The company had given everyone off for the Thanksgiving holiday. Which was fine. Nice. Except she didn’t have Christmas shopping to do, and she didn’t have leftover turkey to stuff her face with. And Henry’s car still wasn’t back in its space. She knew from her Tuesday lunch with Jay that they were visiting family. He’d said something about driving up to New Hampshire on Wednesday night, and she hadn’t seen Henry’s car since. But Jay hadn’t said anything about skipping their Friday. In fact, he’d made a point of saying he’d be sure he was back by Friday night. She stood in her bathrobe at eight in the morning, looking out her window and waiting for that space to fill up. Eleven hours. “I am not going to sit at home all day and wait for sex.” She said it cautiously, testing the words. They sounded right. Even if sex was what she wanted. A shower by herself was not bad, but a shower with the memory of Henry’s marathon night of sex four weeks ago was–good God, that man could fuck.
