Chapter 2 - Novel in Progress

 

John

            Liz walks our guest to the door, gives him a hug, and then says, “Thanks for coming by.”

He smiles. His teeth blindingly white. “My pleasure, keep me in mind.” Liz watches him walk through the door, and then closes it behind her. Our eyes meet. She leans back against the door, closes her eyes and then opens them. “Well, that was, um, let’s just say, intense.”

          “Yeah, it was.” I am laying on the bed, still naked, waiting for the relaxation that usually comes after sex. Only it doesn’t come. I feel tense. Vulnerable. I pull the blanket up to my chest. “What was it like for you? Was it what you were expecting?”

          She picks her unfinished glass of wine up from the table, sips it, places it on the nightstand and gets into bed next to me. “It was different than I expected.”

          “How so?”

          She runs her right hand up and down the back of her head, a habit of hers that - through years of observation - I know reveals contentment, reminding me of  a cat purring.

          “I guess I thought it was going to be, I don’t know.” She reaches for her wineglass and takes a big gulp. “I don’t really know what I expected, to be honest. But I didn’t expect to feel so comfortable. And the weirdest thing is that I felt in control. Like I was the one doing the seducing.” She tilts her head and looks at me. “What about you?”

          “I thought it was hot,” I tell her. “Like we talked about. It was like seeing my hot wife fuck in a porno while I watched, wanting her to be all mine.” I grab her hand. She leans in and I kiss her hard.

          “Should we invite him back,” she asks, smiling.

          “Maybe we should find you another stranger.” I almost laugh out loud. The guy we spent the evening with tonight was a stranger.

          But only to Liz.

I know him as my boss.

Chapter 1 - Novel in Progress

Liz

  My heart beats so fast I am afraid my body will start shaking.

            The man I met three hours ago is kissing my neck, my breasts, lightly biting my nipples, and I am responding. My hands run through his black hair, against the stubble on his face, and after a while he lowers himself. I close my eyes, slightly gasp as his tongue finds itself inside me. I moan quietly. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of how easily he is pleasing me already. I want him to work for it. Go all out. Make me crazy.

            I want the lust again. The exciting feeling of doing something considered risque, naughty, somewhat forbidden. Like when I was sixteen. It’s been a long time since I felt sexy. Powerful. In control.

            But even though I am fifty, I can feel that familiar feeling right now, and the sudden realization of just how badly I have longed for it makes my entire body feel electric.

            Here I am. With a man twenty-five years younger than me, with a body of an athlete. On his knees. Me his entire focus.

            I grab his head and grind against his face.

            The surreal reality of the situation overpowers me.

            The candlelit hotel room.

            The first man I have been intimate with other than my husband since we married twenty-five years ago.

            He stops for a second, looks up at me, and says, “I want you so bad.”

            He stands, gently grabs my shoulders, begins kissing me on the lips, and lowers me back onto the bed.

            I pull him toward me, remove his boxers and take him in my hand, slowly bringing him close to my mouth.

            I tease him, mercilessly, until he is practically begging me to consume him. After a while I do. Right after looking into the eyes of my husband sitting in the chair across the room.

            His look is indescribable.

            I feel it then.

            This jolt.

            This awakening.