It had been a long day at work. Sandra was glad she got home before the snowstorm hit. She was so busy working she didn't even have time for lunch. It was nearly after five, and she was starving. She and her husband Anthony's home was a little toasty, so she took off her overcoat and hung it up. She had just entered the kitchen, still wearing her slacks and white button-up shirt, when she heard the front door open.
Anthony had also returned from work. After banging away at the keyboard all day, he was ready to bang away at something else, as was their usual M.O. when they both got home.
"Honey?" he asked.
"I'm in the kitchen," she answered casually.
He found her on the other side of the house, bent over, looking in the fridge.
"Looks like someone is ready for some afternoon nooky," he said pervertedly.
She felt his vast hands grab the sides of her waist. She then turned around and slapped his hands away. "I'm more hungry than horny," she told him.
"So, no sex?" he said, discouraged.
"Not until I get something in me," she denied him.
"That was the plan," he said, with a dirty mind.
She shook her head at her incorrigible husband. She spun around once more to face the fridge.
His hand reached around and began to massage her tear-drop-shaped breasts from within her shirt. He knew her breasts were ultra-sensitive erogenous zones. Another minute of that would mean she would be putty in his hands.
But her grumbling stomach knocked her out of this seduction. "Not what I meant," she said harshly.
His eager hands withdrew. She was both relieved and disappointed.
He respectively stood back to give her some room.
'She must be famished. Usually, when I arrive home, she jumps into my arms, wraps her legs around my waist, and whispers those three unique words in my ear. SEX. BEDROOM. NOW,'
he recalled.
"Didn't you have lunch?" he asked, concerned.
"No, I worked through it. I wanted to finish the Henderson account," she answered.
"Oh, you been working on that for a week," he acknowledged. "I'm glad you got it done," he congratulated her.
"Thanks, sweetie," she smiled while still perusing the fridge. After thirty seconds, she sighed heavily. There wasn't anything that appealed to her.
"Eat out?" her husband suggested.
"Maybe later...oh, you mean at a restaurant," she corrected herself.
"I just got done driving," she complained. "I don't feel like going out again," she added.
"Oh, that reminds me," Anthony remembered. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a doorknob hanger. "I saw this flier for a new Chinese restaurant a few miles away on the door," he briefed her.
She plucked it from his hand eagerly. "I could go for a little Chinese," she beamed.
"Wait. This wasn't there when I got home," she observed.
"Maybe it's destiny," he joked.
She giggled. His quirky sense of humor was one thing she loved about him.
She rose on her tippy-toes and kissed him on the cheek. "My hero," she said graciously.
"I'm getting some mixed signals here," he teased.
"Oh, sit on the couch until I need you," she laughed. Then, gently pushing him towards the couch.
He patiently sat down. Knowing good things comes to those who wait.
Quickly, she rummaged through her purse for her iPhone. Victorious, she dialed the number.
"Hello, this is Mrs. Wang at Fat Wang. Where we will fill you up," a woman with a heavy Asian accent greeted her with the restaurant's slogan. "How can I help you?" the Mrs. Wang added.
"Oh," Sandra said, surprised. She didn't even look at the restaurant's name.
"I'll take the number one," Sandra spoke clearly.
"Juan? He is not here. Would you like to order food?" Mrs. Wang said, confused.
"One," she repeated louder.
"No, Juan here. Day off," Mrs. Wang told her.
This was getting her nowhere. She took a deep breath. She knew she had to say the actual name of the meal.
"I want a Big, Fat Wang," Sandra said, embarrassed.
"Don't we all!" A young woman's voice could be heard in the background, supporting the sentiment.
This outburst was followed by some berated yelling in Mandarin at the girl who made that announcement.
"More mixed messages," Anthony grumbled.
Sandra signaled for her husband to be quiet.
After half a minute, the woman's voice calmly spoke again. "Oh, you want the special. That's number one," she clarified. Mrs. Wang hadn't heard Sandra's husband's response. She was too busy being mad at the employee.
"Yes, that," Sandra said, red-faced.
"Why didn't you say so?" the woman wondered.
Sandra rolled her eyes, an annoyance unseen by Mrs. Wang.
Sandra proceeded to give her the address, but before she could give her the credit card information, the woman told her the machine was down and that the delivery girl would have a credit card reader app on her phone that could pay for it. She would have to give the card to the delivery girl when she arrived.
"OK, it will be there in twenty minutes," Mrs. Wang finished.
"Thank you," she said appreciatively before hanging up.
"So what can I do to pass the time?" Sandra asked herself out loud.
She looked at her husband. "SEX. BEDROOM. NOW," she commanded.
"Yes, Mama," he happily followed her order.
Three miles away, at Mr. Wang's Restaurant during the berating. The entire conversation was roughly translated from Mandarin.
"Why did you interrupt me while I was on the phone?" Mrs. Wang scolded as the double entendre went entirely over her head.
"I like big, fat wangs," the cute, American-born college girl Mei declared without the slightest hint of its double meaning.
"If you weren't my daughter's best friend, I would have never hired you," Mrs. Wang lectured.
Mrs. Wang wasn't entirely oblivious to Mei's perverted nature. She saw how Mei would flirt with handsome male customers, even if she didn't understand its full context. Being a stringent and proud woman, Mrs. Wang wound punished Mei for her insolence. She had the perfect idea.
Since it was a single order by a woman, she figured Mei wouldn't be pulling her usual shenanigans with male customers.
"I want you to make the food delivery and apologize for your rude outburst,' Mrs. Wang decreed.
"But it's starting to snow heavily outside," Mei objected.
"Then you better dress warm," she advised coldly.
Mei needed this job to help pay off her college loan, so she tolerated this draconian boss.
'Fine. And if this woman is attractive, maybe I'll apologize with my mouth,'
she plotted.
Even as Sandra remained in the doggie-style position on the bed while her husband pounded her from behind, she kept her ears open for the sound of the doorbell ringing.
"You aren't grunting very loud," Anthony noticed, disheartened.
"I'm listening for the food delivery," she explained.
"Ain't I feed you enough meat?" he joked.
"Less talking. More fucking," she silenced him.
For the last twenty minutes, they had been having sex, where Sandra switched from one sex act to the next while she tried to control the noise she was making.
