Author's note: For David (as promised), and dedicated to the real-life Steve, thoughts of whom inspired this story.
*
It was the second Friday in May, a gorgeous and warm spring evening, when a block party was in full swing on Grand Boulevard, a popular shopping district in East Fairview. Live music was playing, store owners were displaying their wares on the sidewalk, and people milled leisurely on the street, which had been closed to traffic, or enjoyed drinks or a meal
al fresco
at the numerous bars and restaurants lining the boulevard.
With a sigh and a red plastic cup full of beer, Steve settled down on his front stoop to better listen to the live band playing around the corner from his building. A handsome man of average height, with medium-brown hair and closely-trimmed mustache and beard, he'd worked as an emergency room physician at a nearby hospital for over a year now. His hazel eyes wandered the boulevard, watching the block party attendees as they passed him.
He knew Anne planned to bring a few friends with her to the block party (he'd seen her post about it on Facebook as she had helped organize it), and he hoped to see her.
Steve and Anne had formerly been neighbors; she and a friend had owned a clothing boutique on the first floor of his building, while he lived in the apartment directly above. Despite the economy, her shop had done extremely well, so she'd relocated to a larger space a block away. Because of that, and his crazy schedule in the ER, he didn't get to see her as much as he used to.
As much as he
liked
to.
A casual acquaintance blossomed into friendship which at first had consisted of humorous text messages back and forth between them, an occasional drink together at the bar two doors down from them or on their shared front stoop, and then dinner once at the bistro across the street. Over time, he started finding himself extremely attracted to the pretty, petite brunette with large whiskey-colored eyes; unfortunately for him she was married.
Then on Mardi Gras, Steve had invited Anne upstairs after work to share a drink with him to celebrate the holiday. One drink turned into three, and everyday conversation turned into one in which Anne revealed that she was very unhappy in her marriage -- that she and her husband were more like roommates who shared a bed and occasionally had sex -- and that she was thinking of leaving him. For
his
part, Steve admitted that he was having a hard time meeting women because of his schedule, and after a fourth drink he said, "And the ones I
do
meet don't really meet up to my standards."
"Still as modest as ever, I see," Anne laughed at the running joke between them, nodding as he lifted the bottle of whiskey to offer her a refill.
He poured her some more whiskey, then before he could stop himself he impetuously confessed, "No, that's not really it, Anne. I always compare them to you, and they never measure up."
Her eyes widened and her pink lips parted slightly as she stared at him, almost in shock at his frank declaration.
Shit
, he thought,
now I've done it
. They sat there in silence for a minute or two, then Anne reached for his glass; taking it from him, she placed it together with hers on the coffee table.
Then she leaned close to him and kissed him, hesitantly at first, then deeper as moments passed, their lips and tongues moving hungrily against each other. She crawled onto his lap and straddled his hips, her fingers moving to stroke the back of his head.
He moved his lips away from hers to kiss and lick her neck, and she threw her head back in delight over what he was doing to her, pleased at the feel of his cock stirring against her crotch. "I want you, Anne," she heard him murmur. "I've wanted you for the longest time."
And before
she
could stop
her
