Her name was Mila and she slung coffee for a living.
By her own account, she had everything that mattered -- a job she enjoyed, a wonderful husband she'd been with for almost 10 years, and two boys who were her absolute world. She was perfectly content, until she suddenly wasn't.
He'd come into the shop many times before, a definite regular. And she had always thought him handsome in passing. But this day was different. This day, she really noticed him for the first time.
She noticed the salt and pepper tinge to his hair where the tips kissed his forehead, and the surprisingly attractive heavy stubble blanketing his jaw. His hands were strong, and bore no signs of a wedding band, and she found herself blushing at the thought of what those strong hands -- those fingers -- could do. But it was his eyes - which only a day prior, she would have described as kind -- that now left her breathless. It was those warm brown eyes, the way they crinkled at the edges with the wink he always offered, that suddenly awakened something in her that she hadn't felt in a long time. A feeling that only then, did she realize she had been missing.
Her days quickly became more restless, as she found herself looking forward to his frequent visits. It remained though, that she knew very little about him save for his name being Cole, and that he was a local contractor. She didn't mind it though, and gladly let her imagination fill in the blanks, usually in the shower, as her fingers wandered and brought her to climax.
She knew that it was one-sided -- that he was a charmer, and likely dealt with all ladies in the same manner - but it didn't matter to her. She had a husband and twin 5 year-olds. It wasn't like she was going to throw away her life as she knew it to pursue him. But in another timeline, she thought, if she were single, she wouldn't hesitate. She wondered how those breathtaking eyes would look, staring down into hers as he pumped his hips a final time, spilling himself inside of her. Or how they would look half lidded, as she knelt in front of him, dragging her tongue up his length.
These types of thoughts became an all too frequent fixture of her days, and after awhile, she found herself desperately trying to get him off her mind, to no avail. That's when she recalled how she'd managed to work through and let go of things when she was much younger -- by writing.
Knowing very little about him, she allowed her thoughts, her fantasies, to pour over the page.
*She walked home, slightly unsteady from her work Christmas party, having imbibed a little more than she'd originally planned. It wasn't a long walk from the pub, and she usually enjoyed the silence that this time of the night brought. The sky was that bright shade of grey-pink that always promised snow, and the cool breeze eagerly nipped at her cheeks. She slowed as the first flakes of snow began to fall, and stumbled slightly over the curb.
She was jostled further from her silent reverie as a black pickup truck slowed to a stop just ahead of her. As she passed by, the window lowered, and a familiar voice intoned, "Mia, you need a ride?"
She glanced through the window to find Ben in the driver's seat, staring out at her.
Fuuuck, she thought. Yes, I need to ride. Your lap, your face, your fingers. I'll take any or all.
She instantly became slick at the thought, and felt a familiar warmth rise up her cheeks. She hoped though, that between the drinks she'd had earlier, and the frosty nip of the air, her face was red enough already, and that it wasn't too obvious.
"Hey," she finally sputtered, breaking away from her thoughts. "No, I should be okay. I really don't have far to go."
Wow, she thought, That was some incredible self restraint.
