The pirate’s blue eyes caressed her curves before joining her brown eyes in a gaze of pure lust. He stood in the open doorway and the warm breeze blue his shoulder length blonde hair. His muscled chest was bare and his black pantaloons were tight.
She leaned back against the corner and allowed her cleavage to show.
He dropped his sword with a clang and came to her.
Her breath caught in her throat as the pirate wrapped his muscled arms around her.
His powerful arms held led down the white painted walled hallway towards the bedroom.
The bedroom was white walls and pink linen. Large overstuffed pillow lined the top of the bed, and a white blanket was folded along the bottom. Bird song was carried by the breeze that puffed the sheer white drapes away from the tall windows.
A puffy pink duck down duvet caressed her back as lay her down atop the bed. The wood creaked beneath their weight and movement. Her brunette curls fanned out behind her as she felt his sweat drip and trickle along her neck. Their tongues tangoed, tangled and tossed as he kissed her deeply.
Her bosom rose and fell under her lace bodice against the pirate’s bare muscled chest.
He slipped to his knees at the foot of her bed between her legs. He slipped his hands under the hem of her skirt and started to raise it. His lips quickly found her milky thigh.
She gasped as his fingers found her womanhood and penetrated it. “Wait,” she whispered. “What about my husband.”
The pirate allowed his tongue to lash her luscious warmth once before answering, “I like the guy, but I don’t swing that way.”
A cell phone with The Imperial March as a ring tone sounded.
Patty glared at the young man who answered his phone. She pushed her reading glasses back up on the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. She then checked her remaining page quickly for any errors she had missed in typing.
The coffee house was quickly silent again as he got up and left to talk. Three hands raised with questions for the reader.
Patty stood and debated who would ask the least stupid question. She brushed her blonde and gray curls around her left ear. Her big blue eyes searched the crowd. “Mitchell?”
Mitchell was a jock. In fact, he was the man that Patty’s pirate was loosely based on. “Is that it?” he asked and sipped his coffee.
“Well, no, but the phone…”
“I don’t like the word ‘bosom'” Linda had asked the question. She was a blonde stereotypical cheerleader, and likely sleeping with Mitchell. As usual, she was clinging onto one of the jock’s arms.
Patty glared at her. “What would you suggest?” Her large bosom heaved under her brown sweater. The hem of her brown skirt swayed around her ankles as she tried to regain her composure.
Tom, who sat in the front to her left suggested, “I like ‘breasts’.” His clothes and black hair were a perfect match as they were both creased and messy. He also had an oil stain on his cheek that he had missed cleaning off.
The group laughed.
“I’m glad you do, but…”
Patty was cut off by Clive’s deep voice from the back, “How about ‘tits’?”