All characters that partake of this story are over 18. This is a work of fiction, but it is a real fantasy. The personalities portrayed here are extremes and not encountered much in reality if at all. If you don't like people being forced to do things, don't read this. Oh, and why are you in this category then? I hope you enjoy the ride. All comments are welcome and I do tend to respond to interesting ones.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Amanda sat in her kitchen, drinking a glass of wine. She looked nervously at the clock and wondered if she was making the right decision. Her husband of seven years, had a girlfriend on the side for the past year. He was now living with her and was visiting here ever so often. Amanda was devastated and just wanted him back.
She did not know what she had done to drive him away. She was depressed and despondent, and the women she worked with at the medical center kept telling to cut him loose. There was one person however, who actually listened to her, absorbed what she was saying and did not give advice, but asked her how she felt about what she had said.
He had been through two divorces in his life-time and two bad relationships in recent times. She had helped him when he was close to rock bottom and had made some bad decisions that brought him into the Urgent Care and under her care. He said he owed her for giving him hope and he wanted to return the favor.
So, after a few weeks, she invited him over for dinner. She took the children to her mother's, but did not tell her exactly what she had planned. She was still married after all and having a male friend over would send the wrong signals. So, she told her that the girls from work were taking her out and she would get the kids in the morning. Her mother told her to take the weekend to relax and she could pick them up after work on Monday.
So here she sat, waiting on this man, twenty years her senior, to come to her house for dinner. She gulped down the rest of the glass of wine, her second so far and poured herself a third glass. What did she have planned for tonight? What did he? A chill ran down her spine.
What if he thought she wanted to sleep with him? He was nice and all, but he was not handsome. Fifty-four years old, heavy set and not in the greatest health. He was not ugly, but depression made him let himself go. He was intelligent, you could see the wheels turning in his eyes while he considered a problem and found a solution. He did that when they talked, he was slow to answer, making sure he was saying what he wanted to say and not rushing to answer.
She heard a car pull up and then a door slammed. She went to the window, but it was just the neighbor coming home. She looked at the clock and felt foolish, he still had another hour before he was due. She checked on the food and went to the bathroom to check herself in the mirror.
She had her long blonde hair pulled back in a French braid; she wore her make-up lightly so it did not make her look too desperate. Professional is what she told herself. Try to present the same presence as she did at work, though looking at her wardrobe, she did dress somewhat provocatively. Her top was a nice, white cotton blouse and she wore slightly distressed hip-hugger jeans. As she was home and this was to be casual, she just went barefoot.
It was her house after all and she would dress as she pleased. Where did that come from? She wondered. It wasn't like he would criticize her; she knew he had a crush on her. Hell, she could wrap him around her finger if it seemed like he was getting out of line. Finishing the last glass of wine, she went to the living room and put some logs in the fire.
She sat on the couch and picked up her phone. Might as well peruse Facebook for a bit, at least until he got there. She had lost track of time and was startled when she heard the doorbell ring.
Approaching the door, she peered through the peephole and there he was. She opened the door and just stared at him. He was wearing a burgundy silk shirt; the top three buttons were undone and she could see a black undershirt. His pants were black dress jeans with a black leather belt and a shiny gold buckle.
The shoes were casual dress, also black. She noted his beard had been trimmed, the salt and pepper color looking good when neatened. The grey hair was pulled back in a pony-tail and he had a lopsided grin as he watched her look him over. Her eyes were drawn to his. They were a bright blue, though at work, sometimes, they had a slate-grey tinge to them.
"So... do I make the cut?" he said and then chuckled.
Looking embarrassed and blushing darkly she replied "Sorry, I was just... well... you know."
"Yes, yes, I have heard it before." He said as he raised both hands and did air quotes "Dude you clean up nicely. Why don't you do it all the time?" he shook his head. "Too much fucking work to do it every day. So, I only do it for special people."
She raised an eyebrow at that. "Special people huh?"
"Yeah, those I respect."
"Yes, well, come on in." she gestured into the house.
He spoke in a bad vampire accent "Thank you for inviting me in."
It must have been the wine, because she actually giggled at that. She led him to the dining room and told him she would bring dinner in; it was staying warm in the oven.
He nodded and took a seat at the head of the table. She almost said something, her husband sat there. She lowered her head a bit and went into the kitchen. Grabbing plates and utensils she went back into the dining room and set a plate and utensils in front of him. As she started to set herself at the other end of the table, he raised an eyebrow.
She smiled at him and shook her head slightly and finished setting the place. Heading to the kitchen to get their dinner, she never heard his chair slide back. She removed the food from the oven and placed it on the counter, she heard a polite cough behind her, letting her know not to back up.
He stood there with oven mitts he had found and grabbed the roast and carried it into the other room. She brought in the veggies and was startled to see that he had moved her place setting to his left so she sat next to him.
She did not know what to do. She looked at him, and he was staring her in the eyes. She decided to not say anything and continued bringing in food. They sat and ate slowly, drinking their wine and talking about small things, she told him about her mom keeping the kids for the weekend, then they slowly turned to serious topics, THE serious topic.
He was considerate, genuine and caring. She noticed, too late, that he had been touching her arm occasionally as they talked, stroking it lightly and finally ended up holding her hand softly.
She couldn't pull her hand away; she didn't want to be rude as he had been nothing but polite. This was beginning to feel like a bad idea but she could not place a reason for the fear.
She stood up and cleared the table for dessert, he stood and helped clear the table too. She felt discomfort, off balance and it confused her. He was being nice and considerate. For some reason she felt a hint of fear and unease.
"Relax." He said. "Tonight, is about you. Just relax."
She shuddered and nodded. They rinsed the dishes and place them in the dishwasher. Grabbing bowls and ice cream they made dessert and went to the living room. The fire was still going. He placed his bowl down on the end table and put more logs on the fire.
Turning back, he grabbed his bowl and sat on the couch next to her. He leaned partially away from her and his foot seemed to accidentally rest against her leg. She looked down, but did not move away. They chatted for a while, her eyes roaming over him. She never caught him looking anywhere but at her eyes.
