This means war!

I've seriously taken advantage of an easygoing boss for the last few days. I decided to take another day off on Thursday. The odd thing was that I had actually made it to my work building before I decided to turn around and head home. I sent Gay Boss a text on my way back:

Won't be in today. See you tomorrow. x

I did the same thing yesterday. I stopped at Costa for a coffee across the road from work before deciding to send another text and go home:

Not coming in today. Will be in tomorrow. Sorry x

Unlike most bosses Gay Boss didn't call me to lecture me on "giving notice of absence". When I arrived this morning (late because I spent half an hour in Costa contemplating on going home again) he acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He didn't ask for any explanation, so I didn't offer him one.

As a result of my tardiness Solicitor has received a good deal of attention at home. Last night I dressed up for dinner and cooked him another three-course meal.

Or rather I dressed down for dinner...

I pranced around the kitchen in a red embroidered black suspender belt and stocking set complete with a matching red bra and thong. I clipped around in the 5 inch black stiletto heels that are too painful to wear out but perfect for walking inside the house.

Solicitor arrived home from work warn out and tired just as I was setting the table. He stopped in his tracks and slowly grinned as he took in my outfit. I smiled back and carried on laying out the cutlery, trying to act as normal as possible.

"How was your day?" I briskly straightened out the napkins and clipped into the kitchen to fetch the salad from the fridge. I could feel his eyes on me while he took off his jacket and tie.

"Not too bad. Had a meeting to negotiate a loan for a big client." He casually brushed past me to get a beer from the fridge, lightly putting his hand on my lower back to steer me out of the way. He leaned against the counter and started talking about the boring details of the meeting. I caught the amused look in his eyes.

The game had begun.

We both acted as normal as we could. We spoke about boring things such as work and the daily news. Every now and then we'd take it in turns to "make our move". As we sat down to dinner I casually leaned over for the saltshaker, my breasts inches away from his face. I smiled innocently and continued to talk about the debate on Mc-A-Levels. Five minutes later Solicitor got up to get another beer from the fridge. As he walked past he paused and traced a finger from my neck to my earlobe. He knows that I get turned on when he touches my neck!

This means war.

Throughout dinner the two of us struggled to stay focused on the conversation. I slowly unbuttoned his trousers and pulled his belt free as we discussed the pros and cons of a property market crash. He in turn unclipped my bra halfway through the main course. He smoothed the straps down my arms, brushing my breasts ever so slightly before pulling the bra away completely.

The game continued well after dinner. We washed up the dishes casually turning each other on while we covered all aspects of economic and political welfare. He finally cracked when I brought out ice cream for dessert and "accidentally" dropped a little on my thigh. He leaned over and licked it up.

All hell broke loose.

This morning we argued over who had cracked first. I'm convinced he had because he leaned over and kissed me first. He's convinced it was me because he had every intention of pulling away and talking about income tax but apparently I moaned and "cracked".

Moaning is not cracking, kissing is!

Maybe we should have discussed the rules first.