Hoover stared out the window. He was keyed up but tried not to show it, so he pretended to be watching something outside while his hands fidgeted with the silverware. It had been a long day: business meetings, webinars, and far too many powerpoint presentations. A woman named Anna smiled at him once but he didn't see her again while in that office. Other than that, it was business as usual.
Like a slow moving tide, the stirrings were great within Hoover - in his head, his breast and, of course, lower. So it was that he found himself thusly: occupying a window booth at Hooters. The girl seating him was certainly attractive and another, a curvy brunette, had caught his eye. He was hoping, almost desperately, that he was in her section. In an effort not to be terribly creepy he continued to stare at the nonexistent thing through the glass. On the outside he was cool, he thought, but on the inside he was wishing with great fervor.
"Hi, I'm Elsie, dear. What can I get for you?"
Hoover started. She had snuck up behind him and, while introducing herself, slid into the booth seat next to him. He dropped the fork he was toying with and moved over slightly so that he could turn to look at her fully. Elsie was a bleached blonde young thing with breasts a bit too big for her narrow frame. She looked downright skinny, Hoover thought, and her nose was slightly bent. Still, she was a damned sight better than his ex!
"Hi, Elsie. Everyone calls me Hoover. Can I get a beer? Whatever you have on tap is fine," Hoover replied.
"Sure, hon. Do you know what you'd like to eat or do you need more time?" and she smiled with teeth far too white.
"Uh, wings, I guess," Hoover panicked. Why did he say wings? Messy and he'll feel it the next morning, for sure. But he just blurted it out. Too late to change his order though, he was trying to act assured.
"You got it, dear. I'll get that order in right now and," she placed her hand on his shoulder, "if you need anything else, just come find me!"
Hoover stared after her as she left. She was shorter than he originally thought and was indeed very thin. Her hair, though unnatural in hue, did cascade a fair distance down her back, which was a plus in Hoover's book. And, peeking out just a bit from above her orange shorts was a tattoo. Hoover immediately assumed that Elsie MUST be very sexual and, perhaps, kinky to boot.
Which was very unlike his dumpy, frumpy, mousy ex-wife. His ex brought new meaning to the word 'frigid' and would only allow sex on special occasions. She claimed, of course, that it was Hoover's fault, that he had let himself go. Which, he supposed, was slightly true. It's hard to eat healthy on the road and so many meetings are built around breakfast, brunch, lunch, et cetera. On top of that is the requisite drinks at the bar afterward. Hoover was glad he ducked out of that responsibility tonight. Elsie seemed a much better option.
Hoover wondered what the rest of that tramp stamp looked like. He imagined her bare assed, on her hands and knees, while he fucked her from behind. He could almost see her looking over her shoulder at him. He also imagined his belly a bit flatter, his cock a bit stiffer and, while he was at it, Elsie actually enjoying it. The idea of illicit piercings captured his mind - after all, she has a tattoo, perhaps her nipples or clit is pierced as well. He couldn't wait to find out.
At that moment in his reverie, Elsie approached with his beer and wings, a basket of fries beside. "Heya, dear. The kitchen screwed up and had these extra fries ready. You looked hungry," and she smiled again, "so I thought I'd give 'em to you. No charge. I take care of my customers!"
"Thanks, Elsie, this is just great," Hoover replied. As she leaned forward to place the food on his table, he couldn't help but peer down her cleavage, as though there was something to be found in its depths. He took a pull of his beer and wondered what it'd be like to tit-fuck her. Heavenly, he decided.
His ex didn't like him to play with her breasts. Hers were small and almost hard but, still, he liked to suckle, pinch and play with them. It was probably five years ago or so when she moved out after he grabbed at them. He was drunk - too many beers on the 4th of July - and thought, perhaps, that today should have been a special occasion. Apparently it was not. His ex declared it the last straw, packed up her things and moved. Which wasn't hard as she only went up one flight of stairs to Billy Jackson's apartment. Technically, they were still married. Hoover supposed that he wasn't even worth going through the process of a divorce.
