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The Man with the Magic Wand

She woke up naked next to Kurt. His dick was crusty with her vaginal secretions, and there was a stain on the bedcover between her legs where his copious semen had seeped out of her pussy. She only now thought that they should've used a condom. But she didn't have any. Besides, she doubted that Kurt had gotten lucky often enough to contract an STD, and at age forty-five—and considering the time of the month—she wasn't likely to become pregnant.

She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It said 9:00 a.m.

This was the first Sunday morning in years that she hadn't been at the corner newsstand by 7:30 to get the Times.

Should she wake Kurt?

Not yet. She hadn't decided what she was going to say to him.

Quietly, she got off the bed, pausing to rub her pleasantly sore pussy, and opened the closet to get something to cover herself. She chose the sarong she'd bought for a vacation at the beach she'd never gotten around to taking.

After washing her face at the bathroom sink, she looked at her reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror.

Not bad, she thought. A few character lines but no crow's feet. Her hairdresser was keeping the gray at bay. And she still had her figure—more or less.

At the kitchen table, with a steaming cup of coffee, she smiled as she thought about the way some of the younger women at the office, with their slender bodies and gorgeous legs, teased and flirted with Kurt because they considered him a harmless little geek.

Kurt always took their ribbing in good humor, even though if the situation had been reversed, they would've surely accused him of sexual harassment. He never seemed to be bothered by work-day stress like everyone else. In fact, he'd become the person the other employees went to when they needed cheering up.

Kurt was comforting—the kind of man women wanted as a friend but not necessarily in their beds. So why was he in hers, especially considering the gulf that separated them professionally and socially?

Under the cover of night and after a few drinks, it hadn't seemed like such a grievous transgression to have her womanly urges satisfied by the man who was available at the moment. Now, in the sober light of day, she could clearly see the implications of what she'd done.

She was the president of the company, and she'd slept with one of her employees.

She'd left herself open to charges of using her position to extort sexual favors from a subordinate. Of course, she hadn't intended for any of this to happen.

She'd taken Kurt to dinner last night to show her appreciation for his coming in on Saturday to help her prepare a slide presentation for a meeting with her bosses at corporate headquarters on Tuesday. They'd worked twelve hours without a meal break.

At first, she kept up the professional demeanor she displayed at the office, but after two potent margaritas and being flattered by Kurt's naive curiosity about her job, she began to relax. Condescendingly, she asked him about his job, which was to typeset company documents on his computer. His enthusiasm for the menial, low-paying work made it sound exciting.

His benign companionship was a refreshing change from the aggressive competitiveness of the people with whom she usually dealt. She'd forgotten how pleasant it was to talk without having to guard against saying something that might undermine her professional position. Kurt's sympathetic eyes encouraged her to unburden herself.

The time passed so quickly that it was nearly midnight when they left the restaurant. She expressed trepidation about going home alone at that time of night, particularly since she was inebriated. Kurt chivalrously volunteered to escort her to her door, even though she lived on the Upper West Side and he lived miles away on the Lower East Side.

She continued to talk during the cab ride uptown—about her less-than-happy life, about her disastrous marriage and messy divorce. Kurt listened without offering pseudo-psychological advice or being judgmental.

The cab driver was going off duty and refused to take Kurt home. Feeling guilty for having imposed on him so much that day and fearing for his safety in the dangerous city, she insisted that he come inside and use her phone book to look up the number of a car service that would take him home, rather than use the subway.

She was still talking when they got to her apartment. Kurt graciously sat with her on the couch and let her ramble. She became despondent while talking about not having children and starting sobbing. Kurt gallantly put his arms around her, so she could cry on his shoulder.

His embrace was warm and comforting—and arousing. She impulsively kissed him. He was startled at first, then he kissed back. She should've stopped right there, but her long-neglected needs overcame her alcohol-impaired judgment.

Kurt had a very impressive erection for a small guy. His dick and balls were as nearly as big as the dildo she occasionally resorted to, and it had been cast from a mold of a porn star's king-sized ramrod.

He shyly confided that he wasn't very experienced, so she took change. She positioned him between her thighs, took his dick in her hand, and savored the painful pleasure as she pushed it deep into her wet pussy.

Although inexperienced, Kurt was an empathic lover. He could discern what she needed and when. Her body responded to his orchestrations like a finely tuned instrument. Intense sensations collided like lightning bolts at the center of her being and exploded outward in a great fireball that made her cry out in primal exaltation. They rested, and then started again—several times.

There was no way to undo what she'd done. The question now was how should she deal with Kurt? Two days ago, he was just a low-level office functionary whose presence she seldom even acknowledged. Now, he knew the most intimate things about her. When he undressed her last night, he hadn't just removed her clothes. He'd removed her cloak of corporate authority, and in their carnal fever, they'd become equals.

Last night had been positively glorious, and she wanted more. She could continue to see Kurt, but discreetly to protect the career she'd meticulously built and for which she'd sacrificed a marriage. Or she could treat last night like a one-night stand—something she'd never imagined having—and return to the status quo at the office. And every time she saw Kurt, she'd be aware that he knew what was under her stylish business suits, because he'd been there.

If this were a fairy tale, she mused sadly, she could keep him in her bedroom and make love with him happily ever after.

Kurt came into the kitchen yawning and wearing nothing but his round-rimmed glasses. His smallish build and smooth face made him look even younger than twenty-four.

"Good morning," he greeted with a smile.

"Sit down and have some coffee," she replied. She wanted his enticing dick out of her face.

He took a seat and asked, "How're you feelin'?"

"Pretty good," she replied truthfully. "For the first time in a long time."

His smile broadened. She looked away from his bright eyes as she searched for the right words to say.

"Kurt," she said, "it wouldn't be good for me if anybody found out about this."

"I won't tell," he replied quickly and sincerely.

"I know you won't, but..."

His brow wrinkled questioningly.

She continued, "How long have you worked for me?"

"About six months."

"In six months, how many times did I say so much as 'hello' to you?"

"A lot."

"It's sweet of you to lie, but we both know I only talked to you when I needed you to do something for me."

"That's okay."

"I can't treat you like that anymore. Maybe some women could, but not me. I'd have to see you, to talk to you. That would be a drastic change for us, and people would notice."

"But as long as they don't know what happened..."

"Kurt, for someone in my position, gossip can be as damaging as facts. If my bosses even suspected that I was sexually involved with an employee, I'd be finished."

"You just work for 'em. They don't own you. You can do whatever you want in your personal life."

"You're wrong, Kurt. They do own me."

"I see." He lowered his head dejectedly.

"Then, you understand why we can't continue to work in the same place?"

"That's not fair. You started it. You kissed me. You even put my thing in your..."

"I know it's not fair, but I have an offer I think you'll like. A financial services company run by a business school classmate of mine is looking for someone to manage their electronic publishing department. She'll hire you if I recommend you."

He didn't look at her. "I'd appreciate that."

"It's a really good position. You'll be making twice as much money as you're making now, and you'll be on a management track."

His mood suddenly brightened. "That means you and I can..."

"As wonderful as last night was," she interrupted, "it should remain just a beautiful memory that we can treasure the rest of our lives."

He lowered his head again.

"I'm not the right woman for you," she continued.

"You mean I'm not the right man for you," he retorted.

The accusation stung, but it was true. "No, Kurt, you're not."

"Would I be right if I were a real-estate developer or an investment banker?"

"Yes, you would. I wish I felt differently, but I don't."

His despondency tugged at her heart. She was reminded of her own stunned silence the day her husband told her he was leaving. She hadn't believed she was capable of inflicting that kind of pain on anyone, but obviously she was.

She wanted Kurt to lash out at her, so she wouldn't feel so terrible. Instead, he said softly, "I should go now."

As he got up from the table, she told him, "You don't have to come back to the office."

"If that's what you want." He didn't look back as he left the kitchen.

She felt like a black widow spider who'd just devoured her mate after he'd serviced her. She was deeply ashamed of what she'd learned about her values. No, Kurt wasn't the tall, handsome, corporate executive she wanted, but maybe he was what she needed: someone kind and loving who cared about her as a person rather than as a career asset. Her closed-mindedness had already brought her many years of loneliness, and she was setting herself up for more.

She was on the verge of calling Kurt back, but as she heard the apartment door close, she decided it was best that they didn't see each other again. He was much too nice for her.

***

Darleen lay on the couch smoking a joint and watching TV as Kurt entered their little tenement apartment. As usual when she was at home, she was naked and her elaborate body art was on full display.

She'd made a lot of progress on the large abstract painting she was working on while he'd been out.

He leaned over and kissed her. She blew marijuana smoke into his mouth and down his windpipe.

"So what'd ya get?" Darleen asked.

"A new job," Kurt replied with a satisfied smirk, "in management."

"That's great! We can get a bigger apartment!"

"Maybe even a loft."

"Aren't ya glad ya stuck with that stupid job? I told ya, sooner or later, you'd get your magic wand inside that corporate bitch."

"But I was hopin' for a severance package like I got from the last one, so we could take a trip or something. I need a break from this nine-to-five shit."

"When my paintings start sellin' well enough, you can quit those rat-race jobs and audition for acting parts again. But in the meantime, we gotta live."

"Yeah, you're right."

Darleen got to her knees and opened Kurt's belt and fly and pulled down his pants and underwear. "Now, let's see if that slut left anything for your wife."

###

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