Trouble, Thy Name is Temptation

"TROUBLE, THY NAME IS TEMPTATION."

Chapter 1

I had known Yelena for years. We have worked together at the same firm for over a decade now.

My name is Steve; I am married with kids. So too, is Yelena.

Yelena is a breathtakingly beautiful woman. From Russian decent, she has a strikingly gorgeous face, with shoulder-length jet black hair. She spends the time and money to put in blond highlights, which frames her olive skin perfectly. Yelena is built shorter, around five-foot-two-inches. She rocks a perky, shapely chest line, small waist, glorious tight and tone legs, and backside that has the ability to crumble even the strongest of men. Her spectacular golden-brown eyes shimmer with light and warmth. Her gaze holds me hostage every time.

I've been attracted to her for years. My wife is gorgeous. My wife is awesome. My wife is my better half; and an amazing person. She is everything I want in a partner.

...It doesn't stop me from noticing other beautiful women...

Recently, Yelena was promoted to the head of our branch. I now work directly under her.

She is a kind, personable, charismatic woman. As a leader, she remains kind, but honest, while also being direct and driven. This can rub some people the wrong way. Which I tend to hear about. People have always felt safe to confide in me. A trait I don't always appreciate. I often feel burdened by other people's problems.

As I listen to other people's tales of interactions with Yelena, it has become apparent to me, Yelena treats me very differently from other subordinates. She holds me in very high regard. Even commenting that my intellect and wisdom are bordering on an extremely rare level.

I have found I have an easy time getting close to women. I've been told I'm highly empathetic and a very good listener. I tend to be highly introspective, which helps me in objectively assessing how I interact with others.

I've also worked hard to maintain my physique by lifting and eating clean. This can also elicit jealousy at times from male counterparts. Setting modesty aside, I am 6' 2", 225 pounds of mostly muscle. At my age, it gets harder and harder, but a 36" waistline with a strong core is nothing to shake a stick at. I've lifted weights for over three decades now (I'm in my forties, so too is Yelena).

It also doesn't hurt I prioritize hygiene. I keep a long, well-groomed, salt-and-peppered beard. Dark-rimmed, bold glasses over dark-and-stormy green eyes. At the risk of my humility, I am, and have been told to be, quite handsome.

Which also tends to spark some rumors on why Yelena does treat me differently and hold me in such high regard. It is noticed by the staff; that old water cooler gossip churning out wild speculation. However, this rumor isn't without merit.

Lately, I've noticed Yelena will find any reason to stop by and talk to me. When she does find a reason, she will have a tendency to extend conversations with me. And when we converse, she will immediately close the space between us, whispering, and come in close to confide something to me.

Today was just another innocent interaction that began to escalate.

We were in her office with the door closed just talking shop. The conversation began to move towards topics that a manager ought not share with a subordinate.

"This stays between us, right Steve?" Yelena says.

"You, me, and the walls." I replied.

Which is a joke, because the walls are so rail thin; they rival the water cooler with the lack of confidentiality.

After getting confirmation of my discretion, Yelena turns the conversation to things more personal. Plans for the weekend.

As she talks, Yelena begins to absent-mindedly play with her necklace. Rubbing it, stroking it. She fidgets, adjusting her shirt collar. Eventually, she is touching and stroking her beautiful neckline.

She holds consistent eye contact with me as she speaks. It is not the usual eye contact between coworkers having a conversation. It is intense. It eventually makes me look away. Her gaze has heat to it.

Yelena then throws a compliment my way. I touch her arm; tell her she is too sweet. She blushes. I then excuse myself from her presence.

The "they" people who say the "that's what they say" things would say to listen to my gut. My gut is telling me to get out of her office before I instinctively do something stupid.

Chapter 2

The next few days passed without incident. Yelena and I had nice conversations, but nothing with the sexual charge from the last encounter behind the closed door of her office.

Today, our office is having a team potluck to go along with the training I am providing to the staff. As we got our food and seats, Yelena comes over and sits by me.

She was wearing full length, but extremely fashionable pants. They hugged her plump, tight ass perfectly. Then flared out flowingly to her very fashionable shoes.

A big, broad black belt crosses her midsection, accentuating the stark contrast between her small waist and generous hips. Yelena's bottom-half of her hourglass is highly prominent.

Then of course, as per Yelena's M.O., a very fashionable tight blouse on top. The blouse has an oval slit cut into it at the top of Yelena's cleavage line. Every time Yelena bends over, or leans forward, an appetizing portion of her perky tits presents itself.

As we sat next to each other, I continued to recognize the space between us shrinking. When we would converse, we would lean in very close to one another. I strike a joke. Not a burner by any means, but Yelena laughs boisterously as if it were. She gently slaps my thigh with her hand. She lets her palm linger on my leg for a little longer than it probably should.

I notice awareness spread across my coworkers' faces. More water cooler speculation will be incoming, I guess.

Once the potluck finishes, I offer to help Yelena take her cooking stuff down to her car. She loves cooking and brings in way too much food. She has two crockpots she needs to get downstairs. I offer to take one for her, so she only needs to take the one trip down.

She drives a high-performance luxury car. The car is extremely low to the ground. She is directly in front of me, at the passenger door, and she leans in very low, and holds as she adjusts the first crockpot on the passenger side floor.

"My goodness how did she get an ass like that?" I think to myself.

She stands up, turns around, and I hand her the other crockpot. She grabs it, and in the process grabs my hands. She holds that contact for a second or two longer than necessary. I release my grip; she turns, and bends over ninety degrees at her waist to put the other crockpot in her car.

The fabric of her pants is stretched taught around her plump, tight, glorious bubble butt.

My dick flinches. Yelena knows what she is doing I think to myself.

We walk back up to the office together. Not much is said. But again, the air is thick with sexual tension.

I head home, I tell my wife that there is a lot of mutual attraction and admiration between Yelena and I. She is not angry, not jealous. It is never a "no," nor a "how could you," with my wife. We used to swing in our youth. At that point in our lives, I believe she enjoyed watching me with other women. So, instead of jealousy, there is a slight peak of interest but it dissipates quickly. I am always transparent with her, but I don't press the issue. Those days were in our past.

Chapter 3

The next few days in the office, consist of several awkward interactions between Yelena and I. There are numerous clumsy attempts at casual touch. Finding any excuse to reach out and touch a shoulder, a knee, grab a hand. We are like teenagers feeling out how to interact with the opposite sex.

It's been a long time for me heavily flirting with another woman besides my wife. Swinging was eons ago. My guess is Yelena is experiencing the same type of rustiness.

More rumors start to spread around the office. I start to catch ear of them more often now. During a work meeting, as Yelena and I debate over the proper course of action to take on a project, we engage in casual touch in the presence of coworkers. As we are debating our positions, I touch her hand and laugh, after I get her a bit riled up explaining my position. She understands, and responds back, sticking to her position. She touches my leg, as if to reassure me she still respects me, but she is going with her direction.

As we move onto the next topic, a new spreadsheet is projected up on the screen. During the discussion, Yelena takes an opportunity to raise up to move to the front of the conference room to point a cell out on the spreadsheet.

Rather than move behind my chair, she squeezes by me, directly in front of me sitting in my chair. Yelena's glorious, buxom ass is literally inches from my face. I can see the faint fabric, as usual, struggle mightily, stretching to the brink around her taut, beautiful backside.

The room goes quiet. All around the table jaws are dropped. Yelena's movement does not go unnoticed. There is a palpable shift in the mood within the room. Yelena retraces her same steps back, giving me yet another show in front of our office coworkers.

My dick flinches yet again. This woman knows she has an ass out-of-this-world and she knows how to yield it.

"Could this beautiful woman want me the same way I want her?" I think to myself.

As my crotch continues to swell, I look up at Yelena's beautiful face. She is staring directly at my expanding crotch. She looks up, our eyes connect, and immediately red spreads from her neck to her face.

The meeting eventually ends and everyone exists. I find I have to wait a minute to exit last because now my pants are tight. I end my day, leaving for home, feeling both excitement and guilt. I realize just how badly I want to fuck the absolute shit out of my boss.

Chapter 4

The following day, I come in the office and walk directly to my cube. My cube sits right outside Yelena's office. She had positioned me there when directing out seating assignments after the recent office reorganization. Now I am wondering if there were ulterior motives from Yelena assigning my seat in such close proximity.

As I walk in, I hear an excited "hello" echoing from Yelena's office. I saunter over, stopping at her doorway, leaning against the doorframe. We begin to chit-chat. Yelena mentions she is going on a two-week vacation with her family, starting next week. My heart drops. It shouldn't drop. But it does.

Two weeks without Yelena? It's definitely obvious now, I have a work crush. Maybe the time apart will cool things off so I, we, don't do anything stupid, I think to myself.

Two very long weeks pass by, but eventually Yelena returns to the office. The last two weeks feel like the longest two weeks of my twenty-five year career. As I walk in, I catch a glimpse of her in her office. Yelena is dressed to the nines. As usual.

I realize, the time apart did nothing but increase my pining for her. I walk in, I hear a light "hey Steve!"

I step in her office, smiling broadly, and tell her she looks fantastic. She stands up, showing off her fashion sense, and steps towards me. She gives me a full, long hug. "Been a bit, hasn't it?" she says.

I smile at her as I take in her scent. Perfume. She definitely took time this morning.

I ask her how her trip was. "Oh, let me show you!" she exclaims. She pulls out her phone and motions for me to sit across from her. Then she stops me, "oh wait, will you shut the door so we don't disturb anyone?"

It strikes me as a bit odd, but I'm more than happy to comply.

As I turn around from shutting the door, I notice Yelena has pulled a spare chair from the side opposite her desk, to right next to her chair. She pats the seat, gesturing at me to sit next to her.

As I sit, I smell her intoxicating perfume again, and I notice her exposed beautiful neckline as the top she is wearing stops at the side of her shoulders. Her entire neckline is begging to be kissed and appreciated.

On her phone, she continues to flip from pic-to-pic, narrating her recent trip. I move in closer as she talks. It's wrong. It's bad. For some reason, the taboo of it all is making me so much more turned on.

I risk contact. I lean in inconspicuously and hold a shoulder-to-shoulder touch. She does not lean away. Quite the opposite, I feel her subtlety but suddenly shift her body to lean into me.

Her voice breaks as she struggles a bit to continue to narrate. Her picture scrolling is disrupted. She tries to regain composure, attempting to continue to scroll. I keep my gaze on her phone. She begins to speak again, but her voice cuts off abruptly.

I look up at her. She is inches away from my face, with that fiery, intense gaze from her sparkling, golden-brown eyes. This time, I hold her gaze back.

She leans in. Her lips find purchase against mine.

"Ohhhh...noooo..." I say.

"Ohhhh noooo...what's wrong, was it bad? Is this bad? This is bad." - she stutters.

"No." I say with conviction, "It was way...too...good..." I reply as I grab her chin and kiss her back with passionate urgency.

My head is swimming. Her kiss lights me up. Her lips are soft, plump, and moist. Absolutely delicious.

I begin kissing her harder. My hands move up to lock around her shoulders. I pin her in place. I've waited so very long for this; she is not going anywhere.

She kisses me back fervently.

As the intensity increases, our mouths widen as our tongues become intertwined. She moves her hands up and fiercely grabs both my pecs. From her enthusiasm, I can tell she is not used to a muscular man. She is rapidly grabbing and squeezing my chest as our kisses now are at a frantic pace.

I break our kiss. Grabbing a handful of her hair, I pull her head back to expose her gorgeous, well-defined neckline.

I begin to kiss all along her neck applying persistent pressure behind my kisses when reaching her jawline. I cannot seem to slow down as I quickly lose my control over this beautiful woman.

Her hands move to both my biceps, which she grabs and squeezes with fiery zeal. Soft moans begin to escape her lips. Her hips are gyrating in her chair.

I move back to kissing her, as I aggressively grab for her perky, soft tits. For a mother of two, they really are still quite buoyant. Her breasts fill each of my hands completely as I begin to maul and molest her delicious orbs.

She responds by violently returning my kiss and clumsily reaches down towards my beltline. Seconds later, I feel my khaki-covered rock-hard cock encased by her soft, capable hand.

Just then a knock hits her door.

We freeze. Petrified looks are exchanged between us.

I point to the place behind her computer. I adjust myself, tucking my rock-hard throbbing cock behind my belt, underneath my shirt.

Yelena straightens herself out, making sure her hair is in place, and her blouse is correctly situated on her petite frame.

I look back at her and she gives a slight head nod letting me know she is composed enough for this. I move to the door and open it.

One of her newer subordinates stands at the door frame. This subordinate is quite needy, and very impatient. I can see the frustration cross Yelena's face.

I excuse myself politely from Yelena's office. Before I'm completely out the door, I hear Yelena's stern boss voice echo "Steve, please shut the door." She's pissed.

Since my cube is right outside the office, I get a front row seat in hearing the subordinate receive a grade-A ass-chewing for not respecting the signal of a closed door. It also serves as a poignant reminder of how thin the walls are in this office.

As I sit in my cubicle, coming down from this sexual frenzy, guilt creeps into my mind. My wife deserves much better than this. I though myself to be a good man. Guilt seeps through my blood further as I realize I don't want to be good. I want to be bad. Really, really...bad.

My raging hardon, which has not stopped throbbing, agrees. What happened to that good man? Yelena's passionate kisses, capable hands, juicy ass, and bouncy, perky tits happened.

I am weak.

I walk to the restroom, finding an empty stall. The bathroom is empty. It doesn't take me long. Long, thick, white ropes of cum explode and gush from the tip of my angry cock as I stroke out the pent-up frustration of a sexual escaped cut short.

As I guiltily walk back to my office, a few things strike me:

My release does not temper my sexual tension. This was wrong. This whole situation was wrong. We both had spouses, kids, families. But in addition to my smoking hot boss...that very scenario made it...So. Much. Hotter.

It's one thing to have a beautiful woman with a beautiful body want you. It's another to have her come at you when every fiber of her mental being is telling her not to. As I continue to ruminate, I start getting hard again quickly. At the very thought of being bad. Giving in to that primal, visceral, lizard brain. Just taking what is offered to me, without any conscience hang-ups.

It might be the taboo of it all. The sneaking around. The thrill of being the bad guy. Of being caught. Of it being wrong. Of society judging against it.

One thing is very clear to me.

There is nothing more in this moment I want than to throw my smoking hot boss over her desk and pound the ever-loving-shit out of her and her exquisitely perfect ass.

...I'm in trouble...

Chapter 5

Due to work obligations, Yelena and I's paths do not cross for the rest of the day. I try, in vain, to assuage my guilt, sleeping next to my beautiful, wonderful wife of seventeen years. It's to no avail. She deserves so much better.

I realize, in my insomnia, I'm not the good man I thought I was. Or at least, the good man I was trying to be. My cock had been rock hard all evening. It pulses and throbs at the thought of being bad. Being naughty. Bending my smoking hot boss over her desk and pounding her delicious ass ruthlessly.

"Who am I?" I ask myself in my ever-awakened state.

"I'm Steve. I'm tall. I'm strong. I'm handsome. And before today, I was a faithful husband and a dutiful father." I think to myself.

Mixed in with the guilt is a thrilling feeling of overwhelming selfishness.

"What if I take what I want?" I ask myself.

I can literally envision the little angel and the little devil on my opposite shoulders.

I want Yelena. Sexually. I want to just grab her, take her, and use her. I want to ravish her sexy body to fulfill my own personal pleasure.

Sleep continues to evade me, but eventually I succumb to it. When I awake; I wake in an absolute mess.

Cum everywhere. I apparently had the wettest of wet dreams I've ever had.

I'm in so much trouble...

Chapter 6

I head into the office the next day, a ball of mess. Guilt, shame, excitement, and nerves are like twine, all wrapped around some messed up ball of yarn that a psychotic, schizophrenic cat got a hold of.

What was going to happen?

I step in, head to my cubicle as always, and I hear a soft, gentle "Steve, could I speak with you for a minute?"

Apprehensively, I set my things down and approach Yelena's door.

She signals for me to shut the door. I oblige.

"About what happened yesterday," Yelena begins. "I think we should just move forward from here as coworkers and pretend it never happened."

My heart drops.

I manage to whisper out a, "that's probably for the best."

"It was wrong of me to kiss you, Steve." Yelena continues.

"Right. Right. Yes, it probably was." is all I can manage in reply.

I am crestfallen.

I exit her office. For the remainder of the day, I tell myself that this is for the best. I love my wife and my family. I don't want to jeopardize that for a brief moment of carnal weakness.

Maybe, I think to myself, I can return to being a good man. The man my wife deserves. Maybe it is not too late. Lines had been crossed, but the final threshold remained unbroken.