****
Gabe
It was déjà vu when we walked into her house, and I pressed her against the door and captured her lips with mine. And just like last night, she clung to me while making the cutest noises.
Maybe it was because before meeting Gretchen, I hadn’t had sex in a while, but I could not get enough of her. Her scent, her taste, the little sounds she made… they all had me rock hard.
I wanted to feel her legs wrapped around me as I drove into her heat until her pussy clamped around my cock when she came. Then I wanted to explode inside her.
I couldn’t even wait to make it to her bedroom to have her, so I pushed aside a bin of hats and scarves on the counter in her mud room and lifted her up onto it. It wasn’t a workbench, and she wasn’t bent over, but my dick didn’t care.
When had I reverted back to a seventeen-year-old teenager?
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The blaring sound of a smoke alarm echoed off the walls, followed by Gretchen’s exclamation of “Oh shit!” as she leapt to her feet and flung open the door that led to her kitchen.
Smoke billowed from her oven when she opened the door, pulled a casserole dish out, and promptly took it out the slider off the family room while I quieted the smoke alarm.
The scene was a funny reminder that I was, indeed, not seventeen anymore.
Burnt dinner aside, she looked like a domestic goddess wearing nothing but her bra and yoga pants while donning two oven mitts on her hands.
She came back inside with her head hung low and her shoulders sagged in defeat.
“My lasagna is jinxed.”
I pulled her into an embrace and kissed her hair.
“Aw, it’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll go out to eat. And I still have dessert and wine in my truck.”
She pulled back to look me in the eye.
“No, you don’t understand. My lasagna is cursed. I’m never going to be able to make it again, and I really liked making it.”
“Never?”
That seemed a little extreme; definitely dramatic. I’d divorced drama and had no interest in ever being involved with it again. Maybe our weekend-only deal was a good thing after all.
I studied her face, hoping to find a grin or something to tell me she was kidding, but I could tell by her expression that she was serious.
“Because you burned it?”
“No. Well, sort of. Burning it tonight only confirmed it. I’d also taken it to my ex’s office to surprise him with dinner when I found him…” Her voice got softer. “You know.”
Okay, her reaction made a little more sense now.
“Well, technically this time, it’s my fault. I distracted you. So, I think you should try it one more time before deciding it’s cursed.”
And you should invite me over when you do.
Of course, I kept that to myself, but I couldn’t help but think we were on the same wavelength when she offered me a weak smile, and replied, “Yeah, maybe.”
****
Gretchen
I was suddenly very aware of my state of undress and realized I’d gone out in my backyard in my skimpy, see-through bra when I put the smelly, burnt lasagna on the pony wall of the patio.
