She curses inwardly, takes Jonah off her chest, who immediately starts to whine. She puts him down on the couch, tightens her blouse and opens the apartment door.
"Yes please?"
"Good afternoon, my name is Robert Hunter, I have an appointment with your husband?" A questioning look. In front of her is a middle-aged man, dark short hair, perfectly shaved. With his raised coat collar, he reminds her of Humphrey Bogart. And this guy, she really likes.
"My husband's not home. But he should be here any minute." And with a glance of the rain swathes: "Come in before you get completely soaked."
He follows her and stops a little uncertainly in the middle of the eat-in kitchen.
"You can hang your coat there." Susan points to the large branch that serves as a coat rack.
Jonah, meanwhile, is screaming. Susan briefly ponders whether to send the visitor to her husband's office. But then her curiosity wins out. She is home alone so often. She loves her son, but a good entertainer he is not yet. And her husband isn't much help right now either, is always on the go.
"Sit down, please." Susan points to the armchair next to her.
She sits back on the sofa, takes out her right breast and puts it on Jonah. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Hunter stiffen. And has to grin inwardly. Susan is an advocate for free breastfeeding. If it were up to her, all women would have to breastfeed demonstratively everywhere: on the subway, at work, in the park, at the grocery store. To make it clear: breastfeeding is the most natural thing in the world. She can obviously still teach this Hunter something.
"What time is your appointment with my husband?"
"Uh, now, at noon." Hunter doesn't look at her, but speaks to the photo print of Dali's melting clock on the wall.
At that moment, her cell phone buzzes. A whatsapp from Peter, her husband: "Stuck in traffic and won't be in until 1pm at the earliest. I've set up a meeting with a Robert Hunter. Is he there yet? If so, can you ask him to wait and take care of him? It's important! Thanks, kiss."
That's Peter all over again. She's about to work herself into a rage when she realizes it's not really purposeful in front of Hunter.
"That was just a whatsapp from my husband. He can't make it until 1 p.m. and asks you to wait. Is that okay?"
Hunter wags his head a bit, seeming to think hard.
"Yes, all right. Doesn't help then. I had a long drive."
"Thanks."
She taps "I'll take care of it" to Peter and decides to put off being pissed until later.
Jonah smacks her lips and she switches breasts. Hunter shifts uneasily in his chair. He is obviously immensely embarrassed by the situation and Susan is kind of enjoying it.
She notices Hunter's furtive glances that keep lingering on her breast.
"Pretty big, my boobs, aren't they?" it shoots out of her.
Hunter winces. Clearly desperate for words, but can't find any.
"Milky boobs. I wouldn't have imagined. I usually have really small ones. But thanks to Jonah..."
Hunter manages a tortured smile.
And suddenly the devil gets the better of her: "You may touch them once!"
Did she just say that? Did she really just ask one of her husband's customers to touch her breasts? A small shock wave runs through her. With excitement. With arousal, she suddenly realizes.
Hunter just looks at her in disbelief. His gaze wanders between her eyes and her breasts. She can't be serious!
"Come on. This could be a new experience for you. What full milk breasts feel like."
Again. What is she doing! But she said it. And, she admits to herself, she meant it. Something tightened in her center. A longing. An urge. And quite simply, a tremendous sexual desire.
She hadn't had sex with Peter since she gave birth. And it wasn't because of her. Contrary to popular opinion, she really felt like it again after just a few weeks. But Peter didn't want to. She assumes that he doesn't like her current body. Her belly is still so fat that you'd think she was still pregnant.
A glance at the wall clock: 12:17. Time enough, it flashes through her mind, and she can't believe she's thinking that.
Hunter sits transfixed. But she can see it's working in him.
Jonah, meanwhile, has fallen asleep on her stomach. She gently lays him down on the sofa. And then she makes eye contact with Hunter. Forces him to look at her. Takes his right hand and places it on her left breast. A small jolt of electricity emanates from the touch.
Hunter has warm hands. Beautiful hands, as she notes. At first he holds still, but then his hands begin to move. Trying to reach around her breast. Find their way to her nipple, reach around it, play with it.
Susan involuntarily shifts on the sofa and opens her legs a little. She is wet, clearly. And full of lust. A wonderful feeling.
Without thinking, she reaches into Hunter's hair and presses his mouth to her breast. Hunter seems to have forgotten all shyness. Forgotten her husband, his appointment. He surrounds her nipple with his lips, sucking, and Susan moans out: she didn't realize until that moment HOW MUCH she missed it!
At some point Thomas lets go of her, catches his breath, and she glances at the wall clock: 12:37. It's decided. Or not decided. She knows, just knows, what she wants and what she's going to do. And what she won't do.
She pushes Hunter back a little, pushes up her skirt, exposing her vulva.
Hunter gasps out. She pushes her labia apart and starts massaging her clit, slowly at first, then more violently. Penetrates herself again and again with her fingers.
Hunter is completely spellbound, his eyes huge. His obvious inexperience goads her on. And then: not only does she come, but she squirts, violently, squirting all over Hunter. He jerks back, not at all knowing what's happening to him.
Susan has to laugh, she can't help it. And the spell is broken.
"Don't worry, it's not poisonous." She grins at him, handing him Jonah's burp cloth to clean up.
She watches Hunter awkwardly dry himself off. Leaving her legs wide open, she traces her ebbing lust.
"That was very nice with you. Thank you."
She means it exactly, not ironically. And sees in Robert's face that he believes her after a moment's hesitation.
She pulls her panties up and her skirt over her knees. Pulls the nursing bra over her breasts and closes her blouse. The clock on the wall chimes One o'clock.
"I'll make some coffee for us, then."
Still a little unsteady on her feet, she walks to the stove and just feels brilliant.
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