I couldn't tell you how long I've been away. It felt as if all my days have blended together. For all I knew, something that happened yesterday could have easily happened last week. My day generally started before the sun came up and finished well after the sun went down. Ambient lighting and climate control often simulated the normal business hours of the day. Only after the phone calls ceased was there an indication that the day was winding down. Depending on the number of loose ends that needed tying up, it could have been another 30 minutes before I heard that proverbial end of shift whistle. Lately, though, it was more like one to two hours. If it wasn't for the picture of my dear wife, Heather, sitting on my desk, I'm not certain if I would have gotten through it all.
I couldn't tell you why it felt like I haven't been home in ages, but the feeling of walking through the front door of my home felt like I was in the home of a stranger's house. Had I really been on auto-pilot for that long? Was I a simple drone of the 9-to-5 lifestyle, unaware that the greedy demands of corporate life were trying to squeeze blood from a turnip? Long hours spent working on proposals that would be rejected or required fine tuning. Long days spent implementing the approved projects while being threatened that my job was on the line if we miss the deadline or go over budget. My only break from the monotony of corporate life would be the telephone calls from my dear, Heather.
It didn't matter that our phone calls of late had been arguments about how I need to come home at a regular hour, how I need to take a vacation from all this stress, or how I need to spend time with her. The frustration and agony I heard in her voice had the underlying emotion of love and passion. She wanted to be with me. I always reassured her that this project would be the last, and then we'd take that week-long vacation in Hawaii so that we can get away and finally start the family she always wanted.
Walking through that front door felt as if I could finally see for the first time. Though, it felt quite strange. The furniture was familiar, but they have been repositioned or reupholstered. Heather did have plenty of time on her hands. I never noticed how she took care of the house until now. She had this one wool blanket that she tossed over the back of the couch. She always complained about it being cold, and if I wasn't there to keep her warm then she would light the fireplace and wrap herself up in this blanket. I always teased her that I'm glad we didn't live in Forks, Washington or that she didn't know anyone named Jacob. I can hear her response now,
"Any woman would love having two men fight over her, each swearing their unconditional and eternal love to her."
Seeing, or perhaps finally noticing, the change in the furniture inspired me to make a change for the better. Not just for myself, but for Heather as well. She needed to have something more to do that rearrange furniture while waiting for her man to come home. Looking down at myself, I could probably stand to get out in the sun more. I suppose fluorescent lighting doesn't really give one much of a tan. Being an automaton really changed who I am. I first met Heather at a pick-up basketball game. A bunch of us guys from school would go down to the local park and play some three-on-three basketball. For whatever reason, it attracted some of the sorority girls to come and watch.
I'll never forget the day I first saw Heather. She wore her long black hair with soft curls. Her Cupid's bow lips smiled and turned at the corners, causing cute dimples to appear in her cheeks. Her hazel eyes sparkled in the sunlight, showing off her youth and zest for life. And how could I forget her curves? The cotton tank top hugged her firm breasts. The shorts she wore were modest enough but showed off how the sun kissed nearly every inch of her. I definitely wanted to be between those legs and plant soft kisses to her inner thighs. An all-American girl, who catered to every all-American boy's wet dream.
A locomotive in the form of a two hundred and fifty pound man, who had more fat than muscle, bulldozed me over on his way to the basket. He took advantage of my staring at Heather's beauty. He brought me back to reality in a hurry. Back then, it's what drew us together. She felt sorry for me, and then was flattered when I told her how it happened. Of course, I wasn't quite as raunchy as my hormone-enraged thoughts were. From there, we would always been seen together. At the basketball court or at the park, we would always be seen side by side, holding hands or kissing.
The sound of Heather giggling upstairs brought me back to reality this time around. It's a playful and flirtatious giggle, one that she would use whenever she bought a new dress that showed off her gorgeous legs or had a plunging neckline that made me want to go mountain climbing. Did she go shopping again for me? That was so very sweet of her. Well, I won't disappoint her. Things were going to change for the better after tonight. I'm going to let her know that I won't neglect her. I'm going to tell her that I appreciate her waiting for me. The blinders are off, and she'll now be rewarded for her patience.
Not wanting to surprise her, I crept up the stairs mindful of not placing too much weight upon the third step in the stairwell. It always creaked when someone walked on it. Heather and I would always joke about how we had a built-in alarm system with that staircase. Obviously, my ninja skills were shining through as I was able to get by that alarm without causing a sound! Hopefully she doesn't have the door closed, or these mad skills would have been all for naught.
I was in luck. The door to the bedroom was partially open. I could peek into the bedroom from the safety of the shadows. Another test of my ninja skills! And this grasshopper got an eyeful. Heather was wearing a spaghetti strap body suit made of while lace, with a built-in underwire bra. The frilly garment lifted her breasts, putting them on full display. Meanwhile the lacy fabric played peek-a-boo with her soft pink areola and her erect nipples. Just the sight of her luscious tits made me want to break down the door and ravage her, defining my epiphany and proclaim that I'm a changed man!
The body suit had a high French cut which revealed the dangerous curves of hips. Plus, it gave the added bonus of masquerading as a thong. The white fabric disappeared into her ass crevice, showing off her firm buttocks. The time she spent doing yoga and whatever fitness trend really paid off for her. When was the last time I told her that? It's sad that my work life would ever put that in doubt. God, I wanted to squeeze that ass and claim her body as my property just like I used to when I was younger.
However, right before I could muster the strength to blast open the door, I heard another voice coming from the master bathroom. Not only did it hurt that this was a masculine voice, but it was a familiar voice.
"Can I come out now, baby?" he said. I could hear the anticipation. He expected to see this new piece of lingerie.
The voice belonged to Damon, a college "friend". While I spent time in the classroom, studying management information systems, this loser would skateboard around campus. He was known for being the local hook-up for weed. Why a Hawaiian chose to go to a Midwestern university was beyond me, especially if he lived in paradise. He was friends with Heather, only by association. He dated many of her sorority sisters. If you were to ask me, I think they used him to score some pot. He, of course, used them for sex. He was a pussy hound. I always told Heather that I didn't care for him, and she always reassured me that he was nothing to fear.
