**Morning**
Krystal's husband had left their bed hours earlier and taken a taxi to the airport. He had a meeting somewhere in Ohio or Iowa or India and would be back in a few days.
Some of their friends envied the empty nesters. She was still "mom," when one of the children called. But she didn't have any games to cheer at, no concerts to enjoy, no debates to listen to.
"Dad" attended those events as often as he could, but business elsewhere often required "mom" to be the family representative. When Krystal had looked at last year's calendar, she noted that Dillon had attended only four games. She thought about two exciting come-from-behind wins she'd nearly lost her voice at. The year before, he'd attended six games, and four concerts. She loved Dillon, but she saw the garbage collectors more often.
Krystal slid her hand beneath her pajamas and reached down. Then she sighed. Pajamas. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn something that made her feel pretty. She pulled her hand back thinking, "What's the point." She got up, removed her top and sleeping bra and tossed them on the bed. She slipped her pajama bottoms down and just left them on the floor. She walked to the full-length mirror, slipped off her underpants and stared at her naked body. She'd used the elliptical and the rowing machine every day and for a 44-year-old, she was in good shape. But time was beginning to affect her in places. Her breasts were no longer as perky as they had been just a few years ago. She turned a bit to assess her ass. "Damn gravity," she thought. Three children had changed her belly forever. She knew she had a six-pack, somewhere.
Krystal checked her schedule. "Clean the bathroom" and "laundry" didn't thrill her, but unlike yesterday she had something to do.
She chose to do her chores first, and then hit the shower. She slipped on her in-home work clothes: a fresh pair of cotton briefs and a tight T-shirt. Her breakfast was dry toast and coffee in keeping with her gonna-lose-that-last-pound diet. She started a load of laundry. Then she began her least favorite task of cleaning the toilet.
Krystal was finally getting to the bathroom mirrors when her phone buzzed. She couldn't get to it in time, but read the text message:
Kathy, Seasons, Rm 927 tonight at 7PM. Wear something interesting.
Krystal quickly responded:
Daniel, please drink plenty of water and get plenty of rest. You're going to need it.
She sent the text and noted that her right nipple was trying to poke her way through the shirt. As she finished cleaning the mirror, she felt that her panties were a bit moist. She touched the wetness, then licked her finger. As she thought about Daniel tasting her, she felt herself getting wetter.
Krystal hadn't been expecting Daniel to text her. She was feeling better than she did when she got up. Much better.
**Dressing**
Krystal took a shower after she'd finished her chores. She combed out her dirty blonde hair and left it to air dry. She'd have to do her hair after she'd found an outfit to wear.
She didn't want to look like a slut for Daniel no matter how interesting he might think it was. Nor did she want to look like an executive, or a nurse, or.... "I don't have interesting," thought Krystal. Then she considered, "Susan might have something interesting." Susan, her daughter, was just a little taller than she was and they'd tried on many outfits together.
Krystal went to Susan's room and looked into her closet. She looked at the outfits Susan had left behind. Most were simply too young for her and would have been ridiculous instead of interesting.
She found Susan's prom dress. Krystal remembered how beautiful Susan had looked the night of her prom. It would certainly be interesting, but she couldn't imagine wearing it for a tryst with Daniel and ruining the memory of that prom.
She stopped at Susan's tennis outfit. The short skirt was meant to be worn over tennis shorts. The top would be too tight considering Susan's more youthful frame and she almost dismissed the outfit. Then her imagination kicked in and she smiled. She took the skirt, closed the closet door, and went to her own room.
The skirt was a bit snug, but it fit. She picked out a white sweater of her own for a top, put it on, buttoned it up, and stepped in front of the mirror. It didn't have the effect she'd hoped for. She began to unbutton the sweater, but stopped four buttons down. A deviant thought settled in her mind. "Oh, yeah, THAT might be interesting."
She put the skirt and sweater on her bed and went to work on her hair. Pigtails would be too adolescent, so she settled on a ponytail.
**Tryst**
Rain delayed Krystal's arrived at the Seasons and it was now 6:48. She wore a long raincoat, hurried to the front desk, told the clerk that she was Krystal Baker, and needed a card key to room 927. Kathy showed her driver's license and received the key.
The elevator seemed slower than she remembered. She entered, pushed the button for the ninth floor and waited impatiently for the door to close. It was now 6:57.
The door opened to the ninth floor. She knew the way and quickly arrived at room 927.
She took a deep breath. It was now 7:01. She slid the key card into the reader, watched as the lock displayed a green light, then casually opened the door.
Krystal the wife and mother of three, gave way to Kathy, the uninhibited devotee of sensuality. There were no lights on in the room, but she knew not to turn them on.
"Bonjour Madame," said a quiet, deep voice in the dark. "The rain delayed you, yes?"
Upon hearing his French accent, Kathy let the door close. Darkness enveloped the room, but she closed her eyes as he'd instructed her the last time they'd met. Quietly she replied, "Yes, Daniel, but I am here and ready for you now."
Kathy heard the click of a switch and sensed the dim light through her eyelids.
"Yes, I see. Is it raining in here, madame?"
Kathy undid the raincoat at let it fall to the floor. She stomped forward two steps imitating the attitude of models she'd watched. Her unrestrained breasts beneath her half-open sweater bounced just as she'd hoped. She sensed her nipples perking up to the thoughts that were racing through her head. She spun quickly around once, revealing ever so briefly that she wore nothing beneath the short skirt.
"I don't have pretty underthings at home, he shows no desire," she confessed. "But I do hope you find my attire interesting."
