Temptation, Served Cold

Hank Granger scraped the last bite of lukewarm meatloaf onto his fork, swallowing it without tasting. The house was filled with a silence that seemed to pound in his ears, reminding him of his solitude. He wasn't a man given to dark moods, but he was tired, he was alone, and his day had left him feeling... well... many things. Many complicated things.

He took a long pull from his bottle of beer, its coolness doing little to quench the heat simmering inside him. Setting the empty bottle down with a thud, Hank let out a heavy sigh. A text from her earlier that afternoon had been brief: “Working late, don’t wait up”. He had replied with a simple “OK,” even though it wasn’t.

Donna had worked hard to get where she was in her career, and just like anyone, himself included, there were days when the office kept you away. He understood. He wasn't even upset. Hank had always supported Donna's career choices, her ambition, her drive, just as she had supported his. They were, in a lot of ways, the perfect couple. Having met and fallen in love very young, many people would have guessed that the attraction had been superficial, based almost entirely on a cosmetic attraction that Hank had to admit was there.

But what people didn't understand was that the love that Donna and Hank felt was more, so much more. Yes, he loved the way his wife looked. Everyone loved the way his wife looked! Donna was a fox! And, of course, the feeling was mutual. But while that might have drawn Hank's eyes initially to the woman who would share his connubial bedroom, what had captured his heart was anything but physical.

Donna was a beautiful person. At work she often came off as a stern, strict person. Even with the kids she could be hard. But he knew, he had seen, Donna was kind. Donna was generous. Donna cried watching Superbowl commercials. Donna donated to causes she believed in. Donna fought hard in life, but it was because she wanted to build a future for her family.

Donna was amazing.

His stomach churned, the meatloaf sitting heavier than it should have. Nothing had felt right since dinner the night before. She had been cold, withdrawn. It was unlike her to let an unspoken issue simmer and stagnate. One of the things Hank had always loved about her was that if he gave her space to understand her feelings, she would always approach him with things that needed resolution.

But not this time.

This time Hank was left in the dark.

One day wasn't long. They'd been married long enough that he'd experienced the cold shoulder for longer than this. Those times, though, had been far more obvious. A fight. A spat. A hasty word spoken in anger. An unkind action taken in selfishness. Those times had been obvious. This time, to be honest, Hank had absolutely no idea what was going on.

And so he sat alone, staring at a plate with the remains of a reheated meatloaf, considering a second beer, baffled about his wife, and thinking about Sarah.

The memory of her laugh curled in his mind, soft and melodic, like a song he couldn’t get out of his head. She had leaned over his desk that morning, her perfume (jasmine, subtle but intoxicating) drifting into his space. Her blouse, a pale blue that set off her golden skin, had dipped just enough to be dangerous, revealing the gentle swell of her cleavage.

“Mr. Granger, I need your input on this proposal,” she had said, her voice light, playful.

He had cleared his throat, forcing himself to look at the papers she spread before him. But his eyes betrayed him, flickering downward before he could stop them.

She had noticed. Of course she had. Her lips had curved into a knowing smile, her perfectly white teeth catching the afternoon light. “You’re a lifesaver,” she had murmured when he signed the form she’d brought. Then she lingered, fingers brushing his hand, a fleeting touch that caused far more excitement than he was comfortable admitting.

Sarah was young, too young for the feelings he was experiencing. Early twenties, fresh out of college, vibrant and full of life in a way that felt almost cruel. Her eyes, a brilliant green, sparkled with mischief, and her dark hair tumbled in waves down her back. She had this way of moving, fluid, confident, like she owned every inch of the space around her. And her body… well, Hank wasn’t blind. Her body was nothing short of extraordinary. Curves in all the right places, toned legs that seemed to go on forever, and a habit of leaning in just a little too close when she talked, her low-cut tops always offering just enough to stir his imagination. In a lot of ways she was not too different than Donna had been when they had first met, her body drawing him in like a moth to a flame. In many other ways, though, she was so different.

Donna had never been a flirt. Nor had she used her body the way Sarah did. Sarah knew exactly what she had and reveled in it. She seemed to act as if attention from Hank was a goal, a treasure, and with every inch he gave, she celebrated by pushing for more.

Today, maybe sensing that he was feeling ****, baffled by the sudden withdrawn nature of his wife the night before, Sarah had turned up the heat.

Slipping into his office mid-morning with a bright smile and a file folder held casually against her chest. She had a curious look in her eyes, but it wasn't her eyes that had held Hank's attention. Her fitted blue blouse, which had entrapped him that morning when she'd leaned against his desk, now had the top buttons undone giving a show of her lush cleavage even without her leaning.

She asked something. Hank had to ask her to repeat as he was far too distracted to take in what she had said. And so she sat on the edge of his desk instead of standing, crossing her legs in a way that drew his gaze despite his best intentions. Her laugh, low and sultry, curled around him like smoke.

"It's alright, Mr. Granger," she said, "You have a hard job," did she say hard that way on purpose? "and you look so tense. I don't blame you if you let your mind... wander... sometimes."

Hank had swallowed hard as she lay the folder she was carrying in front of him, again leaning down to open it, this time her chest mere inches from his face, close enough that he could feel the heat of her skin radiating off of her. He could see the lace top of her bra as he stared down her shirt. His pants felt incredibly tight.

"I'll leave that there for you," Sarah said, frozen in place, hands on the folder, breasts in his face, "for you to look at before you go home. I thought that it was something that I should bring to your attention."

Hank had no idea how long she had stayed in that position, but by the time his office door closed, he felt dizzy with desire.

When he’d arrived home, his shirt had clung to his back, damp with the sweat of restraint. He was hot and bothered, his body taut with frustration and need. He had taken a cold shower before dinner, but even that had done little to ease the tension coiling in his gut, the sense of need mixed with the feeling of taboo that made the experience he'd had with Sarah so much more tantalizing. He needed Donna.

Hank prided himself on being a generous lover. He had always been thoughtful, attentive, the kind of man who took pleasure in his wife’s pleasure. But now… now he felt greedy. Needy. ****.

His hands clenched into fists on the table, knuckles whitening. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t the kind of man who let temptation gnaw at his resolve. He should have told Sarah that she was being inappropriate. He should have fired her! He had always been strong, so faithful. Donna was his wife. The mother of his children. The love of his life.

But Donna's side of her bed the night before had been empty and cold. And Sarah's breasts had been so....

Hank's fork dropped onto his plate. He was a grown man, but could not get the image of that lace-topped blue bra out of his mind. Once again, his pants tightened as blood rushed away from his brain to somewhere far needier, far hungrier. He stood up from the table, dishes left to be taken care of later. Right then and there, alone in the house, he walked upstairs the bedroom where he and his wife had shared so many intimate moments, and decided that he had something else to take care of. If Donna wasn't around to help, then he would do it himself.