I came into the office and found Amanda reading a newspaper. My mind was unable to process the combination of my wife's pinstripe suit and the platform heels and shiny stockings Amanda was wearing. She looked up and said, "I know you've been sneaking glimpses of my legs through your office window. I figured that I'd give you a show and still be ready for Paul." She undid the ankle strap on her platform heels and slipped on my wife's Blahniks. Standing up, she pulled a safety pin out of the skirt, which fell to an appropriate length. One more button on her blouse and she had transformed herself from dirty secretary to respected vice president. I shook my head and sat down in my office.
My phone rang and Amanda said, "It's your wife, I'm putting her through." I didn't realize she had done the transfer when Samantha started talking. "Robert, I know what you've done. I know about the blond who was wearing my dress last night."
Shaking and trembling, I stupidly tried to play dumb. My voice cracked as I said, "What? I don't know what you're talking about!"
Samantha began to ask me about Amanda. "Was she wearing my underwear? Which ones? Did she sleep on my side of the bed?" She must have been in shock, as her voice wasn't any more vehement than earlier today. I saw Amanda's figure in my doorway and motioned for her to leave and close the door without looking up.
"I bet she was the junior executive you brought to WTI's offices yesterday, wasn't she? Were you parading her around in one of my suits?" she hissed. I was unable to handle the direct accusations and took the phone away from my ear.
"I will write you out of my will - you'll be poor as a pauper," she continued clear as day. I reached to hit the speakerphone and realized that it wasn't on. In fact, my line wasn't connected to an outside line, just an inside phone.
I looked up at Amanda in my doorway and she smiled. "Hello, Robert..." she purred in my wife's voice. She had fooled me.
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