The Patio After-Hours

Chapter 4: Whispers on the Back Porch

The first thing that registered was the smell of stale weed and cheap cologne. It wasn't the guest, though—it was the patio furniture. She had sat on the edge of the lounge chair, legs stretched out, and let him sit directly in front of her. The image seared into her memory even as she struggled to piece together how she had gotten there. The last thing she remembered was the way his hand felt against the inside of her thigh, pulling her closer until their hips were pressed together. She remembered the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck and the tightness of his body against hers. She remembered the way the fabric of her dress had ridden up over her hips, exposing the smooth skin of her ass to his gaze.

Then she remembered the way he had looked at her—not at her face, not at her breasts, but straight at her mouth, his gaze traveling down the length of her lips as he smiled. She had met his gaze, her heart pounding against her ribs, and realized that she was lost. She had wanted him to kiss her, she had craved it for so long, but the moment his lips touched hers, the intensity of it had knocked the breath out of her lungs. She had let out a soft gasp, her fingers clutching at the edge of the chair as she felt a shiver run through her body.

She had felt like a piece of fine china in the hands of a rough, calloused man. She had felt both terrified and exhilarated at the same time.

She opened her eyes, letting out a shaky breath as she realized she was still sitting on the edge of the lounge chair, her dress pulled up over her hips, her bare legs exposed to the morning air. She was alone on the patio, the guest still asleep in the chair beside her, his clothes strewn haphazardly across the patio furniture. The sun had just begun to rise over the horizon, casting long shadows across the dew-covered grass. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the palm trees in the yard, carrying with it the faint scent of salt water and honeysuckle.

She sat there for a moment, taking a deep breath as she tried to process what had happened the previous night. She felt a pang of guilt looking over at her husband, watching him sleep peacefully beside her. She knew she had crossed a line, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of liberation.