They kissed and made up. But they didn't fuck. Not for ten whole days.
Heather was petting unbearably horny. She was tempted to go over and visit the Whitcombs'. But work restricted her time schedule. When she wasn't at work, Tom was usually at home, too. She could hardly go over to Linda and Jake's for a quick fuck with her husband sitting right at home. Too dangerous.
But the frustrated redhead was getting close to the point of desperation.
On the tenth day of her enforced celibacy, Heather was busily at work serving the dinner-hour rush. As things began to slacken off, she could pay more attention to the people that came in. She noticed one table of young businessmen seemed to be paying a good deal of attention to her. One man among them, a handsome blond about thirty, was a regular customer. She returned his smiles as she passed back and forth in front of their booth.
It was almost Heather's quitting time, and she was tired. She was ready to get off her feet. She didn't notice when the table of young businessmen rose to leave. But she was surprised to find that her regular customer had remained behind.
"Hey, Heather," he called out to her as she walked past. She wasn't surprised that he knew her name. She wore it plainly displayed on the bosom of her flattering black sheath dress.
"Yes, may I help you, sir?" Her question was formal, but there was a twinkle in her eye. He was very handsome, and she felt unusually responsive to his self-confident masculinity.
He grinned. "I sure hope so. I was wondering if you might like to have a drink with me after work. I'd be glad to pick you up after you finish."
"I finish in ten minutes," she answered without thinking.
"Good." He seemed to assume a date had been made. Heather hadn't really intended to give that impression, but then again, she was intrigued. She was full of energy, full of need. She needed something to happen to her.
When she had finished work, she gathered up her coat and her handbag from the back room and went out to meet the man. Only now did she realize she didn't even know his name.
"Brad Clayborne," he told her when she was standing in front of him. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Heather."
Despite her heart fluttering excitement, Heather had to be practical. "I can't stay long. I have someone waiting for me at home."
"Like your husband?" he asked, his eyebrows arching as he looked meaningfully at the ring on her left hand.
"Yes… like my husband."
She suffered a moment's guilt. But when she realized that her married state didn't bother Brad, she brushed the feeling off. It wasn't as if she was totally running around on Tom. She was just going to have one drink with a very nice young man.