Part 3 of my finding Jan series. As with my previous chapters, this is entirely fictitious. All characters are over 18.
I heard her keys jiggle in the lock and butterflies filled my stomach. I realized that for all my waiting, all my nervous anticipation, I hadn't actually contemplated what I was going to say or do.
Should I run to the door for a passionate embrace? Do I sit on the couch nonchalantly watching the game? Do I put my Mee Ho shorts back on?
I became dizzy, my thoughts enveloped in a thick fog. I had to make a choice. I could feel the sweat bead up on my brow. I had the urge to go to the bathroom.
Decision time buddy, decision time. Who's it going to be greeting Jan? Mr. Cool, Mr. Shy Schoolboy, Mr. Stud?
The door opened and closed and I heard her footsteps on the tile floor in the mudroom. They were getting louder and louder and she got closer and closer. In a near panic, I stood in the kitchen, paralyzed, anxious, empty and yet somehow still exploding with emotion and confusion.
Suddenly she appeared before me and I locked eyes with her.
"Jan... hi...uhhh, uhhhh."
Be cool, brother, be cool.
"Uhhh"
"Uhhh"
"Have you seen my brown gold toe sock?"
What? What the fuck was that? "Have you seen my brown gold toe sock?" Did I seriously just ask that?
That's the best I could come up with?
Mr. "Great at Thinking on his Feet" came up with, "Have you seen my brown gold toe sock?" I wanted to punch myself in the face.
As I said it, I gave her an awkward half-cocked smile.
Jan had had a sweet smile on her face which was now slowly vanishing as the neurons in her brain fired off processing what I had said. Her lips pursed themselves, her eyes squinted, her eyebrows raised and she slowly looked up to the heavens. Her tongue touched her top lip and receded back into her mouth, as her head gently shift from left to right, to left again.
"Ummm, no" she asked quizzically, letting the tone in her voice rising to extend the "o" in "no", making her confusion quite clear.
"I'm sorry, I haven't."
"Ohhh, OK. No biggie. I'm sure they will turn up," I said.
As I looked at her in my horror, she realized what happened and looked at me soft eyes and radiant warmth.
I looked down at the floor, as my mind reset itself. Whatever that first moment should have been, it wasn't, but the look on her face told me it was OK. Jan always understood.
Totally ignoring what had just happened, she asked me how my day was, as if it should have been a day like any other. You know, a normal day, where you get a blowjob from your mother-in-law and play with her breasts.
My eyes slowly wandered up from the floor, heading toward her face. I took her all in. Her Birkenstock sandals, revealed her neatly painted toe nails. She was wearing shorts and as I thought about it, I knew those shorts well. They were my favorite pair on her and I hadn't actually even realized I had a favorite pair. They were snug, not tight, but snug. Snug enough that you could make out her tiny waist. Snug enough that you could see the crack in her butt cheeks. They were sexy as hell.
But, the pièce de résistance, as usual, were her breasts. The shirt she had on was nothing special, but it hugged her curves and you could see just how massive they were. The way they curved out to the sides of her body, the way they heaved when she spoke. They were magical. She was wearing a bra, much to my dismay, but it was a shear, light bra, not heavy and padded. This bra could do little to control their movement and had zero ability to create a sense of modesty, if that was the goal of some bras. I suppose the only function of a bra like that was to satisfy the societal demand of having to put one on in the first place.
Finally, I reached her eyes and gave her a big smile. A smile that tried to ask "are we cool?", "did we have fun?", "can we do it again?", "I'll do it if you do it, but you need to give me a sign".
Instead, she returned my smile with one of her own, but it answered none of my questions.
It appeared no sign was forthcoming.
Jan began to tell me about her day. Shopping at different malls, a light lunch with a friend, blah, blah. She was torturing me.
I finally tried to get slightly aggressive and in an assertive voice called her name to get her attention, "Jan!".
She stopped what she was saying and understood exactly what was happening.
Jan smiled at me again and said "Not now Brett. Let's get the car unpacked and figure out what we're going to do for dinner".
What could I do? There was no point in pressing the issue. Jan had other plans and I didn't see the point in asserting myself any further right then.
The car was loaded with stuff. Looked like food and she'd bought herself some clothing. I loved when she did my food shopping. My beloved wife, Lara, was definitely "a shopper" and there was no doubt where it came from.
With the bags unloaded and the fridge and cabinets full, the question became what to eat. Should we begin to raid the full fridge or order in? Cooking didn't seem all that appealing, however, so La Malestar Estomacal it was.
With dinner ordered, I walked into the den, where Jan was sitting on the couch. I couldn't take it anymore.
