You hadn’t planned on getting your wife anything for Valentine’s Day. The way Jamie’d been staying out late these last couple of months, saying it was work, or church, or some other shit, you figured she was doing fine in that department, getting somebody else to slip her a Valentine.
For a while now, you could tell Jamie had convinced herself she wasn’t anything to look at. She’d started worrying how there was more to her ass than she remembered, how the cover-up creams weren’t covering shit anymore, the way her tits looked tired.
“Don’t they look tired to you,” she’d asked, which was not an invitation, you found out.
Anybody watching Jamie, wouldn’t think she’s all that sensitive about her looks. She’s brassy, got a big laugh, and can dish shit right back when she has to. It made her so hot in high school.
Seeing her sitting at the bar, she might seem the type who’d fuck a guy for a rum and coke, like some do out at the Horseman. But you know with her it’s all talk. Funny, and the weird thing is, it can make you hard watching a guy running pictures through his head how she might look latched onto his dick. When the guy she’s flirting with slides a look at you to see how you’re taking it, you joke right along, saying, “you’ll need a chiropractor when she gets done with you.” Or, “bring your brother to spell you because she’d wear you both out.”
Lets them know you’re not the kind of guy gets sore at his wife flirting. She flirts with every fucking guy in the place. You playing along lets Jamie know you think she’s hot and you want other guys to know you think she’s hot. Her flirting never went anywhere.
But lately? Still the same kickass on the outside, but you could tell it bothered her worse than she let on how her looks didn’t keep up with who she was inside.
Nothing you could say made any difference. Whatever you could think to say—how sexy she is, how gorgeous she is, how amazing in the sack she is—all she’d say is that you’re married to her. You’re supposed to say that. You tell her she’s delicious, spend a half-hour tonguing her clit—‘lady button’ she calls it—and she’ll say that’s great, but it doesn’t change what she’s got to look at in the mirror when she runs to clean up in the bathroom.
Then—like out of nowhere—she stopped flirting with the guys, started doing a little more to get ready for work, a little more make-up, nicer blouses, nicer slacks, high heels that show off her toes. She stayed later at work, running errands out to the job sites. Around the house, she’d hum while she was getting dinner going, cleaning on the weekends, or just putting laundry in the machine. Made it obvious to you she had to be catching a little on the side, which, you figure, was her way of proving to herself she’s still got it.
You couldn’t decide which way to go. Don’t say anything and let some totally random guy hitting on her—telling her she’s hot, maybe a married guy who’s risking a bust-up of his own marriage over her—letting that random guy convince her how she’s worth the risk? Or go off. Explode. Prove she’s everything you said she is and more by risking a little jail time yourself?
It didn’t help knowing that if she was out there, getting a little extra, she wouldn’t be shy and retiring about it. People who know her, wherever the hell she’s getting it, would wonder why you haven’t gone after whoever it was, or locked Jamie out of the house, or just got in your truck and drove the fuck out of there.
You’ve been known to go off for less—everybody’s seen it when some guy gives you shit out at the Horseman. Guy has too much to drink, doesn’t like what you said, doesn’t like your face, or says some stupid shit about Jamie—her looks, her tits, her big brassy laugh.
So when you rolled up to the house, and the trailer was still dark and Jamie’s car wasn’t in her spot under the cabana next to the trailer, you figured you might have to finally do something about it.
You’d gone inside to change out of your work clothes, when Filene Tubbs showed up at your place, tapping on the side of the trailer.
You didn’t know it was her at first. People coming over knocking all different times wasn’t strange. You didn’t bother seeing who it was, and didn’t bother throwing your shirt back on to answer the door. Just went barefoot, in your jeans and undershirt.
Seeing it was Filene surprised you. She and Jamie’d been friends back in high school, and they saw each other from time to time, but she hadn’t been over to the house since marrying Merlin, Jamie’s boss out at Four Corners Stone and Brick Face.
The way she was done up in a spangly tube top, high-cut shorts, and tottering on a pair of hooker sandals with the icepick heels, held on by nothing more than a few thin pieces of leather—more for a Saturday night at the Horseman, than paying a social call—made you feel grubby.
You tried to put her off, telling her Jamie wasn’t home yet.
“And not like to be anytime soon,” she said, not waiting for you to invite her in, hustling up the three steps of the tiny porch and inside without asking.
You didn’t see her car out front, and asked where she’d left it.
“Across the street. At the mini-mart,” she said, brushing past you, her high heels clattering. You marveled at the idea of her walking all that long way and up the gravel paths between the mobile homes in those shoes. But they did make her pedicure stand out.
You did a quick check around to see if anyone was watching before closing the door.
Inside, she plopped herself onto the sofa, leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, rocking. You pulled a kitchen chair over and sat across from her, keeping the coffee table between the two of you. She drilled you with those lightning eyes of hers and asked if you had a gun you didn’t mind losing. She’d pay you for it, she was quick to add.
You weren’t quite sure how to answer that, since you’d never known Filene to be much of a hunter. So you said it’d depend on what she planned to use it for.
She flung herself back, her chest pushed out, and without any idle pleasantries said that she’d had enough and was tired of keeping it to herself.
She leaned forward, grabbing your cigarettes and lighter off the coffee table, seeming to take an extra long time pulling one out, giving you more than enough chance to notice how she didn’t bother with a bra, nothing but her, that little band of fabric, and you.
Finally, she got the cigarette lit and leaned back, throwing her free arm over her head, blowing out the smoke with a sigh, the picture of a woman fed up with something.
“Jamie and Merlin,” she said. “Jamie and fucking, fucking Merlin.” She took another drag, one eye squinched shut against the smoke as she kept looking at you, watching to see your reaction.
Damn. You’d’ve guessed just about anybody else but Merlin Tubbs. Guy owns a business big enough to cover the tri-state area. He’s got a shitload of money. He dresses like the kind of guy who could be picking up hot women in sports bars downtown, taking them to skyboxes at the Garden or the Meadowlands. If his wife’d let him. It didn’t make sense, a guy like that hitting on your wife.
Okay, yes, maybe you’re saying a guy like Merlin could do better. Just being honest, you know? There’s more to Jamie since high school when you first started dating. She knows how to get dolled up for special occasions. But for work? Being an assistant bookkeeper working accounts payable? In the back office? She doesn’t bother. So, she comes off looking a little plain. Still wears her hair in those up-do’s that were popular a few years back. No knock. Things are great between you. Together almost eighteen years, no one has to put a gun to your head for you to come right out and say you love Jamie. She still gets you hard just watching her towel off in the bathroom.
“Did you hear me?” she asked, leaning back, her legs crossed, foot kicking slowly—the crotch of her shorts cut so narrow and pulled up so tight, it makes the lips of her pussy stand out—waiting on you to say something—do something—about what she just told you.
You have to admit, you’d been working yourself up for something like that. Trying to decide whether you’d have to use a blunt instrument or the Mosberg on whoever it turned out to be.
Now? You’d kiss that motherfucking Merlin if you had him here in front of you right now.
Jamie fucking Merlin made sense—kind of. Some random guy down at the Horseman tells her she’s sexy, trying to talk her into banging him in the back seat, or blowing him out at the picnic tables, maybe she can believe him, maybe not. But if it’s Merlin Tubbs? That makes it all the better. Not that she’s fucking someone else, but that it’s Merlin. For a guy like Tubbs to choose Jamie over Filene—who’s taller, still got some of that semi-slim build left, got the big breasts, exotic dancer face, the wildish hair—Merlin seeing them both side by side every day, then choosing her? Taking the chance on pissing off Filene? That’s saying something. Jamie’d have to believe she’s still got it.
“I’d thought of tearing Merlin a new asshole myself, but thought you might like to have first crack at him.”
You let her talk. You needed time to think what to do.
Filene took another drag, staring off, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe she was in the middle of this mess. Those deep sighs of hers kept her tube top inching down, and you didn’t want to admit it, but you were rooting for gravity.
You hadn’t given a thought about the way Filene was dressed when she showed up. Now, sitting across from you, it does seem a little extreme even for her. But it’s always something skimpy—shorts, skirts that’d flash the tops of her stockings—not pantyhose, stockings with the clips showing—tops that were cut to show her off. Filene who’s been miles ahead of Jamie in the looks department since grade school, whose appetite for fucking broke up her first two marriages, and snared Merlin right out of his—she’d come to you with this before she’s said anything to Merlin. She’s expecting you to do something about it.
Still staring off, she tugged her top back into place, but not before a bit of her nipple rose up, a large, brown crescent.
She leaned forward, tapping the ash. “Can you believe it? Jamie and fucking Merlin? I shouldn’t blame Jamie. What I am is surprised as hell he settled on her, but I shouldn’t blame her. Merlin’s a force of nature. A damn force of nature. Second time this week. Nine times this month. They’re in his office, right this very minute. Got her up on the desk, her legs waggling in the air, him all the way out of his pants and underwear, he is pounding her like grandma making butter and the whole office is shaking on its wheels. She’s holding onto the desk for dear life. Everyone in the yard must hear it, but if they do, they’re not making any sign. Just her and Merlin banging away.”
Jamie’s never let you bang her on the table. It’s like a thing with her. She hates the idea of you in her kitchen with your dick out.
“You know your wife’s legs go stiff when she comes? You know that? Straight up, toes pointed at the ceiling, rigid as rebar, quivering? Did you already know that? Maybe you did.” She took another drag, looking off away from you. “Well—mine don’t. All I’m saying.”
Leaning forward to flick off the ash, she went on. “Nine times this month. And that’s not counting however many quickie blowjobs,” she said, pointing at you, her cigarette between her fingers.
“You think or you know,” you asked, still buying time.
“Of course I know. I’ve got a business to protect. The day I found out? I went by around lunch, so I thought I’d slip in and say hi to Jamie. Hadn’t seen her in a while. Do a little catch-up. But no Jamie. Car’s still in the lot, so I know she’s not out running errands. I waited around, like maybe she’s in the can. I’m waiting, checking the time, and I’m just about ready to leave when she finally comes back. I could tell right off she’d been in and out of her clothes.”
Filene should know. She was a master at it back in high school, fucking the wrestling coach and the swim coach and then back in class like nothing happened.
“Don’t give me that look. It’s easy enough to tell something like that. I made small talk, but she was too flustered, kept saying how great it was to see me, sorry she couldn’t talk, had to get something finished for Merlin. So I left. I waited a day before coming back—you know, so it doesn’t look like I’m checking up on them. I get there early this time, just before lunch. No Jamie. No Merlin. I took a little walk around. They weren’t in his office, weren’t in any of the storerooms. All the guys were out under the awning starting lunch so I just meandered over to the tool crib. I had to get a ladder to see in through the chickenwire at the top and—bam—there they were. He’s got her bent over the worktable, she’s entirely naked, and he’s got nothing but his tie hanging loose around his neck. He’s holding those big hips of hers—no offense—just banging for all he’s worth, and her holding the sides of the worktable, her chin pressing hard into the tabletop.”
“You could see that?”
“I had a ringside seat up there! I’m looking right at them. She’s got her face squeezed tight, like he’s too much for her and he’s got the biggest damn O-face, like it’s his first time or something. The creepy thing of it was how quiet they were both being. If you got me making faces like that, I’d be yelling my head off. I admit, I’m a noisy lay—not that you need to know that, but I am. Jerry hated that when we were on vacation—”
Jerry was her first husband.
“—said it let the whole damn place know our business. There was one time, he had me spread out on the bed, roped down—”
“You said there were other times,” jumping in before she could finish.
“Oh sure, lots of times. Every time we took my sister’s kids to Six Flags. We’d send them off—”
“Not you and Jerry. Merlin and Jamie.”
You didn’t need to hear any of it. But she seemed keen to spell it all out. Get you worked up, mad at the both of them. She’s painting the pictures for you that’ve got you breathing hard, and a tingling in your ass, fixing the images of Jamie and Merlin in your mind. But it wasn’t anger building up in you. Yeah, you had that initial sting of jealousy, a lightning streak that shot down through you. But then—no idea why—you had a notion—just a glimmer—of satisfaction. That didn’t make any sense.
“Right. Yes. Them. Well, you name it,” she said, “they’ve been there. His office. The catwalk over the assembly floor. Finished trailers parked out on the lot.”
You kind of drifted off while Filene rambled. You were busy thinking what to do. Drive down there and shoot up the place? Give Filene the gun and let her do it? Keep it simple and bust up Merlin’s face? Or do you let it play out because while it might be tying Jamie up in knots working out the logistics of cheating on you, Merlin is showing Jamie she’s still attractive and worth the risk.
“Can’t you just picture it?”
“What?” You realized Filene was asking you a question.
“I said, can’t you just picture it?”
“Yeah. Like a movie. Without the popcorn.”
“Seeing him in action, he’s prime stud material—oh, shit. Forget I said that.”
The idea of Filene following them around to watch seemed creepier than the two of them rutting like cats in total silence. But you didn’t say it.
“So, uh, every day, hunh?”
“Not him banging her full out every day. But, her sucking him off? That they manage to fit into their busy schedule every damn day.”
“Not every day.” You lucky to get Jamie once a week.
“Every damn day. I’ve seen it. Now that I know where to look. They are so quiet, like you’re watching one of those old-time silent movies.”
You’re still thinking what you’ll do about it, but to Filene, you said that maybe Merlin’s got some kind of hold on Jamie. Making her think it’s the only way for her to keep her job. Which sounded lame even to you, as you said it.
“Come on. I’ve seen her work him. There’s no oh-gosh-I-can’t-say-no-to-my-boss about it. She could teach me a few things. How she takes him in, long and slow, then just as slow drawing him out, like she’s enjoying the taste, you know? Or taking pauses, like she can feel through his dick how close he’s coming. She’ll stop, just holding him in her mouth, then ease down taking him all the way down her throat. He’s good sized and he can go on and on, especially the way she works to make him last.”
Filene slid you a glance. Maybe she’s waiting for you to make her stop, pop up enraged, say something like ‘that’s enough, I get the picture.’ But you can’t. You’re mesmerized. So she goes on.
“Me, you have to be a horse to gag me so I can tell you, that kind of control is a gift, if I do say so myself. Sometimes she’ll hold the tip between her teeth, stroking him with quick hand jerks, or twisting the tip between her teeth. She’ll thumb his cock and suck his balls, and sometimes she’ll get both his balls in her mouth with her finger up his ass. Sometimes, he just leans back in his chair, off in some fantasy world.”
“Don’t people wonder at you being there, or ask why you’re poking around the plant?”
“If they do, they don’t say anything. Not when they can watch me standing on a ladder and get a good long look at my ass. Especially on days when I run out of clean underwear and have to go bare-assed. I’ve been told it’s quite a sight to see.”
Yeah. Filene’s jealous. She could’ve put an end to all this by getting in Merlin’s face. But she didn’t. She’s snitched on them to you, hoping you’d do something crazy and put an end to it.
As if reading your mind, she says, “I mean, why’s he going to all the trouble—risking Jamie’s marriage when he can get the same thing from me? If you’re going to risk it all, why not on something you can’t get at home? Right?”
Which clinched it for you that she’s pissed for being passed over by Merlin, and how that’s got to look to anyone holding such a high opinion of her ass.
You don’t ask that straight out, but you do ask if Merlin treats Jamie any different, if he gives her special treatment, if he does any favors for her, things like that.
“That’s the funny thing, you know? It’s like nothing. If it was me? If I weren’t married to the asshole? I’d get a raise out of it or something. I mean, she’s giving it away, right? Doesn’t it just make your blood boil?”
It does, but not the way Filene thinks.
You still don’t have a clear idea what to do, now that it’s in the open, so you sort of roll your head, let out a chuff, like you’re deciding if you’ve got enough shells for the pump, or should you bring along gloves, hoping it comes across like you’re weighing your options, but she jumps in.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“You do?”
“I do. It’s all over your face. And I admit I was thinking the same thing when I first got here.”
“That’s so.”
“Yes. I was all ready for you to go down there, do something stupid just because it’d feel good.”
“You don’t need the gun?”
“I was talking crazy. Can you blame me? That’d be insane. You go down there and shoot up the place, you go to jail, maybe I go to jail for putting you up to it, maybe they shut down the plant and everyone’s out of work at least a couple of weeks, maybe more.”
What Filene can see on your face—is some cold hard calculating. Every time they sneak off somewhere to fuck, Merlin’s making the point you’ve been trying to make with Jamie since it started. The way she’s been feeling, you’re ready to buy the asshole a goddamn drink. Only—how to do it without people getting the wrong idea.
People’d be looking for payback. You got Filene sitting there, thinking you’re holding in the rage, ready to cut loose on somebody.
“That’s it, isn’t it,” she asked. “Am I right?”
You didn’t say anything, just kept trying to look fierce.
“I’ve got a better idea,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“All that feeling has to go somewhere, right? Bleed it off, right?”
“How?”
“You should cut loose and do it right back to her.”
You ran through some of the willing women out at the Horseman who’d be obvious choices before dismissing the whole idea as too much work and too much money. Then you realized who she might have in mind.
“With you?”
Filene spread her hands, giving a tilt of her head as if to say, that’s one idea. Then she leaned back and took another drag off her cigarette, keeping her eyes on you as she blew another long, long stream of smoke at the ceiling.
“You don’t seem the kind of guy who appreciates sloppy seconds from his wife on Valentine’s Day, am I right? Consider it Jamie’s Valentine to you. A free pass. Her playing around like that? She’s practically gift-wrapped me for you.”
You were kind of relieved. You didn’t want to beat the crap out of Merlin just to make people feel good about the whole situation.
Filene took your lack of resistance as the invitation. She put her foot up onto the coffee table, giving you another clear shot of the molded mound of her snatch straining against the fabric as she unbuckled her shoe and put it next to her on the sofa. She switched feet to take off the other shoe, dropping it on the sofa, and stood up. She shimmied out of her shorts, revealing a red-lace G-string, then dipped down to pick up the shorts and drop them on the sofa as well. All the while keeping an eye on you she popped off her tube top, her breasts springing loose. Then she slid off the G-string and left both pieces in the pile on the sofa. She stepped up onto the coffee table and stood over you, giving you a long, long moment to take in the sight.
Filene’s got guts, taking off her clothes, sure of herself, without you saying one way or another what you thought about the idea.
“You don’t need the gun, then,” you said.
She stepped down off the coffee table, coming over to you. Leaning in, her breasts swinging in close to your face, she pulled your undershirt off over your head, then crouched at your knees to unbuckle your pants and slide them down.
“You want this to go anywhere, you’ll have to lift,” she said. You do, sealing the decision.
She gives out with a little ‘ooooh’ since you’re not wearing underwear.
“Hello, Buster,” she said. She’s not seen your crank since high school when you were one among many.
She elbowed her way in between your knees, taking hold of your crank, which had turned itself out smartly. She slid the tip across her lips, then rubbed it over her clenched teeth, like she’s brushing. You forgot that trick of hers.
You haven’t been with anyone else in a long, long time. The light, airy shiver is more for the strangeness of a new body than any attraction you might have for Filene. Close in this way, the smell of her body powder and spicy shampoo filled your nose. It’s a strange country you’re looking at, an unfamiliar body, with its faint tan lines and scattering of freckles across her chest. You touched her hair, finding it stiffer than Jamie’s. It all added the sizzle to your joint.
You’re thinking a blowjob makes for a nice Valentine’s Day and you’re about to settle into a quick release, but she nipped you on the tip which froze you.
She stood up and duckwalked to straddle you sitting there on the chair. She held onto your pecker, like a wand, stroking the lips of her snatch with the tip, grinding your dick into her lady button, grinding it so hard she bent it, her quick wet breaths blowing in your face, her heat warming your chest.
Then she fit you into place and settled herself down on you, twisting herself to get you all the way up inside. She took your face between her hands, her lips curled, teeth clenched into a grimace of determined delight.
Her horse-cantering rhythm as she rode you took some getting used to. You kept your butt clenched, pressing yourself up so she wouldn’t ride right off you. There wasn’t much else for you to do but steady her with your hands on her waist as she lifts and lowers and tucks, lifts and lowers and tucks, working your crank, her leg muscles clenched and taut as though carved, her toes splayed out for extra balance.
Another piece of unexpected real estate was her flesh in your hands as you held her hips, seeming cool, smooth. You were feeling the disconnection and the uneasiness of trespassing—thrilled at the weirdness of her tits in your face, the light bluish veins, the little bumps around her nipples, how they looked, how they moved, alien and yet familiar. When she leaned in close, the smell of her cigarette joined the body powder and shampoo. You tucked your chin to watch how your crank disappeared into her untrimmed bush and reappeared as she rode you, imagining with x-ray vision how your pecker must look up in her guts, a marvel of biology.
You’re not going to lie. This felt damn good. You considered how you might draw this out. Make it last. Filene sure seemed up for it, like she had something to prove. So, let her prove it. You know Jamie could never manage this, not nearly so athletic as Filene—and, shit, you’re back to thinking about Jamie and Merlin.
In what you hoped is some little act of fidelity to Jamie, you closed your eyes to fix her in your mind, fantasize about her, trying to make it about her. But you can’t when Filene started with a chirpy little whimper, working you. You forced Jamie back into your mind’s eye, seeing her struggling a little when she gets down on her knees, putting her face at dick-level with Merlin. Or, getting up on the desk, butt-bouncing into position, lying back, squirming to align herself with the desk’s edge to put her snatch where Merlin can get to it. Watching her slide with each slam as Merlin plows her, her legs in the air, maybe her heels on his shoulders. Or maybe he’s got her bent over a chair and she’s getting it in the ass—where she’s never let you go before.
That did it. The scene you painted for yourself of Jamie taking it in the ass, something you’ve never done with her, launched you. The shock shot all the way down your legs and you gave out with a long groan, warning that completion was near, which spurred Filene. She rode, harder and harder, until you burst and arched your back, your butt clenched, shoving upward, lifting Filene off her feet as the contractions spewed shots up into her, you blind and busting, and then—only then—thinking, holy shit, we didn’t use anything. But she didn’t seem bothered, just kept grinding herself down on you to get it all, clamping you tight a miracle of new skin, and fragrance, and hair, so close you could smell the flavor of her lipstick, and while she shuddered and shivered, you wondered if you lasted long enough for her to get off, too.
She rested against you only a moment, and even that was a newness that continued to thrill you.
She lifted off you, into an awkward dismount, hopping on one foot to get clear of you, dragging her leg across your thigh to get both feet back under herself, covering her awkwardness by complimenting you on how you did a real number on her legs.
“See how weak you got me, cowboy,” she added.
You smile, pretending you’re sated, so you won’t be expected to make small talk.
“Now you’ve got a little something on Merlin and Jamie for Valentine’s Day,” she said, stepping back into her shorts, squirming into her top, slipping on her shoes, and tucking her G-string in her purse.
You pointed out the darkness of the wet spot at her crotch. She spread the fabric taut between her fingers, to see for herself.
“No problem. I’ll run through the sprinklers, and no one’ll think anything of it.”
You marveled how cagey Filene could be.
A car pulled up under the carport on the other side of the trailer. Jamie.
“Oh, shit,” said Filene, and bolted down the narrow hall, caroming off the wall as she went, disappearing out the back door.
Jamie was home earlier than Filene led you to believe she would be, and for one brief, stunned heartbeat you flashed on Filene’s whole story as some kind of ruse to recreate her favorite Valentine’s Day sport from high school—collecting Valentine cock from you guys.
But, no. You’re pretty sure Jamie and Merlin have been at it, even if Filene had never come over to tell you.
You weren’t going to bolt out of the chair, try to dress, pretend nothing happened. You planned to stay put there in the easy chair, pants off, dick out, knees waggling, airing out from the previous occupant—which is a particularly clever phrase that made you smile.
Jamie caught you still smiling when she stepped through the front door.
“What?” she asked, smiling back at you.
“Nothing,” you said. “Just glad to see you—finally.”
“Yes, I know, I’m sorry. Mr Tubbs sprang a whole load of work on me right at the last minute. I was under for a lot longer than I planned.”
She studied you, sitting there bare-assed, knees waggling.
“I was going to say, I hope you didn’t bother with getting me anything for Valentine’s Day, because I didn’t have time to get you anything. But I see you’re all set for something.”
Jamie shrugged out of her blouse, and unhooked her bra, kneeling down between your knees.
She took hold of your crank and felt the wet, touching her fingers together, testing the stickiness. She sniffed her hand and you tensed up. Did she smell Filene?
“You’ve been jacking off, haven’t you? Took the easy one for yourself and left me the hard one.”
You smile, not sure what to say to that.
She twisted her mouth, studying you, like you’ve issued a challenge. She opened her mouth wide to take you in, as if avoiding the gluey wetness on your dick until she had you all the way into her mouth. You could feel her tongue working around.
She popped you out of her mouth like a lollipop, then licked her lips.
“Must be feeding you right. You’re tasting sweeter than usual. I must’ve been on your mind all day.”
She took you into her mouth again and slid down onto you, slow, slow.
You’re watching Jamie, but you’re seeing her go down on Merlin, how he’d be seeing that same crown of hair, feeling her nose against his abdomen, as she starts to bobbing—does he take her head in his hands when he’s close like this—and you went off again, hard, which she wasn’t expecting out of you so soon. She tensed up, stopped bobbing on your crank, gave out with a tiny cough, trying to hold it in, without spilling it onto the carpet.
Done swallowing, she sat back on her heels, pulled the pack of cigarettes over and lit one for herself.
“Thought I saw Filene Tubbs’s car parked over at the mini-mart, when I drove by,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Wonder what brought her out to this part of town?”
“Yeah. I wonder.”
The way Jamie’s looking at you? She has to know.
She dipped down and licked the underside of your dick, the tingle spreading out from the base to your thighs.
“Happy fucking Valentine’s Day,” she said, finally.
You smile back at her and say, “Same to you.”
