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That is if she forgave me for blowing up at her when she asked. Well I would have to straighten it out tonight. I'd better cancel the order for the new boat I had my eye on. I wasn't going to need it if I was listening to some asshole talk about things that were too private to share--for me, anyway. Hell, I didn't even share them with Connie.Connie had become Mrs. Steven Davenport seven years ago. I met her just as I had been promoted to office manager in a fairly large company. Connie arrived from the secretarial pool to take the first dictation I required in my new position. She was nice looking, not spectacularly so, but nice just the same. Before the day was over, she asked me if I would ask for her the next time I needed a secretary. I said I would.Four months later, Connie announced that she was quitting. This surprised me, for we got along really well and she had become my private secretary a month previous to her announcement. "Steve, I'm falling in love with you I think, and. Although his activities were all small time, they helped him get by for money while providing lots of opportunity for pussy. As he put the blonde wife's grocery bags in the trunk, she stood nearby. Ray was blatantly ogling the older bitch's curvy body. The skimpy clothes she wore made her body very exposed to his lewd appraisal. "Those clothes look good on you," he told her.Although she wasn't being as obvious as Ray, he caught her eyeing him as well. He had the imposing size of a muscular athlete. His hard body was the result of lots of work-outs during his time in the joint. "You look good, too," she said.Ray was wearing a short sleeve shirt and he knew the married bitch couldn't miss seeing the prison tats on his forearms and well developed biceps. The majority of those tattoos were hand inked and cut in. With his long hair and some beard stubble, he looked the "thug." Of course, that's what he was in reality and he had no problem admitting that simple truth. "You have any tats?".
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I felt a little embarrassed. I must have looked like man starving to death, salivating at the sight of food, but she smiled. “I’m Mary, by the way,” she told me, holding out her hand. I shook it and introduced myself. “So where are we going Bill?” she asked me. I thought for a moment, “I take it that you haven’t eaten?” She nodded. “I know some quiet, out of the way restaurants,” I said. “What do you like?” “I’m not fussy.” “Italian then?” I asked. She smiled and nodded. We chatted about our lives as we drove away and we continued the conversation when we sat down and ate. She was thirty-eight and had twin daughters who had just left home to go to University. She had been married since she was seventeen. Jim was her childhood sweetheart and he had his own building business; she, of course, was a hairdresser. I told her about myself, including my failed marriage and two sons from it. I told her that there was no one special in my life at the moment but that I had a few lady.

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