This was my sister's account. She passed away in December 2020 from complications of Covid. This was the last draft she had saved here. The story's unfinished like so many things she left behind. Maybe someone out here will pick it up and find an ending for it.
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This is a work of fiction intended for adult consumption only. All characters and locations are fictional or used fictitiously and are over 18 years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Copyright Kelly Lovall, December 2020.
I hope you enjoy this story. Please feel free to comment. Thanks.
XX, Kelly
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For John S.
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Lucky Girl
by
Kelly Lovall
I sat at a table away from the pool and opened my phone, greedy for messages from my husband. Almost immediately a beautiful young man with thick black hair and a million dollar smile was asking what I'd like. I looked at him for two beats too long. He shuffled his feet and chuckled, dipping his head and looking at me from under dark, perfectly shaped brows.
"Anything?" He said.
"You've got about three years, don't you?" I said, smiling at him like some sort of supernatural wonder.
"Excuse me" He said.
"How old are you? Twenty-one, twenty-two?" I said, looking for his name tag. "Angel." Too perfect; had be a stage name.
"Nineteen." He said, conspiratorially, looking around, grinning cute.
"Three years until everyone knows your face." I said, marveling at his beauty. "Pinot Grigio."
"Pinot Grigio." He repeated. "Would you like a menu?"
"No, just bring me a fun little appetizer. Decide for me." I said, tossing my hair, batting my eyes pathetically.
"Of course. Thank you, miss." He said, winked at me and turned away.
I was in Los Angeles on a shoot. I was the creative director on an ad campaign for a breakfast cereal. We were in LA to shoot what we called "bite and smile" which was professional actors on sets, waking up, eating various cereals for breakfast, then smiling as they started their day - off to school or work with a tummy full of ten essential vitamins and iron. We had four days in LA and then part of the crew was off to do a couple more days of location shooting in Palm Springs.
It was a late Friday afternoon in early March. We'd finished the shoot for the week and everyone in the crew was beginning to gather for happy hour at the pool-side lounge of our hotel. After a drink or two, most of the crew would peel off and go for sushi and who knows what after. I was beat and was scheduled to fly home the next day. I would have a glass or two of wine, some calamari, or whatever the beautiful Angel brought me, and make it an early night.
"Wrap happy hour." I texted my husband. "Then early night. Beauty sleep."
Two minutes later: "Party pooper." He replied.
"Kiss emoji." I texted and closed my phone.
As I looked up, Angel was placing my wine on the table.
"Calamari in about five, miss." He said.
"Thanks, Angel." I said. He nodded and hustled away.
Surprisingly, the two clients, Manny and Mike walked up and pulled out chairs.
"Saving these?" Mike said.
"Not at all." I said motioning them to join. "You guys hanging back too?"
"Yeah." Manny said. "We're going to bounce early for Palm Springs and try to get some golfing in over the weekend before we start again on Monday."
Within a minute Angel was back looking for drink orders, menu requests.
"Just bring us the rest of that bottle." Manny said, motioning to my glass.
I arched an eyebrow at Mike. We all chuckled and touched glasses.
Despite the fact they were the client, I actually liked both of them. They were older than I was and pretty laid back. Unlike most clients they were pretty cool; funny, easy to work with, willing to spend a little budget to have some fun. Most clients on shoots were newly minted MBAs who were usually very uptight and unsure of themselves.
Manny and Mike had been doing this long enough to feel comfortable in their own skins and, as a result, everyone around them felt relaxed. People had fun and the work went smoothly. It didn't hurt that both were handsome and engaging. Mike was funny and built like a rugby player, thick. Manny was charming, tall and loose-limbed with a long, wide nose and piercing, dark eyes. Everyone liked them. Like I said, I liked them.
I had never worked with either of them in the past but after a week on set, several dinners and happy hours, we'd developed a rapport. As the three of us sat there nursing our drinks, the conversation turned to personal details. Nothing too revealing just the normal; how long have you been married, how did you meet, any kids, any desire for kids, where'd you go to school, what's your dream job, how much longer can you stand the winters in the midwest?
I had only been married for a couple of years. No kids, no desire. Manny, a tall, athletic Latino in his forties, had been married twenty years, loved his life, loved his wife and couldn't wait to spend his days golfing. Mike was more restless. Mid-thirties, two little kids with a wife who, you guessed it, had no interest in sex since becoming a mother.
We ordered our second bottle of wine. Mike was getting loose and I could see the sparkle in his eye. This happened often on shoots. In fact, my husband, Brian and I had talked about playing with the phenomena - the idea that I would reliably get hit on by clean, professional men and women who were usually married and to whom I had no other connection - would likely never see again.
Back when we were engaged, we'd discovered, at an agency holiday party, that Brian liked to watch. Or, more accurately, we confirmed that he like to watch. He'd mentioned in the bedroom a couple of times and it intrigued me; what it did to him. At the party he watched me make out with a co-worker's husband who'd been hitting on me all night then cornered me in an office used for coats where heavy petting ensued. Brian had seen the whole thing. It had been his idea that I get 'cornered' by this guy so he could watch. When we got home, and for weeks afterward, it was like a drug - it drove him into a sexual frenzy. I had no complaints.
Anyway, Mike's questions started to inch toward the personal. Manny made a gracious departure, turning in for the night. Within minutes Mike leaned back in his chair and looked me up and down as I sat next to him. I was wearing a flowy little blouse, a light yellow mid-length skirt and sandals - professional but comfortable enough to work in. He grinned, shook his head took a deep drink from his wine.
"What?" I said, with a little chuckle.
"Nothing." He said, still smiling.
"What!?" I said leaning forward, willing to play.
"You." He said. "Just, I dunno. You make me wish I were single again."
"Oh? Why is that?" I said.
He hesitated. "Oh, it doesn't matter."
"No?" I said, re-crossing my legs, knowing exactly what was on his mind but dying for him to say it. I took a gulp of wine that filled my cheeks and looked at him as I swallowed.
"I just think we could have fun is all." He said, as his eyes shifted to my legs then back to my eyes.
"How would that work?" I said. "Aside from you being my client, I mean. I'm married." My grin was mischievous but challenging.
He took another drink, realizing this was going to be a little more work than he anticipated. After all, I wasn't going to give it away. Plus, Brian and I had only talked about playing around a little and bringing the stories back home. I wasn't actually sure just how far we wanted to go. At this point I stood and excused myself to the ladies.
On the way to the restroom I texted my husband: "Mike's hitting on me."
Within a minute he texted back: "Fun. Whatya gonna do?
"See what happens. Wink emoji" I texted back.
"Have fun. Tongue out emoji." He texted.
Back at the table my glass had been refilled. I sat and sipped, looking at Mike, waiting for him to suggest something.
"Your husband is a lucky man." He said. I could tell he was going to need some help with a line like that but it was cute.
"You think so?" I said, fingering the small gold chain around my neck.
"Oh yes." He said.
"You can tell just by looking at me that he's lucky?" I said, opening the door for him a bit.
"Well, I imagine that he is." A shadow of confusion crossed his brow, unsure how to overcome the barriers of our professional relationship let alone my status as married.
"Really? What do you imagine, exactly, Mike?" I said, kicking the door wide open for him.
He hesitated as his eyes roamed over me. He swallowed and shifted in his chair. I leaned back with a wicked smile and slowly recrossed my legs.
My phone buzzed in my clutch. I opened it. Text from Brian: "?"
I texted back: "He's trying to close the deal."
I looked up at Mike, arching an eyebrow. I sipped wine.
"What do I imagine?" He said with a chuckle. "Honestly?"
I nodded and sipped. "Best policy." I said.
He leaned in. "Honestly," he said in a low voice, "I imagine taking you upstairs and spending the rest of the night between your legs giving you orgasm after orgasm with my tongue." He said, his voice faltering slightly at the end. He reached for his wine with a hand that shook almost imperceptibly. He took a long draft.
"Really?" I said, intrigue in my voice. "That's sounds more like I'd be the lucky one." Thinking to myself, way to lay it out there Mike.
He chuckled nervously and grinned.
"You enjoy licking pussy?" I asked.
I texted Brian: "Wants to lick my pussy."
Reply: "Good taste. Literally. LOL"
His eyes widened, startled at the question. "I love it." He said, his throat going dry. "And I'm pretty good at it."
"Sounds like your wife's a lucky girl." I said. "Is she, Mike? A lucky girl?" My eyes shifted to the bulge in his trousers.
His face reddened as he shifted in his chair.
"You could be the lucky girl tonight." He said.
"What about tomorrow? And the next day and next week? You're my client..." I said.
"I can keep a secret." He said. "If you can."
"Let's take a walk." I said and stood. "Grab the bottle."
I walked toward the the beach.
I texted Brian: "Might get pussy licked tonight."
Reply: "Oy. Details baby. Every lick."