Whitney cleaned the tables of the Vic, just like she did every night. Just like every night lately, since her brother Ryan had stolen from the takings and done a runner, her sister-in-law (close enough) Nancy glared at her from behind the bar. Linda, her mother-in-law, pursed her lips and tried not to judge...no, instead she looked on in pity.
Everyone always felt "sorry" for Whitney, while they were saying under their breaths what a scrubber she was. She'd tried for better things by dating Lee Carter, who was not only decent and good, but even a soldier fighting for his country. How was she supposed to know he was a depressed alcoholic who couldn't even keep a job? She didn't blame him - she knew what a good man he was, and deep down, she loved him - but most nights he barely avoided crying himself to sleep, much less making her happy. It wasn't his fault, but that didn't make her feel any less alone.
Mick Carter, pub owner and her boyfriend's father, swaggered in, cheeky grin in place as always.
"G'night ladies...you gorgeous gorgeous ladies. Let the lad clear up."
Nancy lovingly rolled her eyes at her father before slapping his slight belly with the rag.
"Gawgeous."
Linda clung to his chest and arms, smiling serenely as he kissed her forehead.
"You sure, Mick? I don't wanna leave ya."
Mick looked over at a vulnerable Whitney, mascara-blackened eyes brimmed with tears, then at his wife.
"Course."
Linda looked at Whitney again, the three of them remembering that not all that long ago, Whitney, in a very needy state, had kissed Mick. Linda had pledged to keep it quiet, for Lee's sake, but the coldness in her eyes told Whitney that she'd never forgive - or forget.
"Don't be long...husband," she emphasized, patting his gut before slowly heading upstairs.
Mick soon made his way over to where Whitney was, squeezing her shoulders...trying not to notice the tight red dress she'd poured herself into right before closing.
"Nice a'ya to do that for me son."
Whitney looked into his soft brown eyes, pleased to see them them travel down her braless breasts, so firm compared to Linda's.
She knew she shouldn't say anything - should just be grateful for the home and the second or third or fourth chance.
Instead of replying, she bent far over the table to clear up glasses - far enough to where he could clearly see that she wasn't wearing any panties.
He adjusted himself in his jeans, imagining how she'd mewl at the feel of his rough beard against her soft pussy lips, how he could almost taste her sweet young juices against his tongue.
"I-I gotta go," he said again, hoping - in vain - that Whitney hadn't seen the huge lump in his denims as he stumbled upstairs.
She smirked to herself, heat flushing through her at the sight of that big dick in those tight jeans, knowing she'd made him hard, knowing if he fucked his wife tonight he'd really be fucking HER.
Lee was almost as big as his dad, but the nights he managed to get it up were few and far between lately.
Even when he could, it wasn't the same as she knew it had to be with Mick. Mick was...special. Stable and warm and mature. A teddy bear to most, but she knew he could be a beast. She heard him fucking Linda some nights, had stood in the hallway some other nights and watched him wanking in the toilets when he hadn't want to bother his wife. He'd barely managed to wrap a hand around his thick shaft. She'd wanted to help him, to feel his seed warm against her cheeks and chest, to see him lick it off, suckle her nipples and singe them with his beard. Instead she settled for climbing on top of Lee, riding him and pretending it was his dad playing with her tits and filling her pussy with cream.
