My friend Bob called me on Tuesday and asked me to meet with his accountant Betsy. Apparently she was considering an offer to run accounting for some out of town firm and he felt I might be able to help her evaluate the offer.

She arrived at the restaurant wearing a jade green casmire sweater and mid length skirt that suggested a very hot body underneath. Her age was hard to figure out, she carried herself with more poise than I expected for a woman who was probably in her late 30’s. She was wearing stockings and expensive shoes. I notice these things because I have a successful clientele of clients at my own accounting firm and I knew she would make a great first impression on any of them. She wore her outfit in a way that said she was a professional businesswoman who knew what she was doing. She had long reddish brown hair that framed the face of an angel.

“Are you Kevin?” she asked.
“Yes, and you must be Betsy.” I replied. “Bob told me you are moving out of town.”
“i’m still undecided on the opportunity, but they are anxious for me to start next week if I can”

We talked for almost two hours over drinks, appetizers, the entrees, and dessert. Betsy was warm and inviting. We laughed at dumb things had in common and as the evening progressed we started looking into each others eyes with longing.

Since I was giving her advice on how to negotiate a better stock option package she insisted on paying for dinner. Afterward she said, “my car is in the shop, would you mind dropping me off at home?”
I said, “No problem”
Her perfume was much more noticeable in my sports car, and I added, “your perfume is pretty intoxicating in such is small space. I didn’t notice it in the restaurant.”
“Oh, actually I just put in on when I went to the restroom. Do you like it?”
“Yes, very much”
“Its called “Promise of things to cum”.
“That sounds like an invitation for us to get to know one another better.”
“Would you like that?”
“Uh, well”, I stumbled. Cursing my lack of suave. “You do know I am married right?”
“Yes, I noticed your ring. I’m married also but don’t always wear mine. My husband and I have an open relationship and he travels a lot. In fact he is in Boston right now. I’m happy with my husband, but fun is fun and monogamy isn’t much fun. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, I do actually. But its rare to find someone so open and honest about it.”
“You should take a right at the next light. I am about 4 more blocks. Would you like to come in for an after dinner drink?”

My dick was signaling that the evening was starting to get very interesting. But my head was conflicted between my wife and the opportunity to have this wonderful fantasy evening with this very alluring woman.

“I’d love to come in”. I quietly replied as I realized who was ruling my decision making right now. “Have you lived here long?”

As we pulled up to the curb I noticed the “For Sale” sign on the front lawn. It had a “Sold” sign attached to the upper right. “So, it looks like you already sold you home eh?”

“Yep”, she responded. “My husband moved to Boston about 2 months ago and I have been working to find a job there and sell the house. But, all the good opportunities seem to be in smaller cities. We both have our own careers and I can’t afford to limit my search to Boston alone. I listed the house last week but never expected it so sell the first weekend. That was the sign I needed to move forward with this latest offer. However, I will really miss this old house”.

As we walked into the house I felt immediately comfortable. It was an old 1920’s bungalow with a view towards the sun setting over the hills behind the house. The wood was warm and polished. The rugs were worn but invited you to take off your shoes and walk around barefooted. We moved to the kitchen where she poured me a large glass of Merlot. Then she took off her shoes and led me back into the living room.

“Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
“If the rest of the house is as charming as this part I wish I can see why it sold so quickly”.

It was a small house with two bedrooms off the living room.