The next Friday night I waited anxiously for Tom’s call.

I’d dressed in a short black sheath, a garter and black stockings and ultra high heels. They even had a platform under the balls of my feet to make them even higher. When I faced Tom, I would nearly be eye to eye to his six foot frame. A perfect height for what I had planned.

I nibbled on my lip nervously. I’d slipped an envelope into his briefcase this morning and told him to read it at lunch in private. What had he thought when he opened the letter? That someone had possessed his wife? Was he anticipating what was to come or was he disgusted by my wanton behaviour?

I cast a glance at the clock. If he was anticipating the evening, surely he would have left work by now? Yet there had been no phone call. Was he too shy to make it? I had blushed while writing the letter. We’d never talked dirty before. The ‘f’ word was a new addition to my sexual vocabulary. One that I liked. Just thinking of it made my pulse race.

The phone rang.

My pulse hiked up another notch.

“Hello,” I breathed into the phone, trying to sound sexy.

“Do you know how hard it was to have a meeting with the minister when all I could think about was fucking you all afternoon?” Tom growled in a deep husky voice.

Shivers went down my spine. I loved his voice. I could listen to his deep and gravelly tone for hours and when it adopted that husky tinge when he was aroused it always made me wet.

“I’m coming home. When I get there I’m going to fuck you hard and fast. Wear something sexy and be ready for me.”

The phone disconnected.

Heat and cream rushed between my legs.

We were going to do this.

I read through my copy of the letter, priming myself for the scene ahead.