<div class="floatleft">(http://imageserver.moviepilot.com/936full-amy-adams-amy-adams-vs-gal-gadot-lois-lane-vs-wonder-woman-who-will-come-out-on-top-in-batman-vs-superman.jpeg?width=936&amp;height=1257)<br/></div>Perfectly painted nails tapped the back of her phone in agitated anticipation, awaiting a reply. If he didn't answer, perhaps it was truth. Maybe he really was working on something, a new project, that was taking up his time. And then she would know that there was actually some truth behind what Malcolm had said. Of course, if it was so important, he wouldn't have time to check his phone, right? He would be too busy. He had been too busy to even message her himself in the first place, sending his personal whipping boy to break the news for him instead. As much as her message was a lure, it was also a trap. She knew Michael, though. Or had known the old Michael. The one who would do anything to have a quick hot fuck even if there were deadlines on the table that needed to be met.  Because he could. Even if it was at a high-end restaurant with her hand shoved down his pants stroking him, his fingers slid beneath her skirt and between her thighs, lower halves entrenched in naughtiness while upper halves remained poised, sipping soup, both halves awaiting the main course. But she hadn't seen much of that man lately. The one who would come home, find her, slam her against a wall, claim her mouth with a ferocity that rivalled a wild animal dying to consume it's next meal, and slide his thickness inside her with a wanton lust that rivalled none save her own. Then again to counter that she hadn't really been throwing herself at him, either. Save these failed attempts at dinner.  And tonight was looking to be a double failure. A dinner cancelled, an unanswered text.  The attendant watched on, the tension writ in every line of her body as though she herself was waiting on tenterhooks for an answer. Maggie didn't like that. Because if no answer came, or one arrived in the negative, she would look like a weak woman who couldn't even entice her man with a body like the one she had. And she most certainly had a body that few could say no to. Would Michael be joining that one percent?  Eyes glanced from the clear screen to the attendant before her, then back to the screen, and up again in a fan of dark lashes, her teeth set against each other, her jaw beginning to grind as her disappointment rose along with her ire. They seemed positively correlated. Fingers no longer tapped but wrapped about the expensive little phone and clenched it tightly. And just as she was inhaling a breath to unleash her wrath on the girl stood before her to send her ass away to save herself that embarrassment, a text came through. Relief washed over her, and though she did not jump for glee in excitement, the tension drained from her lovely features. Shoulders fell a fraction like a weight had been lifted off of them and her lips began to twist into a victorious little smirk. Unlocking her phone, she clicked the message to open it and read the reply.<br/><br/><em>""If you dare to walk up to my office dressed like that, you're on."</em><br/><br/>Maggie barked a short laugh and shook her head of wavy crimson locks, lips pursing in utter vicious amusement. It was interesting how she managed to move through emotions so quickly. A miracle really because though she'd always been fiery and determined she did not ever allow someone the power that Michael had over her to have her flying through the heavens in elation or alternatively dragging herself through the pits of hell in anger or sadness, and every single place and emotion in between. That's one of the reasons why she wanted him. He challenged her in every single aspect of her life. Emotionally, sexually, intellectually. And here he was now, challenging her again. She couldn't possibly pass up the dare, now could she. Even if she wanted so badly to show him the inconsistencies between his text and the phone call she'd received moments before she had sent him that juicy little image, she wanted more to take him up on his challenge and see if he was really willing to put his money where his mouth was. Or perhaps more aptly his cock where it belonged.  Besides, she could always throw it back at him after he'd filled her, had himself sufficiently planted inside her and pushed against his window for anyone who dared to look up to see. God, just the thought had her thrilled, hot and cold as chills tickled the length of her spine then divided in the centre to course both up and down, culminating in a wetness that instantly slickened those black lace panties with salacious effusions while the other coursed up and had her back arching, nipples tingling and lip disappearing between pearly white teeth. She didn't even care about not messing up her lipstick.  Remembering she was not alone in her own little world, Maggie's sultry gaze lifted to the girl who now fidgeted from a different kind of tension as her eyes slid away from Maggie's form, though not before Maggie could see the curiosity writ in her gaze, and that flush coloured her cheeks hotly with a splash of red. She could barely remember a time when she had been like that, though there were plenty of times Michael had managed to bring a redness to her cheeks. Especially those currently stretching the black lace panties she wore. She reached a hand forward, cupped the girl's cheek and stroked her thumb over it's warmth, seeing just how it felt.<strong>"Oh come now don't be so bashful. It seems you took a lovely picture, darling,"</strong>Magnolia gave the girl's cheek a condescending pat, causing the little thing to gasp softly before she retracted her digits and turned her attention towards the other things at hand - the rest of her clothing - most of which she wouldn't even need.<br/><br/>And like that she was back to business. Leaving Michael's text unanswered for he moment, she worked on getting ready.<strong>"Toss my skirt in my purse for me will you, dear,"</strong>again, it wasn't a question but more a demand made and answered with alacrity even as that blush continued to grace the darling's cheek. He'd wanted her just as she'd appeared on that tiny little screen. But she had a little augmentation in mind. Cell phone still in hand she slipped her arms from her shirt and tossed the garment towards the girl who caught it midair.<strong>"That too,"</strong>she murmured. Pulling the straps of her bra down over her arms, she reached up behind her, unhooked the bra and tossed that at the girl too, giving no instructions this time because she was certain her intention was apparent.<strong>"My jacket,"</strong>was the next command as she held her hand out to her willing little helper. She did not leave Maggie waiting. Within seconds the camel coloured trench coat was within her grasp. It wasn't terribly long, certainly not to the floor; just long enough to cover the tops of her thighs, the swell of her nearly bare ass, though if the wind dared to pick up the flared, pleated skirt would certainly kick up and reveal that deliciously round ass and that she wore nothing but a pair of lace panties beneath it. The smirk on her lips turned into something wholly seductive, wicked, mischievous, growing worse by the second while she slowly buttoned each button save the top two, creating a tempting v of flesh that showed a bounty of cleavage. She was pleased to be blessed with breasts that, even large and prominent as they were, did not sag to her waist like some women her age with breasts her size. Reaching about her middle she tied the belt around her waist, finishing it in a bow, fixed her collar, popping it playfully so it's edge caressed against her neck and beneath her tresses, tickling her skin playfully. Looking down she laughed. She couldn't help it as fingers reached toward the hem and undid one of the buttons so that it flashed a bit more leg, nearing closer to the apex of her thighs. The girl watched on, enraptured by the scene before her. Maggie was no common housewife spending her sugar daddy's money. She wasn't some little thing who didn't know what she wanted. In fact all of her actions clearly showed exactly what she desired. Who she longed for. And that person? Was probably waiting on her text. She wouldn't send another picture. Instead Maggie unlocked her phone, tapped in the security code, and opened his message again. Reading it caused those chills to return, making her stomach flutter just below her navel. It took her barely a second to tap in her reply. Two simple words:<br/><br/><em><strong>"You're on."</strong></em>[/b]<br/><br/>Closing her phone she slipped it into her coat pocket and stretched her hand out to receive her purse, discarded belongings folded and safely ensconced within. Reaching inside she grabbed her designer wallet and pulled out a crisp hundred dollar bill, flicking it playfully with her fingertips she folded it over and handed it to the attendant.<strong>"You've been a lovely girl..."</strong>She looked at the girl's chest for a name tag,<strong>"...Lily. This is for your troubles."</strong>And of course by troubles she meant silence, and no doubt the gravity of the gaze she levelled on her said more than enough. It took Lily a moment before recognition blazed in her eyes and she nodded, taking the bill with dainty fingers and tucking it into her bra; an unexpected move that had Maggie's brow raising in amusement.<strong>"There may be more than meets the eye to you, huh,"</strong>but she didn't allow her the chance to respond.  Instead she slipped on her heels and moved past the girl with ease and a sway in her hips that had the skirt of her jacket flouncing, flirting with the danger of exposure. Within moments she had exited the spa. She didn't have to pay, they would charge it automatically to her account. Purse in hand she walked out of the building and into the daylight that remained, finding her car in the small private parking lot, she reached once again into the oxblood purse and fished around until fingers found her keys and a pair of sunglasses, the latter making their way to her face while the former had her pressing the button on the fob that disarmed her alarm, gaze falling to take a glance down at the keychain. A picture of her twins encased in plastic, darling things at a sweet age, before they could speak and yell and throw fits. Before they could use those cherubic smiles to wrap people around their fingers or spew hateful words when she wouldn't let them go to a seedy party. Being a mother was oftentimes a thankless job but she knew she wouldn't ever trade it for the world. Her girls meant the world to her, regardless of whatever stages they went through in life. No matter how old they got, how tall they grew, they would always be her beautiful little girls. And though Michael had not been their biological father he treated them as though they were and loved them. Cared for them and their well being. It wasn't a wonder really why she loved that man. And she was more than ready to show him just how much right on top of his office desk.<br/><br/>Another button had the door unlocking on her bright red Mercedes SLS. A hand slipped fingers under the latch to open the butterfly door as she bent to seat herself inside, baring her panty-clad ass to the world, should anyone pass to see it. And certainly someone had coming from the sound of a whistle as a man dressed in construction gear passed on the sidewalk outside of the fence of the lot. Her head swivelled to find him. Eyes locking with his, she winked, feeling full of that bawdy excitement that made her want to do terribly randy, rowdy things. Pulling the door closed, the key in the ignition, the engine revving, purring like she hoped to be in a matter of minutes, she forwent her seatbelt, feeling especially daring and pulled out of the lot and into the street, her engine roaring as she bolted down the road towards the office.