As I stood before the glass wall that overlooked the sales floor, Anderson joined me, his hand snaking out to rest on my lower back. When I shifted slightly, that hand dropped to cup my ass. Arousal flooded my pussy.

“You should flirt with him,” Anderson suggested.

“Who?” I asked, playing dumb.

He tsked.

“Oh, come on. Do you think I’ll fall for that?”

We both watched the new guy, Greg, who was working diligently at his desk.

All the sales floor worker bees were making their calls: “Hello, ma’am. Could we interest you in affordable life insurance?”

Anderson happens to be my husband — a fact we didn’t usually advertise. We were simply the higher-ups to most of the people on the floor.