“Ouch. Motherfucker.” He heard Ursula curse, followed by a hiss. Stephen smiled, opened the door, and leaned against the wall watching her.
She was draining some pasta, licking her thumb as she watched the water drain away. Ursula had pulled her hair back in a ponytail while she cooked. She wore a simple red shirt and a pair of jeans. Her full, luscious body was outlined for him to gaze at. Most women were completely obsessed with their weight and the need to be a size zero. Ursula was all curves and nothing bony about her. Her tits were large, and she had a small waist spilling out to full hips. She turned ‘round, showing him her ass. He wondered how she would fill his hand. Then he imagined her above him, riding his c**k as he cupped her ass in his hands.
Fucking pervert. She’s younger than you. You shouldn’t be thinking about her like that.
Stephen pulled away from the wall with the intent of letting her know he was home.
“Evening, Stephen. You know instead of watching you could pick up that spoon and begin stirring,” she said.
Stephen smiled. He would love to spank her ass.
****
Ursula smacked her employer with a spoon before grabbing the pasta and pouring it into the tomato sauce. Some of the juice splattered Stephen’s crisp white shirt. He glared at her. She smiled sweetly at him. From the look on his face, she imagined he’d never gotten food stains on his shirt. His stomach was hard and flat, with no presence of a beer belly.
Not like there is on Paul.
Stop comparing your boss to your boyfriend. There is no way he would ever go with you.
She kept up the inner scolding until she no longer pictured Stephen naked. No man had ever made her want him, until her boss.
At least Stephen has a job.
Stop it, Ursula.
One of her biggest shocks had been when Paul walked in and told her she needed to get a job to pull her weight in paying the bills. He’d lost his job for a reason he still hadn’t told her.
“You know that will be coming out of your salary,” he said.
She burst out laughing. He made so many threats that he never saw through. “Next time you should wear an apron. One of those aprons with the na**d br**sts on the outside. That would be something I’d pay to see.” She chuckled at the image in her mind.
“Come here, you.” He grabbed her from behind and began to tickle her. Overcome by fits of laughter, she tried to fight him off. They ended up on the floor with him on top of her. “Say ‘submit’,” he said.
“No.”
He tickled her tummy. She pulled on his hands. In the next moment her hands were locked under his grip above her head. He was so close. His breath was on her face. He smelt like whiskey and something deeply masculine that she couldn’t put a name to. Their laughter died down as they stared at each other. Ursula was aware of her legs wrapped around his waist. Her pu**y pressed against the front of his suit pants. She felt the length of him pushing against her.
Embarrassed at her reaction she began to wiggle in his hold.
“Don’t move,” he said. She stopped, staring into his dark brown eyes. He held her captive in his gaze. The tension between them mounted with every passing second. They kept their gazes on each other for ages. She didn’t know how much time had passed until the scent of burning overcame her.
“The food is burning,” she said.
He let go of her hands giving her enough room to slide out.
“It’s not the only thing that’s burning.” She was sure she heard him mutter those words. Instead of asking him to repeat what he said, she left him alone, pulling the pan off the heat.
“I don’t think I can salvage this.” She tasted some of the sauce and winced at the acrid, burnt taste. “There is no way I can salvage this.”
Stephen stood, leaning 'round her to taste himself. He winced and spat it back out. “I’ll make us a sandwich if you get rid of that.”
Nodding her head, she got rid of the pan, putting lots of warm water in the saucepan to help clean it later.
They ate their food in silence. He stood by her side while she finished doing the dishes. She felt him close behind her. The desire to turn round, wrap her hands around his neck, and kiss him was intense. She didn’t feel this need with Paul. His touch repulsed her, whereas with Stephen she wanted more. Stephen was older than she by a good twenty years. He would never want someone like her. She was uncultured and worked for him.
Stop thinking about him.
“I’m going to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded and saw her out. Sometimes he drove her home. She knew it would be inappropriate to ask him. The scent of whiskey on his breath made her aware of his inability to drive. She walked home. The darkness never scared her. She wrapped her coat around her trying to keep the chill out.
Ursula took her time to walk about to her small apartment. Paul had become violent in the last few weeks and verbally abusive. Nothing she did was ever good enough for him. She’d rather not go home than wonder what he’d been up to. Most days he spent his time in front of the television with bottles of beer getting drunk.
Too soon she was standing outside her building and then her own door. The sound of the television could be heard outside. Taking a deep breath, she put her key in the lock and let herself in.
“Is that you?” he shouted at her. The slurring in his voice let her know he was drunk.
“I’m home.” She walked into the front room. When she saw what he had on she blushed. A woman was being f**ked by three men. His p**n collection could rival a bloody sex shop. She hated watching the stuff. There was no emotion or connection between the people on the screen. The sex was being acted out.
She took his empty bottles in order to put them in the trash.
“Get your fat ass out of the way.” He pushed her aside making her stumble. She caught herself in time, shooting him a glare.
“If you got rid of them yourself I wouldn’t have to,” she said.
“What the f**k did you just say?” She turned ‘round in time to see him slam her against the counter. A cry left her lips. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed the bones.
“Let me go,” she said. The way he was gripping her wrist felt like he was going to break the bone. Biting her lip, she waited for him to let her go. He liked doing this, asserting his authority and letting her know who held all the power.
“You f**king fat bitch. You should be grateful I took you on. No man would look at your ugly face twice.” She knew he was drunk, but his words hurt so much. There was a time he’d whisper sweet words in her ear, and then he’d make love to her. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nice to her. Tears sprang to her eyes as she waited for him to let her go.