Kim showed up at the door barefoot in a terry robe and slippers, the epitome of a girl in for the night, and started to smile before bursting into tears.
"What's the matter, baby?" Chet asked, reaching out to her.
"I thought you weren't coming back," she sobbed.
"I said I would come, didn't I?" he said.
"You must think I'm such a tramp," she said folding into his arms.
"Not at all, Kim," he said, barely above a whisper in her ear, and then moved her lips to his and gave her a long, romantic kiss, hardly noticing that the robe had opened so that her bare breasts and belly were tight against him. "We just both know we you need, don't we baby? What we want. What we love."
"Oh, god, yes" she said as his free hand moved almost instinctively to her breast. "I want it so much. It feels so good."
He moved from her nipple to the other, following what he now knew was a sure-fire formula for reducing her to a state of pure desire, but loosened his grip on her and asked, "Are you hungry? I never had dinner."
She seemed torn for a moment, as though she needn't eat again for the rest of her life if he would only keep arousing her.
"Me neither," she said, finally.
"Let me take you out, then" he said. "Nothing fancy. Thrown on a sweat suit, OK? And Kim..."
"Yes" she said, as usual answering almost as if she was in a trance."
"Nothing underneath."
She nodded and went into the bedroom, returning in about five minutes, with her hair brushed, a hint of fresh makeup and the requested attire.
It was a 10-minute drive to the Brightwaters Diner. Chet steered her to a corner banquette at the far end and after the ordered drew her close and casually brought her right nipple back to attention through the jersey material with his right hand and moved his left into position between her thighs.
"Oh, god" she said again, "how do you know just what to do? I thought after you left I might not want to go near a man for days and now here you are driving me wild all over again. What have you done to me? What's wrong with me?""
The waitress came over with glasses, menus and a special greeting for Chet.
"Hey, sailor, haven't see you in ages!"
"Trudy," he said, "you are lookin' gooood. Meet a special friend of mine. Kim, this is Trudy, mother confessor to every trucker between here and the state capital."
"Hey now, watch that mother stuff!" the waitress protested. She was in her early 40s and looking a little the worse for being near the end of a 10-hour shift, but there was a sparkle in her brown eyes and she seemed to be in very good shape, especially when she leaned over to pour the water and revealed about two-thirds of a small but extraordinarily pert breast for a woman her age.
"Let's see what else looks good," Chet said, opening one menu for them both to read so they could be close together.
"She seem pretty friendly," Kim said. "How well do you know her?
"Are you jealous already?!" Chet said, feigning umbrage. "Let me show you who is the apple of my eye, baby."
While his left hand was on the menu his right crept under Kim's waistband and found its way to her mons Venus. Workout pants, indeed, he thought.
Once he found a girl like Kim the secret to keeping the connection alive was maintaining contact. He'd learned that way back in high school from his interactions with a girl named Clarissa who, in the vernacular of the schoolyard, couldn't get enough. In math class or on the school bus she looked like any other 10th grader, maybe even a bit primmer and plainer than the average, but once they were together at Mrs. Constantine's house where Clarissa babysat several nights a week she could morph into a raving nympho. He could get hard to this day thinking of Clarissa, though of course at this moment that part was redundant.
