Story 2

As I wandered aimlessly up and down the aisles of the grocery store staring at the easy dinner options, I realized just how tired I was. It had been a long day at the law firm and I was ready to be braless and stiletto-less. My heels were clicking their way over the tiles when I heard a long-forgotten voice behind me.

“Lacey?”

I turned around on my high heels, confused and curious, and strode back towards him.

“Thomas? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I just transferred here for a job. Holy hell, I can’t believe it’s you.”

I chuckled, it had been such a long time since I had even thought about him, not to mention that last night together. He still looked good, maybe even better with age. His dark hair and blue eyes were a killer combination and the slight crinkling of his eyes added humor and experience to his handsome face.

“Seriously, I cannot believe I just ran into you in the produce department. What the hell have you been up to?”

He was as flabbergasted as I was, but I seemed to be at a loss for words.

“I, ah, just picking up dinner. Work has been hectic lately.”

“Where do you work nowadays?”

I grinned, knowing how unbelievable my answer was going to be to him.

“I’m a criminal defense lawyer.”

It was Thomas’s turn to lose the power of speech.

Laughingly I patted him on the shoulder, “It’s okay. No one believed it could happen.”

“N-N-No, it’s not that. I just, well, you know…”

“Yeah, I’m just lucky that social media didn’t exist when I was in college. I’d be screwed nowadays. Back then we were at least smart enough not to take pictures of our stupidity.”

He laughed that same booming, contagious laugh, “It wasn’t all stupid, was it?”

I shook my head, “Nah, not that. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. Well, maybe we can grab drinks or dinner sometime.”

“I’d like that,” I replied, my mind still reeling with memories.

“Are you… attached?” He stubbed his toe against a crack in the tile floor.

“It’s just dinner,” I reminded him gently.

“Yeah, I know, I got it.”

“Oh! You said you transferred here for work? What do you do?” I asked to be polite more than anything.

His cheeks flushed pink, “District attorney’s office, prosecutor.”

My entirely terrible day vanished as I burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, what are the chances of that!” I was stunned.

“About the same as us running into each other over the premade salad bowls.”

We ended up exchanging business cards and heading off in our own directions. I was ninety-nine percent certain that he was as lost in his memories as I was in mine.

That night as I ate my premade chicken Caesar salad and finished my second glass of red wine, one by one the memories ignited in my brain. Thomas and I had been long-time casual buddies in college. It was basically a “friends with benefits” situation, and we always respected the other when one of us found a significant other. But when we were both single, we gravitated towards each other. We had never really discussed becoming more. It was almost as though we did not want to ruin what we had by making a mountain out of a molehill.

I fell asleep that night remembering the way his unshaven scruff scratched my inner thighs and the way his tongue knew exactly how to tease me to the edge then plummet me into the depths of pleasure. I was not sure if the tingling came from the memories or the fact that I really had not dated anyone in several very long months.

The next day I woke up vaguely frustrated but headed off to work anyway. Around lunchtime, Thomas texted me.

[[So, tomorrow’s Friday. You planning a premade dinner again? Or could I convince you of something more?]]

I laughed and typed my response.

[I could be convinced.]

We made plans to meet at a little Spanish restaurant about halfway between our respective workplaces. It was certainly way too early in the process to negotiate for a meeting spot closer to one of our residences. Besides, he had not mentioned whether he was single or not. For all I knew, he had a wife and seven kids at home. I had been so surprised to see him, I had not thought to check for a ring.

I became a little embarrassed that I was even thinking those things. But in my defense, while he and I had shared a unique friendship, it had always come back to the sex. It was what bound us together back then, so perhaps it was natural to focus on it now. Then again, maybe it had just been too long since my last non-battery orgasm.

The next morning, I took a little more care than normal with my preparations. I shaved my legs and bikini area satin smooth in the shower, and inhaled the cocoa butter scent deeply as I massaged it over my skin. Over my matching lace bra and panties, I selected a suit and a fitted blouse that could be buttoned up for work, and buttoned down for dinner. I also made sure to blow dry my wavy hair straight so that it hung silkily over my shoulders. As an added bonus, I stuck a red lipstick in my purse to touch up.

After I finished my caseload for the day, I stepped into the bathroom to run a comb through my hair, powder my nose, and swipe on the red lipstick. I left all the buttons done until I reached my car. I laid my suit jacket over the backseat and unfastened an extra button, making sure my generous cleavage was peeking out just enough to catch his eyes. He always did love my full, firm breasts.

Thomas was waiting for me when I strolled in, and from the look on his face, I already had every bit of his attention. The t***s place was arranged distinctively, with large oversized loveseats and coffee tables instead of traditional tables and chairs. I sat down across from him, making sure to bend over a little further than necessary as I arranged my snug pencil skirt. His eyes were fixed on the swells of my breasts, and I knew the evening was already mine to own.

Shortly after I sat down, the waitress stopped by with a carafe and glasses as well as several small t***s that Thomas had already ordered.

“Ah, you remember,” I smiled and winked.

He had ordered red sangria filled with fresh cut fruit, a platter of cheese and olives and cured meats, and a tiny dish of marinated mushrooms. The young woman poured the first glasses and set everything down on the table between Thomas and me. When he and I had been in college, we had experimented making our own sangria and every single attempt failed miserably.

I sipped the sparkling fruity drink and popped a mushroom in my mouth. His eyes seemed to watch my every move, and I knew instantly that I could control where this evening ended.

“So, are you attached or unattached?” I approached the question head-on.

“Um, recently unattached actually.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Divorce?”

“Nah, just living together. But it was headed that direction. She just wasn’t willing to move when I got the job here.”

“That sucks. But her loss.” He was being too vague for me to determine whether he was truly saddened by the loss.

“Definitely not mine,” he grimaced, “she was horrible in sack but I didn’t have the heart to tell her that. In every other way, she was great. Would have made a great sidekick should I run for DA someday.”

“Sidekick? Oh Thomas, surely that’s not what you want in a wife.”

He rolled his eyes, “So many answers, so little time.”

I leaned forward, making sure to angle down just enough for him to have a clear shot down the front of my blouse.

“Like what?” I asked breathily.

“Lacey, Lacey, Lacey. If we do now what we used to do, I’ll probably have a heart attack.”

I sat back and laughed, “Thomas, we are not that old!”

“Yes, I know, but we were that crazy!”

I poured myself another glass of sangria and piled cured salami and manchego cheese onto a toasted slice of bread. As I savored the combination of flavors, I regarded him calmly.

“You really have aged well, Thomas.”

“Ah, thanks. You were always dynamite Lacey, and still are. I fantasize about those…” He gestured vaguely towards me.

I fluttered my eyelashes and feigned innocence, “Who? Me? Fantasized about what?”

He gestured again, slightly embarrassed.

I gingerly opened my blouse and thrust my firm breasts forward, “You mean these?”

He nodded and grinned, “Never thought I’d get to see them again though.”

“The night is young,” I whispered throatily.