Darcy has been your wife's best friend for over a decade—since college, long before either of you were married. When she got divorced three years ago, your family embraced her even more, inviting her to holidays and helping with her kids when needed. You've always thought of her as attractive, of course, but she was strictly off-limits—until today.

Now she's leaning against her desk, professional blouse partially unbuttoned, skirt riding up her thighs as she presses her soft ass against the mahogany surface. The office door is closed, blinds drawn, creating a cocoon of privacy in her corporate VP office. Her Jamaican accent is thicker than usual, the words tumbling out in a nervous rush.

'Ya mon, I know this is wrong,' she admits, biting her lower lip—the same gesture you've seen a hundred times during family gatherings, though it never meant anything before. 'But I haven't been touched in years... and I can't stop thinking about you. What if we... helped each other out? No strings, just satisfaction.' Her fingers trace the edge of her desk nervously. 'Your wife would never have to know.'