<hr/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"><em><strong>Name:</strong> Andrea “Andi” Spalding <strong>Location:</strong> On her way Home <strong>Tags:</strong> The wife &amp; kids</em></span></span><br/><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/nRxknSt.jpg)</div><br/>As I shuffled through the papers and presentation boards strewn about the over-sized mahogany desk, I felt his hand creep down from the polite place, just above the small of my back, to take a much more scandalous and decisive grip at the curve of my ass through the narrow pencil skirt I wore.<br/><br/>My flow of words stopped as I heard the intake of breath over my shoulder. During another time in my life, I may have taken this client up on his lewd offer. He was handsome, rich and powerful. But fucking random business men and woman was a thing of the past. Had been ever since I’d said those vows to the step-mother of my niece and nephew and assumed the dual of role of aunt-and-parent. I’d made commitments. Promises.<br/>Plus, I was very satisfied in the bedroom and there was nothing this man could offer me at the moment to make me question that. His approach left a sour taste in my mouth and much to be desired.<br/><br/>I looked up at the glass doors that led from his office out into the lobby. I’m sure the expression on my face was anything but pleased. Probably more close to annoyance and anger. My hands stilled on the desk, and I turned my head slowly, to bring that gaze which had made lesser’s quiver to bear. His hand still didn’t move.<br/><br/><strong>“That is not yours.”</strong>I said softly. But the conviction rang through, and with a sly smirk he pulled his hand away, leaning back in the opulent leather chair. He started to make some comment, no doubt to assure me of his prowess or leverage something more out of the business deal. I took the opportunity to start gathering the contract and papers we had previously been discussing and cut him off.<strong> “And this meeting is over.”</strong><br/><br/>The papers neatly tucked into my over-sized Tom Ford purse, I didn’t give him a second glance.<strong>“You’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”</strong>Was all that I left him with as my Louboutin heels carried me from the office. The anger subsided easily. It wasn’t the first time, and wouldn’t be the last, and I had been through worse. The broken business deal to carry our new fashion line in his stores would not break the company, and if he thought I was going to bring a lawsuit against him… well it might work well in our favor for a higher profit margin.<br/><br/>My phone was in my hand before I reached the elevators and I didn’t even bother to check out with the desk clerk. A quick call to my assistant apprised him of the situation. The car was waiting and I canceled the rest of my meetings for the weekend. While the bad taste was quickly leaving my mouth, seeing my wife, and spending time with the two teenagers who constantly kept us on our toes, seemed like just what I needed.<br/><br/>As I slipped into the waiting Mercedes, settling myself in the backseat for the half an hour ride home, I scrolled through the waiting emails the two-hour meeting had made me miss. It was the usual monotonous drivel. New designs for handbags or bras to be put into the fashion line for approval, store locations and leases to be reviewed, changes in security that needed to be updated. Two quick button pushes hid all of it from the screen and brought up the text messages. Quickly, I typed out a saucy little note to Ali, letting her know I was on my way home, the estimated time of arrival, and that I couldn’t wait to put my hands on her.<br/><br/>Even if the kids were still at home. It was almost the weekend.<em>They had to have some sort of plans, right? Fuck it, we could find a place to be somewhat quiet...</em><br/><br/>My legs shifted in the nude-colored skirt, and I unbuttoned the top of the deep green sleeveless blouse I wore. The images of what I could do to my wife, or what she could do to me, danced through my head, putting a soft little grin on my face.<br/><br/>That grin was still there when the driver pulled up to our sprawling estate and opened the door for me. With an easy thanks, I headed inside, tipping the dark colored sunglasses up to the top of my head to push the elegantly curled blonde locks back over my shoulders.<br/><br/><strong>“Ali? Babe, I’m home. Reese? Chanel?”</strong>I called out from the entryway, opening the closet to stash my work bag inside of it, per usual. The house wasn’t completely silent, there were still signs of life. But when four people shared more than 30,000 square feet, it could be hard to tell who was where.<br/>