Heidi had until four o’clock, and it was already one. She didn’t know how she could make herself more obvious, other than grabbing him and saying “Would you fuck me please?”
But she couldn’t, because Tom was her fiancé’s best friend.
Years before, when she just stared dating her fiancée Steve, she had slept with Tom. Out in a field in a July night.
Tom took her three times that night, one after another after another after another… Never had she known a guy with such a drive. He was good-looking but not great. His cock was average-sized, but nothing pornographic. He had controlled her completely that night. Never had she known someone with so much will in bed. The control delighted her.
Neither pursed the relationship after that. Heidi thought of fucking him again, but it never manifested.
Now, three years later. She NEEDED to. Her fiancé had only a passing interest in sex and their trysts became a hurried habit once or twice a week. It wasn’t enough.
Now he was standing in her bedroom, standing next to her, looking over her shoulder into a book about sex. How could she be more obvious? Earlier she gave him a copy of The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, and she had asked to drive him home while Steve stayed at work.
This morning, when she left the bathroom in only a towel, she had paused by her bedroom door until he saw her and gave him a wide, inviting smile. He returned it.
What the hell more could she do?
She pointed at the picture of Bettie Page, her legs sprawled apart over the arms of a wicker chair. “You know, she became an evangelist later in life,” Heidi said.
“Worked with, uh, Billy Graham. His secretary, I think,” Tom said.
He leaned over, looking at the picture. He smelled of beer and light cologne, a deep, masculine smell. Heidi’s head grew light. Her mind screamed Fuck me fuck me fuck me FUCK ME…
“Very lovely lady. And gutsy to do that in the 50s,” Tom said.
Heidi nodded, flipping the page. Maybe another picture–
Tom yanked the book from her hands, closed it and tossed it on the floor. He looked at the floor and sighed. Then he laughed.
Heidi thought he was making fun of her. Maybe he knew what she wanted and wouldn’t give it to her. Her anger flared up, and she sprang up from the bed.
Tom put his hand up and his smile disappeared. “Let’s stop this Mickey Mouse bullshit,” he said.
He grasped a handful of her hair and pulled her toward him. He towered over her, almost a foot taller. He wasn’t hurting her, but she wasn’t getting out of his grip. He leaned down to kiss her and when her mouth rose to meet his, he pulled back.
“Come on,” Heidi said and strained up again.
And again, Tom pulled back.
Now Heidi got desperate. Her need was like a living thing in her chest, a hole that needed to be filled in her, both figuratively and literally. It wasn’t even the need for sex. It was the need for passion and in her life, Tom had been the most passionate man she ever met.
“Tell me what you want,” Tom said.
“Fuck me hard,” Heidi said.
“Please…” she whined.