Dean was muttering to himself as peak-hour traffic crawled through town. The sky was bleak, and Dean knew he'd be caught in a storm before he got home.
"At least I'm luckier than those suckers," he said under his breath as he drew slowly up to a bus-stop and halted.
The first fat drops of rain hit his windshield and he thanked his lucky stars he didn't have to take the bus to work. A flash of colour as those at the bus-stop opened umbrellas drew his attention back to the small knot of people. Among them was a woman he knew.
Dean lowered his passenger window a little and called out, "Mrs. G!".
She didn't look up, so he honked his horn. The driver of the car in front flipped Dean the bird, but Mrs. G looked up this time. At first she didn't recognise him, this wasn't the car he'd been driving when he's dated her daughter a few years back, but after a moment she smiled and waved.
"C'mon, get in!" Dean called, "I'll take you home."
With a look of relief, the woman folded her umbrella, opened Dean's passenger door and got in.
She thanked Dean, saying she hadn't been looking forward to being packed onto a bus full of wet people. They laughed and made small talk as Dean navigated the traffic-choked streets. When they hit the less congested suburbs nearer Mrs. G's house, she turned to Dean and brushed her damp blonde bangs from her face.
"I haven't seen you in so long." She said.
"Yeah, well," Dean replied, "Jenny and I still get along, but not in a 'come over for dinner' kind of way, I guess."
Mrs. G nodded, and Dean took the chance to glance over at her. To be honest, he'd always had a bit of a crush on the woman he had at one time thought might end up as his mother-in-law. She hadn't changed a bit since he'd last saw her. She looked just like an older version of her daughter, same face, same hair. While she was a couple of inches shorter than Jenny's 5'8, her breasts, which were now pressing against the damp cloth of her blouse, were the same generous D cups, and if Dean was being honest, he'd say her slightly-bigger-than-Jenny's butt was sweeter.
"What are you doing for dinner tonight?" Mrs. G asked, interrupting Dean's train of thought.
"Nothing special"
"You should stick around and visit," she said, "Dinner won't be anything great, but there'll be enough for you. I always make too much since..."
Dean let the silence hang, but he burned with curiosity.
"Since Max left." Mrs. G concluded. Dean said he was sorry to hear that Max, the infamous and not altogether pleasant, Mr. G, had gone. And since he wouldn't be there, and the prospect of hooking up with Jenny was worth pursuing, Dean accepted Mrs. G's invitation.
When they reached Mrs. G's home, she pressed the answering machine and let it play as she fixed drinks in the kitchen. The third message was from Jenny. She would be taking her brother to a friend's house for the night, and she herself would be visiting her father overnight.
Mrs. G handed Dean a cocktail. Dean thanked her and told her he figured that meant he should be getting home.
