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I had been working all day and now I had to deal with this when I should be cooking dinner. I ground my teeth together, a vein pulsing in my cheek. DING-DONG!“Ingrid, can you get that!” I shouted as I neared the screeching in Angélica's room.“Sure!” Ingrid said. I reached the second floor, my feet swollen. I just wanted to get off them. I spent all day at my job supervising the cashiers. I had risen up to the front-end manager, able to keep making mortgage payments on the house—barely—even after my husband ran off to fuck his secretary. Mid-life crisis...I hoped that bimbo gave him syphilis while they're sailing around the world. Hoped she was banging every dirty sailor behind his back. His dick could rot off. Leave me with our daughters. I pushed down the anger.“What is going on?” I demanded, bursting in on my two daughters.“She's wearing my top!” Rafaela said. She whirled around in a crop top cut so low I could see the angel tattoo on the inner slope of her left breast. If I ever. Even with the heels on, when I stood I was just 5'5. My sweater reached mid-thigh, tightening with each step I took towards his office. My heels clicked on the wooden floors, and I knew he could hear every step. My breathing quickened as I reached towards the door, twitsting the knob and silently swinging the door open. He was stood at the window, looking out. His jeans hung low on his hips, the black fleece he was wearing clinging to his lean muscles. He turned to me, his pitch black wavy hair hanging at his shoulder, pushed back as though he'd been running his hands through it. A small grin was hidden behind the corner of his mouth as he turned to me. I smirked seductively, posing for him by stretching out my legs to emphasise the heels and pushing out my peachy ass and round breasts for him. "Do you need some relief?" I whispered in a husky tone. He chuckled, placing his phone down on the window ledge. I strode slowly towards him, biting my cherry lips as my silky chesnut brown.
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