Nita was one of his wife's closest friends. Best friends in high school, Nita and Jennifer had drifted apart a little, but such a close bond could never really be fully severed. Jennifer went on to enjoy success in her career, whereas Nita was a housewife. She was having marital problems, and was spending the weekend at Jennifer's house to let things cool off.
This was fine with Jamie, Jennifer's husband.
Nita was hot. Sexy hot.
Jamie fantasized about a lot of women, but of all of them -- she was the hottest, hands down.
Jennifer worked long hours, which left Jamie (who worked from home) plenty of time to miss the touch of a woman. His fantasies often kept his loneliness at bay.
Nita was a gorgeous Indian woman. She was short -- barely five feet tall, if that. But she had sexy, pouting lips, a beautiful smile, and captivating eyes. Her skin was light brown and she often wore her long, curly, black hair with that 'wet' look that made every woman hotter than hell. She had this sexy body that would make any guy fantasize about her -- beautiful tits, a perfect belly (Jamie saw it once -- the image is burned in his brain), the best ass you could ever sculpt, and really nice legs.
When Jennifer returned from picking up her friend, Jamie had to control the hard-on that was forming in his jeans. Nita wore tight-fitting black pants, which accentuated a perfect ass, and a snug light-blue blouse with a neck that did not quite reach her cleavage, but it sure came close. Her hair was down, and it was all wet and sexy. Just the way he liked it.
Marital problems. He could imagine what those were. Let's see -- she married her husband at 18. In the Indian culture, that often meant 'virgin'. Her husband was more than 10 years older than her, and they have been married for 12 years and have three kids. At 30, Nita was entering her sexual prime, and all that she has ever had (likely) was the same sex from a conservative man for 12 years. Gee -- what were the marital problems?
Riding a wave of confidence likely brought on by years of loneliness, Jamie fully intended to see what he could do about ...giving Nita comfort. All he had to do was remind himself that there would never -- ever -- be a situation like this again with Nita. It had to be this weekend.
His wife and her friend were attached at the hip the entire evening -- going shopping early on, and then later they watched a movie with Jamie in the recroom. The three of them had a drink -- Jamie insisted. He knew two things. One -- his wife would knock out earlier if she had a drink. And two -- Nita liked the sauce. If she had one drink, others would follow.
He was right on both counts. As he and Nita were polishing up their second drinks, Jennifer was still halfway through her first. The movie ended, and Jennifer had just taken two or three sips from her second drink. The other two were finished their third. She asked Nita if she wanted to go to bed, and Nita nodded.
"I'm going to stay up for another beer." Jamie announced, making eye contact with his wife's friend. His wife, oblivious to the signal, led her friend upstairs to show her to the spare room.
Jamie remained downstairs, sipping on his beer slowly. Forty minutes passed, and he began to wonder if he had miscalculated. Was he not aggressive enough? Hell, he wasn't aggressive at all! Shit! Nita was too timid. He was STUPID to think she would act on her own. Mentally, he was slapping the side of his head in disgust.
Then he heard the creak on the stairs.
His cock grew hard in his jeans, as if with a mind of its own.
Nita appeared, smiling nervously. She was a very shy girl.
"Hey Nita!" he greeted her warmly.
"I couldn't sleep." She said quietly, sitting on the other couch. He stood up.
"Let me get you a drink, that will help!" he offered as he went to the bar. He grabbed himself a beer and fixed her up with rum and coke. Making it a little strong, of course! When he returned, he sat down beside her. Close. Closer than is proper, especially considering the fact that there were two couches.
She didn't move over one inch. He took that as a good sign. The two chatted quietly while they sipped quickly on their drinks, watching television. You could slip a hand in between the two of them, but not much more. That was how close they were sitting. She was still wearing her light-blue sweater/blouse and those tight-fitting black pants.
In 15 minutes, he was up and getting them another drink. This would be her fifth. When a woman is five-feet tall, and 95 pounds and on her fifth drink -- it was a good sign!