Before The Guests Arrive

Anna Claire Clouds is still in her heels when the door clicks open. She turns, expecting the caterer, but it's Jay Hefner, her husband's oldest friend, slipping inside like he owns the place. The table's half-set, candles unlit. She tells him the others aren't due for an hour. He says he knows. Tension snaps tight between them. She tries to keep moving, placing silverware, smoothing the tablecloth. He watches. When he steps behind her and his hand finds her waist, she freezes, breath caught. He pulls her back against him, hard. She doesn't move away. Anna drops to her knees on the dining room rug. Blonde hair falls across her face as she takes him in her mouth, slow at first, then deeper. She works him with wet, hungry strokes, throat opening, spit trailing down her chin. He holds her hair, guiding her, fucking her face until her eyes water. He lifts her onto the table, bends her over the linen. Her dress hikes up. He pushes inside without another word, raw and deep, doggystyle, hips slamming into her. The silverware rattles. She grips the edge, biting her lip to stay quiet. Every thrust shoves her forward, knocking wine glasses together. She comes hard, shaking, just as headlights sweep across the windows. Jay pulls out. Anna straightens her dress with trembling hands. The guests are here.