Anita & Me part 2

I didn't expect her to actually come to my home, but she did. It was 8:35pm. I was getting myself a glass of wine when I heard the doorbell. Not knowing who it was, I peeped through the peephole, and what I saw was astounding. It was Anita, the girl I met at the store earlier that day. She was all dolled up and wearing a dark purple overcoat that went down to her mid thighs. I almost dropped my glass with anxiety and there was a lump in my throat, but I quickly regained my composure and opened the door.

Anita smiled at me in an unassuming manner, almost coy and shy. "Hi. Remember me?" she said. In my mind I thought, "Oh my God! This cannot be real. I've been divorced for goodness knows how long and now this." As I was trying to make sense of this rather sudden situation, Anita gave a soft chuckle and ask, "Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" My face was still frozen and my mouth was gaped open like some guy on a Saturday morning cartoon. I soon came to myself and replied, "Oh, I'm very sorry. Please come in." She casually strolled in the door, looking me up and down as if she was studying me before moving in for the kill.

She then looked around my living room, grinning and saying, "MMMhmmm...not bad. Looks like you're doing well for yourself." I scratched my head and said, "I try my best. It's not much but..." I stopped mid sentence and watched her remove her overcoat. It looked like she was wearing a Princess Leia sex slave outfit. My glass slipped from my hand and crashed on the hard floor I just mopped two hours prior. "What the hell is going on?" I thought to myself. She walked over to me, looked me in the eye and said, "What's the matter.....nervous? I hope you realize that I'm here for one thing and one thing only, and that is to leave you completely satisfied in every way possible."

She looked down at the broken glass, then looked back up at me and said, "Poor boy can't even hold a wine glass in his hand when he knows he's about to get the shit fucked out of him" She leaned forward, gently kissed me on the lips and softly said in a Marilyn Monroe tone, "That's your mess. You'd better clean that up. I don't have any time to waste." She laughed quietly and sat down on the couch, crossed her muscular, freshly shaved legs and purposely dangled her right leg. I humbly went to the kitchen to grab what I needed to clean the mess I made. It's going to be a long night...

(To be continued)
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