Read Online The Big Bang! Theory - A fourth--and final--short, erotic encounter of the Judy Banger kind by Debra Salonen - Free Book Online

months ago, I decided life was passing me by. I'd become
invisible and was on the verge of drying up completely. Over the
past couple of years, I tried every online dating service on the
planet. Men my age want girls Clarice's age. So, I told myself,
screw it. I'd have fun any time, any way, with anybody who asked."
She paused to give him a serious look. "Within reason."
    He put his hand on her knee
and squeezed gently, supportively.
    "Buddy Fusco and I had been
going out as friends. I knew he wanted more but I resisted. Then,
one day, I thought, 'What the hell am I waiting for?' The rest is
history."
    "Unfortunate timing, but
not your fault."
    She shrugged. "That's what
I tell myself. Then Jed came along. I'm blaming our affair on
PTSD."
    "Who's Jed?"
    "The contractor who built
my deck. We were both mourning Buddy and one thing led to
another...for a week or two. I was his Mrs. Robinson. He was my
pre-Star Wars' Harrison Ford. But his work took him to Tahoe where
he found the love of his life. I'm really happy for him. I mean
that."
    Wiley believed her. And he
sure as hell couldn't condemn her considering what he'd done with
Wendy, his late wife's married sister. "We all have things in our
past we wished we could do over."
    She shrugged. "Hmm...now,
that's what you don't get about me, Wiley. I'm not apologizing for
Buddy or Jed. Or for what happened in the hotel room with your son
and the others. I had a good time. A real good time, actually. Was
it dirty? Sexy? Naughty? Yes. All of the above. But I'd do it again
in a heartbeat." She stood. "I could call a cab, if you're rather
not drive me home."
    A part of him wanted her to
stay. A part of him needed time to process the many revelations
she'd shared. He could honestly say he'd never met anyone like her.
But what was that a good thing? Or bad?
    "Let's take the Prius. I
don't trust the Mustang's battery."

 
    Chapter Six
     
     
    Judy parked in her usual
spot out of habit. She hadn't been to Heritage House in over a
week, and if the lump of solidified oatmeal in her stomach was any
indicator, she didn't want to be here today. Talk about highs and
lows, she thought, staring at the three-story structure. Only its
jaunty color scheme--rust, green and off-white--kept it from
looking like a prison.
    Her fist closed around her
phone. Wiley's text had arrived at dawn. Six-thirty-four, to be
exact. "Good luck this morning. Free 4
lunch? Midtown 12:30?"
    Two cups of coffee and
eight mind changes later, she replied: "Ok."
    The Midtown Cafe, despite
the rather pedestrian name, was one of the few legitimately swanky
spots in town. The owner/chef trained in San Francisco. The food,
reputedly, was to die for. Judy didn't know because she'd spent her
lunch hours juggling the wants and needs of three hundred Herry
souls. And, now, God help her, her mother was moving into the very
place that knew nearly all of Judy's faults and more than a few of
her secrets.
    She clasped her phone to
her breast. I have to tell Mom about
Buddy. Beat the gossip grapevine to the punch. "Shi...," she started to mutter her usual swear word but
stopped. "I mean shoot."
    She'd decided her language
needed work. Not because she had the hots for a sexy judge. Not
because the last company she sent her résumé had those fishy
Christian symbols in the wallpaper of their Facebook
page.
    Cleaning up her language
went hand-in-hand with the "life overhaul" she had in mind. Step
One: eat better. Hence, the oatmeal. Hopefully, someday she'd learn
to like it without maple syrup, walnuts and bananas. Step Two: get
more exercise. Fortunately, she'd been getting great feedback at
her Golden Sneakers class. As long as she had a full class, she'd
make enough to buy healthy food. Step Three: put the brakes on her
runaway train sex life.
    The last should have been
the easiest--just say no when...if...Wiley called. Unfortunately,
that meant waking in a tangle of sheets, pussy pulsing from dream
sex with Wiley Canby. Her thinking