The grip she had on her steering wheel was strong enough to tame and steer the wildest of horses. Frustrated and annoyed all before 9am, thanks to the man she loved. The morning sunlight roared through her front windshield and ignited the twinkle in her engagement ring. Stupendous. Striking. Spectacular. All the adjectives that came sailing into her mind when she looked at her ring. It was stunningly flawless. Her latest and greatest accessory. At least he had gotten that right. Eric. Her fiancé. The absolute love of her life. Semi college sweetheart. The cause of her frustration presently, as well as all of her future headaches she was certain. Sitting on the 405 freeway in a sea of cars was her morning routine and it no longer bothered her. It actually was something she enjoyed. With her pumps in the passenger seat (no one drove in high heels unless they were prostitutes like the character Julia Roberts played in 'Pretty Woman'). Her freshly brewed mug of Brazilian hazelnut coffee, laced with a splash of Jim Beam bourbon would take off the edge she just naturally possessed.
Nothing was wrong with her, according to her. She understood that life, this big massive fucking thing that no one really understood fully, needed structure and order for it to be bearable . After you had those things mastered, everything else fell into place. She tried to emphasize this to her soon to be husband, to no avail. They were as opposite as republicans and demoncrats. Wait, bad example. They were as opposite as life and death. But opposites worked, and they'd been working for the last 6 years. Whatever. She found her favorite pandora station, John Coltrane, and let the man and his saxophone carry her the remainder of her route from Santa Monica into the valley. That daily splash of bourbon did its part as well.
....Elise was a psychologist, two years into her career. Her clientele was building steadily and slowly. She'd always been one of those girls that seemed to have it all together; stunningly beautiful, came from an upper middle class two parent (both BLACK) household, educated, and well dressed. She worked out of a building headed by Dr. James Broussard, a former professor she had at USC. He'd left teaching and launched his own 'health and wellness' clinic for African Americans. A one stop shop. With the right insurance any middle class black person in the greater Los Angeles area could pull up to their building in the valley and be seen by a dentist, dermatologist, have a Pap smear done, the resident psychologist, Elise, all in one visit. No other place like this existed and Elise felt beyond privileged to say she was part of this.
She hadn't been in her private office more than 40 minutes before her boss and former professor Dr. James Broussard entered her office closing the door behind him.
"I don't want you in that car anymore." He spoke, methodically closing the door behind him.
"What's wrong with my car James?" Elise asked calmly, still staring at her computer screen.
She was bordering drunk and felt it. Eric had gotten under her skin this morning with his immature tactics, so she'd poured a little more jack in her thermos than usual. No one one knew about her morning 'splash' of bourbon, not even her fiancé. How could Eric not notice the bourbon bottle needed replenishing monthly? It sat in the same vicinity of his beloved Hennessy bottles. Obviously she wasn't a drunk, but still she did feel bothered that not even her fiancé noticed her drinking. Whatever.
"It's dated and old. Because of that it's not suiting for you anymore." Dr. James Broussard continued. Now Elise turned towards him, obviously giving him her attention. Her car, a fully loaded 2016 5 series BMW, suited her perfectly fine. What was he talking about? He'd bought it for her and now he didn't like it? She didn't want to sound anxious or drunk, so she sat quietly and let him continue on.
"I can't have you in that car anymore. This weekend can you find sometime to get away. I know you have 'that' dinner Saturday night...but what about Sunday morning?" He took off his suit jacket and draped on her desk.
Not only was he the doppelgänger of Blair Underwood, he was controlling.
Was all she could say as he stood in front of her, pulling her up to her feet. He didn't even have pretend or talk any longer. He'd said enough. At 56 years old James understood two things very well: women and how to make money. "Take that shit off." He demanded. Elise stood up and unzipped her jet black Zara pencil skirt. Once it was off she stood before him in her pumps and blouse, nothing else. She knew today he'd be in her office wanting her, and she'd be prepared to spread her legs as wide as they could open. She graciously moved the items on her desk out of her way and sat down on it, slowly opening her legs, and staring Dr. James Broussard in the eyes the entire time. She was 31 years old and she'd been his for almost an entire decade. This inappropriate affair with her current boss and former professor was her greatest secret. James lowered himself in her office chair and grabbed her thighs aggressively, pulling her towards him. Her ass was hanging off the edge of her desk, her pussy in his mouth. Her body went limp like a wet rag. This man that had his head buried between her legs was the 'everything' she'd imagined for herself. She was supposed to be his Claire, and he her Hecliff. Life had played a fucked up trick on them both, being born over two decades apart. James was married, and had been for 30 years to a woman named Veronica, who Elsie had met on many occasions. Obviously his wife had no clue that his employee and former student was his mistress. If Elise weren't so practical, it'd be easy to say she was in love with James. Lord, he was the same age as her father. "Take that shit off."
His face wasn't in between her legs anymore.
"Take what off?"
Elise asked frustrated, propping herself up on her elbows. She wanted to scream at him to continue. But knew better, her pussy was throbbing and ready for him to continue licking it before he fucked her.
"That." He answered looking pointedly at her engagement ring.
She glanced down at her ring and felt a brief moment of guilt. Eric was her fiancé, the man she'd mold into what she needed; the man she'd spend the rest of her life with. Yes, he annoyed her. But he had potential. She loved Eric, but she was in love with James. He understood her. Made her feel safe. They had everything in common, besides their ages. He noticed everything about her. Things no one else did and Elise felt safer in his presence than she did anyone else's. Yes, he was married. Yes, she was engaged. No, they could never live a life together. She didn't care. She was getting a new BMW come Sunday morning and her pussy ate right now. She slid her engagement ring off, and laid her head back while he licked her then fucked her on her desk.