The ride to Nicki's house wasn't nearly as complicated as she had led me to believe. We drove west on the highway for a mile or so, then turned north driving right past my police station. We continued a few more miles until we were in what I would call "the country." We drove by a number of barns and cows and even a farmer driving his tractor in after a hard days work. I kept thinking about the wonderful blow job Nicki had just given me, hoping that her husband would not become suspicious. My cock swelled just a little bit in tribute to her skills. Finally Nicki turned left into a narrow lane with about six houses on it. She turned into the first driveway on the left and motioned for me to pull in behind her. I could see the smoke from Hans' grill spiraling into the crisp air from behind the house.
Nicki and I walked right around to the rear of this well-kept ranch house and there was Hans busily cooking our dinner on his gas-fired barbecue grill. Hans was in his mid 20's, thin but wiry and about six feet tall. He smiled broadly as Nicki introduced us, and then he offered me an imported beer, which I happily accepted. Hans was wearing a heavy winter parka and Bermuda shorts. Nicki and I went into the house to seek the warmth of the fireplace, while Hans continued cooking the London broil.
"Hans doesn't care how cold it gets; he cooks on that grill at least once a week during the winter and more often when summer arrives."
We took off our coats and Nicki set about doing her part of the dinner; making the salad. She ripped apart a head of romaine and washed it in one of those salad spinners. She had an enormous wooden salad bowl and crushed a couple of cloves of garlic in it, adding salt, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, Dijon mustard and anchovies, combining all ingredients until they formed a paste in the bowl. Then she added olive oil and the romaine, tossing it all together until the lettuce was coated. Then she added parmesan cheese, croutons and some freshly ground pepper and gave it a final toss. The Caesar salad was finished just as Hans came through the back door with a luscious looking piece of meat and a bowl full of grilled corn. We sat down to what was, for me, a single guy, a wonderful feast. Hans expressed his appreciation for helping Nicki out the day before and I continued to say only that it was nothing, which, to me, it was.
We all stuffed ourselves and when we were done, I got up to help Nicki clear the table. Then, we adjourned to the living room for dessert; a homemade banana cream pie. Nicki also prepared a pot of coffee. I didn't get many opportunities to eat like this and I savored every moment of this one. Hans took a seat in a comfortable looking, well worn recliner when we finished our pie. Nicki and I took seats on the couch opposite him. When we finished our pie, Hans got up to throw a couple of logs on the fire. When he returned, he had a bottle of very acceptable cognac in hand and offered me a snifter of it to complete the meal. Nicki went in to check on the baby, who had been asleep the entire time I was there. Hans again brought up the incident from yesterday. I was getting embarrassed by their effusiveness for such a small deed. He then told me that he was going to let me in on a little secret about his wife.
"While she was most definitely grateful that you happened by to open the car for her that was probably only part of why she was glad to see you."
I must have looked at him quizzically, because he immediately went into an explanation.
