My Bully's Father

I especially loved the way she just automatically gravitated towards setting out the plates and the cutlery, flicking open my napkin before passing it to me with a smile. The way she let me butter her bread without turning it into a political debate about women’s rights. And the way she seemed to hang onto my every word.

I knew it was too good to be true, that she was after something. Why else would I meet this phenomenon that rang all my bells and whistles? But the more time I spent with her, the more I wanted, and it stopped mattering to me what game she might be playing.

I knew well enough to cover my own ass, and since she didn’t work directly under me, things were fine. I’ve never implemented a no fraternization rule because I think those are stupid. But on the other hand, my employees know they’re free to report any kind of harassment from either sex and be heard.

I, of course, gave her space while alone in my office for the hour or sometimes hour and a half I kept her for each day for lunch. I could feel myself falling for the fresh young thing, and whereas I used to question the dynamics of a relationship such as this, with the age difference, I now know that for myself, at least, it was about more than just sex.

Sex, you can get anywhere, but good company isn’t so easy to come by. When I realized I was looking forward to lunch more than my next million, I took notice and let myself relax and enjoy this new chapter in my life. I didn’t compare her to Susan, but I must admit that if asked, there was no comparison. Not even when she was this age, Susan wasn’t as mature and inviting. So, I guess I must be an enigma, the one man who got married for sex and was now looking for something more in life.

Her conversation got me thinking of things I hadn’t thought about in years, and then one day, it was the third or the fourth, I think, we were sitting on the couch in my office after lunch, just chatting as she sat across from me at the other end of the couch and a thought so outlandish struck me.

I wanted to spend more time with this woman. I wanted to get to know her beyond the fucking stage. In fact, it never entered my mind to treat her the way I have everyone else since the divorce. I didn’t see her as someone I could use and move on from, and the fact that I hadn’t yet given her the speech about this not going anywhere beyond the bedroom because I wasn’t interested told me that it was a bit more serious than the norm.

On that particular day, we’d known each other for a good week and a half by then, what with her coming to the house for dinner and now here at the office, I thought I should shoot my shot and see where it goes. There’d been little instances here and there where the attraction between us was obvious, but you never know these days.

So, I decided to turn things up a notch see where we landed. Just a passing touch here and there of my hand against her soft skin, nothing too obvious but definitely crossing some boundaries beyond friendship or boss and employee. And once I saw the answering acceptance in her eyes, I knew we were about to take it to the next step.

I won’t lie; I felt like a teenager about to fuck for the first time. I wasn’t worried about my moves, I’ve never had any complaints in that department, but I was more interested in following her lead than showing off my prowess. I wanted to know what she liked or disliked and what made her comfortable since I had the upper hand in all ways here.

Not only was I older, but I was technically her boss, so I didn’t pounce on her right away; I needed to feel her out first. I’d leaned in slowly enough to give her time to pull away. “Tell me if you don’t want this.” She’d been the one to lean forward, to bring our lips those last few inches closer until they were together. It was electric and mystifying all at once.

I'd kissed plenty of women both before and after my marriage ended. I knew what to expect when a woman rubbed herself against me and clung. But it was nothing like what happened when I slid my tongue between her lips. Or when I got closer and drew her slight frame into my arms completely, leaving no space between us.

Maybe the betrayal and the divorce had changed me after all because I used to like buxom women. Women with tits and ass that I could hold onto. Susan, my ex, was just such a woman. It was only after the accident that my ex had lost her curves and half her size. But this girl, this Jenna, was slender, petite.