By 10pm the reports on TV had made it clear that we were not going to make it back home that evening. The storm conditions had brought down a power line across the bridge, and without that bridge our neighborhood was essentially cut off until repairs were complete in the morning. Thankfully Sara and I were already ensconced in the warm confines of Jack's townhouse. We'd arrived for dinner a couple of hours prior just as the storm was kicking in. With the news alerts indicating that we were officially stranded Jack graciously offered up his home for the night. Without any option of returning back to our house that evening Sara and I settled in, releasing ourselves from the stress of worrying about the traffic and road closures. As Sara, Jack, and I refilled wine glasses the girls emerged from the basement in search of popcorn. Informed of the bridge closure our teenage daughter Chloe, and Jack's daughter Emma, burst into cheers, happily welcoming the enforced sleepover.
The girls were close friends, schoolmates, and only children. They both also played on the high school's senior girls basketball team of which Jack was the volunteer coach. The previous year my wife Sara had taken the position of Team Coordinator. So throughout the season she helped manage the schedule, arrange carpools, and liaise with the other schools and opponents. Given the girls' closeness Sara and I had been friendly with Jack for some time. But the shared bond over the basketball team had strengthened the relationship and over the past couple of years we socialized with Jack frequently.
Having split with his wife when Emma was fairly young, Jack was single. His tall athletic frame and square jawed good looks were a frequent topic of conversation amongst the high school's moms. He was an active and involved parent and Emma had chosen to come live with him full time at the start of high school.
So as we finally flicked the TV from the local news over to a sports recap show neither Sara nor I were uncomfortable at the prospect of having to spend the night. With the responsibility of driving removed, new bottles of wine were opened and as the storm whipped around outside we decided to make the best of the circumstances.
Realizing that he was going to have to host us unexpectedly had briefly left Jack uncharacteristically flustered. Sara was wearing tight jeans and an equally as tight bodysuit which she'd paired with a loose cardigan. It was clear that her outfit would not make for great sleepwear. Jack had momentarily excused himself and thoughtfully popped upstairs to his loft bedroom to fetch an oversized t-shirt, and then down to Emma's room in the basement in search of a pair of shorts for Sara. As he re-emerged from downstairs he proffered them to her in hope they might be suitable.
"Sorry that it's the best I can offer"
he explained sheepishly. "
I'm not used to hosting many female overnight guests"
That brought a chuckle and a
"yeah, right"
from Sara as she graciously accepted the clothes. She was aware of the amount of women (from our school's parent group alone!) who would enjoy being offered such an invite.
We carried on laughing and socializing around Jack's large kitchen island. The main floor of his townhouse featured a well appointed kitchen which was open to a large living room. Next to the kitchen, stairs stretched upwards to Jack's master suite, an open air loft on the top floor which overlooked the living room and double height windows. A second stairwell led downstairs to a basement family room and Emma's bedroom. As we settled in Sara took the clothes that Jack had offered and headed towards the bathroom, explaining that she was going to go change in order to get more comfortable.
Jack and I continued chatting. In between the storm reports, the local news had been covering a story about the new Events Center that was being built in town. It was a topic that was on everyone's lips at the moment. The budget had ballooned significantly and the local city council were being forced to justify the overruns. Sara soon re-emerged back in the kitchen. Given Jack's broad frame his large t-shirt served to drape around Sara's body and hang down past her hips. She held her own clothes in one hand but extended Emma's tight workout shorts outwards towards Jack.
"Jack, I appreciate it, but unless you want to purchase a new pair of these for $80 I suggest you give these back to Emma"
she giggled.
"There is NO way that these are going to fit over my bum, and I'd surely ruin them in the process"
she giggled, passing them back to him.
I briefly pondered what Sara had chosen as a solution as opposed to Emma's shorts... before realizing that she had chosen no solution at all! Jack's t-shirt dropped down far enough to obscure what I gathered was just her underwear. But it served to leave a LOT of leg on display.
Jack smiled as he accepted the shorts back from Sara and teased that she looked like some kind of 80's model with the t-shirt/no pants getup. Returning to the countertop with a laugh Sara coyly slid up onto a bar stool next to me in order to obscure her bottomless-ness and we carried on with our conversation.
The upcoming construction of the new downtown events center had forced the impending closure of a handful of older businesses, one of which was the Diamond Club, a legendary local strip joint that had been there since the 70's. Despite the ribald nature of the business there had actually been significant local outcry about the loss of such a storied establishment.
"I haven't been there in years"
Sara mused as we discussed the topic.
"Maybe we'll have to go one last time before it closes!"
"Gotta be a Tuesday!"
countered Jack with a laugh. He was referencing the clubs well recognized and long standing amateur night. I grinned at the implication.
"Just in case, I'll be there every Tuesday until it closes!"
he teased.
Sara's eyebrows raised in confusion as she rounded the counter to refill her wine glass.
"What's on Tuesdays?"
she asked unwittingly.
When she finally understood that the implication of the joke was that SHE should participate in amateur night she delivered a solid shot to Jack's right shoulder.
"You wish!"
she said simply.
As she turned and walked back towards her bar stool, she paused impulsively, placed her wine glass down... and raised the back of her shirt.
The next 4 seconds felt like 4 full minutes.
As her shirt rose up it exposed her essentially naked bum. It was not uncommon for Sara to wear thong underwear and that was apparently what she had chosen earlier in the evening when she had gotten dressed. The purple cotton waistband met in a small V at the top of her bum but otherwise disappeared nearly entirely between her round white cheeks. Jack's face registered surprise (as I'm sure did mine) as my wife jokingly flashed her curvy ass at the two of us.
"You'll be doing lap dances too then?"
Jack managed to titter as Sara slipped the t-shirt back down over her rear and turned around.
