (we?) got a reply, and smirked when showing me the Sorry if it you creeped out which came straight back.
2. Hubby booked us into a lovely restaurant, and at the end of a very romantic candle-lit meal, announced that he’d also booked us a room in the hotel next door so we didn’t need to go home, and that meant we drank three bottles of wine between us! And then, when we got in the lift mumbled something which was somehow so romantic/erotic/flattering about me “looking so good that he wanted to just lift up my skirt and do me right there” that I decided he (we? I?) needed “rabid-catholic-rabbit- fucking”. So as soon as we got into our room, I threw myself back on the bed, stuck both legs in the air and told him to “do it!”. His frantic fumbling with his trousers, zipper, belt, boxers was more amusing than sexy, but as soon as he was on top of me I wrapped my legs round his back and ruined the shirt he was wearing. Neither of us lasted long, and the boots have made an absolute mess of his back – it’s covered in marks, scratches, cuts, scrapes and bruises, but it was the best sex we’ve had for ages. Happy Valentines indeed!
3. Cassie sent me a picture of her Valentine from Mark. All I got was a card, but he’s had a piercing. She didn’t ask him to do it, and would have said no if he’d told her what he was planning, but she apparently had “the time of her life” after putting a ribbon through the hoop and leading him around the house like a puppy on a leash, followed by “unbelievable” sex on Friday night;
4. Els and Jen traded soppy cards most teenagers would cringe at, and jewellery neither of them will ever wear;
5. And all I gave hubby was a cheap card. Well, that and some marks on his back which may turn into scars he’ll have for the rest of his life 🙂

Not My Idea!

It’s Valentine’s tomorrow, and I’ve decided to spice life up a little, and not just by going out to dinner in some thigh high boots I bought six months ago.
It’s unprofessional, juvenile, wrong on so many levels, and I’m already regretting it.
Hopefully, nothing will happen, but it sounded exciting at the time, and well, that was sort of the point…
I was discussing Replacement-Me with Jen who “suggested” getting a little “naughty” to see what would happen.
“In what way? How? Have you got something in mind?” I’d asked innocently. Yes, me. Innocent! HA!
Anyway, Jen handed me a phone and said: “Why not send an anonymous Valentine? You know her number, but she doesn’t have this one. Not to hook up or anything, she’ll probably just delete anything like that. More like an expression of attraction, asking how she is, and use her name so she doesn’t think its random spam, and see what you get back.”
I asked her what if nothing came back and she said “No harm. no foul, but if we do get a reply – or she brings it you as her boss thinking it’s inappropriate workplace harassment – we can take it from there.”
“We?”
Jen laughed herself silly: “I’ve not yet given up on you, but that skinny blonde of yours definitely wants to play for our team, she just doesn’t know it yet!”
Oh.
So Jen’s not yet given up getting me “to play for her team”, and obviously has no clue that I’ve recently “had a couple of trials” 🙂 , and has also convinced herself that RM is in some sort of denial about being a lesbian, despite her having three kids and a husband.
Anyway, at about 10am tomorrow when RM is in my office for a client meeting, Jen’s going to send her a text saying something like: Happy Valentines Day. I got your number from a friend who said you wouldn’t mind me telling you how much you brighten my day. Hope that’s true.

And I’m going to spice up my own domestic situation by going out in these boots I bought six months ago, but haven’t done anything in yet.
And by anything, I mean hubby.
Ok, so they’ve got zippers and can be removed in about 30 seconds, but tomorrow’s Valentines and if he takes me somewhere special (that I earn at least three times what he does isn’t the point), I’m probably going to fuck him while I’ve still got them on and leave some deep scratches down his back!

Conscience Wrangled

Well that didn’t take long.
Two whole days of not really thinking about it, and my conscience has been salved/tamed/wrangled/killed/cast out.
Replacement-Me has friended me on Facebook.
I rarely use it, and when I do it’s to find/contact someone, not to post anything.
But RM posts all sorts.
And in among the nights out with friends and what her kids have done rubbish there are loads of pictures of her shirtless husband: I now know that he’s not just got deep blue eyes and a smile that hits me below the waist , he’s got rock hard abs and pecs like an Olympic swimmer. He looks even better than Adonis-Intern-Fuck-Toy did. Mr RM is ever-so-fuckable fully clothed, but without a shirt? I keep getting turned on just looking at RM’s posts, never mind downloading and e-mailing the best ones to Cas.

I wanted to fuck him the very first day we ever met, but I’m married, he’s married, his wife works for me, he doesn’t know how I lust after him, etc, etc, etc, yawn yawn yawn.
There is no way he can work at my house for two months or so without me fucking him.
Decision made.
I just don’t care how happily married he thinks he is (or how much I think I am), when I set my mind to fucking someone, it happens!

Home Improvement

So on Friday I managed to have a conversation about needing a landscaper within earshot of Replacement-Me, and as expected she “overheard” and passed me her husband’s details – “is that what he does? why have you never said?”  etc etc LOL!
And after a brief introductory phone call, he came to our house this afternoon and discussed with hubby and me what we want doing.
Yes it’s a big job, it’ll need a “crew” (no idea what that means, but hubby did), and it will take about two months starting around the middle of March.
So about three months in total – plenty of time: just over a month to convince myself that I really want to do it (him), and two months to make it happen.
And Cassie has offered to come round and supervise if I need any help, although she didn’t elaborate as to what with, and I didn’t ask!
🙂