Tom Linn had been the high school star, captain of the football team and all-city fullback. Every girl she knew drooled over him, over his dark good looks, over his charming smile.
Tom began eating while Sheila was still standing at the stove. His mouth spread in an impish grin. His eyes darted from one side to the other. Then he grabbed a piece of chicken and ate it quickly. He looked up at her, that damn grin on his face as though asking her to laugh at the childish antics.
Five years ago she had thought those actions to be completely irresistible. She had been the happiest girl in school when Tom noticed her. She knew that he screwed any girl he dated. That didn't matter to the redhead. She was deliriously happy with the chance to offer him her cherry. He had popped her on their first date. He had fucked her, then bragged about it to the other boys on the team. He fucked her regularly after that. He usually kept his buddies up to date on just how many times he had gotten her pussy, too.
Their screwing had never been fulfilling to Sheila. Hell, just about the time she started feeling anything, he had already shot his wad. What he lacked in finesse, however, he tried to make up for in vigor. When Tom Linn fucked a girl, she knew she'd had a man between her legs. He bragged about that. The bastard would brag about that as he lay beside her, that juvenile grin on his face, while she shuddered with desire that had only begun to rise.
Tom had eaten two pieces of chicken and was finishing a third by the time Sheila slipped into her chair across from him. The young woman ate daintily while her husband continued to stuff his mouth. He nodded his approval of her cooking, grabbed a fourth piece of meat, looked from side to side, grinned, and started bolting down that piece of chicken. He struggled to swallow a huge mouthful, then spoke to her while the remains threatened to drop down his chin.
"You made up your mind about the convention?" he asked, referring to the forthcoming meetings of her company to be held in New Orleans. "You decided to go?"
Sheila had about decided not to attend. Mr. Forrest had been urging her to go. The manager had even suggested that her expenses would be paid by the company. He wanted her to handle some of the presentations, he said. The red-haired girl suspected that he wanted her to handle more than just formal presentations of charts and diagrams. The way Forrest had looked at her as he talked about the meetings left little doubt in her mind. Sheila felt reasonably confident that she could handle any approaches the men might make. Still, it would be embarrassing. No, she'd probably be better off remaining at work. She might make enemies out of the executives she turned don each evening.
"I don't think I'll go," she answered her husband. "It just doesn't excite me that much."
Tom's face showed a peculiar expression of disappointment. He grunted in response, then finished his meal in silence. Sheila was aware of a growing anger in his eyes as he looked over at her. She had thought he might be relieved at hearing her decision. He had made enough comments about what happened at conventions. He suggested that the company only held them to give the men a chance to screw every girl on the payroll. She wasn't about to tell him that they didn't heed a convention for that. Except for her, the men in the company were fucking all the girls without leaving town.
"What's the matter?" she asked. "I thought you wanted me to stay home."
Tom pushed back from the table. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, then rubbed the greasy hand on his pants. He got up and put his jacket on. He didn't speak to her until he got to the door. Then he looked back at her for a moment.
"I don't give a damn what you do!" he snapped. "Just don't try to pull anything on me. Don't think I owe you anything because you aren't going."
Sheila watched the door slam behind him. She fought back the immediate surge of resentment. Damn him! She'd never tried to use anything against him. She certainly didn't hold it up to him that her salary was considerably higher than his. She had never suggested, as happened to be true, that she could be making a hell of a lot more if she weren't married to him. That must be the problem, she suddenly suspected! He was resentful of her rising position. He was jealous of her success.
It didn't have to be that way. He didn't have to work at his demeaning job. She'd have been only too happy to work while he went back to college.
She had pleaded with him to let her send him through school. He could have finished on his own years ago. They had been at the state university where he was on a football scholarship. Tom had injured his knee, however, in the first week of practice. The university would have honored its contract with him despite the fact that he would never play. It had been Tom who packed up and returned home. Tom had only been interested in football, not in the education. Now he resented being in a low paying job. Damn it, it was his own fault. She would still pay for him to get his education.
Maybe they should talk about that again. Maybe they needed to do a lot of talking. If he was being such a bastard because of his own frustrations, then she needed to do something to reassure him. Sheila quickly began cleaning up the table. She spent almost an hour in the kitchen, then walked into the bedroom and began changing clothes.
She'd go down to the tavern. Yes, she'd show him that she didn't feel superior to his friends. She'd have fun with him tonight, even drink beer with him! Ugghhh! That would be a way of proving her love. He knew how she detested the smell and taste of beer. She would sit there and drink with him, then come home and have a long, serious talk.
She felt much better as she ran the comb through her hair. She had slipped into tight slacks and a soft sweater that emphasized her tits. She shook her head sadly, knowing that there was no way she could pass as a typical tavern wife. Then she laughed at herself. Why should she worn? Maybe this would even help Tom. Every man in there would drool over her. That ought to give her husband a feeling of being important. He had always been proud of her sexy appearance. She might be able to use that tonight.
She stepped back from the mirror and stared at her reflection. She could imagine how Walt Morrow would react to her. The redhead shivered at the thought of his arms about her. Her tits swelled as she fancied his hands covering them and slowly massaging her nipples into pulsing desire. She closed her eyes and remembered how his hardening cock had felt against her today at the office. She had a catch in her breath as she realized just how much she had wanted to meet hint after work.
She could meet him now! Tom would be boozing it at the tavern for three hours or longer. She had plenty of time to drive to his apartment. She could drive over, let him bring her to a slow, dreamy fulfillment, and be back home long before her husband ever staggered in. The mere thought of it sent a shudder through her body.
No, she couldn't. She just couldn't. Maybe it was because she wanted to so badly that she couldn't. If Walt were as good as she imagined, then how could she ever come back to the frustrations of this bedroom? No! It was just too much to handle. Besides, she didn't know where his apartment was located. Too bad, she told herself. She tried to get her breathing back to normal, then saw the telephone book on the nightstand.
Sheila stared at the book as though frightened by it. It seemed to glow before her. Her knees were weak and watery as she stepped to the bed and sat down. Her hands trembled as she pulled the volume across her legs. She was only satisfying her curiosity, she insisted. That's all it was, mere curiosity. Still, her heart skipped a beat when she spotted his name on the page. She felt a lump in her throat, a warmness in her breasts. Her eyes were drawn to the name and the address which accompanied it. Damn! He lived so close to her! She could be at his apartment in fifteen minutes.
This was stupid, she told herself. Sheila leaned back against the pillow, letting the phone book fall from her lap. She closed her eyes again and tried to picture the expression on Walt's face were he to open his door and see her standing there. What would she say?
"Hi! I've come for my fuck?" That would be why she was there, wouldn't it? He would know it, whatever she said. Her pussy quivered as she imagined him leading her inside and looking down over her heaving tits. She could imagine the way his cock would swell inside his pants as he led her to his couch. No, he wouldn't waste time, not since he would know exactly what she came for. He'd take her to his bedroom.
Stop this! Her conscience screwed at her. She had to stop thinking like this! This was a one-way street. This wouldn't do at all. Yet it was so pleasant to dream. The lovely redhead closed her eyes once more and breathed deeply, imagining Walt's hands running softly over her tits, his fingers turning her nipples into panting buttons of shimmering pleasure. She tingled at the thought of his hand caressing her pussy until he had her gushing like crazy. She pictured him pulling his big pecker from his pants and inviting her to fondle it. She mopped the perspiration from her forehead as her breath became suddenly rapid once again. Her heart pounded in excitement. Her breasts swelled luxuriously. Her pussy tingled and throbbed.
He would give a slow, thorough balling. He would screw her like they described it in the books. He would give her one of those fucks that Ruby always talked about. She would roll with him. Oh, would she ever rock and throb as they pumped frantically and completely against each other.
Sheila jumped up from the bed. She forced herself to stop thinking like that. She had to stop this. If she didn't, she would be unable to resist the nearness of that apartment where he was waiting. If he was waiting. She hadn't thought of that. Walt wouldn't be sitting there waiting to see if she might show up. She had made it all too clear that she'd never put out for him. He'd probably not even be home. If he was, he'd probably have some other girl there. He might have one of the younger girls from the office. He might have same other tenant of those apartments. He might even have Ruby. The brunette was older than girls Walt usually dated, but Ruby had bragged once about what a hell of a piece of meat the young executive had between his legs.
She could find out! She could dial his number and see if he was there. No! Sheila knew that she'd be unable to resist his voice. If she heard him over the phone, she'd be unable to turn him down again. She couldn't turn him down twice in the same day, not as horny as she felt right now.
She looked back at the telephone as she grabbed a coat from her closet. She paused at the door. The phone seemed to demand her to come to it, to pick it up. Sheila ran through the door, fighting the terrible impulse. She ran through the living room, pulling her coat over her shoulders as she stepped out into the evening air. The lovely young woman walked quickly to her car and drove away. She had to get to Tom. She had to escape the temptation to pick up the telephone. She drove rapidly to the tavern that her husband usually mentioned. She spotted it and pulled into the small parking lot next door. Sheila had almost gotten out of her car when she realized that Tom's car was not parked in the lot. She cranked her car again and drove slowly through the lot. No, there was no sign of Tom's old Chevy. It wasn't parked on the street out front, either.
The redhead was confused by the absence of his car. She turned into the street and drove on slowly, trying to remember any other taverns he might have mentioned. Nothing rang any bell in her memory. The girl fought back the immediate feeling of anger. She hadn't asked him where he was going and he hadn't told her. She couldn't accuse him of lying to her, not very well. Still, it rankled her that he wasn't where she had expected to find him.
She drove around the small town, checking on other bars. She had driven through those parking lots before she spotted his automobile. There it was! A sigh of relief escaped her as she pulled into the nearest available slot and climbed from her own small import. This didn't seem a likely place for Tom. The sound of live music came out from the door as a couple ahead of her entered. Above her was a brightly lit sign that read: Country Music Dancing.
She couldn't understand her Tom coming to a place like this. Sheila shrugged her shoulders and pushed through the door. Maybe Tom had to come here to meet some buddy of his. She stepped into the dimly lit interior and groped her way over to the bar. She found an empty stool and sat down while her eyes became accustomed to the light.
"Well!" a man on her right gasped. "You're the prettiest thing to step in here in years!"
Sheila ignored him, her eyes roaming about the bar, searching for Tom. He wasn't at the bar. She was sure of that. She looked back along the row of booths, interrupting her survey of them as she spatted two pool tables off to the side. He wasn't at the tables, to her disappointment. She returned to the booths, still not able to see him anywhere.
Then she saw him! He was standing beside one of the tables out around the dance floor. Tom was leaning down and talking to some girl. His back was toward Sheila so that she couldn't see his face. She could surely see the face of the slender brunette, though. She could see the clear expression of pleasure as the girl talked to Tom. The redhead kept warning herself against getting angry. Hell, the girl was probably the wife or girl friend of some buddy of Tom's. Sheila knew that wasn't so, but still she kept telling it to herself.
She tried to convince herself that it was all harmless. Even as Tom led the girl to the dance floor, she insisted there was nothing to get angry about. Besides, the girl was too skinny. When she stood up, it became apparent just how scrawny she really was. No, Tom couldn't be interested in that. But why, then, was he dancing so suggestively with her. Damn him! Damn Tom! He was rubbing his cock all over the girl as they danced. He had a hand planted firmly on her tiny little ass while he rubbed sensuously against her to the slow beat of the music. He had one leg between hers and was letting her pussy ride the top of his thigh.
Now Sheila could feel anger. She allowed herself that luxury. Damn right. She became furious as she watched. Her blood boiled as she wondered how many other nights Tom had been here with that little bitch or some other woman.
"Dance, beautiful?" a voice sounded at her shoulder. "Gorgeous broad like you should be dancing."
She looked up into the hopeful eyes of the young man who had approached her. Sheila tried to smile as she shook her head. Dancing was the last thing in the world she felt like doing. The man seemed to take her refusal personal, however. His eyes glared angrily at her as he turned away.
"Go to hell, then," she heard him mutter under his breath. Sheila saw him go to one of the tables and easily find a girl to dance with. She couldn't understand why he had gotten angry with her. Hell, he hadn't even bought her a drink. Someone had, though. A beer was sitting in front of her. The man on her right laughed as she looked questioningly at the mug.
"Thought you might be a little thirsty," he told her, his hand coming around her waist in familiar fashion. The redhead shuddered at his touch, debating whether to make a scene just yet or not. So far he was only touching her waist. She decided to keep quiet unless he tried to play with her tits or her ass. She wanted to watch more of Tom and the skinny brunette before she caused any sort of commotion. She acknowledged the beer with a blank nod of her head, then turned back to watch the way her husband was hunching against the girl on the dance floor. The brunette seemed to approve of his actions. Sheila could watch the girl rub herself against him just as passionately. Her eyes were clenched shut like she was in total ecstasy. The whole sight sickened Sheila. The smell of the beer, the loud laughter, all of it nauseated her.
She watched until the song was over. Tom leaned down and whispered to the girl. Her black hair shimmered as she nodded eagerly. They walked over to her table where she pulled a coat from the back of her chair and pulled a purse up from the floor. Then she snuggled against Tom and walked with him toward the door. They came past Sheila, almost close enough for her to reach out and touch them. The redhead stared in disbelief. Damn, the girl was homely. Her features were much too sharp. She had only tiny breasts. She had skinny legs. Nevertheless, Tom couldn't keep his eyes off her as they walked through the door. He was giving her all the old charm. He was giving her full exposure to his little boy grin, damn him. The redhead felt her body trembling as she watched them leave.
"Old Tom's got him another piece!" the man to her right laughed. His hand patted her across the ass. "Yeah, Tom scores about every night. Damnest guy I ever saw when it comes to picking up girls."
Sheila was off the stool by now. She stood frozen and disgust and anger for a moment. She glared back at the man beside her, then strode toward the door when the two had just departed.
"Go to hell!" she snapped at the guy. She felt his eyes on her as she walked through the door. The redhead felt a moment of pity for him. He thought he had found himself a luscious piece, only to have it walk right out of his arms. Well, he was lucky. All she did was walk away from him. Tom Linn wasn't going to be so lucky.