More than I wanted to know."
"Of course, the wife's the one who's making me go in for that colonoscopy." Tom scowled into his beer.
Page 33
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"I'm not sure a blow job makes up for a camera up my ass."
"You see?" Greg said, his face a mask of pathos. "You gotta run free. For all of us. Seize the hottie, I say! Seize the hottie!"
"I'm too young for a midlife crisis. I'm breaking the date."
"Traitor."
Russ shook his head and promised himself he'd call Emma first thing in the morning and cancel their arrangement.
Chapter Six
Emma looked at the clock and whimpered. Russ would be there in fifteen minutes and she wasn't ready.
Nothing was ready! Her eyes went to the microwave and the sexual accessory waiting within it.
Okay, so one thing was ready. But everything else was a disaster! It had been a week since she moved into the apartment, yet somehow that hadn't been enough time to get ready for this night.
She'd been late getting the stuffed, boneless leg of lamb into the oven and it still had forty minutes to cook, plus another fifteen minutes to rest before she could cut it, according to the recipe she'd downloaded off
epicurious.com. The lima bean puree with garlic and rosemary had been made ahead and waited now to be rewarmed, but the utensils she had used were piled on the counter and in the sink, and her immersion blender had flung gobs of green puree onto the backsplash, the cupboards, and her blouse. The mint truffle ice-cream terrine for dessert was safely in the freezer, the homemade chocolate sauce in the fridge, but the mint sauce that also went with it was no more than a bag of leaves at the moment.
The table was only half-set. Her hair and face were a mess. Her body was a mess, the shower she'd taken earlier now a distant, sweaty memory.
She took a deep breath, assessing the situation. The lamb was cooking on its own. Setting the table and making the mint sauce could wait. The mixed greens salad was ready to throw together, giving him something to eat while she finished everything else up. If she was going to clean herself up, though, now was her only chance.
She looked down at her hands, which were shaking. Now that she was pausing in her frantic cooking rush she realized that her gut was sloshing with acid, her heart irregularly thumping, her vision blurring from the overdose of adrenaline.
The nervous anticipation was worse than on any first date. It was even worse than the night she lost her virginity.
Am I really going to do this? Am I really going to let a man I hardly know have sex with me three times a week?
She hovered on the thin edge of indecision, swaying between telling Russ to forget it, it was a mistake, she had to have been crazy to have said yes, and going ahead with the arrangement.
Is this really what I want?
Page 34
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
She imagined the evening: Russ eating the dinner she'd made and then looking at her, silence falling between them as they both recognized that the time had come. She would send him to her bedroom while she prepared for the sexual experiment she'd downloaded off the internet; he'd said to be creative, after all. The activity was nothing she herself had ever done and at the thought of it, her body fluttered between arousal and the fear of humiliation. Russ might be turned off by it, and she might end up looking the fool. But if it worked...
At the end of it she would climb on top of him, her thighs parting over his hips, and guide the tip of his hardened shaft to her opening. She'd feel herself stretching as she eased herself down on him, his erection filling her as she had longed to be filled for so many lonely months, and then his hands would come up to grip her hips and guide her to his own rocking, thrusting motion.
Oh yes.
A warm rush went through her loins. Yes, this was what she wanted, nerves be damned!
"Of course, the wife's the one who's making me go in for that colonoscopy." Tom scowled into his beer.
Page 33
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"I'm not sure a blow job makes up for a camera up my ass."
"You see?" Greg said, his face a mask of pathos. "You gotta run free. For all of us. Seize the hottie, I say! Seize the hottie!"
"I'm too young for a midlife crisis. I'm breaking the date."
"Traitor."
Russ shook his head and promised himself he'd call Emma first thing in the morning and cancel their arrangement.
Chapter Six
Emma looked at the clock and whimpered. Russ would be there in fifteen minutes and she wasn't ready.
Nothing was ready! Her eyes went to the microwave and the sexual accessory waiting within it.
Okay, so one thing was ready. But everything else was a disaster! It had been a week since she moved into the apartment, yet somehow that hadn't been enough time to get ready for this night.
She'd been late getting the stuffed, boneless leg of lamb into the oven and it still had forty minutes to cook, plus another fifteen minutes to rest before she could cut it, according to the recipe she'd downloaded off
epicurious.com. The lima bean puree with garlic and rosemary had been made ahead and waited now to be rewarmed, but the utensils she had used were piled on the counter and in the sink, and her immersion blender had flung gobs of green puree onto the backsplash, the cupboards, and her blouse. The mint truffle ice-cream terrine for dessert was safely in the freezer, the homemade chocolate sauce in the fridge, but the mint sauce that also went with it was no more than a bag of leaves at the moment.
The table was only half-set. Her hair and face were a mess. Her body was a mess, the shower she'd taken earlier now a distant, sweaty memory.
She took a deep breath, assessing the situation. The lamb was cooking on its own. Setting the table and making the mint sauce could wait. The mixed greens salad was ready to throw together, giving him something to eat while she finished everything else up. If she was going to clean herself up, though, now was her only chance.
She looked down at her hands, which were shaking. Now that she was pausing in her frantic cooking rush she realized that her gut was sloshing with acid, her heart irregularly thumping, her vision blurring from the overdose of adrenaline.
The nervous anticipation was worse than on any first date. It was even worse than the night she lost her virginity.
Am I really going to do this? Am I really going to let a man I hardly know have sex with me three times a week?
She hovered on the thin edge of indecision, swaying between telling Russ to forget it, it was a mistake, she had to have been crazy to have said yes, and going ahead with the arrangement.
Is this really what I want?
Page 34
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
She imagined the evening: Russ eating the dinner she'd made and then looking at her, silence falling between them as they both recognized that the time had come. She would send him to her bedroom while she prepared for the sexual experiment she'd downloaded off the internet; he'd said to be creative, after all. The activity was nothing she herself had ever done and at the thought of it, her body fluttered between arousal and the fear of humiliation. Russ might be turned off by it, and she might end up looking the fool. But if it worked...
At the end of it she would climb on top of him, her thighs parting over his hips, and guide the tip of his hardened shaft to her opening. She'd feel herself stretching as she eased herself down on him, his erection filling her as she had longed to be filled for so many lonely months, and then his hands would come up to grip her hips and guide her to his own rocking, thrusting motion.
Oh yes.
A warm rush went through her loins. Yes, this was what she wanted, nerves be damned!
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