Last Date
by russell-ville-man
Copyright© 2020 by russell-ville-man
Romantic Sex Story: "Lou Grant" & "Mary Richards" fuck.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Celebrity .
He’d shown up with a combination of Old Spice and Jack Daniels Old Number 7 emanating from his pores and breath, respectively.
“Mr. Grant.”
She wanted to admonish him, but, in her defense, did not.
“Come in.”
“What’s for dinner, Mary?”
He wanted to embrace her, but, backed away at the last. She wanted to embrace him, but, backed away at the last.
“The return of Veal Prince Orloff. You’ll finally have your fill, Mr. Grant.”
Their laughter stilted and brief.
There was a gleam in his eyes she’d not seen before.
“You look really nice tonight, Mary.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grant. I haven’t seen you favor that turtle neck in quite a while.”
“I’m glad you remember it. I knew you liked it.”
Mary didn’t like it, but, she loved him.
Their friends had marked this attempt at a date as a mistake, a failure. But, they knew better.
Sitting side-by-side as his Edie-no-more had wed for the second time seared their relationship, had reignited a fire that had come dangerously close to dying out.
“Did I stand it, Mary?”
He had challenged Mary in the breathless silence of exchanged vows and the certainty of an official’s sanctioning.
“Yes, Mr. Grant, you stood it.”
The tears streaming down her face in the aftermath of total end.
He wanted to hit somebody, but, corralled his rage.
She wanted to hold him with all her might, to shade his eyes against her chest.
Both had watched in abject horror.
The meal was good, but, neither could nor would remember it. Conversation drew to the television station even though both knew that was “against the rules.”
“Dessert, Mr. Grant?” Mary had made chocolate pudding, cooked. She’d finished clearing the table as he’d taken anchor.
“No.”
He’d only been in her bedroom once before; to rally Ted as his wedding grew imminent.
He caught sight of her as she slid out the bathroom door, the light catching her in a direct flash. She was naked, white and gleaming, then just a shadow as Mary cut the light. She crossed quickly to the bedside and slid beneath the sheets and quilts.
“Hurry, Mr. Grant.”
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