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They talked, softly, just enjoying each other’s company. As the clock struck midnight she pulled back a little from him. ‘I have to go,’ she said softly, ‘I must get some sleep.’ ‘I as well,’ he replied. But before she could move, he pulled her closer to him, his arms wrapped strongly about her slender waist as their lips met. Kissing her gently, he began to press his lips more firmly against hers, her hands clutching his shoulders as her breasts flattened against his chest. Her lips parted beneath his and he slid his tongue into her mouth, startling her (what did gentle ladies know of passionate kisses?) and then she moaned as she leaned into the kiss, her own tongue moving with his. Molded together they kissed like that, basking in the glow of their passion… Gwendolyn could feel something hard under her buttocks where she was sitting in his lap, but most of her attention was on the sweet passion of his kisses, intoxicating her. Finally they parted, her lips feeling bruised and. She was really nice looking. I couldn’t imagine a man having a wife like that and messing around on her. She was maybe medium height with a small waist that made her bust and hips look bigger than they really were. In a way it was sad to see such a nice looking woman wasting her life in bars and crowded honkytonks. She should have a real life … like me. Sure. I’d noticed that she never danced more than once with the same guy and never let anyone sit at her table. I’d see guys go up and try to sweet talk her but she would just sit there and shake her head. If the bar was crowded, like on a Friday or Saturday night, it would happen a lot and then she’d eventually get pissed off and get up and leave. I never saw her go out to some cowboy’s truck and come back all mussed up a few minutes later like a lot of the other girls that came to places like this … many of them married. Somehow I had become fascinated watching her and wondering who she was, what had happened to her. She looked so.
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