Un-wined

The two little old ladies were planning something. Natalie had joined the sorority for old ladies solely because her daughter, about to go off to college, was suddenly looking at her stretch schools as her most likely candidates and at the advice of her counselor was filling out applications to the Ivy League.

At the meetings, Joan and Patty, sisters in their sixties, were as no-nonsense as the rest of the little old ladies planning fundraisers and looking for women's causes to spend the money on. After the meetings, with nothing else to do, they tended to wander into the bar of whatever restaurant the meeting was held at and drink wine or margaritas all afternoon. Natalie stayed around with them more often than she should have.

As a realtor, she really didn't have much else to do on Tuesday afternoons. Her daughter was largely self-sufficient and was never home. Her husband was hardly ever there either. They didn't have a bad marriage; the truth was it wasn't much of a marriage at all anymore, more of a professional partnership with the purpose of getting their daughter into USC or Northwestern. She didn't really expect him to hang around very long after high school graduation and she wasn't sure but she thought she liked the idea of being alone for a while.

That particular Tuesday afternoon the conversation centered on Joan's daughter in law. It could best be summed up by saying Joan felt the woman was a lazy bitch who took advantage of her son and was slowly killing him.

The two sisters squabbled a little over the woman. Joan, of course, sided with her son. Patty, despite feeling a soft spot for her nephew had to side with the woman. She had been badly divorced decades ago and was still bleeding from the wounds after all this time.

"Would you hire her again?" Joan asked her sister.

"No," said the woman that had just stuck up for her for an hour. "She's mean!" the woman added and they both laughed.

The second round of margaritas was ordered. The women drank the good stuff and Natalie was feeling no pain. The conversation switched to Friday happy hour. It was a tradition that went back to the days before Joan's husband had passed. They started at a restaurant with wine and appetizers and finished on Joan's patio with Cosmopolitans.

"Do you think your husband would let you out on a Friday night for a couple of hours?" they asked Natalie. Sometimes it was hard to differentiate between the two, especially since Joan had started cutting her hair short just like Patty.

"I'm not sure he would even notice," Natalie replied.

"Good. You are coming then."

The two sisters looked at each other a moment and Natalie suddenly felt uncomfortable about the whole thing but she didn't know why.

Natalie no longer needed to ask what to wear anywhere. When she had gone back to work she had dressed up a little too conservatively. Now that she had been doing it for a while she had dressy jeans and skirts and a whole closet full of tops that could pass as business casual with the buttoning of an extra button or the addition of a safety pin. They also converted easily for a happy hour. She religiously carried an extra ten pounds. Since crossing 45 she thought it made her look younger. It kept her breasts plump, her chest from looking bony, and hid the wrinkles on her neck and face. She wore her long chestnut hair back most days but releasing the hair clip and crunching her fingers through it gave it a carefree messy look appropriate to any of the bars in the neighborhood. The women had chosen Un-Wined for Friday night drinks and she sat at a corner table with them. She was getting looks. It made her feel good.

The conversation centered on Joan's grandson and his college search so Natalie had plenty to contribute. Other than her daughter applying to Vanderbilt and Joan's grandson applying to Loyola the lists were almost identical.

"I still can't believe she sent that email."

"I know. She is just inconsiderate."

"What did it say?" Natalie had to ask.

She never got to find out exactly what it said. An immense man with broad shoulders and a full beard appeared from out of no-where. He was too old to be a hipster and too well dressed to be a lumberjack. He stood over Joan like a knight would stand over his queen. His eyes sparkled a blue color that looked fake and full lips scowled beneath his facial hair. Suddenly his face lit up as if someone had flicked a switch. Natalie watched him. She was almost unable to speak as he hugged the waitress and they exchanged kisses on the cheek. He spoke to the waitress in French. There was giggling.

"Oh my god, Michael, how long have you been standing there? You scared me to death. Come, sit."

"No, I just moved us outside. The weather is perfect and the band is playing, or the singer is playing. Or is she singing? She plays too so yeah, I guess she is playing, come on."

Joan followed her large son to the patio. Natalie and Patty brought up the rear. He greeted people along the way. He talked to two tables outside. The oversized sofa and chairs around the firepit/table had been marked reserved but the little waitress took away the sign and they all sat down. He was apparently a regular.

The night turned cool. The woman playing guitar and singing was quite good. She played folk classics and acoustic versions of classic rock. The man stopped talking and listened as she covered Beast of Burden and then took a twenty up and dropped it in her jar. For his money, he got to request Gold Dust Woman and Natalie watched him watch the singer.

Although he was a little heavy he carried it well on his large frame. She thought he was rather like a male version of herself. He was dressed well but not dressy. He had on cowboy boots. The sisters sat huddled together on a little sofa getting drunk and when he wasn't interested in the song the woman sang he sat in the chair beside Natalie leaning forward so they could talk. They both sat more or less the same way on the edge of the oversized cushions their foreheads close together.

The sisters decided they'd had enough wine and Natalie was sad the night was over. Everyone exchanged goodbyes and Micheal shoved away their attempts to pay something toward the tab. Natalie hugged her two friends and held out her hand to shake Michael's hand. "Do you have to go?" he asked her.

"I guess not," she said.

From the patio they watched the women get into a car he had summoned on his phone and drive off.

"What was in the email?" she asked finally. She didn't want to admit it but she knew what she was doing. She was sizing up the competition.

"I don't want to say."

"That's okay," Natalie said.

"I don't want to speak ill of her, you know, it would seem like I was trying to complain about my wife. It would be like I was hitting on you."

"If I tell you what an asshole Patrick is, it would be hitting on you?" she asked. She didn't think it sounded right but somehow she understood.

"Exactly."

"Okay, so no talk about our spouses."

They went back to talking about their kids. They talked about how after the third one, every campus tour felt identical. They laughed about the surfers at UCSB and the idea of their children going off to Chicago to go to school after spending their whole lives in the desert south-west. They were going to freeze their asses off.

They killed another bottle of wine and an order of flatbread and decided they needed to get home. It was almost eight. As early as that might sound, it was only supposed to be a quick happy hour. He paid the tab. She insisted the next one was on her.

He looked at her with a broad smile. At least she thought he was smiling. "Do you always wear the beard?"

"No, actually. It is just for my son's fundraiser at school. It will come off after Thanksgiving."

She spent the short while that it took them to walk out to the parking lot thinking about what he might look like without it. They stood not talking in for too long. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was.

"Do I need to call a car for you? It's no big deal, I just expense them all."

"No, I will probably just call my daughter."

"That's funny. I didn't even think of calling Mike. He would come for sure."

"Oh my god, Mike Reed. Your son is Mike Reed!" she exclaimed out of nowhere.

"Yeah..."

"I think he dated my Gwen for a while last year."

"Yes he did!" said the man. "That's why you seem so familiar. I should have put it together sooner. You don't really run into that many six foot tall gorgeous brunettes. I should have known. He called her something different though. I would have recognized Gwen."

"G.G. Gwendolyn Gunderson. She hates her name."

Again, they stood in silence for too long. Neither of them had arranged for a ride home yet.

"I'm trying to decide if we should just get it over with or if I like the anticipation too much and maybe we shouldn't, maybe we should just go home and think about it," Natalie told him.

He responded by kissing her. He began delicately, teasing her lips and tickling her chin with the hairs of his beard but when her arms wrapped around him he took her breath away.

When finally they pulled away from each other he leaned back on a large Jaguar. He looked funny, his scruffy beard contrasted against the sparkly black luxury car. "That guy probably wouldn't want you leaning on his car. It looks like he just had it waxed."

"It's leased. No reason to pay to have it waxed."

She shook her head. He didn't look like the type of guy that should own a Jaguar.

Without a word, he reached behind him. The door to the wide leather back seat clicked unlocked when he pulled on it. He held it open for her.

"I haven't done that since I was 17," she said. He answered by raising his eyebrows.

They kissed for a while and the old Meatloaf song danced about in her head. She couldn't remember the words to it but it definitely was not about a couple in their late forties in the back of a luxury car. He unbuttoned her blouse and kissed her chest between her breasts. She moaned gently. She wrapped a leg around his waist and it hiked her skirt up to her ass.

He unfasted her bra in a single motion. It made both of them giggle. He groped her breast. It was clumsy and silly. She went for his belt.

They laid motionless when a man got in the car beside them.

"Could he see us?" she whispered.

"Definitely."

"Did he look?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"Yes."

She went back to opening his pants.

Through tight boxer briefs, she gripped the first strange dick she had touched in twenty years.

"What do you want?" she asked him.

"World peace?" he teased.

"I meant do you want me to suck it?" she asked nervously. Her heart raced. She reached inside his shorts and wrapped her fingers around it. It felt gigantic but what did she know.

"Move over a little," he said. She shifted her hips.

They knocked foreheads. He ended up propping himself over her. She struggled to raise her hips. As large as the car had seemed they overfilled the small space in the back seat. He got her skirt to her waist and although her panties weren't coming off, not with her legs spread around him the way they were, he had them pulled aside.

He pulled his own jeans and boxer shorts off his hips and then moved on top of her.

There were multiple shifts as she forced her way down lower in the seat, her legs raised up one foot against the suede roof liner the other extended between the front bucket seats. She was too old for this sort of nonsense, he was too large for it. She was more or less convinced it wasn't going to work.

And then it worked.

Jesus did it work.

She couldn't move. She loved that part of it. Her arms were pinned down beside her, her legs were propped open, trapped between him and various leather seating surfaces. She gasped each time he thrust himself inside of her.

She couldn't kiss him. His head and shoulders were forced against the roof of the car. His legs were trapped inside of his jeans.

It seemed as though the only parts of either of them that could move at all were his hips.

He moved slowly at first but as she began to moan he thrust firmly, roughly stuffing his cock inside of. She wanted so badly to grab him, any part of him, and was completely unable to move.

She imagined him tying her to a bed. She imagined him, a stranger, taking her any way he wanted to. Her husband used a phrase to describe the young women that came and went in the legal profession convinced they were going to sleep their way to the top. He claimed he avoided them like the plague but she knew better. He had been with his share of "fuck toys" and some of them had at least slept their way to the middle with him, only leaving the firm to fuck someone more powerful with a partnership to offer.

She looked up at the large bearded man and said it. "Make me your fuck toy. Fuck me any way you want. Fuck me anywhere you want. Fuck me, Michael, fuck me good."

He exploded inside of her. It caused her to come as well. She grunted an ugly sort of pig noise she hated but couldn't help making when it happened.

He didn't stop. He just kept going.

She closed her eyes and hoped her smile didn't look too stupid.

She stayed right where she was when he stopped and worked his way off of her. Her feet were still trapped, one behind him, the other spread out into the front seat. Her bare chest heaved with each breath.

"Are you stuck?" he asked her.

"Yes." She smiled.

"Can't move at all?"

"I can move this arm," she said, raising and flailing her right arm about.

"So I can do whatever I want to you?"

"You, sir, can do whatever you want to me whenever you want, whether I can move or not." She looked up at him, trying to give her sexiest smoldering stare. She thought she probably came off looking sleepy more than anything else.

When he placed his hand between her legs she closed her eyes.

When he began to move his thumb in little circles over her clit she moaned.

When he stuffed it just inside her dripping wet pussy she gasped, her breath caught in her throat.

He tortured her to two short but intense orgasms and would have kept going until morning if she didn't have that single free arm to stop him.

"You are paying for that," she growled.

It was no small feat getting her legs unwrapped and curling herself into a ball but she managed it and got his cock into her mouth. He was the one growling now.

She had never sucked a cock after it had been inside of her. It was naughty and filthy and she licked and sucked at him cleaning him of their combined cum and causing him to swell again. Perhaps he wasn't as immense as she had imagined but he was more than a mouthful and her jaw struggled to open wide enough. She had just found a rhythm when the flashlight sprayed the car with light and the rap at the window threatened to break the glass.

It was a tangled flurry of movement as she rolled back into her seat and pulled her skirt down and her shirt together. He fought with his pants until they were over his hips again but the door was pulled open before he had re-closed his jeans.

The officer could have been a dick but he was too amused to give them too hard a time.

He pointed out that it was a DUI just to be inside the car with the keys, even if he was in the back seat. Things could have gotten out of control quickly but then he joked about calling their kids instead of their parents. Natalie relaxed after that.

A story about being told to do this by their marriage counselor sprung from her. She couldn't stop herself. She didn't know why. If you had asked her if she was a good liar she would have said no but the truth of it was, she couldn't think of the last time she had lied about anything.

When she finally had gotten her blouse buttoned she joined Michael outside of the car and they took their scolding with somber faces and multiple apologies.

The officer didn't leave until the driver showed up to take them home. They lived close by. It would be a short ride.

"We can't do that again," she said. She was looking forward to an afternoon in a hotel room but one time in the back seat of the car was enough. Afternoons in hotels was the way these things were supposed to happen.

Instead, he agreed with her too thoroughly. He liked her. He liked her a lot. There was a lot at risk though. She was married, he was married, it wasn't right. He mentioned the look on their kids' faces if they found out. He said he couldn't face that.

She had gone silent and when the car stopped across the street from her house she got out without a word. She was embarrassed. It wasn't what she thought it was. She had set herself up with ideas of love and a deep and meaningful relationship that might have been adulterous but wasn't wrong because it was built on love and respect and all of the things her marriage would never be.

She nearly ran from the car leaving the mysterious man and the night behind. Neither her daughter nor husband was home when she walked in and she escaped to her bedroom to wash the slut off of her.