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"Would you care to dance, Kathy?" Paul Connors asked, leering down at the woman as she sat on the couch.

"Umm, no, I don't think so," Kathy replied, looking with distaste at her husband's boss. She could not help noticing his cock bulge, prominent in the tight trousers he was wearing. She wished for the nth time that she had worn a different dress that evening; the dress she had on left her heavy breasts exposed almost down to her pink nipples, and all of her back exposed right down to her lush hips. She thought wearing the thing made her look like an expensive whore, but Cliff, her husband, had insisted she wear it.

He wanted to impress his boss any way he could.

"Nonsense," Paul said, reaching down to grab her hand, then pulling her to her feet.

"I said I didn't want to," Kathy said, hoping her husband would say something, but he just smiled and waved at her drunkenly: "Go ahead, honey. You're the only one left."

Kathy clenched her jaws shut, thinking to herself that her husband would kiss his boss's ass while he was taking a shit if his boss told him to.

...

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