"Adele, are you trying to take advantage of me?" Jeanette's giggle and the flush on her face suggested the third glass of wine was getting to her.
I felt a bit of a buzz myself, but since I was still nursing my first glass, it was more likely the satisfaction of having the most wonderful woman in the world staring at me with desire that matched my own. "Is it working?" I asked, unable to maintain a straight face.
Her smile broadened. "It has every other year. Why don't we just skip dessert?" This was the eighth year we'd eaten here, starting with the night we'd met at a gallery while I was still in law school. We'd never made it to dessert.
I looked around for our waiter and found my gaze arrested by a couple seated at a booth on the opposite wall. The man happened to be looking in our direction, and our eyes met for a long second. There was a quality to his stare I couldn't explain, but I'm sure it was a hit with the ladies. Or most of them; his physique and the cocky confidence radiating from him were wasted on me.
He blinked, and my eyes skipped sideways to his companion. She didn't do much for me either, since I'd always inclined to classy and elegant -- like Jeanette -- instead of, well, artificial, like... My mind strained to make a connection but failed, distracted by the arrival of our waiter.
"The bill please," I asked absently, still puzzling over the woman. As I stared into space, thinking, she slid out of the booth and stood up. The quality of her motion, caught in my peripheral vision, was instantly familiar, but then it disappeared again as she minced in the direction of the bathroom perched on scandalously high heels. For a second I'd been positive it was Livinia Lindstrom, but everything about her was wrong -- including the fact the guy at her table definitely wasn't her husband, Chase.
I had to satisfy my curiosity. "I'm just going to use the restroom," I told Jeanette, setting my napkin on the table and smoothing my dress as I gained my feet.
"Don't get lost," she smirked, giving me a look that could boil water. "I've only got one walk left in me, and it's the one that ends at the bed."
With that motivation, I hurried toward the back of the restaurant. The bimbo was looking at herself in the mirror, applying more cherry red lip gloss, when I pushed through the ladies' room door. Up close, the resemblance was unmistakable. "Livinia?"
"Oh," she said, looking over, "Adele. How are you? This is your anniversary, isn't it?"
"I'm great," I replied, thinking it was sweet of her to remember. "We're even official, now." I desperately wanted to ask about the bee-stung lips or the bust that looked several cup sizes larger than I recalled. I hadn't seen her for years, since she'd said goodbye to endless days of legal scutwork to start a family. She still wore the rings; Jeanette and I had attended the wedding, but then we'd dropped out of contact. "How about you?"
Livinia exhaled softly and gripped the edge of the sink; I'd have been hanging on for dear life in those shoes, too. "We're good. Chase and I, I mean. He's just some guy I met," she blurted out, anticipating the question I'd barely formed in my own mind. "It's hard to explain."
For the first time, she met my eyes and I recognized in them a haze I'd seen in Jeanette's more than a few times. "Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Livinia gasped, and suddenly she hitched up her dress -- what there was of it -- and shimmied out of her panties! I was still gaping when she deposited them in my hand and rushed through the door.
My hand closed reflexively while I struggled to process what I'd just seen. Oh. My. God. Of course, I had to look. Apparently Livinia was into thongs, and what fabric there was in this one was completely soaked through. A closer examination showed semen as well!
Wrinkling my nose, I hurriedly dumped Livinia's underwear in the trash, and then proceeded to wash my hands, twice. Apparently, she'd changed more than just her appearance since the last time we'd met! I was dying to tell Jeanette, but I realized something about the encounter had gotten me revved up, and suddenly talking was the last thing I wanted to do.
It seemed to take forever for our waiter to run my credit card, and I spent the time undressing Jeanette with my eyes -- making sure she could see I was doing it. Still, even her sultry smile couldn't keep me from darting an occasional glance across the room at Livinia. She had her head thrown back, eyes closed, and her date's arm was moving rhythmically, his hand hidden by the tablecloth. I was almost positive he was touching her, and the way he was looking at me while he did it finally creeped me out.
In one year of dating, five years of living in sin, and one of married bliss, Jeanette and I had never had a night to compare with this one. We barely made it to the bedroom before I was all over her, and Jeanette's surprise quickly turned to pleasure as my fingers teased her out of her cocktail dress and my mouth fastened on a nipple.
The first orgasms were quick, rushed, like the boys I'd experimented with in my teenage years, but like a bed of coals burning hotter than a live flame, our sweat-slicked bodies continued to writhe against each other. Her gasps and sighs echoed my own as knowing touches raised goosebumps on our heated flesh, each of us taking the other higher until broken moans signaled another orgasm, spurring me to greater desire.
I must have fallen into a restless sleep, because at some point the woman with me morphed into Livinia. She lay beneath me, overcome with lust, as I caressed her swollen tits and explored the denuded mound my imagination constructed from that glimpse in the bathroom. At the same time, other hands stroked my body, discovering erogenous spots I didn't even know I had and driving me to an absolute frenzy.
Finally, at the point I knew I was either going to climax or die, those hands spread my thighs, spreading my leaking moisture down them, and I felt--
I started awake, soaking wet and panting, already retreating from the edge. Jeanette lay beside me, the soft sound of her breath just audible in the quiet bedroom. Feeling simultaneously unfaithful and needy, I quietly slipped a finger between my slick folds, but the moment was gone beyond recapture.
It took me a long time to fall asleep again, and if I dreamed, I didn't remember it.
"Kelsie, can you come in for a moment?" It had taken several nights of the same dream, each followed by a day of indecision and recrimination, to force me to this point.
My intern, which pretty much meant "unpaid admin," hurried into my office and looked inquisitively at me. I don't know that I would have given her the job, but then I was only an associate and not a member of the hiring committee. Kelsie was intelligent and energetic, and really attractive -- I mean
really
attractive -- but I worried she was there because of who she was related to rather than who she was.
"What did you need, Adele?" she asked, rocking restlessly on the balls of her feet.
My doubts about Kelsie didn't make me blind to the advantages of having an effective administrative assistant instead of having to share pool personnel with the other associates. "I need the number for a Livinia Lindstrom; she was a paralegal for Parker & Downing up until about six years ago. You might need to check under Livinia Willis."