It was supposed to be just one kiss. It wasn't supposed to turn into an affair that turned my life and hers upside down. I had commitments to others and so did Susan, although as it turned out our commitments to others were, for reasons not entirely either of our faults, shaky at best. But in addition, she worked for me and in big company corporate America having an affair with someone who works for you is a serious infraction.
We were traveling, calling on a major customer. We had made our pitch and succeeded in convincing the customer to double his annual order flow. It was snowing hard in Chicago when we finished. Before our cab could even get out of the Loop, we learned that our flight home was cancelled and we had been rebooked on a mid-day flight out the next morning. I made a quick call to the hotel we had stayed in the night before and got new reservations for each of us.
Given we were stuck in Chicago and that the new order flow we had just wrapped up was a high five event, we decided that a celebratory dinner was in order. The hotel we were in had a good restaurant. Before we even went to our rooms, we checked into the bar and had a couple of drinks. Then we went to our rooms to clean up for dinner. Dinner was good and we enjoyed an excellent bottle of French burgundy to celebrate our success. Over dinner we discussed everything from business and how we were going to serve our customers' new requirements, to sports (she was a Yankees fan, ugh!), spouses (hers, who I learned was on his way out due to the fact that he was having an affair with his male trainer), and significant others (mine, who was more a friend with benefits than a true significant other).
While we talked and ate, I couldn't help focusing on how beautiful I thought Susan was. She was about five-five or five-six with long dark hair and big round brown eyes. Her breasts, sheathed in a tight red sweater, were full. When she excused herself to go to the ladies room, I noticed that her backside was round and lovely, set off by her narrow waist, and her legs were elegant, beautifully enhanced by the heels she was wearing.
Now, it wasn't that I had never noticed how attractive Susan was before. She had been working for me for five years, and I confess that I had lusted after her on a regular basis, but I had seen the trouble that others got into with office affairs, and I just told myself that I wasn't going there—not with Susan or any of the other women in the office. Even when I started dating again following my divorce, I refrained from pursuing any of the women I worked with.
While I was sitting waiting for her return, I had a thought that seemed harmless, but ultimately led down a very slippery slope to a lot of complexity. "What if . . . what if?" I thought, "What if I stole a kiss tonight? Just one kiss. Nothing more."
"Hmmm. Bad idea," I thought. She might take it wrong and slap me or lecture me on my responsibilities to others and as her boss. No, definitely a bad idea."
"Oh, but it would be so sweet, and what could just one kiss hurt." I even thought about just how I would do it, holding her face with both of my hands and then a soft kiss—definitely more than a peck , but not a sloppy aggressive tongue in mouth assault by any means. It would be brief, but not too brief. By holding her face I would avoid the temptation to crush her against me with my arms. Just a nice tender kiss, and just
one
kiss.
As Susan walked across the floor of the restaurant, returning from the restroom, I was taken by how attractive she looked coming towards me. "Even better than going away," I chuckled to myself. "Stop it, you pervert. She's your co-worker, not someone you met on a dating service," I told myself. "Oh yeah, and forget this 'one kiss' nonsense. That's a really bad idea."
Susan was smiling broadly as she sat down. She leaned forward like a conspirator about to whisper a secret and said softly with a giggle, "Oh Chris, you wouldn't believe what I heard in the restroom."
"Really," I said raising my eyebrows and leaning forward to join her in her conspiratorial conversation.
She giggled some more. "There were these two women fixing their makeup. They looked like they were auditioning for Real Housewives of New Jersey."
I had an immediate image of the two women—Slightly overweight, buxom (probably fake), short glitzy dresses, lots of jewelry and make-up, and bleached blonde hair.
"Yes?"
"Well, they were talking about their husbands. They were grumbling about how they had both let themselves get fat and ugly and how crappy their sex lives were anymore."
"Really? Did they realize you were there?"
"Oh yeah. I was standing right next to them fixing my make-up, and they were completely ignoring me while they talked about how hard it was to have decent sex with a three-hundred-pound husband." Susan was smiling and chuckling as she talked to me.
"That sounds pretty graphic for girl talk," I said, smiling.
"Oh, they were really graphic." She looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to us and then leaned even farther forward. I did the same.
"One of them was complaining that her husband's, uh . . . thingy, was so short she had trouble pushing his belly away enough so she could get it in herself." Susan was blushing and laughing now. "And you won't believe what the other gal said."
I leaned forward even more awaiting the next quote.
Susan looked around again and then said, "She said, 'Oh I gave up on that with Arnie years ago. When he says he's in the mood, I just give him a quick blowjob and tuck him into bed. Then he sleeps like a baby and I go and play with a vibrator'."
"Was there more?" I asked my blushing co-worker who was now leaning back laughing.
