Alex's life had turned upside down since the death of her husband. In fact, today marked the fourteenth month of his untimely death. Most deaths, perhaps, are untimely, but he was so young. It had been a trying year, watching helplessly as the lung cancer ravaged his body. It was unexpected because he didn't smoke, exercised regularly, and followed a vegetarian diet. It took Alex a year before she opened herself up to a new relationship. Two months ago, she met Vinny on a late night flight from Boston to LAX. A week later, they began a whirlwind affair. During the last three weeks, however, and much to her displeasure, his preoccupation with work took priority over their love life. She vowed to be patient, however, because it was the rugged Vinny Bambino that saved her from the numbing ache of loneliness and sexual repression.
Her ten-year marriage to Tom, her late husband, had been a loving affair, tender and affectionate, but lacking the raw passion she craved. She was now in her sexual prime, and at thirty-five, she was a knock out. At five foot six, she was the envy of all her friends. Alex's thick dark hair, olive complexion, and green eyes brought compliments from her female friends, but her body never failed to turn men's heads. No matter her attire, her small waist, well-toned legs, and big breasts, caught the eye of every man she met. She savored the moans and verbal expletives Vinny uttered when he removed her bra and devoured the flawless flesh of her full breasts. Her nipples were extremely sensitive, responding passionately to his large hands and soft lips. Vinny had routinely brought her to the edge of orgasm by merely massaging and licking her big tits. But of late, she was left to her own means of self-satisfaction. Vinny hadn't touched her in two weeks.
Her coworkers at the real estate agency had noted her new enthusiasm, suspecting she had finally found a lover. Clay, a fellow realtor and fierce competitor, had dogged her for two years. He seized every opportunity to test his seductive schemes, but Alex, always the faithful wife, had rebuffed him. Her marriage to Tom hadn't deterred him, but when he died, Clay uncharacteristically showed her respect, and cooled his heels. Recently, however, the bloodhound within him detected a change in her attitude, and once again, he singled mindedly pursued her. He was relentless, cornering her every chance he got, telling her salacious jokes, detailing his favorite sexual fetishes, and boasting that he had never failed to satisfy a woman. His self-assurance and braggadocio bordered on arrogance. His talk was bold and intimidating, but deep within her, he had hit the mark. Consciously she denied it, but down deep, at the core of her being, Clay turned her on.
Two of Alex's female friends referred to Clay as an alpha male, domineering, arrogantly flaunting his male animal magnetism at the expense of good manners and social graces. Married women in the office laughed at his bold behavior, but Alex sensed, given the chance, they would have loved to test his sexual prowess. A couple of close female coworkers, confessed after a couple of drinks, they had fantasized about him while making love to their husbands. Alex had to admit that it was his commanding physical presence and self-assurance that piqued her curiosity. Physically he had all the makings of a great lover.
Today he had pushed the limits. Just before lunch, he barged into her office, perched his athletic frame on the edge of the desk, and flashed her a devilish grin. "What do you think about phone sex?"
"What?"
"Alex, you are not telling me that at thirty-five, you have not enjoyed the thrills of phone sex."
"Clay, Tom and I were married for ten years."
"You're not married now."
"So."
"You've been acting differently the last month or so."
"Oh?"
"You have a bounce in your step, your eyes sparkle. I sense you've been getting laid."
"What!"
"You heard me. I can tell when a woman is satisfied." He moved his hips, punctuating his point, providing Alex a glimpse of his hidden, but enormous manhood. His dress slacks failed to conceal its immense size, bulging his trouser. It looked like a snake caught up in his trousers, running down a good portion of his thickly muscled leg.
"And, I look satisfied?" Alex starred at his leg, mesmerized.
"Perhaps last month. Not last week or now. What's up?"
"I'm fine," she lied.
"I don't buy it."
Alex squirmed in her chair, then blurted, "That's your call."
"I've got a proposition. Tonight, when you get home, get comfortable, have a glass of wine, and I'll give you a call."
"Why?"
"I'm going to introduce you to the ecstasy of phone sex."
"What?"
"You heard me. At eight sharp, pick up. You won't regret it."
Clay flashed Alex another wide grin, slid from her cluttered desk, then paused at the office door. "You won't be disappointed."
He was gone, thank God, but his perceptiveness alarmed her. It was true she had a new spring in her step, and it was also true she had been getting laid. But how could he possibly know that Vinny was avoiding her. Clay was obnoxious, tenacious, and arrogant. He was also dead on concerning her love life. Despite his outlandish self-assurance, he exuded sex appeal. Images of his bulging trousers haunted her all afternoon.
Several months ago, the agency had a swim party at a local resort. She got her share of male attention, her bikini clad body catching the eye of every male in sight, but Clay easily matched her, drawing and endless series of female compliments. While in the resort bathroom, she overheard several women talking, admitting they would die to get a crack at him. One woman said, in a throaty voice, the word on the street has it that he's hung like a horse and knows what to do with it. His broad shoulders, thickly muscled thighs and arms, and flat abs were definitely a physical turn on. His arrogance was another matter. She reached for her phone, dialed an escrow office, jettisoning Clay and his hot air from her mind. She had work to do.
Alex got away early, arriving home at six thirty, early for a realtor accustomed to ten-hour workdays. She retrieved her messages, elated at hearing Vinny's voice. He was in Boston trying to close a big import deal. He complained about his grueling work schedule, but would phone her tomorrow. He said he missed her, but reluctantly informed her that he would be on the East Coast for another three weeks. She cursed him out loud, then headed upstairs for a Jacuzzi. She poured a glass of wine and settled in for a good soak. She missed the tender, loving attention of her late husband, and the hot sex with Vinny. The soothing jets of the Jacuzzi, however, eased her nervous tension. After a twenty-minute soak, she grabbed a towel and admired her reflection in the floor length bathroom mirror. Her flat abs, flawless skin, big tits, and fleshy, but firm ass, looked great. She only wished she felt as well as she looked. Again, images of Clays enormous cock flooded her tormented mind.
Downstairs she lit a fire and started on her second glass of cabernet, but stopped short, opting to drink it later. Alex got a sudden itch to read; she decided to hit the corner bookstore and pick up the latest James Patterson novel. She moved slowly back upstairs, put on a short skirt, cotton blouse, and high-heeled sandals. Heading downstairs, she heard the phone. Thinking it was Vinny, she picked up after the second ring.
"Hello."
"Well, well, you amaze me."
"Who's this?"
"You haven't forgotten already?"
"Clay. You surprised me."
"I told you to pick up at eight."
"Oh, that. I had already forgotten."
"Well, I've got your attention now. What are you wearing?"
"Nothing special. I was on my way to the bookstore."
"Oh, that can wait."
"What's up?" Alex was taken off guard, puzzled by his sudden phone call. She was expecting Vinny.
"Phone sex."
"What?"
"Phone sex. Remember our chat in your office?"
"Clay, I'm not in the mood," she lied. She once again flashed on the scene in her office, talk of phone sex, and his blatant exhibitionism. Saliva pooled in her mouth just thinking about his bulging trousers.
"Give me a few. I'll get your attention."
"Really."
"What are you wearing?"
"I told you, nothing special."
"Try me."
"If you must. Let's see, I've got on a short navy blue skirt, off-white blouse, and sandals."
"Any underwear?"
"Of course. I wouldn't go out in public without them!"
"Such a pity. That would be a turn on."
"For whom?"
"Me, for one."
"Well, I'm not a slut."
"We'll see."
"What?"
"Are you comfortable?"
"Yes. I just took a Jacuzzi. I'm on my second glass of wine."
"Take another sip."
"Why?"
"I want you relaxed."
"I am."
"Unbutton your blouse."
"Why."
"Just do it."
