She Said Yes!

She Said Yes! By Shawna Jeanne The clock on the dashboard read 11:03 when Marianne Williams finally turned off the interstate at the Ashland exit. The interior of her late model Honda Civic glowed a cool blue, pushing back the darkness outside, and the radio played so softly, she could barely make out the tune. It was late; she was exhausted. She’d been on the road for the past three and a half hours, and her sore shoulders would remind her of the long drive in the morning. But right now all she wanted was a mug of hot tea and her boyfriend Johnny’s warm body curled up beside hers in the bed they shared. She glanced at the clock and debated calling him. Was it too late? Probably—knowing Johnny, he fell asleep in front of the television after eating takeout, and she’d walk in on a messy house she was in no mood to deal with at the moment. For the past four days, she’d been out of town at a work conference, and she called home around nine every evening to check in with him. After a long day of boring seminars, break-out sessions, and PowerPoint discussions left her head spinning with projected sales figures and ways to increase production, she looked forward to a little downtime with her lover. Even if most of it had been listening to him go on and on about whatever it was he and his best friend Ben had done that day. At least it was Johnny’s throaty voice, soothing in her ear, and she could sink down in the covers of the hotel bed and imagine him purring into her, his strong hands caressing her body as he spoke. At thirty-three, Marianne thought she was mostly happy with the way her life was turning out. She had a stable job as an executive assistant at an up-and-coming chain of fashion boutiques; five franchises had opened in the Richmond area earlier in the year, and three more were scheduled for the next quarter. It wasn’t what she’d always imagined she would do when she “grew up,” but it was steady work and good money, and she liked her boss, which she’d found out the hard way counted for a lot when it came to liking her job. She had her own car—an older model, to be sure, but already paid for, so she didn’t have a loan hanging over her head—and she rented a large, three-bedroom home in a nice subdivision where she could see herself one day settling down. And, of course, she had Johnny. When she did settle down, it would be with him. Two years her junior, Johnny Dodson was attractive in that sexy, frat boy kind of way Marianne always liked in a guy but could never seem to claim for her own. He had sandy hair that never seemed out of place and a slim, trim frame with six-pack abs and rippling pectorals despite his love of pizza and video games. When he smiled, his eyes actually twinkled, which always melted Marianne; no matter how mad she might be at him, for whatever reason, those eyes guaranteed he was never in trouble with her for long. She just couldn’t stay angry with him, and damn it the hell, he knew it. He loved her, she knew he did—he told her all the time, and he bought her rings and bracelets, did the dishes without being asked, made dinner when she’d had a rough day at work, all the little things that proved he loved her, and only her. But sometimes he could be so infuriating, especially when he smiled and winked and knew she’d forgive him, no matter what. Luckily for her, he wasn’t the wandering type. Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. Johnny didn’t cheat on her with other women, but there was something about his friend Ben Stewart that always set off her alarms. Marianne had never dared to ask if there was anything going on between them. The guys had been best buds since high school, and no matter how much Johnny might claim to love her, she suspected if push came to shove, he’d choose Ben over her in a heartbeat. She didn’t want that to happen. So she ignored the playful looks and flirty banter, and the way Ben touched Johnny inappropriately at times. As long as Johnny was faithful to her, she could overlook whatever might be between them. And, God, could she even admit it? Part of her was sort of turned on—just a little bit—by the thought of her man getting it on with another guy. There in the quiet interior of her car, alone, she felt a warmth spread between her legs at the thought of Johnny’s hands flat against Ben’s broad, hairy chest, Johnny’s strong thighs clamped tightly around Ben’s narrow waist. She imagined the two men wrestling together on the floor of her living room, both naked, sweaty and hard, and she shifted in the driver’s seat as a spike of lust shot pleasantly through her cunt. If Johnny was asleep when she got home, she might have to pull out her vibrator for a quick release before calling it a night. How far could she take the image of her lover and his best friend frolicking in the buff? One hand drifted down to press hard against the front of her jeans, where a sweet ache blossomed. She couldn’t wait to find out.