Off Like a Prom Dress: Let's Do it Again

• Note:This book contains explicit sexual content and graphic language.

The drive back to Huntsville wasn’t a long one, especially with Jack driving. He was notoriously lead footed, but like everything else he did, he seemed so competent that she didn’t have a moment’s discomfort. They always traveled together when they went down to Birmingham for something at the boy’s school. It made more sense than taking two cars, and they liked to make the point to their sons that, despite their inability to live together, they would always be united in their love for them. All in all, it had always been a comfortable arrangement -- except that lately there was an undeniable sexual connection.

She watched as his hands tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel to the beat of Wilco’s “Should’ve Been in Love” and imagined them cupping her breasts. Her breasts tingled; her nipples suddenly became even more erect with arousal. She glanced down to ensure that they weren’t visible. Though she wore a lightweight linen shirt, the weather was still cool enough in April for her to add a soft jacket, especially in air-conditioned buildings. She looked up to meet Jack’s eyes and quickly realized he knew. The air was thick with sudden tension between them. Needing to distract herself, she leaned forward to change the music, though she really hadn’t been listening. That effectively snapped the tension, and he turned his eyes back to the road.

This was crazy. Why on earth did she suddenly have the hots for her ex-husband for crying out loud? It made no sense. She couldn’t stand to live with the man, and now it was all she could do not to jump his bones -- in a speeding car, no less. In the back of her mind, an insistent voice kept saying, Just because he wasn’t a good husband doesn’t mean he couldn’t be a good lover. She tried to push the thought away, but it came back stronger and more insistent each time.

Really, she had nothing to lose. Hadn’t she proved she wasn’t a scared girl anymore? She wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted in bed or anywhere else. She could have a casual fling if she wanted to, and who better to have it with than Jack? Pregnancy wasn’t an issue. Jack had had a vasectomy years ago, and she knew that he was too fastidious to risk contracting any diseases, though she’d still ask. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was simply rationalizing something she’d wanted to do for a long time, but before her better angels could get the best of her, she spoke up.

“So, Jack, are you seeing anyone these days?”

A pair of wheat-colored brows formed a surprised arch on his forehead, probably because, aside from polite pleasantries, she hadn’t expressed any interest in his personal life since the divorce.

“No. Things have been hectic at the hospital, and I’ve started teaching a few classes too.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been rather busy as well.”

He didn’t say anything more, and the silence stretched on while she struggled to figure out how to do this subtly. Finally deciding there was no way to do it artfully -- at least none she could think of -- she decided to go with the direct approach.

“I’ve been thinking about us quite a bit lately.”

“Oh?” Just a single brow arched this time.

“And since I’m not seeing anyone and you’re not, I thought maybe we could get together. You know a strictly casual, no-strings-attached type thing.” She rushed the last few words so quickly that she would have been amazed if he understood her.

From the way he suddenly swerved the car off the highway and onto the shoulder, he clearly had. Despite the initial urgency of the moment, Jack took his time setting the flashers and parking brake with deliberate motions. The amber hazard lights glinted their warning into the pitch-black darkness, an omen if she’d ever seen one, but one she planned to ignore.

“Let me get this straight. You’re propositioning me for sex?” His tone suggested he doubted his hearing...or her sanity.

Dyanne raised her chin, determined to brazen this out. “No strings.”

“Right. No strings.” He echoed her words in a noncommittal tone.

She forced herself to stop licking her lips when she realized it betrayed her nervousness. Then too, he was avidly following the movement of her tongue. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be now...” Maybe he wasn’t interested, and this would be a way out of this insanity. Maybe with time, he would forget.

“Oh no. Now is good.” He stared at her for several long seconds, then smiled, his masculine dimples giving him a mischievous look as he started the car. As he pulled back onto the highway again, he chuckled. “You’re a woman of many surprises, Dyanne. A woman of many surprises.”

If she’d thought he was driving fast before, it was nothing compared to what the small sports car was doing now. Dyanne thought they might become airborne at any moment.

* * * * *

They pulled into the driveway of the home Dyanne had shared with Jack for seventeen years, and she shifted in her seat when he killed the engine. She was amazed that at some point, this had seemed like a great idea. A declaration of independence. Or something. Now she didn’t have a clue as to what she was doing. Too late for that now. She glanced down at her watch. It wasn’t quite ten o’clock. “You want to come in for a drink?” There’d be no going back now.

Jack nodded, then climbed out of the low-slung vehicle and walked around to open the passenger door for her.

They entered the house, and she hurried through the living room into the dining room to the small cherrywood bar. She picked up the nearly full bottle of Bowmore. He was the only one who ever drank it.

Jack came up behind her and took the bottle from her hand. “I don’t think I want to indulge in anything that might impair my performance.”

Dyanne laughed. “You do have a point,” she said as she turned to face him. He lowered his head to capture her mouth under his while she was still laughing.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. Yes. This was exactly what she’d been wanting. Totally enveloped in his aroma, Dyanne shivered as her arousal increased exponentially. Her breasts swelled and pressed almost painfully against the confines of her bra, and she pulled closer, paradoxically to relieve the pressure.

He raised his head. “Upstairs?” he whispered in a voice made husky by desire.

Dyanne nodded, eagerly reaching for his hand. Then she remembered. “There is just one thing. Actually two things.” She rushed to get the words out before she panicked. “I’m drug and disease free. Are you?”

Jack let out a bark of laughter. “Of course I am. I’ve only --”

Dyanne quickly placed her hand over his mouth. She really didn’t want to hear the details. “Okay, and the other thing is I’m going to tell you what I like. If that bothers you, we probably should stop now.”

Jack gave her a bemused smile. “I’m willing to cater to your every desire, baby. In fact, I insist on it.”

She took his hand to lead him upstairs to her bedroom. She directed him to take a seat on the queen-size four-poster bed. After the divorce, she’d redone the room in what turned out to be a very feminine style. There wasn’t any lace or loads of flowers, but she’d chosen the soft colors found on the inside of a shell, and the wallpaper itself even had a slight iridescence like mother-of-pearl. The colors and gentle curves flowed together in a way that was undeniably feminine. She thought he should look out of place in such an unmistakably feminine room; instead, it accentuated his masculinity and made him even more appealing.

Turning her back to him, she took her time slipping her jacket off her shoulders. When she turned to face him again, color had risen high on his cheeks, and his full lips looked as though he’d been licking them.

She paused with her fingers on the top button of her crisp white blouse. “I’ve always wanted to do this -- a striptease, I mean.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was a freak.”

“I happen to like freaks.”

Copyright © Roslyn Hardy Holcomb