Boss's Super Hot Wife

By the time workday ended I was in need of a drink, so I headed across the street to Geno's. The second I walked in my friend, Dave waved me over. As I slid into the booth, Ginger slipped a cocktail napkin in front of me. "Hi Johnny. The usual?"

"Uh-huh."

As she turned and strutted off Dave said, "God, I love redheads. Look at the way her ass moves under that skimpy skirt."

"Yeah Ginger is nice."

He shifted his gaze to me? "You tapped that prime piece of tail, didn't you?"

I cocked my head and smiled. "Yeah. Ginger's definitely worth dinner and a movie."

"Did you go back for seconds?"

I shrugged. "And thirds."

"What happened?"

I liked her, but she's like Saran Wrap."

Dave frowned. "Saran Wrap?"

I snickered. "Yeah, after awhile she gets clingy, like Saran Wrap."

He chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind. You still seeing Sharon?"

"Nah, I've moved on."

Dave took a sip of his drink. "I thought she was marrying material. Would you mind if I ask her out?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Of course not. Don't forget if you get married, who your best man should be."

A grin formed on his face. "You got it."

"One thing though."

"What's that?"

"She's not very experienced in the nuances of sex."

Dave nodded. "Yeah, so what?"

"Well since you want to go out with and maybe marry her…"

"Let's not rush things now, I just want to go out with her, but what's wrong with her."

"Nothing's wrong with her. She's a great gal and an eager learner when it comes to sex, but…"

Dave started moving his hands around like he does when he gets excited. "God dammit, what?"

I shrugged again. "Well, when she'd go down on me, she didn't pull her teeth back enough and they, you know, abraded my thing."

He laughed. "No, I don't know. I don't have big slong problems like you. I'd love to have the well hung, Johnny Depp look alike problems you have, but like always I settle for your leftovers."
* * * *

The next morning after the secretary brought my coffee, while perusing the morning reports, the intercom buzzed. "Yes, Glenda."

"Mrs. Ronson is on line one, sir."

"She wants me?" I pictured her wearing the tiny bikini she wore at the Spring Fling shindig last month at the Ronson mansion and my groin tensed.

"Yes sir. She specifically asked for Jonathan Fullmer."

Mirán had tried to start a conversation with me that day and on two other occasions, but my brain froze. "Thank you."

"You're welcome sir."

I couldn't think of a response that wasn't dorky and around Mirán I wanted to be nothing but cool. "Hello."

"Yes, Jonathan. This is Mirán Ronson. Did my husband speak with you?"

There was no way around it. Dorky or not, I was going to have to talk with the boss's beauty queen. "Yes, yesterday afternoon. Mrs. Ronson, may I ask what this all about?"

"Mirán. Please call me Mirán and I'll call you Johnny."

"Fine. What's this all about, Mirán."

"I'll explain everything to you when you get here."

"What if I refuse?"

She took her time answering, "That would be unfortunate," there was another pause, then, "I would not advise that."

I sighed. Nothing like having the boss's wife pissed at me. "I'll be there by noon."

There seemed to be a self-satisfied pause. "Thank you, you won't be sorry. I'll meet you in the lobby."