“If you say he wasn’t right for you, Angie,” Demetria Willis told her sister over the phone, “I’m not going to disagree.” This was definitely not the time to say, “I told you so,” though she had.

“He was very wrong for me. He started to get violent there at the end.”

“Maybe, though, if you’re not finding your permanent partner, you’re not looking in the right places.”

“Dee! Who told you that I’m looking for something permanent? Now that you’ve settled down, you want everybody in the same rut. I want to live first.”

“Thank you, Angelique, for deciding that my life is in a rut. Sis, I may sleep next to the same man every night, but at least I sleep next to somebody every night.”

“Well, yeah, Dee. You sleep next to somebody. But when I go to bed with a man, it’s not to sleep. It’s not the same-old, same-old.”

The conversation ended there, although they tried to make nice for the next few minutes. Then she went back to the living room to find Jeff.

“Angie has decided that her younger sister is dull,” she told her husband when he looked up from his computer. “I suppose that makes you dull, too.”

“Well, by Angie’s standards,” Jeff said, “I am dull. When was the last time you had to bail me out of the drunk tank?”

“Is that a very exciting experience?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He rolled away from his desk. “Come here. If we’re going to be dull, we might as well be dull together.”

When Jeff said, “Come here,” he didn’t want her standing beside him. She dropped into his lap, and he kissed her. Soon his hand snuck under her skirt and up her leg.

“Talk about dull,” he said. “It’s hard to be exciting in pantyhose.”

“What do you have against pantyhose, anyway?”

“My hand.” She hissed. It was an old joke. He tugged them down hard. Jeff never learned, or maybe he was acting out his hatred of pantyhose.

“Hey! You’ll ruin them.”

“If you can do it better,” he said, “show me how.”

So, she got up and showed him how to remove pantyhose without damaging it. The shoes went first, and the panties followed the pantyhose.

“We’re not going to open the door, are we?” she asked.

“No.”

So she took off the dress, too. It would only get wrinkled.

Jeff got up to unsnap her bra. Then he stroked down her back to her waist and up her front to her tits.

His hands weren’t as good at holding their shape, and they were chilly when the bra wasn’t. On the other hand, the bra didn’t stroke her nipples.

He pulled her back against him. She felt him hardening, but also the buttons and belt buckle pressing against the skin of her back.

“No fair,” she said, “I can’t reach anything like this.”

He moved his hips back, bending to kiss the corner of her neck at the same time.

The shirt was hopeless when he was in back of her, but she could reach the belt. She pulled the tongue out of its holder and tugged it sharply forward. When she let go, the belt slithered open.

She snapped the button through its hole and stroked the zipper down over his cock. She was supporting his slacks with her left hand, and they fell when she let go. He had things in his pockets, and she could hear the thumps as they hit the floor one after the other.