I was bored within thirty minutes of arriving at the party. My wife had disappeared amongst a throng of her co-workers discussing insurance shit which I had no interest or knowledge of. I had spoken empty party words to three people I barely knew but had met at previous engagements thrust upon me by my wife so she could bugger off with a clear conscience. My wife's boss Lance who I could tell wanted to lance my skinny wife by the way he eyed up he slight derriere when she turned her back. Trudy the receptionist who I had a non sexual phone relationship with, being more trying to help me locate my wife. And Victor the outgoing, boring sales agent who had a glib tongue and a wandering eye.
I considered sneaking out. It was only a ten minute walk home. Wendy could find her own way back.
"I know what you're thinking," an alluring female voice said from beside me.
I slightly turned then looked down to a short and oldish looking lady who was fair packed into a tight leather number that produced bulging breasts and largish thighs that looked quite red as if circulation had been cut off from the return journey to the heart. She looked close on fifty, almost half my age. Heavy makeup and crowsfoot eyes. Should I say saucy looking eyes that had a teasing twinkle about them.
"Go on then," I said.
She moved in closer, her bare forearm touching my hip, triceps long given up their youth. She smelt good, her perfume powering up my dead libido. She reminded me off my mother.
"Going home is my guess." He dark bluish eyes twinkled. She sipped her drink, heavy reddened lips pressing against the glass rim staining it in a blur of lipstick.
I laughed and studied her cleavage. It was deep and inviting, so much that a man on a diving board could plunge right into the depths of that glorious flesh.
"They're real," she said.
"What?" I automatically replied sensing I had been caught out.
"My tits."
I blushed red and turned away.
Her arm dug in deep causing a compression of wrinkled skin on her forearm.
"Hmmm, I like that. Someone that still blushes."
I hadn't recovered enough to my normal sallow shading so I stared at my shoes.
"I'm Doreen by the way." She stuck out a stubby hand. The forefinger was half gone down to the second knuckle. "I chewed my nail too much on that finger." She laughed.
I joined in. "I'm John," clasping her hand lightly feeling the shortened finger oddly tap at my sweaty palm as if in some secret handshake. Her hair was a dirty red with the odd strand of grey cast in. It was cut short and feathered close to her scalp.
"Oh I know who you are, mu hubby Victor has talked about you."
"He has?" I was surprised as when I ever spoke to him it was like I didn't exist such was his interest in my petty conversation.
I glanced up at my wife's last known location and I caught her cold eye. She looked thoroughly nestled in amongst a group of handsome looking suits all with broad shoulders and stubbled beards.
"Can I get you a drink?" I asked Doreen. It was an old lady's name. I didn't like it much. What I did like was the sexuality she exuded.
"Sure. A large strong gin." She smiled. She was missing a middle bottom tooth. Others were well coated with lipstick. I could see the brown stain of nicotine on her inner bottom lip.
"Tonic in that?"
"No, just gin."
While queuing at the bar, being the kitchen bench, I studied her large ass. It stood out and up and looked hard. Mind you the mould of the leather that sat under it probably helped with the foundation of it.
