TUESDAY TALES - KICK

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 Hello and welcome! 

I'm part of this group that writes to word prompt each week. This week the word prompt is "Kick". We are again taking a peek at "Two of Hearts" this week. When you're done reading my story, hop on over to read the excellent stories by the other Tuesday Tales authors. Find them HERE. 

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“I don’t have any single friends anymore, except maybe Kathy. And all she does is complain. I don’t need that right now. Terry’s a positive person. Even if he is going through shit with Clare. It’s okay.” When she faced the pug, he took a quick swipe, catching her chin with his tongue.  Jen laughed and gave him a quick pet. “Good boy, Willie.”

She closed her eyes but was too keyed up to sleep. She only asked Terry as a friend. Of course he was attractive. She might be upset, and distracted, but, hell, she wasn’t dead. He was taller than Stan, and broader in the shoulders. Could he have played football in college? Stop comparing him to Stan! Stan was her hero, and always would be. But Terry was a friend, a good friend.

She’d figured out that he bought both of those cream puffs for himself. Otherwise why did he have two? He couldn’t count on running into her. Yet he gave one to her, and it was the right thing to do. The cream puff brought her back, gave her the kick she needed to see that she’d do whatever was necessary to help Stan. Still those dark eyes held mischief, as if he had secretly seen her naked or something.

His wife was a lucky woman to be married to a man who could do that. Jen guessed they had an amazing sex life. She turned her thoughts to her first time with Stan. It had been the most romantic and erotic evening of her life. She’d never forget it. The way that man made love was enough to curl her toes just thinking about it.

She pushed up and padded barefoot to the kitchen. She plucked a bottle of water from the fridge. Stan knew how to get her hot, zero to sixty in ten seconds –and sometimes simply with a look. She smiled at the memory of seeing him across the room at a deadly dull party. He’d been buttonholed by a boring economist when he glanced at her. The heat from his stare, slowly caressing her body, had made her shiver as it traveled up and down. She had rubbed her forehead, made up an excuse about a headache to the hostess, and approached Stan, appealing to him to leave. He’d shaken hands with the economist, then returned home, and spent two hours making love to her.