The Anniversary Stories by Lexy Harper Page B

she wouldn’t feel right sitting in one of the chairs in
the same filthy clothes she had been sitting around in all day.
    “I feel human again.  Thank
you.”
    John turned and watched her
as she walked into the room.  She had piled her slightly damp hair carelessly
on top of her head.  It gave her a sultry look and made him notice the
incredible length of her neck for the first time.  His bathrobe swamped her and
even though she had pulled the sash tightly, it gaped at the front showing a
generous amount of cleavage, and he realized as he looked down, almost the
entire lengths of her toned legs as she walked towards him.  Her toenails  were
painted a surprising red and for an insane moment he wanted to beg her to rub
her high-arched aristocratic feet over the bulge in his trousers.
    Oh God, he thought in dismay
as he got a full view of her breasts as he pulled out the chair and seated her
before going to the other end of the square table.  Her breasts were beautiful—not
the firm, slightly hard mounds of a younger woman, but the soft, full curves of
a mature woman who had perhaps given birth and breastfed a child or two.  Her
nipples were a deep pink and amazingly distended.  If she hadn’t breastfed a
child or children, he thought, then there must have been a husband, boyfriend
or girlfriend who had sucked on the tempting peaks constantly.
    “I’m afraid it’s only
leftover roast chicken,” he apologized.  “I can’t cook.  My wife baked a whole
chicken yesterday and there was enough for dinner tonight.  She’s back
tomorrow, thank God!”
    “Chicken is just fine, thank
you.”  She held out her plate as he forked several slices of moist chicken
breast on to it and then held up a hand when it seemed as though he wanted to
give her more than her share.  “That’s enough, thanks.”
    “Are you sure?  I ate a late
lunch and I’m not that hungry.”  He wanted to make sure that she had enough to
eat.  He could make do with whatever was left.
    She smiled as if she knew he
was telling a white lie. “I’m quite sure.”
    They ate the meal in
silence.  John had never realized how cosy the little dining table was before. 
It was ideal for his family of four.  When the twins were younger it had been
convenient for him and his wife to have them close in case they needed help
with feeding themselves.  But as they had grown older Helen had adamantly refused
to purchase a larger table, not wanting to lose the intimacy of their family
meals.
    It was erotic to watch her
take dainty bites and chew slowly when he knew that she must be ravenously
hungry.
    He hadn’t asked her name he
suddenly realized, but it was too late now to do so without embarrassment.  His
prim and proper mother would have scolded him soundly for not immediately
making the lady’s acquaintance.
    “You can sleep in the spare
room,” he offered, knowing that she desperately needed a good night’s sleep.
    “Thank you, but no.  You
kindly offered me food and a shower and I’m grateful for those.  When I’m done
here I will get dressed and you can take me to a shelter.”
    “I think you need a decent
night’s sleep.  Don’t worry, there is a lock on the door—you’ll be perfectly
safe.”
    She opened her mouth to
protest, and then suddenly smiled.
    “Perhaps, I will take you up
on your kind offer.  You’ve been driving all day.  It would be a shame to make
you go back into the cold.  And I really could do with a soft bed and clean
sheets tonight.”
    “It’s the third door on the
left,” he told her as he got up and gathered the dishes, protesting as she made
to help him, “No, no.  You go on through.  I’ll put these into the
dishwasher.”
    “Goodnight.”  She stood
awkwardly twisting the sash of his robe.
    “Goodnight,” he responded,
his heart beating a little faster as he reached for the platter which now
contained the meagre remains of the roasted chicken.
    She approached and quickly
pecked him on