The door bell announced a customer and the middle-aged woman behind the counter looked up to see that man again. Yes, that same, handsome and powerfully built individual who had come in the previous week and bought a packet of Superkings, finally... after mulling their merits against those of Rothmans Blue for a minute. Their eyes had met over his presentation of the plastic... he had smiled winningly... and she had melted.
Stupidly and for no reason, melted. Ever since, she had thought of him in her private moments. It was her guilty secret. In quiet, no-customer times and even lying in bed next to her husband. Secret, guilt-ridden thoughts which she should not have harboured. She was a faithful wife to a faithful, hardworking husband. They shared the shop duties.
The man strode towards the counter with a strange, purposeful look in his eyes... but, instead of asking for cigarettes, skirted around it to her side and took her in his arms. He reached upward to her head and pulled it back, not particularly gently, by her hair... raising her lips to his. The fierce, hungry look on his face reached into a dark place deep within her soul as he crushed her lips with his, his tongue forcing itself into contact with hers.
Somehow, she did not care that the shop sign was still, blaringly, 'OPEN'. It but added to her rising excitement.
She did not care that she was now laid flat on the counter, his weight bearing down on her and his hips pistoning between her welcoming thighs. She did not care, somehow, that her panties waved in the air, pennant-like, from her flailing legs as they reached high aboove his pounding buttocks. All that mattered was his taking of her. All that mattered was her welcoming him home... home... where he belonged.
She did not care that she could see her husband, watching on in shock and embarrassment from the side room... but doing absolutely nothing to intervene.
She did not care, somehow.
And then...
... the alarm clock sounded to summon her to yet another dreary, lifeless day...
Stupidly and for no reason, melted. Ever since, she had thought of him in her private moments. It was her guilty secret. In quiet, no-customer times and even lying in bed next to her husband. Secret, guilt-ridden thoughts which she should not have harboured. She was a faithful wife to a faithful, hardworking husband. They shared the shop duties.
The man strode towards the counter with a strange, purposeful look in his eyes... but, instead of asking for cigarettes, skirted around it to her side and took her in his arms. He reached upward to her head and pulled it back, not particularly gently, by her hair... raising her lips to his. The fierce, hungry look on his face reached into a dark place deep within her soul as he crushed her lips with his, his tongue forcing itself into contact with hers.
Somehow, she did not care that the shop sign was still, blaringly, 'OPEN'. It but added to her rising excitement.
She did not care that she was now laid flat on the counter, his weight bearing down on her and his hips pistoning between her welcoming thighs. She did not care, somehow, that her panties waved in the air, pennant-like, from her flailing legs as they reached high aboove his pounding buttocks. All that mattered was his taking of her. All that mattered was her welcoming him home... home... where he belonged.
She did not care that she could see her husband, watching on in shock and embarrassment from the side room... but doing absolutely nothing to intervene.
She did not care, somehow.
And then...
... the alarm clock sounded to summon her to yet another dreary, lifeless day...
