"I find that hard to believe." His eyes followed the contour of her long graceful neck. "Christ, you can't be out of your twenties."

"I'm thirty-five and you're bull shitting me." She polished off her drink. "Can I have a refill?"

"You can have anything you want," Jeff said. He signaled the bartender. "But I'm not bull shitting."

With her next drink in her hand, she turned to Jeff. "I enjoyed your compliment," she purred. "I'm also enjoying the way your leg is touching mine." Her voice was provocative like her smile.

He gazed deeply into her sparkling eyes. His hand dropped below the table and gently squeezed her thigh.

"Ever since I saw you, I've been dying to feel your tits. They're driving me crazy." He held her gaze with his steady blue eyes, his hand slowly moving her skirt in the pretense of tickling her knee.

"Whewwww," she sighed, then took a gulp of her drink. "You don't beat around the bush, do you?"

"Not when I meet someone as gorgeous and sexy as you." His hand slipped beneath her skirt and he began to feel the silky flesh of her thigh.

Barbara wavered; she was undecided. He was certainly handsome, confident in his manner, and made her feel wonderful and young.

Lately, all she thought about was growing older due to Carl's constant reminders.

"I… I can't," she finally said. "I'm married… I couldn't…" She swallowed forcibly. His hand on her thigh was turning her insides to mush.

"You want to," he said. "I can see it in your lovely green eyes." His hand moved farther up her thigh, his eyes burning into hers.

Barbara gasped and clamped her hand onto his, over her skirt. She felt his strong fingers underneath her skirt massaging her flesh.

"No higher," she gulped. "No more." She pushed his hand out from under her skirt and turned away from his intense stare. She took another sizable gulp of her drink, wanting, needing someone like Jeff now, when she felt old and used, with a husband who seemed not to care, who always seemed to be joking about her getting old.