Stay Away From My Husband

After he left, I drove back to my work, barely noticing the time slipping away. I was so lost in the chaos of my thoughts that when I finally glanced at my wristwatch, panic set in.

 "Jeez!" I exclaimed, realizing how late it was.

 I scrambled to gather my things, clutching my bag like it contained the last lifeboat on the Titanic. Papers flew everywhere, and I nearly had a small avalanche of files crash to the floor. My desk looked like a tornado had touched down.

 Racing toward the elevator, I could almost hear my shoes skidding in dramatic fashion. Only to be greeted by a bright, cheerful sign that declared, "Under Repair." Perfect. Just perfect

 My only option now was the stairs. I sighed heavily, as if the very air around me was conspiring against me. Stairs. Of course.

 I huffed and puffed my way to the stairwell, mentally preparing myself for what felt like an endless ascent. Each step seemed to mock me as if saying, "Oh, you're late? Let's make it even more interesting!"

 "Ugh, why me?" I grumbled, dragging myself up the stairs like a person in a very unamusing workout video. My legs felt like lead, and I could practically hear my breath wheezing in protest.

 By the time I reached the ground floor, I felt like I'd run a marathon. If the stairs had been any more demanding, I might have had to call in a rescue team. I burst out of the building, eyes wide with the wild, frantic look of someone who's barely survived a minor disaster.

 "Next time," I panted, "I'm investing in a hoverboard. Or maybe just leaving earlier."

 As I was about to leave and head outside, I bumped into none other than Priscilla, the cheating ex-wife. Oh, just great.

 "Well, well, well, if it isn't the cheap secretary trying to seduce my husband," she spat, flinging her fake wig at my face with a dramatic flourish. I didn't say anything; I just stood there, fighting to keep my cool as I tried to untangle myself from her synthetic hair.

 "For your information, ma'am, I'm not trying to seduce your ex-husband—emphasis on the ex," I muttered, pushing my glasses back into place.

 "How dare you!" she seethed, her eyes blazing. "Oh, I see. Just because you're enjoying his cock, you think we are in the same class, you peasant!" She punctuated her point by smacking me with her fake Chanel bag, which was now more of a weapon than a fashion statement.

 "Look here, ma'am, I'm not going to start a fight with you. I have to be somewhere urgently," I said, while thinking that little did she know I was heading straight to dinner with her ex.

 "Kindly excuse me," I added, deliberately brushing my shoulder against hers as I moved past her.

 "Why, you—bitch! I would—" she started, but I didn't give her a chance to finish. I slammed the door shut behind me, feeling a mix of triumph and relief.

 If anyone asked, I was definitely winning in the drama department tonight.

 As soon as I walked into my apartment, the first thing I did was yank off my painful heels, feeling an immediate rush of relief as the tension in my legs finally eased. I tossed my keys onto the table with a clatter and, with a sigh of sheer bliss, removed my bra—freedom from the tyranny of bondage, as I liked to call it.

 Collapsing onto the couch, I leaned back with a groan, feeling every muscle in my body relax. The world was spinning in slow motion, and before I knew it, I had drifted off into a much-needed nap.

 I was jolted awake by the shrill ringing of my phone. I squinted at the screen to see Louis's name flashing. Groggily, I answered.

 "Hey, Claire. Just wanted to let you know I'll be at your place to pick you up in thirty minutes," he said.

 I blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. "Thirty minutes? Oh God, okay. I'll be ready!" I managed to say, scrambling off the couch and feeling a mild panic as I remembered the time.

 I slipped into a red spaghetti strap dress, paired it with a touch of makeup, and finished the look with sleek leather boots. I grabbed my leather jacket—it was chilly outside, and I wasn't about to freeze.

 This was the first time my boss would see me in anything other than office clothes, and I was determined to make an impression. I took one last glance in the mirror, and my reflection looked fierce. I was dressed to kill, hot like lava. The kind of heat that made you think, "I might need a fire extinguisher."

 I twirled a bit, satisfied with the way everything came together. Time to conquer the evening. 

 The doorbell rang, and I knew it was my boss. I took one final glance in the mirror, adjusting a stray strand of hair and smoothing out the dress. When I opened the door, he stood there, frozen, flowers in hand, his eyes widening at the sight of me.

 I won't lie—I felt a twinge of nervousness as he seemed momentarily lost for words.

 "How do I look, sir?" I managed to ask with a playful smile, twirling around to show off the full effect of the dress.

 "I think I'm hard," he said, his voice low and husky. The comment made a shiver run down my spine, and I could feel an instant flush of heat between my legs.

 "Huh? What did you say, sir?" I asked, trying to sound innocent, even though I had clearly heard him. I played dumb, pretending like his words hadn't had any effect on me.

 He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie with a nervous gesture. "I—uh, I mean, you look... absolutely stunning. Ready to go?"

 I nodded, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and anticipation. "Yes, let's go."

 As he drove, I turned toward him, curiosity bubbling up. "So, what restaurant are we heading to?"

 He flashed a confident grin. "One of the finest restaurants in the country."

 My eyebrows shot up, intrigued. "Really? How many girls have you taken there?"

 He glanced at me, clearly taken aback by the question. His eyes met mine in the dim light of the car, and I could see the flicker of surprise before he masked it with a thoughtful expression. "That's quite the question," he said, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "Let's just say it's a special place."

 I continued, "Is it your wife's favorite restaurant?"

 He hesitated for a moment, his expression shifting. I noticed the way his jaw tightened slightly and the way he adjusted his tie, as if the question had suddenly made him uncomfortable.

 "It used to be," he said slowly, his voice taking on a reflective tone. "We had a lot of good times there. But tonight, it's about enjoying the evening and not dwelling on the past.