My pen name should be a clue, but be prepared to stretch your suspension of disbelief if you want to enjoy my stories. It may not be anything that could actually happen in the real world, but isn't that what fantasy is about?
Hope you enjoy it, and please do vote/comment when you finish.
*****
Anna walked in the door, shutting it with force just short what could be considered a slam. She absently tossed her purse on the coffee table, and headed straight for the shower. She felt as if she had a cloud of stale cigarette smoke hovering around her auburn hair from the bar, and she reeked of beer because some drunk had spilled it all over her while delivering the worst pick-up lines she'd ever heard.
One more night of the world proving to her that all the men were married, gay, impotent, or fuckheads.
As the water cascaded down her still fit body, Anna wondered if the effort was even worth it. At thirty-four years old, she was ten years divorced, single, and hadn't even found a man worth a one night stand in months.
May as well just let myself go and marry my vibrator, Fred. That's all the action I'm getting anyway.
Anna shut off the water and toweled dry, deciding that she didn't even feel like blow-drying her hair. She wrapped a knee-length, white cotton robe around her, the cloth hugging her ample curves, and walked into the living room to see if any of the reruns on the DVR were episodes that she had missed.
A knock on the door interrupted Anna's deletion spree, causing her to raise an eyebrow. She glanced at the clock, and wondered who might be knocking at half past eleven. She stood up with a shrug, and walked over to the door to check the peephole. When she recognized one of her son's friends, James, she opened the door.
"Hey, Ms. Lake. Is Pete around?"
"Oh, you don't know? He's at his father's, checking out colleges."
James' shoulders dropped and he muttered, "Damn." He made a nodding gesture toward the inside of the house and asked, "Can I use your phone?"
"Sure, come on in," Anna replied, opening the door a little wider to admit him. "I think the one in the front room has been off the charger for too long, but the one in the kitchen is good."
"Thanks, Ms. Lake."
Anna watched him walk toward the kitchen with just a hint of a crooked smile. The chain connecting his wallet to his tight jeans jingled beneath his black leather jacket. He completely looked the part of his reputation, which was only partially founded. He was a bit of a rebel, but she'd discovered from her son that he actually provided somewhat of a calming influence upon the group of friends. James knew where the line was, and kept the group from ending up on the wrong side of the law for anything more than petty annoyance — most of the time.
He also had a reputation as a ladies' man, though she had the impression that he'd withdrawn a lot over the last year or so. Anna could certainly tell where this element of his reputation came from. He was the man that your mother warned you about — a bit dangerous, ruggedly handsome, and a free spirit that wouldn't settle down without a fight.
She only felt a little guilty about admiring his tight butt until he passed out of sight in the kitchen.
Anna returned to the couch, and finished deleting the recordings from the DVR, having found nothing that she hadn't seen yet. Her ear perked toward the kitchen when she caught some of James' conversation.
"What's up? Hey, the old man is shit-faced again and screaming. Mind if I crash?"
From what she could catch of the conversation, she assumed that the first call hadn't gone well. A second and third seemed to fare no better. She knew James' parents, and could fully understand why he wanted to be out of the house when they were drunk.
James walked out of the kitchen a short while later, obviously disappointed. "Thanks," he said with a nod, and then headed toward the door.
"James, do you need somewhere to sleep for the night? You can use Peter's bed, if you want."
He shrugged and said, "Guess you heard, huh?"
"Yes, and I won't send you out on the street, or back to your house right now."
"Cool. Thanks, Ms. Lake."
"Not a problem," Anna said with a smile, and then noticed that he'd focused on the television. "Do you want to watch this?"
"If you're not watching something. That's an episode I missed."
Anna smiled and said, "Pull up a chair. I've never seen this before, but I'll give it a try. I'm not tired enough to sleep yet."
James pulled off his leather jacket and draped it over the back of the recliner next to the couch where Anna was sitting. He was wearing a white wife-beater that showed off his muscular arms and chest to good effect.
The image was hardly lost on Anna, who had to fight to keep her eyes off of him from the moment that the jacket came off.
Half your age. Your son's friend,
one part of her warned. The other half of her, the part that had dragged her out of the house to the bar this evening, had another opinion.
Young. Virile. Look at that bulge.
Anna's nipples stiffened against her cotton robe, and a demanding tingle arose between her legs.
Maintain, Anna. You're positively ancient to him. No chance.
Her body didn't seem convinced.
Anna stood up and said, "This isn't bad. Back in a minute."
James glanced up and nodded. As she passed by, Anna could have sworn that she saw him admiring her legs, for just a second. Her breathing quickened as she walked to the bathroom, the tingle of wetness between her legs growing even stronger.
Anna closed the door and took several deep breaths while staring into the mirror. She splashed a little water on her face, but that didn't help either. She was positively aflame with arousal, and couldn't manage to put it out of her mind.
The transition between her inhibitions clinging to life and fantasizing about James taking her hard and fast didn't even register on Anna until it was far too late. By the time she realized what she was doing, she had one hand beneath her robe teasing her aching need while the other squeezed and caressed her breasts through the cloth.
God, what am I doing,
