stools next to ours. They were an attractive couple,
physically fit and about our age. They struck up a
conversation with us, saying they were new in town and
could we recommend a good restaurant. They were easy
to talk to, and both Laura and I felt an instant
connection with them.
Karl was a tall man, well built, masculine, and well
dressed in a loose fitting shirt and pants. He had a
deep voice and a strong, almost dominating, presence.
He sat next to Laura and throughout the night gave her
plenty of attention, offering compliments and
occasionally touching her arm. At times they seemed to
be having a private conversation. When he swiveled in
his stool and pressed his thigh against hers, I
noticed that she didn’t object or move her leg. It was
easy to see that she found him attractive, and to be
honest, I was a little bit jealous.
His wife Cynthia was equally attractive, but smallish,
petite, and much quieter. She sat on the stool on his
other side, wearing a short skirt that exposed her
toned legs. Throughout the night Karl kept his hand on
her bare thigh, seemingly keeping her legs apart. At
first his hand remained near her knee, but as the
night progressed his hand slid up higher until it
reached just under her skirt.
The pub had had a jukebox, and when a sensual R&B song
played, Karl pushed his stool back, grabbed Cynthia’s
hand, and said, “Time to dance.” His abruptness caused
her to spill her drink. She placed the glass on the
bar and swiveled in her stool. As she brushed the
dampness from her skirt her legs parted, revealing a
white panty under her skirt. Laura caught me looking
and nudged me in the stomach. Karl also caught me
looking; he looked in my eyes but said nothing.
On the dance floor Karl wrapped his arms around his
wife who almost melted in his embrace. They danced
slowly, sensually, grinding their bodies into each
other. His hands rested on her lower back but by the
time the song ended they dropped down to her ass; she
offered no resistance. I have to admit – they put on a
pretty sexy show.
Back at the bar Karl talked about their recent
relocation. He explained why they moved to our town,
how they found the house, the problems with their
closing, and all the work they had been doing moving
in and fixing it up. Then he suggested we stop by ‘for
a peek’ since it was just two blocks from the pub.
“You’ll be our first guests.” We tried to protest but
he wouldn’t hear of it.
Neither Laura nor I were ready for the evening to end,
and since it was a perfect night for a walk we finally
agreed. I held Laura’s hand as we followed them to a
small but well-maintained corner house. Once inside,
Karl gave quick tour of the downstairs while Cynthia
went upstairs to change. In the kitchen Karl opened a
bottle of white wine and handed us cold beers, then
led us into the living room. We sat on a large,
overstuffed sofa; Karl sat in a wide chair across from
us. Cynthia returned from upstairs in a sheer blouse
with no bra, and tight black yoga pants that wrapped
her butt like cellophane. “Much better,” she said as
she walked towards a corner table.