I walked into the bar first. I was wearing a nicely fitting green top, a pleated gray skirt that came to my knees and sheer white stockings. I thought it was a demure look, but I could feel the eyes on me. I took a table, as Chris and I had agreed, and began fending off the advances of strange men. It was a nice problem to have.
Chris came in next and took a chair at the bar. He looked at me approvingly and smiled. I recrossed my legs for him. He smiled more. Heather was late, which I suppose is a prerogative of sweet young things. She swept past me, wearing a little black dress. She wanted to make a statement and did she...! Her blond hair flowed gently back and forth on the nape of her neck as she walked past, clueless about me.
She hugged Chris and then kissed him, and not a friendly, I-used-to-be-your-girlfriend kiss. It lingered and went tonguey. It was an I-want-you-back kiss. He kissed her, too, and ran his hand down her back to her tight little ass. This wasn't exactly part of the plan, but I should have expected it. As you recall, I told Chris he could fuck Heather and I would fuck other men, or we would invite her into our world. She may have been an ex, but since she came back, he's clearly been aroused by the idea of some kind of action involving Heather. He liked the latter suggestion and here we were putting the plan into action.
She sat on the opposite chair and the skirt rode up even higher on her thigh. Chris likes the leggy ones, fortunately for me. They talked, thick as thieves, Heather drinking a cosmopolitan that was the same shade as her lipstick. I was joined by a banker type. Not bad looking. I smiled and let him introduce himself while they talked. She tossed her hair and took his hand. Oh, does she want him back... I listen to my new friend talk about the rain and imagine her legs wrapped around Chris as he fucks her. I wonder how she'd be in a threesome and how she'd be with just me. We might make Chris jealous.
What's she like,? I asked him. Pretty straight-laced, he said. You'd never know it from the dress and the PDA, but who knows. So the evening goes on and I am on my second martini when her body language changes. She goes as rigid as a statue. She withdraws her hand from his. She glances over at me and I give her a smile and a little wave. She just stands there and stares. She's a pretty thing when surprised. I can see the flush spread from her breastbone up into her fair face. She doesn't smile back.
The remains of the cosmo were in Chris' face before I even saw the flash of the glass. She stormed toward the door, but not before stopping at my table.
"You might like me," I said pleasantly.
The blush became so bad I thought she would stroke out. Meanwhile my new banker friend cautiously excused himself.
Heather clicked away on her little pointed-toes. I finished my drink. Oh, well.