“Fran?” She heard him calling from the kitchen.
“Tub! Sorry! Running late!”
Fran gave her razor a final rinse and zipped from the tub to rub herself dry. A slather of lotion later, she poured herself into her dress – red, with a deep V. Ten more minutes in front of a mirror and she breezed into the kitchen, wafting perfume and confidence.
“Hey. Sorry to make you wait. Had to shave my legs.”
“You’re not looking at the dress, my friend.” She smiled at him.
“You’re right.” His eyes locked with hers for locks eyes with her, and Fran felts something new coming from him. “Hey you seem pretty good. How’s your noise?”
“Quiet. Tidily packed away in its box.” She sighed peacefully. “Ready?”
Mick drove them to the country club where his friends were getting married and having their reception at the country club. Fran amused herself as Mick served as usher and attendant, tried not to laugh when he fought hard to stifle a yawn in the middle of the ceremony, and then strolled with the rest of the group into the adjacent and much larger room for the reception. She found Table 2 and waited for her fellow Table 2ers to join her.
Mick came over to check on her.
“Bored yet?” They grinned at each other.
Just then a frizzy, middle-aged lady in an unbecoming shade of pink sidled up to Fran and put a hesitant hand on her arm.
“Are you… Francine Dolan?” the woman asked.
Fran smiled. “That’s me.”
“Oh my goodness, I am… this is probably so inappropriate, but I just have to tell you. Your book made such a difference in my life.”
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. Tell me your name.” Fran shot a “scram” look at Mick and gestured the woman to a chair and the two of them sat talking – or rather, the woman talked, while Fran beamed her benevolent smile and nodded sympathetically.
When Mick returned as salads were being served, Fran said to him, “I’m a rock star,”
“I know, Frannie.”
“I changed her life.”
“I know, I know.”
“If there’s a heaven, I’m going there.”
“Plus I’m frickin’ gorgeous. Have you seen what I do to this dress?”
A wicked idea entered her mind. “Hey Mick, I need to go to the ladies’ room. Would you come with me?”
“For company? Come on.”
Mick shrugged and stood and they walked side by side through the crowded ballroom. Fran jabbed her elbow into his ribs. “Everyone here wonders who your hot date is.”
“Apart from the ones who know who I am and are whispering behind their hands, ‘That’s Francine Dolan, bestselling author, life-changing personal trainer, and smokin’ hot fat chick.’”
“Yep.” Again, his eyes met hers and she felt that jolt that started somewhere in the middle of her chest and traveled like a bolt of lightening to her clit.
“I think there’s a less crowded restroom down this way.” She led him down a side stairs and around a corner to the country club’s locker room. Turning her head to see if they were observed, she snuck through the door and gestured him in. “Come on, come on.”
As places to pee go, this one was pretty elaborate. The foyer – it had a foyer – contained a circular padded bench with a fountain in the middle. Fran led him back through an array of wooden-doored lockers, past the showers and sinks, to the toilet stalls.
“Come here.” She tugged him into a stall with her.
“Because I would like to give you a nice blowjob in gratitude to you for bringing me to this lovely event.”
“You fucked Christine in the gym locker room.” Her hand were undoing his pants, then groping amidst the fabric for his cock.
“That was different.”
“Because she’s skinny?” Stroking the shaft now, with firm, steady hands. Both hands.
“Because she’s not – We can’t just…”
“Can’t just what?” Her hands continued to work on him, and her eyes were warm and challenging. “If you say no. I’ll stop. If you say yes, I’ll suck you off. It’s entirely up to you. And take your time deciding, because I could do this for hours.” And she smiled with those shiny, dark lips.
“Jesus, Frannie. Yes.” Yes. Yes. Frannie is heartbroken and needs time, he recited to himself. Marathons are about –
She dropped down and in an instant her mouth was on him, taking him into her. For a few vertiginous seconds, Mick watched as the image of her mouth around his cock went from the erotic novelty of a new mouth sucking him off to the oddness of his best friend with her mouth on his penis, back to erotic novelty, switching and unfocused until they resolved into the woman he loved with her warm, wet mouth on him. Then her hand cupped his balls and he tilted his head back and tried to breathe.
It didn’t take long. The hours of watching her body move inside that dress, the skill of her mouth and hands on him, and the delicious risk of being caught all conspired to take him to the edge of orgasm in minutes. He gave up the fight and surrendered to her, and instantly his arousal peaked.
“Oh god, fuck, god! I’m gonna come,” he warned. But instead of pulling away, she sucked him hungrily and grunted around him when his semen hit her tongue.
When the shocks of pleasure had eased, Fran stood up and kissed him, her mouth drenched in his fluid. Mick sucked her tongue, tasting himself, smelling her perfume, feeling her body along the length of his.
Dazedly, he felt her hands at his crotch and heard his zipper go up.
“Let’s get a cocktail to go with that,” she grinned.
“A cocktail.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a little hug. “As in, the alcoholic beverage?”
“What?” he said again. “But you didn’t come.”
“I didn’t want to come, I wanted to make you come.”
“But that’s not fair.” What?
“Not fair for who? You? Because you came and I didn’t? You don’t make any sense.”
She was walking away from him, her hips swinging, her shoulders relaxed. She was happy. It shone from her.
Mick stayed behind, still half hard, still not thinking straight, with a vague sense that he should follow her. He would be required to brush aside the men who fell at her feet on her way to the bar. He went to the row of sinks to splash water on his face. He needed more of his brain online before he went out there again. Hands braced on the counter, he met his own eyes in the mirror.
“You’re fucking it up” he watched himself say. “You want her too much.”