Page 59 of Midlife Crisis

“Have dinner with us.” The invitation startles me, but I can’t say no to her. I have nowhere to go, and I want to be with her. Before I can answer, she’s kissing me again, pressing into me as her body begs for more. More.

“I want to take you in this back seat,” I mutter against her lips. She breaks away and surprises me by climbing over the seats.

“Come join me,” she says, patting the leather interior. There’s no way I can hike my body over the front seat like she did, so I push open the driver’s door and enter through the back, laying her out as I stretch into the rear of the vehicle. I’m too big for the space and sensing our position won’t work, she presses on me.

“Sit up,” she says, her breaths rasping. We shift, and she straddles me, but not before she loosens my pants and frees me from them so my ass hits the cool leather. Her dress looks like a long t-shirt, and she wiggles to remove her underwear. I chuckle at her haste.

“In a hurry?” I question, holding my breath for some reason.

“Greedy,” she says, throwing her legs over mine and positioning me at her entrance. She’s slick and ripe and I want inside. “Condom?”

Ah, the responsible thing. She picks on me for having an endless supply, but I assure her it’s only so I’m ready for when she wants me. But one day, I’d like to bare inside her again. I struggle for my wallet, balancing her on my lap. She distracts me as she nibbles my neck and licks the shell of my ear. Once covered, I’m under her, forcing her hips downward, allowing her to swallow me.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” I exhale at entering her, the sensation never ceasing to amaze me. I love how she wraps around me. I love her, and again, the words whisper over my tongue.

Within minutes, she rocks in a way I know means she’s close; she’s found her rhythm.

“Hank,” she cries softly, “come with me.” I can’t time it like that. It just happened the other night when we were wild on the couch in the office. I love how pliable she is, willing to let me experiment with her and move her in the ways I like.

“Right there, baby,” I say, encouraging her to go for it. She lets go, digging her short nails into my shoulders, her hips stilling as she clenches over me. Her head comes to my shoulder as she presses her lips against my neck. I follow her lead and release, filling her with my seed. The experience is better than watching fireworks. I see color all the same, though, as this woman does that to me.

“I love you,” she whispers, pressing light kisses over my neck. She says it so softly, I take a second to decipher what she said. The pause costs me. I’m not quick enough, and she sits up. Looking down at my chest, avoiding my eyes, she doesn’t miss a beat in ignoring what she just said.

“Dinner?” Her voice isn’t its typical strength.

“Midge, I…” She’s already pulling off me, squirming to the seat and hustling on her underwear. She continues to avoid my gaze.

“My boys must be starving by now. Come have dinner with us. It will be fun.” Still offering the invitation tells me she hasn’t changed her mind, but my grip on this situation slips with each second. Her clothing straightened, she opens the back door.

“Midge, wait—” I’m too late. She reenters through the passenger door while I’m still tucking myself back in my jeans. Facing forward, she watches the sliver of sunshine disappear.

“It really was beautiful,” she says quietly, and my heart drops.

I return to the present, fingers spinning the glass vase. Brut has wandered off, and my phone vibrates in my other hand.

“Hey baby, how’d it go?”

“It didn’t.” Instantly, I’m on edge at the sadness in her tone.

“What happened?”

“He didn’t show. His assistant took the presentation.”

“What the fuck?”

“Pendelton was detained, Julian said.” She sighs.

“Who’s Julian?” I lean back in her chair, swiping back and forth at the hair on my head.

“Julian Pendelton, his assistant and his son.”

“Motherfucker.”

“He liked the presentation well enough. Told me his dad would have the final say, though, and he’d pass on the information. Then he asked me to lunch. I thought he was being nice. Trying to soothe my disappointment since his dad didn’t show. When I declined, he asked me out for drinks. Said he thought there might be a way we could ensure I’d work with them.”

“He was fucking hitting on you.”

“Maybe,” she says, her voice lowering.