"Hi sweetie!"
Margie lifted onto her toes for a peck on the lips before breezing past me with an armload of groceries. I scratched my head and peered up and down the street before closing the door and trailing barefoot after her.
"Thought I'd make you something healthy tonight."
The brown paper bag was half empty and water was drumming the stainless steel sink by the time I twirled a chair and straddled the seat. I folded my arms on the back and studied her familiar form while she worked. Her hands were a blur, washing produce and pulling pots from the rack overhead.
She half-turned and batted two of the palest blue eyes I'd ever seen. "I know how you eat when left to your own devices."
She balanced on one leg at a time as she lifted her heels toward her bottom. I'd always enjoyed the maneuver. Her shoulder blades pinched together and boobs pushed upward as she reached back to slip off the straps of her sandals and flick them aside.
"Soooo... you're cooking dinner for me." This would be interesting.
"You catch on fast, Brett." She made a racket pulling a skillet from a cabinet beneath the counter.
I lifted my chin toward the window and saw my girlfriend's Beetle convertible in the driveway. I smiled and shook my head.
"Baby, this is such a surprise." I stood and swung a leg over the chair. "I thought you'd be stuck on that project for another week."
"Yeah, well... lucky break. The boss was called to headquarters today." She was chopping vegetables with precision and velocity, the likes of which I'd never seen.
The last golden rays of the day strafed the room and lit up the little red tank dress that always drove me crazy. I pulled open the fridge with my gaze locked on the sight. The sheer fabric clung to her narrow waist and flared over her precocious ass. My fingers sunk into a week-old container of Szechuan shrimp before emerging with two longnecks.
I cracked the beers and took a long pull before deciding to move in behind her. Margie stiffened when I slid a hand over her belly and held a bottle to her lips. Her hands became still when I raised the bottom and she swallowed a mouthful of the cold liquid. I felt a familiar stir inside my jeans as our bodies molded together. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I tilted the bottle again.
"Well, I've been feeling verrry neglected." I put down the beer and closed my hands over hers. She shuddered against my chest as we lifted the knife together and cut into a tomato. Margie offered no resistance. In fact, she hardly breathed.
I lowered my mouth to her ear as the blade sectioned the ripe, red flesh. "But those filthy emails you've been sending... my God."
She lifted her head. "Emails."
"It's too late to play innocent." I released her hands and gathered her long brown waves, hooking the thick tangle in front of one shoulder. "Do you really think I'd forget the things you said you'd do to me?"
