It’d been one of those shitty weeks where nothing had gone right. It wasn’t worth dwelling on, but the stress had sunk into her, her muscles almost seizing and a ferocious headache around the corner. What she really wanted to do was go home and demolish a bottle of wine and a pint of ice cream.
Instead she’d listened to her FWB, James, who had invited her around. He said he had a much better way to unwind. They’d been friends for some time now, and he knew that she wasn’t kidding when she said that her mood was diabolical. It was never just a shag with him, but tonight, it’d better be more than just a shag on the agenda. She could murder that cookie dough ice cream in her freezer.
When she got there, James’s house was unusually dimly lit, and he offered her a glass of wine. No, not the bottle, absolutely not! They had a bit of a chat about their days, although she’d already been ranting at him over the phone. (The things he put up with for her...)
They retired to the bedroom. Began kissing and caressing. Not as hot and heavy as she was expecting. Gentle, soothing: in some ways very welcome, but in other ways probably not what the doctor ordered. She needed a damn good fucking.
James produced a blindfold. Oh. Alright. It was one of those nights, was it? She let him undress her and secure the blindfold: no, she definitely couldn’t see a thing the way he did it.
There was something a bit mechanical about it tonight. Odd. Something was definitely up... |
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