She would stand at the top of the fold-down ladder and I would bring the boxes to her. She would place them in the attic from there.I was still in my sweaty tee-shirt and shorts from practice. I knew I probably stank but she didn't seem to pay attention to it. She was just happy to have help. I had relaxed a bit I guess and was becoming more used to her sense of humor. To say the least, she was not easily embarrassed.I was pulling down the folding ladder from the garage ceiling, when I got the nerve to ask her, ”You didn't really mean that did you?””Mean what, Aaron?” she asked.”You know,” I continued, ”That that was the most sex you've had in weeks.””I was just kidding around, Aaron,” she explained, ”But, yeah, I can't lie, I was being honest.”I shook my head in disbelief. I couldn't believe that Mr. Tom wasn't hitting that every night. But he was an asshole. If I had the chance, I'd be on her every time I could. ”Mr. Tom must be crazy,” I said.She was drinking her second glass of. ...you're not... gay.... are you?...we'resupposed to be getting married...oh, God......you've been planning this allalong with Holly and Jane...haven't you?" That's rich!" I snorted, and just for a moment the dying embers of ourrecent argument looked like they might be rekindled, but a quick glanceat the helpless figure still bound to my chair by his wrists, wearing mymake up and dressed in my sheer black hold-ups, his flaccid cock andballs hanging out over the top of my baby pink silk panties convinced methat there wouldn't be any arguments in the future. I would do whatever Ipleased from now on and my 'man' would do exactly as he was told. I gotoff the desk and moved behind his chair so he couldn't see that I wassmiling. I let him think I was angry with him as I reminded him of hispredicament;"Seriously? I'm getting grief about my sexual preferences from my fianc?who's supposed to be my manly protector, but who prefers, it turns out,to ogle my secretaries and then wants to wear my.
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