Biding Her Time - Sex Stories

Biding Her Time

I sat at the bar, nursing a gin and tonic. I didn't even like gin and tonics, and I'd never before been to this particular bar, but tonight, I was determined to do something different. It was a Tuesday evening, just after six, and the place wasn't at all crowded. I liked its hushed atmosphere and figured I'd leave when it grew too loud later on.

Not long after I arrived, someone else came through the door. I kept my stare fixed on my drink until the man sat down near me, with only one barstool between us. He chatted with the bartender in a way that revealed he was a regular; she called him Dorian and asked how his day was. "Can't complain," he said, then requested his usual. When he looked over at me, I quickly averted my stare, because old habits did indeed die hard. The wedding ring on my finger now felt oppressive, and I wished I'd left it at home.

"You mind if I join you?" the man asked, nodding toward the empty seat between us. His voice was low, as if we already shared a secret.

"Sure," I replied.

He moved closer and offered his hand. "I'm Dorian, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

I had to smile at the quaint gesture. Did people shake hands when meeting at a bar? When I slipped my hand into his, he gave it an almost imperceptible squeeze. "I'm Bronwyn. And likewise." Fighting the urge to hide behind my dark hair, I tucked a strand behind my ear instead. Dorian appeared to be around my age, in his late thirties. Beneath his business casual attire, I ...

... could see he had a wiry frame. At that moment, I felt ridiculously overdressed. Before leaving the house, I'd changed into the only outfit that still made me feel sexy: my little black dress. It had been ages since I'd dared to wear anything alluring.

The bartender placed Dorian's drink before him, and he seemed to relish that first sip. Then he fixed his full attention on me again. His blond hair was neatly cut, and he was clean-shaven. Unlike me, he wore no wedding ring. "Please don't take this the wrong way," he began, inclining his head toward me, "but you look like you feel absolutely miserable. Care to talk about it?"

Tears sprang into my eyes without warning. I hurried to blink them away while laughing through my embarrassment. "It's that obvious, huh?"

"Afraid so." His dark blue eyes filled with compassion. "But this is the perfect place to get things off your chest, right? You have the sympathetic ear of an almost-stranger who will never judge."

I grinned in spite of myself, but all my mirth vanished as I said, "This morning, I found out my husband's cheating on me."

Dorian lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "I'm really sorry, Bronwyn. Forgive me for being blunt, but your husband must be a fucking idiot to cheat on a woman like you."

I felt my cheeks grow warm. My God, I was actually blushing! Now that I was just shy of forty, I received far less attention from men, including my husband, and I was no longer used to it. How long had it been since someone ...