Apologies for the delay. A wee bout of writer's block and taking on too much at once meant this is about a month late. I'll try to get the next chapter out much quicker...
Samantha staggered through the front door of her house an hour after dropping Seth off. She didn't get self-driving cars, but after navigating Toronto's traffic in a sex hungover daze, she wanted one. She couldn't remember how she got from his place to hers.
She kicked off her heels as soon as she got through the door and resisted the urge to collapse on the couch. Instead, she trudged up the stairs and into the spare room she'd been using ever since Eric moved out. She stripped out of her dress and underwear, flinging them toward the hamper. Then she flopped naked on the bed. She stared at the ceiling and questioned her sanity for the 100th time in the last hour.
"There must be a word for having your brains fucked out, which should be enough, but the guy is fucking hot so you want more?" she thought. "I bet the Germans have one that's 16 constants long."
She sighed, and then the word occurred to her. It wasn't even in German. "Teenager," she said out loud. "I am behaving like a fucking teenage girl who got properly laid for the first time."
And, if she was being honest, it was a hell of a lot better feeling than what she'd been going through for the last few months. Hell, the last few years.
She glanced down at her body. There were marks on her breasts from where Seth had sucked and bit them. Her nipples looked raw. She touched her pussy and winced. It was transitioning from the happy buzz of "Yay, fucking," to "Ow, I'm out of practice when it comes to fucking." If she had the energy to stand up and look at her ass in the mirror, some lovely bruises had to be there.
She wasn't sure she could survive more of Seth.
Samantha wanted to sleep for a few hours, but her head was spinning so she got off the bed and went to the closet. She put on her favourite burgundy cashmere hoodie and a pair of black bamboo sweatpants. It was not as fashionable as last night's ensemble, but they were cozy and comfortable. She went downstairs, made some lemon tea, grabbed the tiramisu from last night, and then went out on the back deck.
It wasn't a huge backyard, but at least she had one. She took a deep breath of the warm late September air and began processing.
So, she'd fucked the waiter.
That was unexpected.
Maybe 'unexpected' wasn't the right word. Samantha didn't book a hotel room at the Ritz-Carlton and think nothing would happen. But if she was being honest, some of it was bravado and over-confidence in talking with her friends. But it was still astonishing the speed and ease at which everything happened. The chemistry she had with Seth was off-the-charts. It was breathtaking the whole time she was at the restaurant. It felt like a younger, more confident version of herself had taken over her body and was flirting with him. The return of the slutty 21-year-old who could get any guy she wanted based on her looks and tits.
She'd been looking for something to boost her confidence post-separation. You turn 39 and discover your husband is banging his secretary. That will do a number on your confidence. But she hadn't expected to be licking tiramisu off Seth's chest at 2 am.
She took a bite of the dessert and blushed at the memory.
The plan had been to thank him for the sex and then enjoy the emotional, mental, spiritual and sexual boost. Oh, and never see him again. Except Seth threw a curveball. Her brain fucked her over by swinging at that pitch by saying that, yes, she did want to see him again. It was insane. She didn't even know his last name, for Christ's sake.
But she wanted to see him again. He talked to her, not through her or as an afterthought. He listened to what she wanted and Samantha could tell he was paying attention. Her husband ignored her for the last five years, so it was almost as good as the sex.
Maybe she was reading too much into it, but would she do any better on a fucking Tindr date?
Her phone vibrated on the table...again.
And then there was that. Samantha flipped over her phone and there were dozens of texts on the screen since this morning. Sighing, she unlocked it and sent a message to her group chat.
"I'm fine. I'm home." She paused, not wanting to use words like 'recovering' or 'processing' for the loaded signals they sent. "I'll talk to you at brunch tomorrow."
She closed out the phone and put it face down on the table. The phone began buzzing immediately with what she was sure were texts of outrage. She resisted the urge to toss it into the yard. She realized Tomorrow-Samantha would call Today-Samantha many bad words for having to clean up the Brunch Bitches mess.
After finishing the tea and tiramisu, she stood up and winced. Many things pissed her off about being 39, including the earlier onset of aches and pains. She worked out and stretched, and they still came.
"Jesus," Samantha muttered as the aches didn't ease as she moved inside the house. She opted for a long bath, dropping every revitalizing oil and lotion she could find. She tossed in Epsom salts for good measure.
"I'll need to start buying some of this in bulk if Seth becomes a regular thing," she thought, giggling.
***
The Bitch Brunch became a thing a few years ago. A couple of women met at a company party and were deeply bored with their husband's co-workers. They liked each other and decided that a monthly brunch to catch up would be fun. Soon enough, they brought friends, and those friends brought friends. It ballooned to almost 20 people but had been stable at a solid dozen for a year. They were all in their mid-30s to mid-40s.
Samantha was the eighth addition to the group through the second wife of one of Eric's colleagues. At the time, it had been a relief to join in. It gave her an excuse to get out on a Sunday morning. She brought in Lisa, who was now waiting for her a block before their brunch place.
She met Lisa during her first semester at the University of Toronto and they quickly became Trouble. Lisa was shorter than her, and time had only added to her curves. But her brown hair framed big brown eyes, which made her appear innocent, something she was very much not. Her looks and ability to think on her feet got them out of trouble more than once.
After university, she followed a boy and moved to Vancouver. Three years ago, she unfollowed the boy and moved back to Toronto. They reconnected, and Samantha dragged her to Sunday brunch. Lisa had changed over the years and was no longer the wild party girl. Yet, her ability to create mischief remained sharp.
Lisa was the one who launched the scheme which led to Samantha finding out her husband was cheating on her. And Lisa was the one who suggested she try and have a one-night stand with the hot waiter that Rachel bragged about.
So when she saw Lisa smirking, Samantha couldn't decide between wrapping her arms around her friend for a hug, or her hands around Lisa's neck.
She opted for the hug.
"You look good," Lisa said. Samantha wore a knee-length white sundress that buttoned up the front, a jean jacket, oversized sunglasses and a straw hat.
