"Did something happen at work today, dear, to make you all upset?" Bette Jean inquired softly. "I mean… I certainly didn't mean to make you so mad."
"No… nothing happened at work! I told you what was the matter, woman. Why don't you believe me when I talk to you. I need a good fuck… and so do you…" He slugged down some more of the amber liquid. Jesus. It felt good. Lester watched as Bette Jean looked in the oven and poked the chops. His eyes traveled over her trim figure. Shit! Every time he'd even looked at another woman, he'd been comparing her to Bette Jean and hell, none of them could stand up to her. That waist that he could span with his two hands and those breasts that looked like big melons, juicy and ripe, the curved hips and tapering legs. For a little gal she was one hell of a lot of woman. Not only that but she had the face to go with it. Pretty as a picture. She made some of those movie stars look cheap and overdone. But by God, he was just about ready to put it in anything that was hot and hollow! Twenty years of fighting about sex was just too God damned much. Life was too short and he'd been more than patient. No, by God, he'd been a fool… that's what he'd been… a hen pecked fool!
Lester drank steadily and insisted Bette Jean keep up with him. Somehow she got the dinner on the table though she felt rather fuzzy and relaxed. Her headache had miraculously disappeared and she tried gently to steer the conversation to topics that she thought would calm Lester down. He even grinned fatuously at her and kept patting her hand. He still hadn't dressed and she thought she'd better not make an issue of it even though every time she looked at his naked hairy chest across the table she felt a little faint.