Elizabeth Watson: An unholy desire

The ride home was brief and uneventful in reality, the fantasy side of her mind feasting off the events of the day. Oh, thank the Lord there were only twenty-four hours in a day! Perhaps a good night's sleep would quell that surging loneliness up there between her legs.

After hanging up her coat, Ann made a bee-line for the liquor cabinet and mixed a martini. With this fortification, she took out a roast from the refrigerator and plopped it in a dutch oven and set the timer. Thank God for modern conveniences, she mused as she sipped ravenously at the martini.

How should she act the next day in front of Dr. Everett? Cool, aloof? As if nothing had happened? Should she let him make the next move, which she was almost positive he would? Yes, of course, what kind of a hussy was she to go chasing after her husband's colleague. ADULTERY! The word flashed electric red in her mind. My God, she'd never thought of it in those lurid terms before. But it was against the law, against every moral fiber in her soul. Why had she entertained such a fantasy? The truth was, she knew but would not admit, was that she was afraid… a professorial husband on Pill Hill was status, security, travel… but dull as hell.

"Hey, you're not the whore that you pretend to be," she said aloud. And mentally: though if anyone knew the way you're aching inside for some good hard cock, they'd never guess it! Maybe a good hot bath to calm the fires before the genius comes home and you find yourself trying to seduce the poor old fool just to be frustrated again. On second thought, maybe I'd better do it myself – that way I'll make sure the job gets done.

A tiny ripple of sexual excitement added a new emotional arousal of the sizzling agitation already stewing in her soft belly and hot, moistened loins. Determined, she attacked the wine bottle this time, carrying a cool goblet of white wine into the bathroom with her. Then she stripped naked.

In the bathroom she wound her long blonde hair into a knot, and started to draw water as she sipped at her wine, the alcohol beginning to effectively warm her. Her sultry blue eyes glancing at her white nakedness reflected in the full length mirror and glimmered narcistically as a tiny ripply sensation of pleasure flittered through her voluptuous, twenty-two year old body. For a moment, she stood unmoving, admiring her sensually harmonious curves, her full, pink nippled breasts and slender waist, the sweeping flow of her arched hips into the long, white columns of her smooth, rounded thighs and tapering calves.

Dr. George Everett, wouldn't you love to see what I'm looking at right now? Nothing short of an erotically pleasing sight, I'd say? How would I fit into your research, honey… the sex-crazed housewife? The masturbating bitch?

She let her eyes sensually caress the secret ivory-like outline that her slim halter had left across the resilient mounds of her uptilted, full young breasts, and below where her tiny bikini had cupped the curved moons of her satiny firm buttocks. But it was the milky-white of her generous hips and lower belly where the silken triangle of sparse, golden curls began to sprinkle over her cuntal mound that invariably fired her excitement.

God, would she do it first, right there in front of the mirror… or in the bathtub… or on the bed?

The harsh sound of the front door broke her thoughts. Now who could that be? Irritably, she looked for something to put around her, finally settling for a beach towel. Ah, it would do in a pinch, she decided since it covered enough of her so that she could peek around the door and see what whoever it was wanted.

A stimulating little tingle raced through her at the recognition of Eddie, from Instant Press, with his clean, youthful smile. She clutched the towel to her breasts and stepped behind the door, letting him in.

"Mrs. Dexter…? Here… here's your copies. All three sets. Made them myself. We billed it to your husband's account."

For a moment, Ann stared at him in surprise. "My, that was fast! Oh, thank God! You've saved my job." Her knuckles were regaining their color now as she loosened her fist-tight grip on the towel, suddenly remembering with mixed emotions, that she wore nothing beneath.

"Won't you come in, Eddie and have something to drink? An iced tea maybe?"

"Oh, no, but thank you, Mrs. Dexter. I have to get back to the shop and clean up yet before I can leave. This was just a little extra job I took on. Now if you'll sign this, I'll be on my way…"

"Wait a minute," rebuked the young blonde impetuously grabbing his arm. "Why don't you stay for just a minute while I look through these copies."

The young teenager looked anxious, but God, with a half-naked lady asking him to come in, what could he say, but…

"Okay, if you insist… I could use something to drink," he said, passing close to her, his arm lightly brushing the tip of one sensitive breast behind the white, fuzzy towel covering her, raising a sparkling little ripple in her soft belly. In response, the young woman pulled the hardly adequate towel around her aroused nakedness, smiling at him as he timidly looked at her. His face was flushing as it had in the store earlier. He'd noticed the soft, erotic contact, too!

She gestured toward the chair as she moved toward the refrigerator, but he didn't sit. God, she felt certain his pale blue eyes were avidly traveling the length of her near-naked body, imagining beyond the single garment, wondering what, if anything, she wore beneath it. Or… or was she letting her overly keyed-up imagination run away with her? She poured a glass of ice tea, spicing it with a teaspoon of sugar and a slice of lemon, and offered him the glass. He accepted the glass and tilted it to his full, generous lips, while she continued to appraise and measure him, wildly wondering what was going through his young mind…!

It was a crazy conversation, almost as if she was finding it hard to talk to him as was he in coming up with answers that wouldn't make him look like an awkward idiot, the fifteen year old teenager nervously thought. She was so fucking beautiful! And he'd seen her nearly naked ass right there when she turned to go to the kitchen… nothing on at all! Man, she had to know he could see it… just the way she had to have felt it when he'd brushed against her tit a minute ago…!

"Excuse me just a second while I turn down the roast, dear, and then I'll look these over."

"Sure… that's okay!" he answered, probably too enthusiastically, the thoughts he was thinking absolutely knot-headed, he told himself. Get with it, idiot. What could a beautiful married woman want with a brat like you? Bet she gets laid every night by her husband! Bet he licks her cunt, too.

"Okay, that's taken care of," she beamed, re-entering the living room with a glowing smile, her long blonde hair no longer crowning her pretty head, but sweeping down around her shoulders the way she'd always worn it when he'd seen her. She'd changed it! Wonder what for? "This all looks in the right order," she said, flipping through the top five or six pages. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this service. Over and beyond the call of duty, as they say."

"That's okay, Mrs. Dexter…"

"Please call me Ann." She reached over for a cigarette. "I'm not that much older than you, am I?" She tilted her head to one side, her sexy blue eyes level with his and liquidly pouring into them. "Am I…?"

"I-I don't know how old you are, Ann, but I'm eighteen," he lied.

"And I'll be thirteen in December," she quipped, drawing the towel closer around her and then winding the ends into a tight rope over her breasts rising and falling, even as she felt it inching slowly down. Instead, she pulled out a chair and put the Xerox copies on the end table, then lowered herself onto the chair, facing the one she'd offered him. "Sit down, Eddie doll. Let's get to know each other better… that is, if you'd like to…?"