Author's Note:
There was a warning in the introduction that the lead male character in the story was going to enjoy the fact that his significant other has sex with others. This was hinted at in the last chapter, and it comes to fruition in this chapter. Just remember that there was fair warning that it was coming, so don't be surprised by it.
"Hey Jack," Harold said into the phone first thing Monday morning, "I need a truck this morning. Gotta go help someone move some shit."
"No can do, Harry," Jack said from the other end of the line, "they are all booked up."
Shit!
Harold cursed under his breath, partly because he couldn't get a truck and partly because he couldn't ever get Jack to stop calling him Harry. He hated being called Harry. That arrogant prick of a bully back in middle school had always called him Harry. He never could stand it after that.
"On a Monday?" Harold replied. "Since when do you not have trucks on a Monday?"
"The last ten days have been insane," Jack answered. "It's spring. Everyone wants to move in the spring."
"Damn, not sure what I am going to do then. I volunteered to help someone move some boxes this morning. It needs to get done today."
"Well," Jack offered, "let me see what I can do. My old business partner started a moving company. He was just telling me the other day that he wished he could figure out how to keep so many trucks from being idle in the middle of the day. He owes me a favor. I can call and see if he has something sitting around idle today sometime."
"Yeah, that would be great, thanks."
Shit!
Harold hung up the phone and called Jessie to let her know there would be a change of plans. There was no answer. He sent her a quick text message and then tried to decide if he should start rescheduling the appointments he'd canceled for the day.
He had been so looking forward to dropping in and spending some alone time with Jessie. He had to find out if the flirty, sexy Jessie that had shown up Saturday at the dinner was a permanent change to her demeanor, or a one time thing. If it was permanent, he wanted to see how far she'd let the flirting go if her mother wasn't also sitting at the table. He was quickly losing his excuse to go visit her and find out.
Ten minutes later his phone rang. He was hoping it would be Jessie calling him back. It wasn't. It was Jack.
"Good news," Jack said loudly. "Kyle said he's got a truck that he uses for small jobs with two men working it that is going to be sitting idle from noon until 5:00 today. Can they get your job done in that time?"
"Yeah, shouldn't be a problem. It's just loading a bunch of plastic bins onto the truck and taking them to a storage place."
"Perfect," Jack replied. "Send me the address and I'll have him send them over. They should be able to be there around 1:00 or so."
"What's it going to set us back?" Harold asked.
"I told you he owed me a favor," Jack said. "He's paying them whether they do the job or not, so he agreed to just cover it."
"Great, thanks," Harold replied.
It was not great, of course, for two reasons. One of them Harold already knew was coming.
"So I guess now it'll be you that owes me the favor," Jack said.
"I guess so," Harold agreed. He hated owing Jack favors. Jack
never
forgot about favors you owed him. And he seemingly always called them it at the worst possible times.
The second reason it wasn't great was that now he had no reason to go visit Jessie. The movers were going to handle it all. He'd have to wait until the next get together to see if the changes In Jessie were a permanent thing.
He checked his phone. Jessie had not texted him back.
He called her again and still got no response.
Goddamn it girl! Answer the fucking phone already!
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
He stood at the door to her apartment and knocked.
There was no response.
He had tried multiple times to call her on the phone, and she never answered. That should have pissed him off, but instead he saw it as an opportunity. It gave him an excuse to still go to the apartment, without having to spend any time dealing with moving her boxes.
One more time he knocked on the door.
Still no response.
He rang the bell, something he always hated doing.
Still no response.
He tried calling her on the phone again, and rang the bell once more. Now he really was starting to get pissed off at her. He had arranged to be there at 10:00. She had agreed. It was 10:15, and there had been no sign of her all morning. He had rearranged his schedule for the day to be there and called in a favor with a friend to get the movers there, and she was no where to be found.
Just as he was about to turn and head back down the hall, pissed off at the nerve of his wife's stupid daughter, he heard the deadbolt turn in the door. He stood there, ready to chew Jessie out for being so thoughtless, and then she opened the door and everything he had been thinking about was instantly pushed out of his mind.
The first thing he noticed was what she was wearing. She had on a thin, silk robe, tied at the waist with a sash. It showed a decent amount of cleavage, and it was really short, much shorter than even the dress she had worn on Saturday. It showed off an almost scandalous amount of her rather spectacular legs.
The second thing he noticed was that she looked like hell. Well, at least as much as Jessie could ever look like hell. She was still fabulously beautiful, but her hair was a complete mess, and she wore no makeup (although she didn't really need it anyway). She looked exhausted, as though she had only just managed to drag herself out of bed after a night of heavy drinking. It seemed so incongruous to Harold as he stood there looking at her. It was after 10:00. To Jessie Murray, sleeping in meant she waited until 7:00am to get up. It was so unlike anything he knew about her.
The third thing he noticed were those tits. Oh god, those tits. Harold, like most other men, had learned that there was an awful lot of false advertising associated with women's breasts. Breasts that looked nearly perfect on a dressed woman could look anything but perfect when they were actually naked. Bras made up for all sorts of imperfections when it came to tits. A padded bra could make small tits look much bigger. A push-up bra could make saggy breasts seem down right perky. One thing was sure, tits were nearly
always
smaller and droopier than advertised by their packaging.
That was most definitely not the case with Jessie. She stood there in that robe, clearly not wearing a bra, and leaving next to nothing to the imagination. The silk was clinging to her breasts, very nearly showing their exact size and shape. They looked considerably bigger than Harold had ever imagined they would be based on seeing her with her clothes on. They were also perfectly shaped without a hint of sagging. What's more, her nipples were as hard as stones, pressing noticeably against the silk fabric of the robe, almost as if they were about to rip holes through it. It was a sight to behold. That sight alone made up for any inconvenience he had gone through to get there that morning. He seen a hint of those nipples on Saturday night over dinner for the first time ever. He'd wanted to see more than that subtle hint. His wish had been granted.