My story starts on a Friday morning. My husband of 16 years and two sons left early that day for a "guys weekend" at a friend's lake cabin, where they would spend the weekend fishing and doing other outdoorsy stuff. I was happy to be left behind. Five minutes after the car backed out of the driveway I was spread out in bed, my phone next to me loudly playing whatever random porn video came up next, my panties around my ankle, draining the last from the batteries in my favorite vibrator and not caring how much noise I was making.
My name is Josie. I'm close enough to 40 that I don't like to say the number. I'm the only female in my house, outnumbered three to one, which means that the house is never as clean as I'd like. I recently learned that I'm what most internet porn sites would classify as a spinner; I'm 4'10 in socks, never topped 94 lbs except when pregnant. I had to stop roughhousing with the boys when they reached third grade and gained the size advantage over me. And, yes, I do occasionally buy clothes in the kids department.
The first question most people ask me when we meet is "how tall are you?" I'm short obviously. Use your eyes. Then they always ask if I was a gymnast when I was younger. It's always creepy when guys ask me that -- I know what they're thinking. See spinner comment above.
The truth is that I was into gymnastics and cheerleading quite a bit. But when I started high school I started to recognize that some of the looks and comments and even touches those same creepy guys were giving me were not something I should be inviting. (Seriously!?! I don't care if you call yourself a coach, I don't want you grabbing me and throwing me around!) So I quit all activities and entered my boxy clothes phase. That lasted well into college, where I was the girl who always carried mace and made sure my friends knew basic self defense and how to throw a punch. When I met my husband and after finishing school, my style went more toward young professional, little skin shown. Then came the kids, and I went into my mom clothes phase. More recently I've started branching out, dressing a little more stylish, even a little more sexy when I could. My husband never had much of a sex drive. I think that's part of what attracted me to him when I was younger; he was always a gentleman, never made me feel uncomfortable. But that was starting to wear thin.
Ok, so enough background. Back to the present. I'm alone in my house, naked in bed, toying myself with one hand and tweaking a nipple with the other. I'd been dragging out one long orgasm when, much to my dismay, the batteries died, the buzzing stopped, and the only noise was my own panting. I tossed the toy to the side and took matters into my own hands, finishing myself with another loud, full-body orgasm. I lay in bed, breathing heavily, my wet fingers slowly moving up my body. I looked around the room, still too paranoid that someone might be watching, before taking my fingers into my mouth and licking them clean. This was a new habit, something I picked up in the last few years when I found my sex drive spiking. As this was inverse to the trajectory of my hubby's sex drive, it manifested primarily in an increase in lingerie purchases, online porn viewing, and random moments alone like this.
I eventually forced myself out of bed and pulled open the curtains. It was a beautiful Friday morning in the fall. The sun was shining and leaves were at peak color. There was a strong wind, which meant that those leaves could all be on the ground by the next morning. That meant no more standing naked in front of the bedroom window until next spring, lest the neighbors get an eyeful. And none of my neighbors were worthy of this view.
I hopped into the shower and lathered up while planning my weekend. Drinks with the girls was out; they all had plans with their families that weekend. I could get a jump on Christmas shopping, but had no ideas what teenage boys wanted, so better to wait for their letters to Santa. I could go shopping for myself, or spoil myself with a trip to the spa. But, sigh... wasn't really in the mood. Maybe tomorrow. This day what I really wanted more than anything was to put on some comfy clothes and bake some cookies and binge the kind of tv that my hubby doesn't ever want to watch with me. I suppose I should clean a little bit too...
After the shower, I hung up the towel and let my skin air dry while drying my hair. I left it in a basic ponytail for the day. Then minimal makeup, no need to impress anyone. I did take a long look at myself in the mirror. Not bad for almost 40. Having kids sure didn't give me the big tits I always wanted, but on the bright side my A-cups stayed high and firm. Another recent change related to my increased sex drive was my habit of keeping my pubic area hair-free. I loved the look, and it made wearing a skirt a lot more fun. Hubby liked it too, even though he hadn't gone down on me in months. I inspected myself in the mirror and found no worrisome stubble that needed to be taken care of.
Content with how I looked, I went back to the bedroom, slowly walking past the window, and started to get dressed. Just basic cotton panties and sports bra today, gray yoga pants, an old red tshirt that was at the perfect level of fade and ware. I picked the vibrator off the bed and tried it one more time, still no buzz. I popped out the batteries and made a mental note to replace those ASAP, then washed the toy in the bathroom sink and re-hid it in the back of my lingerie drawer.
After a cup of coffee and phone scrolling, I started the cleaning, focusing on the kitchen, living room and hallways, so that I wouldn't have to see anyone else's mess for the rest of the weekend. I then made a list of what I needed at the store. I had most everything I needed for my favorite cookie recipe, except for honey and vanilla. And I couldn't find any more AA batteries sitting around, so would definitely need to buy more of those. Eventually, with nothing better to do, I slipped on my furry boots, put on a denim jacket, and drove to the store.
I picked up a basket when I walked into the store, and, out of habit, slowly wandered around instead of just going to the three things I needed. Enough time wasted, I found a 10 pack of AA batteries and put them in my basket, then made my way to the baking goods section.
I found the honey I needed, but, as was my curse in life, it was on the top shelf, out of my reach. Sometimes I was able to step up onto the bottom shelf to reach, but the bottom shelf was full with plastic barriers that would snap if I stepped on them. I thought about hopping, and looked around to see how many people would have to endure that embarrassing site. When I turned to my left I nearly headbutted another customer.
Well, maybe headbutted isn't the right word, as my head would have struck him just below his ribs. We both sputtered out apologies as he took a half step back. He was older than me, I'd guess mid 40's, stubble, short hair. He was wearing a black sweater and jeans. What stood out was that he was about 6'2" or 6'3" and he had amazing shoulders. They seemed broad enough to plow a field if the ox needed a day off. Behind him was a cart filled with various baking supplies.
"I'm sorry, I just need to grab this honey and I'll get out of your way." He easily reached up and plucked a bear-shaped plastic container from the top shelf and dropped it into his cart. From my vantage point I couldn't see another behind it, and panic quickly set in.
"That's what I needed too. And I was here first." Oh, god, the words snuck out before I could stop myself. I only heard my mother, or maybe one of those women who go viral with a filmed public meltdown. I tried to soften it with some playful mockery. "Ugh, just my luck. They always put it on the top shelf where any freakishly tall person can just snipe it from me." That at least elicited a smile.
"Normally I'd hand it over, but as weird as it sounds, I actually need this for a work project today. But I guess I only need a few table spoons. Maybe we could reach... some kind of... honey sharing arrangement?" He smirked and chuckled, but in a way that made me feel like I was in on the joke too.
Comfortable that there wouldn't be a viral Karen situation ensuing, I cocked my head to the side and gave him a once over, then examined his cart, then asked incredulously "A work emergency needing honey? So do you, like, have a hungry bear outside in your car? Or," I motioned to his cart, "are you a professional baker. Because if you are, I may demand proof."
"How much time do you have?" he asked.
"It's 10 AM on a Friday, I'm here instead of my job, and I'm home alone for the weekend. I've got all the time in the world for a story that might involve a hungry pet bear." Nooo!!! Why did I say I was home alone for the weekend?!? Sure, maybe he isn't a psycho who will follow me home, but still, coming off as sooo desperate!!!
He smiled and scanned my basket, containing only the AA batteries and hopefully soon a bottle of honey. My basket was in my left hand, and I swear that I could follow his gaze directly from the batteries to my wedding ring. I nervously shifted the basket to my right hand. I noticed his dimples. Surely no psycho killer has ever had cute dimples?
