Larry felt his cock twitch in his pants at the sight, aching to be freed from its confines and press against her back or slide between those toned thighs. With every window she opened after cleaning it, the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, as if it, too, had been yearning for this moment of renewal. His shoulders were not quite so slumped, his eyes not as distant. They fell to a pool around her ankles, and she stepped out of them, standing bare in front of Larry. She represented change—intimidating, yes, but also intoxicating in its potential. Larry watched as she put on a show for the food service worker. “Something’s not right,” she whispered, her adventurous spirit igniting within her. That night, they dined on exquisite cuisine, sipped fine wine, and laughed together, their hands entwined across the table. Tears welled up in his eyes as he remembered the last time they’d been together. With the laundry basket perched on her hip, Cheyenne found Larry, his eyes fixed on the frame of the door she had passed through minutes ago.
