Friday, June 10, 2011

Saturday Night

She drug her lips softy over his knuckles. “Stay. Please? For just a little longer?” He withdrew his hand and flexed his fingers. She winced when his knuckles popped. He patted her ass. “I can’t, Babe. You know that.”

Annie rolled over—the sheet slipping over her taut stomach. “I know.”

He stood up and she watched the graceful curve of his spine. She openly admired the tensing of his hip muscles as he moved. He spent two hours a day at the gym to ensure that everyone would notice his body. He paused by the mirror and sorted out his hair with sure quick fingers. He was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

And he knew it.

He smiled at her through the mirror. “Going out tonight?” She laughed and pulled the sheet up over her breasts. “The night’s half over—what would be the point?” He grinned that possessive, yet, sweet smile of his. She knew that he worried about her running off with someone else. She always did her best to reassure him.

He was nearly dressed now. There was only one piece of his uniform left to don. He sat next to Annie on the bed. She smiled just for him. He leaned over and kissed her soft and sweet. His lips brushed hers, enticing her skin. His tongue slipped inside to taste the honey there. She moaned and moved to pull him in closer—to drag him back to bed.

He pulled away. “I can’t stay, Babe. I told you that. You know the rules.” The clock on the nightstand flashed 12:23am. A gold ring sat innocently on the clock. He picked it up and placed the band on his ring finger. Annie threw off the covers and walked, naked, to the bathroom. “Maybe I will go out. No sense in wasting a Saturday night.” She closed the bathroom door in his shocked face.

When she heard him leave she washed her face and pulled out her foundation. Let his wife comfort him. Annie was done.


  1. If he's the sexiest man in her lusty existence, I'm sure he'll find somebody to comfort him.

  2. Nice. Reminiscent of Hemingway. But with more ass. Asses? Ass.