******** Chapter 1 ********
I wasn't particularly successful with women in my youth. I did okay. I dated in high school and college and I had a few steady girlfriends, but I was never much of a pick up artist. Most of the girls I ended up with were friends first, or at least acquaintances. When it came to picking up women at a party or in a bar, I usually failed miserably when I tried. Not that I tried that often. I was scared of rejection, even from a stranger. Or maybe I was scared of being teased by my friends. Or having her friends laugh at me when I was walking away with my tail between my legs.
I guess it was about two or three years ago, when I was in my mid-twenties, that I came to the conclusion that being rejected wasn't a big deal. Sure, my pride would take a hit, but it wasn't the kind of thing I couldn't get over quickly. But I was a little embarrassing to get rejected in front of a group of people. Fortunately, I also realized that you didn't need to hang out at bars to meet women, and you didn't have to travel in a group. You pass hundreds of single people in every day life, and if you can find an excuse to establish a conversation, it's often much easier to get a phone number at an unexpected time.
Armed with my knew knowledge, my social life picked up quite a bit, and, subsequently, so did my sex life. I found myself meeting interesting women standing in check out lines or just killing time at the book store. Things were going pretty well for me. Still, on the day in question I could have never guessed that stopping to fill up my car would eventually lead to a mid-afternoon romp with a soccer mom.
******** Chapter 2 ********
I've always been a good girl. At least for the most part. I was a shy kid and never cared much for going to parties or socializing in high school. I've never had a lot of confidence in my looks, though people have told me I'm cute. My breasts started to develop at a young age, so I was teased by the girls, and I was taller than most of the boys. At sixteen I'd reached my full height of five foot nine and it made me feel silly and oafish next to all the petite little girls at school. While they were blessed with wavy blonde hair or silky, dark locks, my own hair was very straight and just plain, light brown. When I told people I wanted to be a teacher, they always said "you look like one." I guess that means I look like a typical, conservative, girl-next-door.
I focused on my studies in school, but I did meet a nice boy my junior year. We took things slowly and didn't actually have sex until we'd gone off to college. Even then, it didn't happen often. I stayed near home and he went away to school, so we only saw each other every few months. Of course that couldn't last, and we broke up at the end of our freshman year.
I waited a healthy amount of time and eventually started dating again. The next guy I slept with was John, and it was only after we were together for three months. Again, he was a good boy—and honor student with his eyes on law school. He was perfectly normal on the surface and my friends and parents loved him, but as our sexual relationship blossomed, he started to show a kinky side that made me uncomfortable. Any time he saw something on the internet he wanted to try it, and sometimes it was filthy. I couldn't oblige him and he ended up cheating on me. I was devastated.
Remember how I said I was a good girl "most of the time?" Well I guess you could call my junior year at college the exception. I took the break up with John pretty hard. It was right around my twenty-first birthday and I ended up taking a pretty strong interest in drinking. That led to some bad decisions. A night of drinking and dancing at a frat party ended the next morning when I woke up naked with a guy I didn't know. There were a few more nights like that. I guess you could say I hit a low point that winter when I went to a bar with some friends dressed in a short skirt and knee high boots. I'd made some interesting friends in my "wild" period, and the night ended with me and a girl I barely knew making out for her boyfriend, kind of as a joke at first, but the situation quickly changed and we ended up in a threesome.
After that night I kind of straightened out a bit. Looking back, I still feel a bit guilty about the things that happened that year, but I honestly can't say that I regret it. There was something exciting about choosing my partners in the heat of the moment. I sowed by wild oats, like most people do in college, and I think that was a good thing. The next year I met Vance, another good boy, and we got married shortly after we graduated. I taught for a year before getting pregnant, then we decided it would be best if I took care of the baby.
Fast-forward to the present. I'm twenty-eight years old, I've been married for six years, and my son just started kindergarten this fall. Vance and I had been talking about a second child, but it hasn't happened yet. Honestly, the fire has gone out a bit. He's still a good guy. We don't ever argue. But sometimes I wonder where the passion went. Of course, we never discuss this because he's always at work. My kid plays soccer and I drive an SUV, so I guess I've become the stereotypical neglected, bored housewife.
******** Chapter 3 ********
It started off as a pretty typical day for me. Just an ordinary working Thursday. I'd been putting in a lot of hours on a big project lately, and a long, dull meeting in the morning left me feeling drained and a bit irritable. I suddenly wanted to get away from it all, so when the meeting ended at lunch time, I decided to take the afternoon off. It was a cool, autumn afternoon and I was sure I could find a better way to spend my time.
I was driving through town on my way home when the gas light came on in my car, so I whipped it into the next gas station and pulled up to the pump. I was filling the tank when the blue SUV pulled in on the opposite side of the island. I guess I noticed Wendy as soon as she got out of the car. It had become natural for me to notice women in even the most ordinary places.
Some women just look like soccer moms, and that pretty much described Wendy. She was tall, with light brown hair pulled back in a pony tail. She was dressed in pale blue sweats and a gray hooded sweat shirt, so it was hard to tell much about her figure, but I was interested. Her face was ordinary, but still pretty, even though she wasn't wearing an ounce of makeup. I was brainstorming for a way to start up a conversation when I was fortunately given an opening. Her gas pump wouldn't start.
I gave her a polite smile and made a joke. She smiled back. It was kind an embarrassed grin and it lit up her face.
"You'd think I'd know how to start a gas pump by now," she said. "It's been that kind of day for me."
I offered my help and we got it figured out. There was a lever that she'd forgotten to flip up. My pump had stopped, so I knew I didn't have much excuse to keep standing there, but she didn't seem to mind my attention. It had been a frustrating day already, so I felt I had nothing to lose.
"This is a little weird," I stammered. "But there's a little place around the corner. Would you like to get a coffee or something."
******** Chapter 4 ********
My typical day consists of housework and taking care of son and husband, so it's hard to believe that things can ever go really wrong. Still, it started off as a pretty terrible Thursday for me. Vance was on the road for work, which made mornings a bit more hectic. I'd gotten caught by the train taking my son to school, so he was late. When I got home I had a mess of laundry to do and the dog had made a mess on the carpet. Around lunch time, I realized I had no food in the house. I decided to go to the grocery store to get something for dinner. I just threw on some sweats, pulled my hair back, and didn't even bother with any makeup or jewelry—including my wedding ring.
About halfway to the store I realized I was out of gas, so I pulled into a station. I was moping a bit in my mind and not paying attention to anything in particular. I noticed the dark sedan across from me, but I didn't even notice Lukas at first. After a few years of marriage, you don't see guys the same way. With my head up in the clouds, I didn't even realize that I needed to flip the lever up to make the pump work. I stared at it like an idiot for a minute before I noticed the guy across from me staring.
Lukas was an average looking guy. Tall, reasonably fit, with dark hair. He was dressed in a button down and slacks like he'd just come from the office. Embarrassed, I tried to make a joke about my situation. He gracefully offered to help. I was just holding the nozzle now and staring at it, and he took it from my hand, placed it in the car, and flipped the switch.
I thanked him without thinking much of it. I was sure he thought I was a complete ditz, but I didn't really care. Instead of crossing the island and going back to his car, he lingered for a few minutes.
It had been quite a while since a guy openly flirted with me, but I still recognized what was happening. I was surprised at first, but I was also flattered. It made me feel a little better about my day. As I've said, I've always had some self-confidence issues, and it was nice to receive that sort of attention while I was standing at a gas pump in my sweat pants. Deep down, maybe I was suspicious. Do guys really hit on women with giant child seats in their car window? But it seemed like harmless fun, so I played along, laughing at his silly jokes and smiling a little too much.
His car finished filling up long before mine, but Lukas still hung around, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He almost looked nervous, and I thought it was kind of cute. And then he asked me to get coffee. Honestly, I was surprised, despite the flirting. My first instinct was to tell him I was married. My second was to make some other excuse. I really DID have a lot of shopping to do. But I didn't do either of those things.
"Okay," I responded. "But I'm buying. I might still be staring at the gas pump like an airhead if it weren't for you."
******** Chapter 5 ********
Right up the road there was an old house that had been converted to a quaint little restaurant that served breakfast and lunch. It was still crowded when we pulled up. The parking lot was actually full, but there was an alley behind the building. I pulled in and parallel parked. Wendy did the same.
We went in and were able to find the last table. Wendy insisted I get a sandwich and it was her treat. We ate and the conversation flowed naturally. As the crowd started to thin out with people returning to work, we ordered pie and coffee. We talked and laughed and flirted with all I had. I was starting to feel pretty confident. I thought maybe I'd get her number and we'd go out on the weekend. I was discretely feeling her out to see what kind of things she liked doing.
******** Chapter 7 ********
