Zwilling - Sex Stories

Zwilling

Heather’s last appointment was at a little store in LoDo. Cathy, the local sales rep who had been her guide and driver for the day, had been disappointed their day had run late. She was worried she might be late to pick up her kids from soccer practice. “Those guys are so fucking hot.” She smiled as she caught herself. “Well, you’ll see. They know their wines and their store is terrific. I’m sorry I can’t make it. Will you be alright?” Heather had said yes, rather dejectedly - she liked Cathy and had hoped the two might go do something together that evening. Instead, this last appointment and then her night would be like every other night the past week: Home to the extended stay hotel her company had booked for her while she got herself settled, some sort of take out with a movie on the pay-per-view, a shower and then FaceTime with Geoff, her fiancé. Cathy dropped her at the corner of 17th and Wazee and she made her way to the address. So much had changed in Denver since she had moved out to San Francisco for college that she hardly recognized the place. She made use of the landmarks that were still standing to navigate. Union Station was there, though it was being transformed into a 21st Century transit hub for the metroplex. There was the Oxford Hotel and a little further down the block was the Tattered Cover. Heather walked with a confidence that belied her lack of assurance. It was evident in her appearance - blonde hair that fell in waves over her shoulders and ...

... laughing blue eyes. She was of smaller stature, 5’6”, a little more with the heels, and a body that would have been perfectly proportioned but for her outsize breasts. Heather had left her new fiancé behind. The new job offered more money but meant that if their relationship was to survive, one of them was going to have to sacrifice. For her own career (at least for her current career) that meant moving back to Denver. Whether Geoff would move with her was another question. Everything downtown was the same but different. Heather finally found the shop, down an alley behind the Tattered Cover and walked in, her little roll-behind trailing behind her. “May we help you?” the man behind the counter asked. He stood at just under six feet tall and was cut, his sharp jawline obscured by day old growth, his intense blue eyes seeming to sear into her. To describe him would be to describe one of the Norse heroes, Gods even, his appearance and his presence were so captivating. “Hello,” another man said as he popped up from behind one of the shelves. He smiled softly but in every other way was identical to the man behind the counter. “Holy shit,” Heather thought to herself, remembering what Cathy had said in the car. Or perhaps she said it. “Hi. I’m Heather. I’m with Bacchus Imports. I have a couple things I thought you might enjoy.” Had she caught herself in time? Even if she hadn’t, they were courteous. “I’m Ivan,” said the man behind the counter. “I’m Sven.” The man behind the shelf waved. ...