A cloud of smoke lingers at the entrance of the Country Inn Restaurant as several of the patrons stand leaning against the railing of the covered deck, cigarettes in hand, enjoying the gorgeous autumn evening. Located a quarter of a mile off a busy state highway just outside of Lancaster Township, "The Country" is a quaint little bar and grill restaurant nestled in a clearing of trees in the middle of nowhere.
The air is very calm, and the temperature is unseasonably warm for October. Overhead the clear blue sky melts into a burnt orange horizon where the sun is just beginning to dip beyond the distant tree-line, casting a yellowish-orange glow to everything in view and intensifying the show of colors in the foliage all around. The smokers take notice of a small car moving across the parking area, finally settling into a nearby spot. A lone, dark-haired woman steps out.
Jennifer Holsten locks her car and hangs her purse on her shoulder before turning to walk toward the restaurant. Straining to look through the bright glare of the setting sun, Jen scans the faces of the people standing near the entrance, searching for her husband, John. Being unable to spot his car in the parking lot, she suspects she is the first to arrive.
The original plan, as Jen reminded her husband this morning, was for the couple to leave the house no later than six thirty. But a phone call from John late in the afternoon altered the script. His brief voice-mail offered a quick apology and an explanation that he would not be home in time. Instead, he would have to meet Jen at the restaurant at seven.
Jen's itinerary for the evening included dinner and drinks at this quiet cross-town eatery before heading home for a comfy, and hopefully, intimate evening on their spacious deck, snuggling near the warmth of their rarely used fire pit. At least that was the plan. To Jen it had seemed like weeks since they last spent a meaningful evening together and tonight she was anxious to reconnect and have some fun. Obviously, John is running late... again.
Jen walks headlong into the uncomfortable stares of several people (mostly men) lingering along the inside perimeter of the front porch. She quickly moves across the smoke-filled deck and enters through the front door of the restaurant. Jen pauses just inside the doorway, checks her watch – 7:04, and shuffles towards the line of coat-racks to one side of the waiting area, trying to remain inconspicuous and patient.
Jen and John celebrated their 21st anniversary in the spring. Their marriage, at least Jen thought, was fairly typical. They originally met as sophomores in college, quickly fell in love, and were married within in a year of completing their bachelors' degrees. John went to work as an accountant for a local finance company, and Jen started out as a physical therapist at a sports medicine clinic. Within two years Jen gave birth to Benjamin, the first of their two boys. The following year his brother Jeremy arrived.
Throughout the next twenty years the pages of the calendar flew by, seemingly faster each year, as their lives became a blur of parental duties and schedules that kept Jen and John focused, non-stop, on family. They spent countless hours with school activities, homework, sports practices, games, lessons, clothes shopping, piles of unending laundry, groceries, meals, doctors, and the relentless pursuit of a better life for their kids.
Once the boys entered Middle School Jen decided to resume the career she had earlier suspended to become a stay-at-home mom, and the Holstens were finally able to purchase their dream home – a charming two story with a huge garage, a wrap-around deck, and a large front porch on a secluded seven acre lot. The house offered a magnificent view of the rolling Pennsylvania countryside, and was close enough for an easy commute to work for Jen. The middle-class family was finally enjoying the fruits of their education and hard work.
Two summers ago Jeremy moved away to college in a neighboring state (as Ben had done the year before), and the house that bustled with the activities of two teenage boys became quiet. But among the sadness of the empty nest, Jen and John began to enjoy the freedom and privacy of once again having their living space entirely to themselves.
Jen enjoyed the occasional weekend breakfast on the secluded deck, often wearing nothing but a robe or some flirty little selection from her lingerie drawer. She also found pleasure in sunbathing or reading a book undisturbed in the warmth of those last precious summer afternoons. John, "just like a man" as Jen would say, simply reveled in the idea that he could finally watch television dressed only in his underwear if he wanted. It was truly a sense of regained freedom that reminded them of those long-forgotten, carefree days at the beginning of their marriage. They also discovered that the physical intimacy within their relationship, which had slowly withered through the many years of parenthood, was rekindled.
For too long to remember, sex for Jen and John had become an infrequent (and too often, scheduled) activity that was almost entirely relegated to their locked door bedroom. Suddenly, with the house to themselves their sex play, little by little, started to become spontaneous and unrestricted by time and location. Finally free from hiding away in their bedroom, Jen and John began to take advantage of every room in the house, as well as the deck and the semi-private back yard. Jen also found that she was no longer worried about muffling her sounds, or keeping an eye on the clock. During their first few months alone in the house, Jen and John made love like newlyweds – wherever and whenever they wanted.
Jen was particularly affected by the unrestricted atmosphere and plentiful opportunities for love play. She suspected it might just be a phase for women her age, but she found the slightest touch, or even an unintentional boyish look from John could coax her into a frisky mood. She just couldn't remember ever wanting sex as much before, and John took full advantage of her eagerness.
Having adequate time and privacy for the first time in her married life, Jen learned to let down her guard and totally immerse herself into the "give and take" pleasures of lovemaking. She began to enjoy oral sex, something that John had for years longed to explore further. They experimented with role-playing, and even tried some light bondage after Jen purchased a beginner's bondage kit from a mail-order company. There was something particularly unsettling, yet wildly alluring, about being restrained that haunted Jen's deepest desires, and she finally worked up the nerve to indulge her untold fancy.
Throughout the many months of playful adventures, Jen could feel herself changing. She thought about sex regularly, often spending time fantasizing, or thinking of ways to surprise John. Her enthusiasm resulted in numerous sexy new outfits and costumes – each selected with a specific playful purpose.
Jen would also, on occasions, try to seduce John at unexpected times. Her efforts might include something overt, like blocking his view of the television while performing an impromptu striptease. Or as subtle as settling in on the couch under the cover of a blanket, secretly unzipping and touching herself until climaxing or being discovered. On more than one occasion she surprised John as he came home from work. Dressed in his business suit with briefcase in hand, Jen would block his entrance at the garage door, kissing him passionately and tearing open his clothes before falling to her knees to show him just how happy she was to see him.
In a way it was a sort of sexual awakening for Jen, and it fascinated her. But it also began to leave her frustrated and often feeling unfulfilled as John struggled to match her raging libido. Indeed, John began to feel somewhat inadequate, completely overwhelmed with Jen's sexual energy and her unending desire for creativity. She was borderline insatiable. Jen and John were as close as they had been since their earliest college days. But by the time their youngest had started into his sophomore year at college, John's flame had begun to flicker.
Just prior to their recent anniversary John accepted a new job at a large investment firm, and soon afterwards he began to act increasingly distracted. Unexpected business travel and long hours at the office often kept John absent from home. His interest in Jen, both physically and emotionally, seemed to wane as he threw himself into his prestigious new position with vigor. Jen realized that it was best to give John some distance, to allow him to succeed in this great opportunity. He was finally earning a substantial income - something they desperately needed considering the cost of the boys schooling. The new job even offered John several prospects for further advancement. Professionally speaking, he was seemingly on the fast track. But were all of the material benefits worth sacrificing their renewed closeness?
Date nights were Jen's idea - an effort to carve out a scheduled slice of quality time together, to re-stoke the embers of romance in their marriage. A once a week evening of dinner, movies, or just to stay at home together seemed to be the obvious answer. The only date night rule was to avoid any conversations or activities concerning work. The selection of time, activity, and venue alternated each week, and it was Jen's turn to decide.
Now standing in the restaurant's waiting area, her patience wearing by the minute, Jen peers into the darkened dining area looking for her date. The restaurant is sparsely occupied – which was the primary reason for her choice of this establishment for tonight's date.
Frustrated, but not overly surprised to be alone, Jen moves inside to the bar area, where she pulls up onto a stool and quickly orders a glass of wine. After more than twenty minutes of empty glances at the doorway (and sipping the wine a little too quickly) Jen's phone begins to chime. She flips open the lid to read the scrolling text message. 'Cant make it, baby. Probs at work. Sorry.'
Jen exhales deeply in a low growl and snaps the phone closed before taking another long gulp of the wine. This is twice in the past three date nights that John has cancelled at the last minute, and she cannot hide her frustration.
All week she had played out the evening's script in her mind. A quiet dinner, some alcohol to help relax away the stress of the day, and a playful mood to get things heated up. They were both looking forward to this date. And, oh yeah, John had left the house that very morning promising he would not be late.
Jen had raced home from work to shower and get ready. She dressed (or should we say undressed?) especially for the occasion. John always loved the occasional surprise of discovering when Jen went "commando" on dates. It always produced a very noticeable effect on him. Tonight Jen decided to not only leave the panties in the drawer, but also dressed without a bra - something she almost never did.
Modeling her shortest skirt and the tallest pair of pumps in her closet, she pranced and posed in front of the full length mirror for almost an hour. A new pair of black stockings covered her smooth legs, pulled just above the hem of her skirt and fastened to dainty little garter straps.
John absolutely loved seeing her in garter belts. He always claimed to love the way the straps framed the soft little V-shaped front of her panties and accented the round curves of her bottom. John insisted that Jen wear her panties on the outside of the garters so that when things got going and the panties came off the garter belt and stocking could remain intact. This lacey little black garter with an embroidered red heart in the front was one of his favorites, and just pulling the sexy garment from the drawer got Jen's blood stirring. As she fastened the snaps lustful thoughts swirled through her mind about how she would subtly tease John by playfully showing herself during dinner.
Jen finished the look with a soft, (almost semi-sheer) white blouse that faintly revealed the fact that she wore no bra. She wrestled with the thought of chickening out and switching the top to something less obvious, but "damn!" she said to the woman in the mirror "... you look hot." Jen just couldn't resist a satisfied smile as she gazed at her reflection.
Standing with hands on hips and her feet parted in a confident pose, she turned to look over her shoulder into the mirror, checking the hem of the skirt. It positioned nicely against the back of her thighs – dangerously close to revealing the garter-snapped hem of the stockings, and not much farther from the soft creases of her bottom.
She released another button in the top of the blouse – one button further than Jen would usually dare to open. Turning from side to side she confirmed that the curves of her soft breasts were plainly visible through the gaping material from just the right vantage point. Her hardened nipples accented the look as they poked firmly into the soft fabric.
Finally satisfied with her wardrobe, Jen left the house and headed to the restaurant in anticipation of the reaction John would surely have.
At forty seven, Jen was an attractive woman. Last summer her boys had revealed in an awkward dinner conversation that several of their friends often referred to her as a MILF. Although she was embarrassed at the thought of sexual comments from her sons' friends - she scolded them at the time for the wholly improper connotation - in secret, however, she loved the filthy designation. With the age of fifty just around the corner, being considered a MILF felt like an admirable compliment.
Jen took care of herself – exercising regularly and eating with self discipline. She stood at only five feet four, with shoulder length dark brown hair and a petite, but shapely figure. Her green/brown eyes accented a naturally pretty face that John always insisted required no makeup. John would also agree that other men routinely took notice of Jen. Blessed with great skin, she truly did not look her age. While most of her closest friends struggled to hide their cellulite and various age-related sagging and wrinkles, Jen had the skin tone and texture of a thirty year old. She could still confidently wear a two-piece bathing suit, and although Jen remained overly critical of her own appearance, deep down she was pleased that Mother Nature was taking her sweet time with the aging process.
But among her many pleasing physical assets, one in particular was the most obvious. Jennifer Holsten had an ass to die for. Her firm round bottom filled shorts, jeans, dresses, or slacks so perfectly, John thought, he would often find himself getting aroused just by watching her walk by. Despite sharing a bed with her for more than twenty years, seeing Jen in her panties never failed to get him hard.
With her sexy bottom now seated at the bar - without her husband - Jen angrily surrenders to the busted date night, and decides to order dinner before heading back home.
As the bartender approaches to take Jen's order he pushes a second glass of wine in front of her. Immediately responding to her confused look, he quickly indicates that the drink is "compliments of the group of gentlemen across the bar" as he points to her right.
Jen turns to see four men sitting at a small table looking in her direction. They all appear to be much younger than her - especially judging by their overly enthusiastic look of satisfaction in buying her a drink.
Jen raises the glass in their direction and smiles as they boyishly wave and nod back. She notices a ridiculous high five exchange between two of the men, and slowly shakes her head before turning away. She quietly mumbles to herself "...young enough to be my..." but stops short of completing the thought. Yet, even as she downplays their gesture, the sudden flattery of attention has interrupted her anger at John.
Rolling her eyes, Jen mutters into her glass "at least someone noticed me tonight" and takes a sip from the fresh glass.
Jen's taco salad arrives and she quickly starts eating. Many minutes into her meal she realizes that the young men have abandoned their table and are now sitting at the corner of the bar, drinking their beers only a few seats away to her right. As she turns full-on to look in their direction, the men quickly avert their eyes. One of the young men cracks a smile as he looks upwards to the hanging wine glasses above. Through his tight-lipped grin she hears him utter the word "bus-ted".
A few awkward seconds pass before Jen turns back towards her meal and then suddenly realizes the source of their attention.
The group's new position offers them the exact view Jen was staging earlier for her husband to enjoy. As she leaned forward to eat, her blouse had been gaping open just enough to expose her left breast.
Jen feels a deep blush come over her face, and her immediate instinct is to hide her dilemma - to turn away, and button her top. But the warm flushing sensation is much more than embarrassment.
Feeling a little dizzy with a slight shortness of breath, Jen realizes that her heartbeat is racing. She instantly blames the wine which surely, at the least, has enhanced the effect. Whatever the reason, the sudden receipt of such exuberant flattery – the unexpected confirmation of her sexual appeal - is quite satisfying, and she confidently resists the urge to cover up.
Suddenly reduced to pushing her salad around the plate with her fork, Jen is unable to continue eating. Consumed with the knowledge that she is being watched, she becomes overly self-conscious and highly aware of her own movements. But her tingling insecurity slowly gives way to giddy thoughts of playful cockiness, and Jen begins to feel somewhat empowered by the situation. Although completely out of character, she decides to have a little harmless fun and play up to the interest of the boys.
Jen deliberately moistens her lips while keeping her gaze held straight ahead. She leans forward, draws another sip of the wine and slowly smiles – quietly signaling to her audience that she is fully aware of their view.
Moving on her barstool she slowly raises her leg nearest the men and crosses it over the other. The movement exposes Jen's right leg enough to reveal the taut straps of her garter. She lightly runs her hand along the outer length of her soft thigh, starting at the knee, gently running her fingers along the shimmering nylon fabric. Reaching the top of the stocking, her thumb pulls into the exposed hem, and her fingers tug at the fasteners of the garter snaps at the front, and then around to the back of the exposed leg.
With her legs now tightly crossed Jen can feel the warmth of her excitement building as she nonchalantly primps and tugs at the position of the stocking. Freshly waxed from the day before, Jen can actually sense the increased blood flow gently swelling in her baby-smooth folds. Mimicking the subtle adjustments made when first dressing earlier in the evening, her hand continues the stocking dance for a full minute, finally smoothing the skirt across her lap before reaching up to push her plate away.
Startled by her own unbridled courage, Jen picks up the wine glass and sits motionless as her thoughts return to John, and for the next several minutes she begins to wrestle with a pang of guilt. Her little show was meant for her husband. Yet, the eroticism of performing in view of these total strangers is undeniably more pronounced, more alluring than the gentle twinges she feels when giving John similar "accidental" flashes.
Jen quietly wonders what John would say if he were watching this scene? Would he be wildly turned on by my public display, possibly encouraging my provocation? Or would he insist on leaving immediately, embarrassed and angry? It doesn't really matter, now does it? He's not here. Maybe that's the key. Is it more dangerous, more enticing because I am so entirely removed from the safety of John's consent? Is the thought of allowing other men to see me as one of "those girls" for just a little while, the most thrilling of all? Do we all secretly fantasize about stepping out of our "good girl" comfort zone for a night - to become the flirtatious and willing trollop? Am I tempting a gang bang? The very thought of losing control of the situation is wildly exciting to Jen, and at the same time, full of unmistakable danger.