EXTRACT FOR
Sharing the Hotwife (Wifesharing, Wife Swapping ,Swingers)
(Scarlett Steele)

I'm not the most handsome guy in town, and I know that better than most men.  However, at thirty-five years of age and in the best physical condition of my life, I don't think I'm too far outside of the range of what women are looking for.  I want a wife, plain and simple.  It's not that I'm lonely, but I would like to have a companion in my home every evening just to share what went on throughout the day and to talk to when things are a little grey for me.  The sex, too, would be nice.  An occasional romp in the bedroom with a woman who looks at me as her husband and is willing to experience pleasures a little outside of what a simple boyfriend-girlfriend relationship would typically offer would be exciting.  There have been girlfriends, some long term, in my home and I've truly cared about most.  Unfortunately, the commitment just hasn't been at the level that I want it to be at my age now.  



"Welcome to New Denver Development Corporation, Mr. Barnes," A nicely-dressed office receptionist says as she stands from her seat behind a long desk.  "Julian has been expecting you."  The petite blonde woman cannot be more than twenty-five years of age, her blue eyes accenting the yellow and teal blouse she is wearing quite nicely.  "Would you like a cup of coffee or an energy drink?" she asks in a rather chipper voice.



"No, but thank you," I say as I try not to stare.  There was a time not so long ago that I would have immediately struck up a deeper conversation with such a beautiful woman in an attempt to get her into my bed for at least one night, if not for many more.  However, I've grown bored with such flings.  I want more.  I need more.



"Just follow me, then," the receptionist says with a warm smile.  Is she flirting with me?  We walk around the corner into a long hallway, past several offices with large glass doors.  As I look through the doors, I can see that New Denver Development Corporation is full of young and hip up-and-comers and I wonder why I've even been granted an interview with Julian Cranford.  I've never met nor spoken with the newest billionaire in Denver, Colorado, and what I know of him I've read online and in magazines.  First off, he's got more money that most small towns in Colorado.  Secondly, he's not known for being incredibly easy on his employees.  He expects each member of his staff to give everything to what goes on inside his business, with some finding themselves immediately out of work over small or petty reasons.  Though I've worked for other employers with the same sort of bent, Mr. Cranford causes me a bit of anxiety; so much so that I considered not even coming to the interview.



"Mr. Barnes!"  I recognize the thirty-something billionaire almost immediately as he gets up from his large desk in the corner office.  "I am so glad to finally meet you.  Please, come have a seat."  He smiles widely at me before looking over at the woman who has escorted me to his office.  "Thank you, Madison."  She smiles and without another word is gone through the door, closing it behind her.  "So, how was your trip over?"  Mr. Cranford waves his hand toward a chair in front of his desk.  I walk over and take a seat as he does the same in his own large chair.  



"It was a good trip," I say as I smile back at him.  "No turbulence this time around while coming over the mountains."