The best thing about reporting my experiences here is that I end up being able to combine two pleasures that I enjoy in life: writing and sleeping with other people's wives. Since I started posting my stories, I've received a lot of emails. Some from people who wish they had had the same experience, some from people who had a similar story,
It was a sweltering Tuesday afternoon in the middle of July, and my air conditioner had finally given up. The apartment was like an oven, sweat trickling down my back, my thin sundress clinging to every curve. I’m 26, single, living alone in a small building downtown, and I’d been feeling restless for weeks—lonely nights, too much wine, too many late-night fantasies. When the repair company said they’d send someone over that day, I didn’t think much of it… until he knocked on the door.
I never thought I’d cross that line with my boss, but it happened last month during a late-night work session that changed everything. I’m 26, his executive assistant for two years now, and Mr. Harlan is in his early 40s: tall, powerfully built, always impeccably dressed, with that commanding presence that makes everyone in the office pay attention. I’d caught him looking at me before, those lingering glances when I wore tighter skirts or bent over to pick something up, but I always played it professional.