“And then—” Jim pauses for effect. “The next thing I know,
they’re leaving together. About half an hour later, back they come. She’s as
cool as a cucumber, he looks like he’s been struck by lightning. Repeatedly.”
I’m laughing hard, but more from Jim’s comical look of surprise
than the details of what he’d witnessed the night before at his godson’s
engagement party. The kids talk about hooking up like they invented it, but
back in the eighties my friends and I were doing the same thing. Jim’s tale of
two young people meeting for the first time, talking, dancing and making out
for a little while and then heading outside for a quickie was a story I’d
actually lived.
In a far more fun life.
Gathering myself, I reach for my wineglass and take a sip,
wondering how we got onto the subject anyway, in the midst of a business dinner
to plan a charity event. Not that I mind. Although Jim has always been
“Lorraine’s husband” or, at this point, ex-husband, I’m suddenly looking at him
in another light. Although I’m not exactly sure why.
“I’ve ever seen anything like it.” He reaches for his
martini and I watch his fingers curl around the stem of his glass. I’ve always
been partial to a nice pair of hands on a man, and now I notice his are quite
beautiful. “Kids.”
Focusing on his face, I ask, “Not something you’d have done
at that age?”
Jim shakes his head and chuckles, his soft grey eyes
gleaming behind his glasses. “I was buried in the books at university and
already engaged. It would have never occurred to me. I almost wish it had.”
I nod, watching him through my lashes. He would have been
part of the earnest crowd scurrying to class or the library, missing all the
fun. He’s a nice-looking man now but probably was a geek in his younger days, before
geeks were sexy. The urge to shock him further moves me, and I wait until he
begins to cut another bite of his sirloin.
“I heard my nieces talking the other day about a friend
hooking up with a stranger by text.”
His eyes widen and his hand pauses on the way to his mouth.
“By text?” Jim says it as though I said ‘by telepathy’ and I laugh again,
nodding. “How the heck does that work?”
I shrug, now watching his mouth as he finally takes in the
bite of meat on his fork. There is something about the curve of his upper lip,
the strong line of his jaw that makes me shiver.
He looks back down at his plate and I admire the gleam of
light on his hair, feeling an unmistakable jolt of lust. Making a snap decision,
I slip my phone from my clutch onto my lap, suddenly glad I’ve mastered the art
of one-handed texting.
When his cellphone buzzes, a look of annoyance crosses his
face. “I’m so sorry. I forgot to turn it off.” Fishing it out of his pocket, he
glances at the screen, does a double-take. Flicking it open, he reads my
message.
I like how that shirt
fits across your gorgeous shoulders.
Pretending absorbed interest, I stare at the asparagus on my
plate, unsure now of what I may have started. I hope things don’t turn awkward.
Even laughter would be better.
My phone hums.
I, in turn, am in awe of
that blouse. Against your skin, the colour is amazing.
Hmm, not a bad first attempt for a stodgy engineer,
especially since I happen to love the way this blouse displays my cleavage.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Have you been staring
at my breasts all evening?
Yes. Do you mind?
Looking at him, I pop open another button, feeling my
nipples tighten beneath my bra.
No. Only fair. I was
staring at your ass earlier.
He blushes slightly, his lips quirking up at the corners as
he types.
Not sure why.
It’s very nice.
Muscular. Just right for squeezing.
I really like how his flush deepens and his eyes twinkle. I’m
blushing too, suddenly picturing myself kneeling before him, my fingers curled
into his straining ass, holding him still so I can tease his cock with my
tongue. Is he imagining the same thing?
Thanks. I’ve spent a fair bit of time looking at your ass too. It’s
wonderful.
What does he think of as he looks? Doggy-style maybe, my
butt quivering as he fucks me harder and harder, my screams of pleasure when
one of those gorgeous fingers snakes around and finds my clit.
My breathing’s going haywire and I’m afraid he’ll notice
that my hands are shaking.
Now I’m glad I wore a
tight skirt and a thong. Enjoy.
Jim makes a sort of choking sound, and I toss my napkin onto
the table.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” I smile politely, holding
back a little gasp as I rise and a jagged shard of arousal scrapes through my
body. “Be right back.”
I blatantly roll my hips for all they’re worth as I cross
the room, cellphone in one sweaty hand, purse in the other.
When I enter the Ladies, I stare at myself in the mirror for
a moment, wondering at the glow suffusing my face, the grin I can’t contain.
When last have I enjoyed my body this way, flirted and teased without guilt?
My phone buzzes.
That was spectacular.
Glad you enjoyed it.
Too much. Be prepared
for a long dessert. I can’t get up right now without embarrassing myself.
A hot wave of reaction races through my veins. Mentally I’d
crossed the line long before, but now I wonder just how far over he’s willing
to go in reality.
Poor you. Women are
lucky in that respect. I could even take care of business while in here and no
one would be the wiser.
Waiting for his response, I stroke the curve of my breast,
excited and apprehensive, both. As the moments stretch and he doesn’t text
back, my hand stills and the thumping of my heart is more anxious than aroused.
My greatest fear has always been to be looked down on, to seem the unrestrained
fool. If he rebuffs me, I’ll never be able to look him, or perhaps myself, in
the eye again.
Finally the phone hums.
Please don’t.
Cold with shame, I lean against the wall, trying to
formulate a reply that will mitigate what has turned out to be another disaster
in my life. Where is my bravado now, when I need it most? I wish I could just
stride back out there, sit down and order dessert. Perhaps make a joke about
the whole thing. But I can’t. I just can’t. The enormity of my folly is choking
me, making me feel ill. My hands are shaking as I take a deep breath and type.
I’m sorry. I went too
far, didn’t I? That’s always been a failing of mine.
Again there is a wait, long enough that my nausea increases
and I’m considering going into one of the booths in case dinner comes back up.
Too far? No. I’m still
alive, although I thought I might have a coronary imagining you masturbating in
the bathroom while I sit here.
Before I can figure out what to say, my phone buzzes again.
And, I’d very much
rather help ‘take care of business’ than have us both go home and do it alone.
Suddenly I’m laughing. No, truthfully, I’ll giggling, and
the sensation is sublime. The door opens and another woman comes in, heads
straight for one of the booths, slanting me a startled glance as she passes. I
can only imagine what she thinks I’m doing, huddled in the bathroom with my
phone.
I giggle again, and don’t bother to muffle it. The phone
buzzes.
Did I go too far?
Dear God, I haven’t answered him, imagine him feeling like I
just did, sick with worry that he’s offended me. I almost drop the phone in my
rush to reply.
Not in the slightest.
I was just savoring the thought of your help.
There’s hardly a pause before:
I’m paying the bill.
Don’t care if the entire world sees I’m so hard for you I can hardly walk. Meet
me outside, but not sure how far we’ll get. Whose house is nearest?
I close my eyes, appreciate the excitement tightening my
nipples, making me tingle in all the right places. No twenty-something ever
felt as giddy, as ready to be fucked as I am right now.
I slip into a booth and remove my thong before tapping the
keys.
Wanna hook up? Meet
you in the parking lot.
And I have to laugh as I’m going across the restaurant and
read his reply.
Expecting lightning.
Repeated strikes.
Me too, Jim, I
think, striding to where he stands in the shadows, waiting.
Me too.
