Frank had seen Linda a thousand times before, but that night she felt… different.
The two of them sat at the small round table on her back porch, a single dim lantern throwing soft shadows across the wooden floor. The air smelled of summer rain and jasmine. They’d just finished a bottle of Merlot, laughing about old memories — her second divorce, his failed attempt at retirement, the kind of conversations two old friends could have without embarrassment.
But somewhere between the third glass of wine and the quiet lull that followed, the mood shifted. Linda leaned on her elbow, resting her chin against her hand, and watched him with a softness in her eyes he hadn’t seen before.
Then she leaned a little closer.
And Frank knew.
“Linda,” he murmured, his voice lower than he intended, “you keep looking at me like that and I’ll start thinking dangerous things.”
She smiled — slow, knowing, wicked. “Maybe I want you to,” she said softly.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The crickets filled the silence. The tension stretched tight between them, thin as glass, ready to break with the smallest touch.
And then she leaned even closer, her shoulder brushing his, her perfume — warm vanilla and something faintly floral — slipping under his skin. Her lips were inches from his ear when she whispered, “It’s been a long time, Frank.”
His throat went dry. “Since what?”
“Since someone touched me like they meant it.”
He turned, and their faces were so close that her breath warmed his cheek. One heartbeat, two — and then he kissed her.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was the kiss of two people who’d stopped pretending they weren’t hungry years ago. Her lips parted, her hand sliding into his gray hair as though she’d been waiting decades to do it. He gripped her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the warmth of her body through the thin cotton of her blouse.
Linda gasped when his hand slipped lower, fingers tracing the curve of her hip before resting firmly against her thigh. She didn’t stop him. She leaned into him, whispering his name against his lips, and that single sound sent heat rushing through his veins.
“Inside,” she breathed, nodding toward the open door behind them.
Frank hesitated only a second before following her in, the wooden screen door creaking softly as it shut behind them. Her living room smelled faintly of lavender and wine, the soft lamp light painting everything in a muted gold.
Before he could say a word, she turned, pressing her back against the wall and pulling him with her.
“I’ve thought about this,” she whispered, breath unsteady. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
He didn’t.
Their mouths met again, harder this time, and his hands roamed without hesitation — across her waist, down her back, cupping the soft curve of her body like it was something he’d been aching to remember. Her blouse slipped off one shoulder, exposing pale skin his lips found instantly, tasting the warmth of her sighs.
By the time they reached her bedroom, they were laughing between ragged breaths, fumbling with buttons and zippers like teenagers who’d just discovered desire for the first time.
But this wasn’t teenage lust. This was different. This was slower, deeper, deliberate — two people who knew exactly what they wanted, unashamed to take their time getting there.
Linda guided his hands where she needed them most, whispering what she liked, showing no hesitation, no pretense. She didn’t fake a single thing — every gasp, every quiet moan, every shiver rolling through her body was raw and unfiltered.
Frank marveled at her — at the way her body responded, at the way she clung to him, at how much she knew exactly when to take control and when to surrender completely.
Later, tangled in soft sheets, her head resting on his shoulder, she laughed quietly.
“You always knew how to make me feel like a woman, Frank.”
He brushed a strand of silver hair from her face, smiling lazily. “You never stopped being one, Linda.”
She leaned closer again, fingertips tracing lazy circles across his chest. “Good,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
And Frank knew. Tonight was only the beginning.