My next interaction with Sonya came the next day, at around ten. My secretary spoke through the intercom. "I have a Ms. Sonya Torres on the line for you, Mr. Valentine. She says she's a new client of yours?"
"Yes, that's correct, put her through," I said, picking up my own phone and putting it to my ear. "Hello, Ms. Torres."
"Hey," she said, with a perfunctory amount of politeness. "Look, I was thinking we should talk about the case a little more."
"Of course. What would you like to talk about? Has something come up?" Marco was still in the hospital, though he was no longer comatose and looked on the road to recovery.
"Just general stuff, pick your brain, ask some questions. You free for lunch?"
"I can arrange the time for you," I said. I often would go home to dine with my wife - the commute was less than ten minutes one way, and she loved cooking. Still, she'd be more than happy to eat alone or with Nara (our nanny at the time) today. "Is there anything in particular regarding the case you'd like to discuss? I can do a quick review and bring some documents over." I was reasonably certain, at this point, that she wasn't just interested in a business transaction.
She gave a little laugh from the other side of the line. "Mostly I wanted to get to know you better," she decided on. "You gonna come, or should I call your wife and tell her you bitched out of meeting with a client?"
"That won't be necessary," I said, smiling pleasantly on my end of the line. "My lunch break is from 11:30 to 1:30, so I can easily make the time."
"Great. There's this bar my people hang around, Casona, we can meet there?"
"Sure thing. The address?" She gave it to me, and I made a quick note of its address, before hanging up and calling Elizabeth. "Ellie?" I asked, making sure it was her on the other end of the line. There had been an embarrassing incident with me talking to a previous nanny before confirming.
"Yes, darling," she said, her voice almost sing-song in its upbeatness. There was a little noise from the other end of the line, and she spoke in a soft tone. "Ow, calm down, Charlie, you're getting Mommy's breast milk, there's no reason to be so rough. Ow," she added, a wince audible in her voice. "Sorry, darling. What do you need?"
"I'm going to be having lunch with Torres instead of you today, I'm afraid."
"Ah, that's too bad. I'll just-" she hissed. "Nara!" She yelled out. "Yes, come take Charlie, he's being rough and I'm trying to talk to my husband. Sorry, darling," she said, audibly wincing a little. "Just give me a second for Nara to get here and I can give my full attentio- agh," she hissed out. A couple deep breaths later, and she spoke again, though not to me. "Thank you, Nara." She spoke to me. "Sorry. Charlie's in that rough stage, you know."
"All too well," I agreed. Logan had also been particularly bad about grabbing and squeezing and biting and all the rest, though Stephanie was relatively well behaved. "As I was saying, I'll be having lunch with Torres. She invited me to a bar, Casona? Ring any bells?"
"It does," Elizabeth said. "Just a second, darling," she said, and I could hear her moving around the house. "Her gang owns part of it, but it's not really a front as far as I can tell, just a legitimate business they have an interest in. She avoids doing deals there. It's clean."
"Thank you," I replied. "Love you."
"Love you too, darling," she said, the smile audible in her voice. "I should go help Nara out," she added, in response to some noise in the background.
"You should," I agreed. "See you tonight."
"See you tonight," she replied, before hanging up.
I absently toyed with my pen, considering exactly how to handle things on the little 'date' that Sonya had scheduled with me. I had little doubt that she'd be trying to seduce me on it.
I decided to play my role: husband and lawyer first, potential lover second. It was a natural fit to the situation, and forcing her to be aggressive to catch my attention would give me the chance to get a better reading on her. The fact that it'd be fun was hardly a point in its detriment.
When lunch rolled around, I got in my car and drove to Casona, letting my phone give me directions. The bar itself was nothing particularly special; a few booths, a bar with swivel stools, and some Latin kids in their late teens and twenties milling about. Alcoholic beverages apparently weren't served until late, so the kids could hang around.
Sonya herself wasn't present just yet, so I settled into a booth that could watch the door and absently sexted a bit with my wife, talking about what I would do with and to her tonight. Her responses were sometimes a bit slow to come, but she did have our children to watch.
A waitress came by. "Can I help you, sir? You look a little outta place," she said.
"I'm waiting for Ms. Torres," I told her. As I guessed it would, it made her immediately leave me alone.
Sonya herself arrived after some thirty minutes of waiting. It was my first time seeing her in person, out of jail clothes, and it certainly did change the impression I had of her a bit. She was wearing a leather jacket loosely around her body, and her tits were absolutely astounding - the poorly sized clothes she'd been made to wear during her brief stay in jail really did not show off her assets. Beneath the jacket was a faded t-shirt that seemed to strain to keep her breasts contained, and she wore a pair of jeans cut off mid-thigh.
She hopped into the seat across from me, having applied a very interesting dark shade of lipstick that she smiled as I noticed. "Like pretty lips, hm?" She asked, with a faint tease in her voice.
I coughed, turning my gaze up to her eyes. "Sorry. It's just a very interesting color to pick."
"Black? Well, I am a bad girl."
"Bad enough to get in trouble with the law for beating your... boytoy," she didn't object to the label, so I continued, "almost to death."
"Hey, if I wanted him dead, he'd be dead," she replied. "Ay, Lola!" She called out, the waitress from earlier hurriedly coming back. "Get me and my date here a couple shots of tequila, and some of them nachos."
"Yes, ma'am," she said, with a quick bow.
"Thought they didn't serve drinks this early," I said, almost absently. She gave me a quick look. "Just a comment," I said. "I get it. Now, what questions did you have in particular?"
"My first question is, how long did you stare at my tits when I came into the bar?"
It was a very forward question to start with, but it did give me the chance to apply the command I'd been planning to, so I could hardly complain. "I tried to avoid staring. I can't imagine that you exactly love it when I pay attention to your tits."
"Did I ask if you tried to avoid staring?" She replied, a faint hint of annoyance in her tone. "I asked how long."
"A second or two," I confessed. "That's hardly relevant to the case, is it?"
"My tits bigger than your bitch wife's?"
"Please don't call my wife a bitch," I replied, in an even tone.
"So that's a yes, then," she replied, a certain smugness in her voice. She glanced over at the bar. "Ay, Lola! The fuck's our food?"
"Sorry, ma'am!" Lola practically yelled. "They had to get a fresh bag of avocados," she explained.
"Then bring the damn drinks!" Soon enough, Lola arrived with a tray of six shot glasses, placing them on the table before skittering off. "Some people, eh?"
"I suppose," I said, noncommittally. "The case?"
"Why you want to talk about the case so bad? You're here, you've got a sexy chica across the table from you, she wants to talk about other stuff."
"I am married," I reminded her. She rolled her eyes at that comment.
"Like married white guys never gone looking for some strange outside of the home? A little taste of the exotic?" She pronounced it like 'exotique.'
"I'm sure some have," I said, keeping a neutral tone. "Please. Anything about the case?"
She took a shot. "I could have some guys shut Marco up."
"You could do a great number of things, but having people shut Marco up will put you on the police's radar, which to the best of my knowledge, is not a place you are right now."
"Bah," she replied, with a dismissive gesture. "Fine." She paused. "She give it to you that good, huh?" She leaned forward towards me, which did very interesting and exciting things to her breasts, and she smiled as she caught me looking. "Not quite good enough, eh?"
"If you move in a way intended to draw attention to your breasts, it's going to obviously attract my attention."
"Yeah, because you like them," she said. "C'mon. We're both adults here. You got a bitch wife browbeating you into taking my case pro bono. Maybe get a little revenge on her by fucking the client? Teach her a lesson for treating you like that?"
I ignored her calling my wife a bitch. "I really shouldn't," I responded, giving a glance towards Lola as she approached with a tray of nachos, placing them down on the table.
"Finally," Sonya said with a sigh as the nachos arrived, grabbing one and chomping down. "It's on me, try them," she said, in between chews.
I took one, and found them fairly good for restaurant fair. Not on the level of my wife, but she'd spent years practicing and working on her cooking skills. "It's good."
"You know, I basically own this place," she bragged.
"You didn't mention it when we were discussing bail," I said.
"I said basically," she replied, with an annoyed look. "Anyway." She cleared her throat, making her tits move a little in the process, and I let my eyes wander down, earning a smug smirk. "I want to know my lawyer isn't just doing this case for his bitch wife, you know? Court cases last a long time, I don't want you to leave in the middle on account of a divorce."
"I see my cases through to the end, barring the client doing something incredibly stupid."
She smiled, and I guessed it was because I hadn't objected to her use of the term bitch wife twice now. It did still rankle a bit. "Yeah, yeah." She took a shot of tequila.
She continued to mix together her vaguely flirtatious insults to my wife with suggestions that I could probably do better and the occasional movement meant to draw attention to her tits. She also managed to throw in some questions that were vaguely relevant to the case. I didn't drink any of the tequila, and she wound up downing all six shots.
"Ah, damn," she said, with a little pout, as she glanced at the row of six glasses in front of her, the plate of nachos having been eaten clean. "You know, I don't think I'm safe to drive. Could you take me home? I don't think it'd be good for the case if I got arrested drunk driving." It was so blatant as to be practically comical, and she smiled herself as she met my gaze with hers. She gave her painted dark lips a quick lick, as if to remind me of her sexual interest.
I sighed, standing up, and she followed me out to the car. She got in on the passenger side, smirking a little as she settled in. "Self-warming seats, very nice," she said. "Ah," she noted, leaning the chair back. It put her tits on display, smushing them a bit into her chest as gravity did its work. She pulled off her jacket, putting it in her lap, leaving her wearing nothing but that faded t-shirt. With the different lighting, I could now see the outline of her bra beneath it, a dark color to contrast the faded grey of the shirt itself. "Vamanos," she said.
"Right," I said, turning my attention back to the car, putting in the key and starting the ignition. I could see her smirk as she kept her eyes closed.
When we arrived at her place - an apartment complex, nearby but relatively upscale - she got out of the car, tossing her jacket over her shoulder. "Mind helping a lonely drunk girl up to her room?" She asked, with a flutter of her eyelashes.
I went along with it, walking behind her. At one point, she feigned stumbling, and I grabbed her on instinct. "Ah, thanks, Papi," she said. "I'm so lucky you're here." She was really playing it up, but then again, I couldn't deny that it was working.
"Papi? I'm not that much older than you."
"That's not what that means," she replied, smiling, as she got to the door to her apartment. "Come in. See where your client lives," she said, opening the door and stepping inside. I followed after her, and she shut the door behind her.
Her apartment was not spartan or austere, but it wasn't overloaded. Royal, almost, would be the word; a few, expensive objects, decorations, and similar. A large flat screen TV. A queen sized bed with a deep red blanket with spiraling golden patterns on it. The accoutrements - if not the size and location itself - would not have been out of place among my more typical clients, save the religious iconography. Crosses hung on several walls, the paintings she put up were of Jesus or Mary or some other obviously religious figures I couldn't quite place.
By the time I'd finished taking it in, she'd pulled off her t-shirt and tossed it at my chest, surprising me. She was wearing just her bra, now, and I could see the tattoos on her upper body more clearly as she started to undo even that. The cross above her bust; text just beneath her breasts, reading "Carpe diem!"; an image of Christ with a gun placed on the left side of her torso, so that only the gun was really visible from the front.
"Come on," she said, as she tossed aside her bra, her breasts bare and begging for attention. She stepped up towards me when I hesitated, pushing me against the wall in the process, her bust smushing against my body. One hand groped my cock through my pants, finding it all too hard. "You knew this was gonna happen, Papi," she said, lust in her voice. "You want it, I can tell." She licked her lips. "Now strip."
I nodded mutely, and she pulled back, a smug smile on her lips. Her eyes looked me up and down as I took off my suit, folding it up and putting it on the nearby dresser. Her fingers hooked into the sides of her pants, teasing me a bit as her gaze ran along my soon-naked chest, her tongue running along her upper lip. I noticed, at that point, that she had a tongue stud, and her fingers started to peel off her pants and underwear as one, sloughing them off.
As she moved her pants down, it revealed various tattoos on her legs. A rosary and cross with a woman's name (Ofelia Torres), and 1970-1994, on her upper left thigh. Her mother, presumably. An array of other icons I didn't understand on the rest of her body: a woman's head on a pile of skulls; an eight ball and aces and dice and drink. On her upper back - visible as she leaned down to extract her pants entirely from her thighs - was written some text I couldn't read at the time (due both to the fact that it was upside down and extremely fancy), but would soon learn read "Only God Can Judge Me".
"Like my tats, huh?" She asked, with a tease. She licked her lips. "Bet the white bread bitch you got doesn't have nearly so much style. You want something a little more fiery than a Woman's Studies professor, right, Papi?"
"Let's not talk about my wife," I told her, reaching for her hips.
She gripped my wrists, pulling them away from her skin for the moment, before walking backwards into her bedroom. She directed me onto the bed, practically shoving me onto my back on it; by this point I was completely naked, my hard cock pointed up to the ceiling. She straddled me, rubbing my cock between her meaty thighs for a moment, enjoying teasing me, before simply sucking me up.
"Now it's official," she said, her smile wicked. "You're an adulterer." She leaned down over me, her breasts pushing into my chest in the process, as her lips sought out mine, her hands gripping my hair to pull my head towards her and make it possible where otherwise it might not have been due to our relative sizes. Her tongue stud added an interesting flavor to the event, as her tongue slithered around in my mouth, rubbing my palate. She slowly, methodically ground her pelvis against mine, my cock stimulating her insides even as she avoided properly bouncing. Her nipples quickly hardened, adding a curious sensation to where her chest met my own.
She pulled up a little, smirking down at me. "You abandon my case, Papi, I tell your wife what we did," she teased, running her thumb along my lower lip.
"I wasn't going to abandon it anyway," I told her, sincerely. My hands reached for her plump, soft ass, groping it, and she hummed appreciatively.
"Consider it insurance," she said, her voice a seductive whisper, as she leaned down over me, kissing at my neck, nibbling gently as she continued to grind her pelvis against my cock. "I'm on the pill, Papi," she whispered to me, looking up at me. "You wanna come inside, go right ahead. I like it."
My fingers tightened their grip on her ass, and she smiled, enjoying my reaction. She leaned up, her tits on lewd display, the tats above and below her breasts - the cross, Carpe diem! - fully visible to me. Her fingers absently ran across my chest, exploring it as she started to ride me properly, in slow, languid bounces, her tits rising and falling with each thrust, perky nipples seeming to beg for my attention. My hands slid up, running along her smooth stomach, groping her amazing tits, getting a lewd smile from her in the process.
Her hands glided along my chest as my fingers dug into her breasts. They were softer than my wife's, but bigger as well. When I squeezed, doughy flesh slid around my fingers attractively, and she smiled at the attention. "You like tits, huh?" She teased, bouncing a little faster on my cock. "Most guys do," she said, with a wicked smile. "Bet that your bitch wife's don't even compare," she said. She grabbed my hands at that point, pulling them away from her tits, her smile practically vicious. "Say that my tits are better than hers, or no touching," she commanded, her eyes sparkling with cruelty.
"Your tits are larger than my wife's," I told her. She shook her head, noticing the slight change, staring directly into my eyes, demanding obedience. "Your tits are better than my wife's."
"Damn right they are," she said, letting go of my hands. I quickly returned to groping them, and I could see the way her body language changed, the confidence of before now mixing with a certainty and an energy that hadn't been there before. "No white bitch can compete with me, you hear?" She breathed the words out with an angry energy, as she started to bounce on my cock still faster, a little scowl forming on her lovely features, her dyed-blue hair occluding one eye as she moved with an almost desperate need to prove herself. "Come on, talk dirty to me, Papi. Tell me how much you want me." Her eyes glittered with sadistic need, a desire for superiority in all things, but particularly this.
"I want you," I told her, my voice sincere. "I've wanted you almost since the moment I first laid eyes on you."
"I'll bet you have," she breathed. "Knew I was a bad girl, but you just couldn't resist a woman with more life to her than some pantsuit wearing priss, right?" I nodded, and she bit her lower lip as she came, a little moan swallowed in her throat. Her cunt squeezed and milked at my cock, and she shuddered atop me, her breasts still in my hands, soft and plush as her whole body shook, goosebumps forming on the flesh and adding an interesting flavor to the touch.
She rode out her orgasm like that, teeth digging into the flesh of her lower lip, her brown eyes lewdly locked on my own as she came. Her hands dug and clawed at my bare chest for purchase before she finished shaking in pleasure, at which point, she slowed her pace atop me. She licked her lip absently. "Maybe I'm done now, Papi," she said, with a smirk. "I mean, I got my rocks off, too bad for you, right?" She teased, one finger running along my chest, her eyes locked on mine, daring and challenging, wanting to see exactly what I'd come up with to satisfy her so that we could keep going.
My fingers slid down from her breasts to her butt, gripping it, using it as a handhold, arresting what little movement she'd been engaged in. Her breasts seemed to hang in the air as she leaned just a little forward. "I really, really want to fuck you," I told her, and she smiled.
"If it was me or your wife..." she started.
"I eat lunch with my wife, and we often fuck during the break," I told her, honestly.
Her smile grew larger. "Go for it, Papi. Fuck me," she dared, and I used my grip on her hips to start her bouncing up and down. She actually laughed as her tits bounced lewdly as I pumped her up and down my dick. Her cunt was slick and tight as she rode me, her Carpe diem! tattoo seeming almost a challenge, and not just for the fact that it was obscured every time her tits fell low.
I roughly fucked her like she was a sex toy, and she loved it, a vindictive smile on her lips, a sinister cackle escaping her mouth. One thought bubbled up in my mind: in the not so distant future, this lewd, sexy body would be available for me to use whenever I liked. At that point, I pushed up into her, grinding my cock against her pelvis and letting go with a long groan. She smiled at that, basking triumphantly in the feeling of my cum filling her up.
When I was completely spent, she rolled off me, lying on the bed for a little bit, both of us catching our breath. "You oughta go," she said, after a minute or two. "Do my case, all that shit. Oh, and wash off before you get let wifey get a taste of your dick, too," she added, as I rose from the bed. "Don't want her knowing where you've been."
"I'll try to remember," I replied, as I collected my clothes, slowly getting dressed. She eyed me up and down, taking in my body as it twisted this way and that to get dressed. I headed downstairs, getting in my car and driving to work.
When my work day was done, I drove straight home, hearing the sound of Logan's crying and Nara loudly trying to get him to calm down. "Honey, I'm home," I called out.
"Just a couple minutes," Elizabeth called back from the kitchen. "Charlie's feeding, and Nara's busy with the other two."
"Alright," I called back, heading to the dining room and taking a seat, waiting for my wife to finish up.
Soon enough, Elizabeth emerged from the kitchen, placing down a large tray which she had balanced on one hand, its contents a number of hamburgers, plus French fries and some salad in a little bowl. She held Charlie in the other hand, bouncing him up and down as he groped her tit roughly, making her wince a bit. "And you," she said, putting down Charlie in the little baby seat that we'd originally gotten for Stephanie and now was his, "can quiet down."
She slipped into her seat, grabbing a hamburger and tearing into it with a famished affect, ripping at the meat and sighing as she chewed and swallowed. It was an interesting contrast to her elegant dress, the way she simply slurped at the meat.
I took a hamburger of my own, eating a bit more pensively than her. "Sonya was, in fact, trying to seduce me. I fucked her," I told her, and she nodded, eyes looking up at me, curious for details. "She told me to wash off before I let you get a taste of my dick."
"Did you?" She asked, in between bites.
"I thought you'd prefer if I didn't."
She smiled. "I would," she agreed, swallowing the last quarter or so of the hamburger whole, chewing and swallowing in one big gulp before grabbing another. "You can tell me all about it when I'm cleaning that bitch's juices off your dick," she noted. "I have to eat," she said, simply breathing. "Overcompensated on lunch, cooked too little," she explained.
"Of course," I said. "Raising three kids and keeping the house isn't an easy job."
"It is a satisfying one, though," she replied, with a smile. "Thanks to my darling husband."
I smiled back. When we finished up the meal, we left some for Nara in the fridge. Elizabeth took Charlie up to her to watch, and I headed to the bedroom to await my wife, lying down and turning on the television, watching some old Twilight Zone reruns.
She showed up soon enough, wearing a sexy black dress, crawling onto the bed. She didn't feel the need to say anything; we were comfortable enough that that was unnecessary. Her fingers undid my belt, and I turned off the television. Her lips were slightly parted as she simply stared at my groin, my cock struggling against its confinement. She undid my pants' button, unzipped them, pulling them down with my underwear, my hard cock popping out.
She gripped my cock loosely in one hand, pressing her tongue to my balls and making a languid, slow journey up. Her tongue flashed this way and that as she slid, her fingers delicately keeping my dick at an angle. Her blue eyes stared up at me lustily, her chest heaving as she teased the underside of my dick. When she reached the top, she gave the head one quick lick. "I can taste her," she informed me. "Mostly I taste your delicious cock and sweat, but there's definitely another woman on this cock."
"Then I guess you'd better clean her taste off," I noted, and she smiled up at me lovingly.
I gently brushed my fingers through her hair as she went to work. She would tilt my cock this way and that to provide access, her tongue sliding along my length, seeking out each subsequent vein with elaborate interest, licking my cock until it was spit shined clean. She suckled on it, here and there, as if to pull away any faint trace of Sonya's taste, before she slid her mouth up to my cockhead.
Then she simply engulfed me in a single stroke, moaning as if she'd been desperately holding back, her eyes rolling up in pleasure, fingers squeezing up bunches of the blanket as she came for the first time, hips jerking as she sputtered around my cock. Tears started to run down her cheeks as she held herself in place throughout the orgasm, my cock thoroughly inserted into her throat, blocking her airways.
She slowly slid up, but not all the way off, her hot breath enticing around my cockhead, her tongue making gentle circles. Her eyes stared up at me, her sclera slightly pink from choking herself on my cock, but I could see the warm, loving smile in her gaze. For what felt like far too long, she held that position, red lips wrapped around the ridge of my cockhead, her tongue making slow circuits around my tip, before she finally adjusted her position.
Her fingers gripped my thighs for purchase, and she slammed her mouth down my cock, engulfing me to the base once more, nostrils flaring in my pubes. She pulled up, then pushed down, slamming up and down with reckless abandon, red hair flying around her features as she facefucked herself on my cock. I groaned in pleasure, enjoying as she hummed and moaned, twisted her head this way and that, her tongue slithering around my cock in random, unpredictable movements.
She came again, moaning as she ground herself into my pelvis again, nostrils pressing against my pubes, her whole body shaking in raw ecstasy as she orally pleasured me. When the orgasm finished, she pulled up and off, her breasts rising and falling as she stared at me, fingers absently wiping away what tears had accrued from the two times she'd choked herself deepthroating me. Her fingers then reached for my cock, stroking it a little. She licked at my cockhead, a few quick taps, getting the taste of my precum on her tongue, then pulled up a bit. "How is it?"
I could see in her eyes that possessive glint that I'd never quite had the heart to take away, that desire to confirm in her mind that she was my one, the woman I loved. I smiled down at her, stroking her hair. "Fantastic. Much better than Sonya. I'm glad I have you," I told her, and she smiled up at me before slurping me back down, making my toes curl with the suddenness and sheer force of the movement. "Fuck, your mouth's incredible," I breathed, my fingers digging into the fabric of the bed.
I then reached up for her hair, gathering it into a ponytail, before starting to simply fuck her face with relentless force, balls slapping against her chin. "You're a much better woman than her," I told her, as I pounded her nostrils into my pelvis with thrust after thrust. "You're an upright, moral heroine, standing up for the innocent," I added, as she started to sputter a little from the sheer force of my thrusts. "You're a diligent wife and mother," I noted, as her fingers dug into my thighs while she withstood my rough use of her throat.
"And most of all," I told her, pumping her up and down my cock, "most of all, you know a woman's place. Obedience. Come," I commanded, and she promptly did so, eyes rolling up as her hips bucked wildly. I didn't let up my oral assault, ordering her to orgasm again and again as I pounded her throat, using it like a masturbation aid, and she loved every second, eyes rolled up in raw ecstasy even as tears and spit streaked her cheeks and face, fingers gripping my thighs roughly as she came on my cock again and again.
When I finally let go, I pulled her head off my cock, her eyes delirious as I splattered a thick load of cum all over her face, splattering her beautiful, pristine, gorgeous features with my cum. I moaned as I marked her as mine, her mouth falling open to try to get what she could of my cum on her tongue, almost - but not quite - fighting me as she shifted her head a bit to collect each spurt she could.
By the time I was finished, her face was a lewd mess, spit and semen and tears in equal measure. I sighed, letting go of her hair, and she simply descended onto my cock, dutifully licking it clean before tucking it back in.
"Darling," she said, as she collected a strand of my cum from her features, scooping it into her mouth and humming as she enjoyed the taste, "care to join me in the shower?" She asked, a teasing note to her voice.
"I do care," I told her, and soon enough we were washing one another's bodies.
The water sprayed over the two of us as we stood in the shower. My hands ran along Elizabeth's naked body, toned and muscular despite the fact that she'd given birth just a few months earlier. She sighed, leaning into me, red hair darkened and wet, sticking to her features and my shoulders.
"I had a thought," I told her.
"You often do," she said, with a smile. "What is it?"
"Regarding Sonya," I explained, and she nodded, cuddling up against me as my hands ran along her toned stomach. "We could invite her over for dinner."
"Oh?" She asked. "Why?"
"Let you size her up, get an opportunity to meet her as she is before I finish my work, so you can appreciate the end product more." My fingers absently ran through her hair. "And, of course, put that brilliant mind of yours to use by helping me do my work. Give me your read on her, on where I should make enhancements... you're a smart woman."
She smiled and sighed, luxuriating in the feeling of my arms wrapped around her stomach. "As you wish, darling," she replied.
"Given that the sexual part of Sonya and I's relationship has just begun, I think it'd be better if we presented it as your idea." She hummed, nodding. "I should also tell you that I've been presenting our relationship - and you - as a bit different from how things really are."
She nodded. "What should I act like?"
"As I intimated to Sonya, you are a rather feminist woman, and you twisted my arm to make me take on her case pro bono."
Elizabeth laughed at that. "Ah, yes, my infamous ability to control you truly knows no bounds. I can get you to have sex with me, and to have sex with other women." She smiled. "You must be so put out that I'm not a proper wife for you, darling."
"I manage," I told her, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. She sighed softly into my mouth as our tongues briefly danced and twirled around one another. Then I pulled back. "She's your charity case, basically. I don't know quite how she'll act, but play your part."
"As you wish, darling," she said, turning to face me, her hands running along my chest, her blue eyes looking up at me with absolute love and adoration. We were soon fucking in the shower as the water cascaded down on and around us.