"What to do, what to do," murmured Mrs. Taylor to herself. It was seven in the evening. She was bored and feeling like she wanted to change that. "My hubby's away so the cat will play," she sang to herself. "But what does the cat want to do? Play with a cat...or catch a rat? Yes, that's it..." and she smiled.
The away hubby wasn't a problem. He was a private investigator of the sordid sort. He knew that most people calling on his services to catch a cheating spouse were very likely to be in flagrante delicto themselves from time to time. In his experience the one who wanted to get rid of a spouse usually had the most to lose. Often it was the husband but on several occasions he had made a small fortune by turning on his wealthy wife client and presenting her with several 'money shot' photos of her she really didn't want her husband to get hold of. He had no qualms about blackmail as long as the victim had serious qualms about the results of a divorce going the wrong way. While the bulk of his income came from garden variety photographic voyeurism, the extra cash from the double cross was welcome, as was the feeling of really screwing someone over.
Mrs. Taylor and her husband had a working marriage. She occasionally put herself out as bait to entrap a wayward husband, either at the behest of her husband on a job or simply for a little extra cash of her own choosing. She accepted both straight forward cash for sex and straightforward cash for silence. Mr. Taylor was intelligent enough to only work far from home, so she sometimes used these affairs of the heart to amuse herself while he was gone. Mrs. Taylor was also intelligent enough not to play in her own backyard.
She knew he was doing the same, often getting sexual favour as part of his blackmail on the occasional wife. It was no secret, as they enjoyed telling each other about their underhanded exploits. They were both very good at the exploits and the telling.
They had a good life together. While she never fooled herself into thinking she was in love with her man, she was fond of him; fond of his body, his sexual appetites and especially fond of his devious mind. She was not certain if her husband truly loved her and was unconcerned. They had the perfect life together in her opinion. They were together just enough of the time and apart just enough of the time. She knew he adored her just slim enough, tall body, her smaller but adolescently firm breasts, her attractive face and her equally devious mind.
"Play the cat, catch a rat..." She had already come up with a plan. Money was good at the time, so this evening was going to be just for fun. She was feeling particularly hungry in the sexual sense and thought, "Maybe I'll do more than just catch and play with a rat. Decisions, decisions..." She always had a travel case ready to go, containing various essentials for the games she played. All she needed to do was pack an overnight bag of suitable attire, find a hotel room in the nearby bigger city (she was always careful not to stay at the same hotel too many times in any given year), get in her car and go. On the way, as the car quietly purred down the highway, she put in her CD of Mozart's Don Giovanni, her favourite opera of seduction and betrayal. She didn't know Italian but she knew the story.
Arriving at the hotel and parking in the underground, she went up to her mid-range priced room and poured herself some cognac that she had brought along. Sipping the drink, feeling the warmth ooze out into her body, she thought about her location. She was about a mile away from a bar that she thought would do. A bar for the older crowd, the business people who worked in the area's several blocks of office buildings. Home to some of the business movers and shakers; in other words...rats. She stepped into the shower, shampooed her short black hair, soaped her body and rinsed off, all the while whistling an aria from the opera.
Getting picked up was so much easier if she looked like she wanted to get picked up. Her attitude she didn't have to worry about. Forest green matching silk panties and bra, sheer black stockings and one of her favourite black party dresses. It hugged her figure while showing only enough of her breasts to look enticing but not skanky. She was after a middle aged business man, not a college jock. Down her waist it followed her figure perfectly and gave her ass the look of two firm feminine globes before ending at mid thigh. A pair of expensive black high heeled open toed shoes and...what for jewellery...yes, pearls. Simple, elegant pearl earrings, a matching pearl necklace which was followed by an engagement ring made up her choice of jewellery.
With her hair dry, she put on a very expensive human hair, long black wig that was taken for real by all but the experts and she was unlikely to be done in by one tonight. Perfume, perfume...yes, with her skin chemistry she had never gone wrong with good old Chanel No.5. A touch with the applicator to her inner wrists and her cleavage, a careful combing out of her wig and she was set. Putting on a tailored jacket to make her look like a businesswoman out on the town and taking her "night out" black purse, she went down to the lobby and stepped into a cab.
Five minutes later she was stepping out of the cab and into the Bull Pen bar. Not a western themed placed, but a place for business people who are feeling good about their day. She walked in calmly and with a confident smile, took a seat at the bar that put her one empty seat away from a guy on both sides. 'Perfect,' she thought. 'Now they can go Mano a Mano if they want.'
In response to the bartenders request for her order, she asked for another glass of cognac. Glancing behind the bar at the wall of bottles she said, "Hennessy XO will be fine." The bartender held up one finger, then two. She was aware of two eyes at either side looking intently as she discretely flashed two fingers back. The bartender smiled and poured the golden liquor into a snifter, first one measure, then another. Giving Mrs. Taylor a quick wink, her poured a bit extra and handed her the glass. She took it and gave it a slight lift in his direction, then took a generous sip. Show time, she thought. She let the liquor stay in her mouth, closed her eyes, sensuously inhaled over it and then let it go down slowly while she let her chest and shoulders relax. Opening her eyes, she murmured, "Exquisite... I've been waiting for this all day."
She had been sitting at the bar for less than sixty seconds but she knew she was attracting stares. The man on her left, who had appeared at her first glance to be a decent looking guy, fit and well dressed, leaned over and said," As much as I'd like to stay and buy you another one, I do have to go."
With that he stood up, handed the bartender a twenty and said, "That cognac is on me." Giving Mrs. Taylor a warm smile he said," Enjoy," and he managed to say it like he meant it. Mrs. Taylor just lifted her glass to him in salute and smiled. The man gave the guy on her right a quick but neutral glance and walked away.
The bartender pretended to be busy while Mrs. Taylor turned part way around and gave the bar a once over. It was now about nine in the evening and the place was only about one quarter full. There were a few tables with a couple of guys giving her the "join us" look but Mrs. Taylor instead gave the guy on her right a casual smile. "Hi, I'm Linda, and you are...?" as she held out her hand.
He was about fifty by her guess. He was in a suit that had seen better days and his shirt looked like it had been in the wash too many times. He was working on a middle aged spread and generally gave the impression of middle management and experienced at it. He was also wearing a wedding ring. He was looking a bit nervous and pleasantly surprised at the same time. "Hi there yourself, I'm Ken...but my friends all call me Clutch." He paused, as if a bit embarrassed. "I...I used to pitch. I was pretty good as a finisher...so...Clutch."
Mrs. Taylor smiled warmly and said, "I think that's a great nickname." She patted the seat beside her and he slid over. As he did, Mrs. Taylor took off her jacket, giving a little extra to 'The Thrusting of the Breasts' and the bartended casually took it and hung it up behind the end of the bar.
"I'm here in town on business," she lied. "And did I have a rough day. My boss is adamant that I complete this deal and the client is being so...so...anal. Going over each word, trying to get this done for less than I've put into it, it's been so...frustrating." She gave him her "little helpless me" look and then took a very generous hit of the cognac. With slightly misted eyes and pretending not to be used to the stuff she said, "But I did it. It took all day but it's done, in the bag and I'm celebrating!"
Clutch smiled and said, "Congratulations! Good for you. Just what is it you do?"
"Oh, nothing special," she said with a casual nod of her head. "I represent a firm of business consultants...problem solvers...not me...I just go out and get an idea of what's happening and try to work out a contract for the firms services as...fixer uppers." She looked at him in the eyes and gave him a "so there" smile. She made a point of looking at her engagement ring, and then asked, "And you, what are you doing?"
"Oh...nothing special...I work just around the corner...at an insurance firm...I'm the contract insurance guy...making sure both sides have adequate coverage...if something goes wrong...I was working late today...had dinner with a client and thought I'd stop in here before I...went home." He gave her a wistful smile as if acknowledging he wasn't in her league.
