Chapter 7
Late Monday afternoon, Chad called Suzanne and told her that he was going to his favorite watering hole with a bunch of guys and watch Monday Night Football.
"Probably be at least midnight before I get home," he said. "Don't bother waiting up for me."
"Okay," she said, "enjoy the game. I'll be here when you get home."
She took her blessings where and when she could get them. After last night, he wouldn't be ready to fuck her for at least a week or two, and she thought she would have to poke herself with her vibrator before he got home.
She had a cold lobster salad, French bread and a couple glasses of white wine for dinner, put her dishes in the dishwasher, then took a quick shower, dabbed some perfume in the strategic places, and slipped into a dress, with nothing under it but her voluptuous body. If things went the way she hoped, she didn't want unnecessary clothing in the way. High-heeled sandals completed what she thought of as her fucking outfit.
She had to control the pressure of her foot on the accelerator as she drove to the bar and grill on the outskirts of town that she knew so well. There were always unattached men to help her take care of the itch in her hot little pussy, some of them genuinely single, and some of them simply taking a night off from married life. She didn't care one way or the other. If wives couldn't keep their men home, that wasn't her problem.
It was a slow night, and a smattering of unattached guys sat at tables or the bar, watching the door with hungry eyes, the way a leopard watches a young impala that will soon be her dinner.
A young blonde was sitting at the bar and an older man was standing by her, talking earnestly and trying his best to feel her up. From the look on the girl's face, Suzanne was pretty sure the guy had already struck out and was just wasting his time.
She sat at a table on the far side of the room and watched them. She'd seen the girl before, and knew they were both here for the same reason. If the guy hadn't tried so hard, he would have scored easily. She thought it was ironic that so often guys talked themselves out of a sure thing by overselling themselves.
A young decent-looking guy standing at the bar with two other men looked directly at her. He couldn't be more than twenty or so, and she was surprised that he was interested. She didn't look thirty, but it had to be obvious that she was older, even to a guy who'd probably had too many beers. But, it was a slow night, and any pussy was better than his fist.
She gave him a discreet smile, and he picked up his beer and ambled across the room, trying to look urbane. His two buddies watched him, grinning as if they knew a secret, and she wondered if they had made a pact to share if one of them got lucky.
She knew she could separate them as easy as pie. A single guy often had trouble splitting a pair of girls or getting them both into bed with him at the same time, but a single girl seldom had such a problem. As soon as the guys got a whiff of hot pussy, all she had to do was indicate which one she wanted. Unless, of course, she wanted them to share her. At the moment, she wasn't sure which way she wanted to go.
The young man stood across the table from Suzanne and said, "Hello, my name is Doug. May I sit down?"
"Hello, Doug," she replied, "my name is Kathy, and yes, you may sit down." She waited for him to pull a chair out and sit, then looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes. "I hope you aren't going to ask my sign, or some such baloney."
"I don't know one sign from the other," he said with a soft laugh. "But I do know what I like, and I like what I see."
She liked his laugh, and suddenly liked him well enough to spread for him. "Well, that isn't a bad line," she said cheerfully.
"It really isn't a line," Doug replied. "I've seen you here before, but you haven't been in lately and I was about to think you were never coming back."
"Don't tell me that you've been hanging around waiting just for me?"
"No," he said with a big grin, "but I was hoping."
"I like your honesty. Now, I'll use a line. Do you come here often?"
"Once a week, usually," he replied. "My wife plays bridge every Monday night. She thinks I go to a bar and watch whatever sport is in season."
"You're doing just fine," Suzanne said. "How late do you usually stay out?"
"Till midnight or so, except this week. My wife's in Grand Junction this week, taking care of her sick mother, so I have the house all to myself, Jacuzzi and all."
"Uh huh," Suzanne said. The man who was trying to feel up the blonde at the bar left, and she chuckled softly. "Looks like he struck out."
Doug looked around and nodded. "Yeah, he comes in here a lot, and I've never seen him leave with anybody. If he can't score with Judy, there's something badly wrong with him. She's got the roundest heels in the county."
"How many times have you had her?"
"Three or four," Doug replied. "She puts out, but she isn't very lively."
"Have you and your buddies at the bar ever done her at the same time?"
"Once," he said. "You're very straightforward without being coarse. I like that."
"I'm lascivious, but not coarse," she said with a soft chuckle. "I saw you and your buddies looking at me and talking when I came in. Were you speculating on your chances of doing the same thing with me? Is that why you told me that your wife is out of town and that you've got a Jacuzzi?"
He looked at her in silence, as if debating how he should answer.
"Let me guess," she said, "you're the smoothest talker, so they made you the point man. Suppose I'm not quite that uninhibited?"
Her failure to lose her cool or turn him down flat bolstered his confidence. "Dealer's choice," he said. "You can have one, two, or three, or none at all. Any one of us would love to go with you, and we'll do our best to give you a good time."
"I feel devilish tonight," Suzanne said. "Why don't we all try your Jacuzzi and see how it goes? I'm not promising anything, you understand."
"I understand," Doug replied.
"I'll follow you in my car," Suzanne said.