Chapter One
Being a widow sucked.
Head in hand, Wendy Reed doodled a sketch of a huge, aroused dick on one of the lunchroom paper napkins. Admiring her handiwork, she licked her lips and sighed.
Not that she’d seen much of Fred’s dick the past years before he’d keeled over on the seventeenth hole with a heart attack.
She crumpled the napkin, tossed the pencil and sipped her coffee, glancing around the empty lunchroom at Reed’s, the upscale car dealership in northeast
Pennsylvania
she now owned alone.
Scraping back her chair, she went to rinse her coffee mug at the lunchroom sink. Face it—after two long years, she was lonely and horny. She yearned for human contact. A hug, a cuddle, someone to scratch her back.
And because she was wishing, she yearned for long-forgotten passion. After having companionship with very little sex for years, if she had to choose right now, she’d jump at the sex. Hard, torrid, slam-your-butt-against-the-wall sex.
As she turned to leave, Marsha from the parts department and Grace, one of the car salespersons, strode through the doorway.
“I’m telling you, online dating’s the easiest way to meet and screen men.” Grace was pert and in her twenties, as was Marsha.
“Maybe you should try it out, too, Wendy.” Marsha tended to say whatever popped into her head, even to the boss. Although a little too nosy at times, for the most part she was harmless and a hard worker.
Wendy looked to Grace for help with her coworker .
Grace raised her hand, palm outward. “I swear by SafeFixUp dot com. Seriously .”
As Grace explained the ins and outs of computer dating to Marsha, Wendy eventually skipped out on them and headed home.
In no time, she‘d changed and reclined on the couch in her rumpled cotton pyjamas, eating a chocolate bar, feeling her thighs spread with each bite. Doodled note papers littered the coffee table with sketches of dishes of ice cream and pans of pizza from the TV commercials. And penises, drawn from fading memory or recent dreams that seemed to get wetter and hornier each night.
Fighting off a case of hypochondria while the spokesman for some medication reiterated a list of symptoms, she tuned in the news.
Another awful carjacking of an expensive, luxury car. She shivered at the thought and clicked the remote again. Another commercial. SafeFixUp.com.
The online dating site Grace swore by. Wendy sat up.
“Find the perfect companion at any age. Forty is the new thirty,” the announcer claimed. “All our clients are thoroughly screened.”
A guarantee of no axe murderers was a plus. Licking the chocolate from her fingers, she glanced over at her laptop.
Should she? Dare she?
It couldn’t hurt to browse. See what the hoopla was about. Grace at the dealership couldn’t say enough about it. Not that Wendy would tell her or anyone. Certainly not her son. This would be her sinful secret. And far less fattening than the dark chocolate she craved.
After logging on and signing up at a nominal fee, she entered her information. Location: Pykes City, northeast Pennsylvania. Height, five-foot-seven. Weight, she lied. Hair colour, blonde, when her roots were done and her stray greys covered. Eyes, blue. Age…
She paused. Oh, what the hell, why lie? Forty-two.
She typed in the kind of man she was seeking. Strong, tall, assured. A gentleman. Passionate. Great smile and a tight booty. She shrugged. Why not? It was her wish list. She admired men who sported what she referred to as a bubble butt. Round, firm, squeezable.
Just thinking about it made her flesh prickle. She hit Send and stripped off her PJs on the way upstairs, hoping she’d recharged her vibrator.
It took two days before she received an email back. She soothed her ego with the assurance that SafeFixUp had been security checking prospective date-mates for ‘priors’ during the time lapse. Her tummy fluttered with anticipation as she opened the email.
Max Kanton . Outgoing,
Being a widow sucked.
Head in hand, Wendy Reed doodled a sketch of a huge, aroused dick on one of the lunchroom paper napkins. Admiring her handiwork, she licked her lips and sighed.
Not that she’d seen much of Fred’s dick the past years before he’d keeled over on the seventeenth hole with a heart attack.
She crumpled the napkin, tossed the pencil and sipped her coffee, glancing around the empty lunchroom at Reed’s, the upscale car dealership in northeast
Pennsylvania
she now owned alone.
Scraping back her chair, she went to rinse her coffee mug at the lunchroom sink. Face it—after two long years, she was lonely and horny. She yearned for human contact. A hug, a cuddle, someone to scratch her back.
And because she was wishing, she yearned for long-forgotten passion. After having companionship with very little sex for years, if she had to choose right now, she’d jump at the sex. Hard, torrid, slam-your-butt-against-the-wall sex.
As she turned to leave, Marsha from the parts department and Grace, one of the car salespersons, strode through the doorway.
“I’m telling you, online dating’s the easiest way to meet and screen men.” Grace was pert and in her twenties, as was Marsha.
“Maybe you should try it out, too, Wendy.” Marsha tended to say whatever popped into her head, even to the boss. Although a little too nosy at times, for the most part she was harmless and a hard worker.
Wendy looked to Grace for help with her coworker .
Grace raised her hand, palm outward. “I swear by SafeFixUp dot com. Seriously .”
As Grace explained the ins and outs of computer dating to Marsha, Wendy eventually skipped out on them and headed home.
In no time, she‘d changed and reclined on the couch in her rumpled cotton pyjamas, eating a chocolate bar, feeling her thighs spread with each bite. Doodled note papers littered the coffee table with sketches of dishes of ice cream and pans of pizza from the TV commercials. And penises, drawn from fading memory or recent dreams that seemed to get wetter and hornier each night.
Fighting off a case of hypochondria while the spokesman for some medication reiterated a list of symptoms, she tuned in the news.
Another awful carjacking of an expensive, luxury car. She shivered at the thought and clicked the remote again. Another commercial. SafeFixUp.com.
The online dating site Grace swore by. Wendy sat up.
“Find the perfect companion at any age. Forty is the new thirty,” the announcer claimed. “All our clients are thoroughly screened.”
A guarantee of no axe murderers was a plus. Licking the chocolate from her fingers, she glanced over at her laptop.
Should she? Dare she?
It couldn’t hurt to browse. See what the hoopla was about. Grace at the dealership couldn’t say enough about it. Not that Wendy would tell her or anyone. Certainly not her son. This would be her sinful secret. And far less fattening than the dark chocolate she craved.
After logging on and signing up at a nominal fee, she entered her information. Location: Pykes City, northeast Pennsylvania. Height, five-foot-seven. Weight, she lied. Hair colour, blonde, when her roots were done and her stray greys covered. Eyes, blue. Age…
She paused. Oh, what the hell, why lie? Forty-two.
She typed in the kind of man she was seeking. Strong, tall, assured. A gentleman. Passionate. Great smile and a tight booty. She shrugged. Why not? It was her wish list. She admired men who sported what she referred to as a bubble butt. Round, firm, squeezable.
Just thinking about it made her flesh prickle. She hit Send and stripped off her PJs on the way upstairs, hoping she’d recharged her vibrator.
It took two days before she received an email back. She soothed her ego with the assurance that SafeFixUp had been security checking prospective date-mates for ‘priors’ during the time lapse. Her tummy fluttered with anticipation as she opened the email.
Max Kanton . Outgoing,
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