Chapter 4
I bolt up.
My eyes open wide, as wide as possible, to try to process what is happening. Did I really just hear a voice? A woman's voice?
As my eyesight clears, I see that I wasn't dreaming or imagining anything. A woman stands in front of me in a tan skirt suit. She's a few inches shorter, but she has a presence that makes me feel small. Her blazer hangs open and a silky bright white blouse shines underneath. Her hands rest at the top of her knee length skirt, just above the generous curves of her waist. I'm struggling not to get lost in those curves.
I shiver and grab a pillow from behind me to try to cover up. It's a desperate attempt, but I feel suddenly very naked, standing in front of a strange woman while I'm wearing a dress.
Not just any dress. I see her smiles as the realization becomes apparent on my face.
"It suits you, better than it did me," she says, taking a few steps to the side to look around the pillow. "Come on now, spin around for mommy," she taunts.
"I'm sorry," I stutter out, my teeth clattering in shivers. "He told me you were divorced."
She laughs.
"Oh relax child," she says, taking a step toward me and plucking the pillow from my arms. "We are divorced."
"Then-"
"Devon never changed the locks, so every now and then I like to sneak in and lounge around for old time's sake when I've got a slow day at the office," she says, dropping her purse on the ground and plopping down on the love seat behind her.
I cross my arms to try to warm the embarrassment away, but I'm still shivering there, helplessly. I want to run, grab my clothes from the garage, get dressed and get out of there.
But the woman's eyes have me pinned.
She rests an arm against the back of the couch and with her other arm she makes a twirling motion.
"Give mommy a little spin, won't you?" she says, tucking her short brown hair behind her ear.
My cheeks are burning red now, not just out of embarrassment, but out of anger. Who does this cunt think she is to order me around like this? But somehow, in the midst of this, I feel my cock straining on her panties. I hate myself for this, but the slutty little bitch inside me likes where this is going.
"Yes mommy," I say, spinning my body around and feeling free as the fabric raises and floats around me for moment before coming back down.
"Good girl," she says and pats the empty seat next to her.
I walk over slowly, uncertain of what she has planned. I eye her large purse by her feet. For all I know she's got a gun in there and is here to take revenge on her ex-husbands new lover. But I take a deep breath and shake my concerns aside.
I gather my dress around my thighs and sit gentle on the edge of the couch.
"Oh come closer darling, mommy won't bite," she says.
I scoot closer nervously and smell a familiar rose perfume coming from her.
"Now tell me- what do I call you?"
I shuffle nervously, uncertain if I should reveal to her the name you and I shared just hours ago, but I don't want to give her my real name. Not just out of concern for my privacy, but it would just feel wrong to be called my man's name while I'm in these clothes and in your house.
"Rania," I say, still shivering.
"Oh that's a beautiful name," she says with a smile that feels one part genuine and two parts wicked. "So tell me, how long have you and Devon been together?"
I'm not sure how to answer that.
"Well, we been talked on the app for a month," her eyes pierce mine, so I take a deep breath and decide to open up. "I was nervous, you know, at first. I'd never been with a guy. Most guys I matched with seemed pushy, wanted sex now, or something. Or they were completely disinterested. Devon was patient." She nods and I continue. "He listened, got to know me and learned what I was looking for, but never pressed me for it. Then a few weeks ago we met for coffee. I thought he'd press me for sex then, but we just talked and walked around the neighborhood for a few hours and then I went home. I thought maybe at that point he just wasn't interested, once he'd gotten a look at me in real life. But as soon as I got home he texted and asked to take me out to dinner. Still he didn't pressure me for anything. Then he texted after work yesterday and asked if I'd like to grab a drink. And-"
"And now he's got you wearing my clothes and playing housewife while he's at work," she says rolling her eyes.
"I mean, he didn't force me to, I wanted to. And I'm sorry I'm in your clothes, I can-"
"No dear," she pats me on the shoulder and gives me a look of genuine sympathy. "I was only kidding. Devon's not a bad guy like that."
I smile and look at her. She's got big brown eyes and light brown skin. Her thick lips are coated in a familiar shade of bright red lipstick. She looks a little younger than you, maybe 45, 48 at the oldest. She's also absolutely stunning. Short haired milfy brunettes aren't just my type, they're my weakness.
"So, why did you get divorced?" I ask, feeling invasive, but overpowered by my curiosity.
She laughs.
"I wonder about that," she says, turning forward and straightening her skirt over her crossed legs. "Nothing terrible happened between us, to be honest. We were just too young when we got married and had kids, never had a chance to really grow into ourselves before we had to grow into the marriage. So we were always at each other's throats for one thing or another, all of which seems petty now. We're on good terms, we see each other often and do things together with the kids a lot, so we still have a close relationship."
I want to be jealous when she tells me this, but my heart just warms at the sentiment. Somehow, I'm happy you have this sense of peace and balance in your relationship.
She turns back and looks at me.
"Darling, Rania, you're absolutely adorable, but you don't know a thing about make up, do you?"
