“So what brings you in tonight Brian?”
“It’s my birthday.”
“No kidding, let’s see, that would make you 43, right?” At my nod, he continued, “Well happy birthday, your drinks are on the house tonight.”
Sam the bartender set my usual, a rum and coke with a squirt of lime juice, in front of me. I looked around casually, with it being a weeknight, it was a fairly sparse crowd, didn’t see anyone I knew. I decided to linger, no sense going home, my wife had cut me off from any kind of sexual contact. Out of the blue, almost 18 months ago, she had grandly announced that she was no longer going to be, as she put it, “a receptacle for your lust.” She had departed for the guest room, and that was that. I’d had never failed to get her warmed up, and she had seemed to enjoy fucking as much as I did. I was left to my own devices, and the “right-handed mistress” was doing a lot of duty.
Living in Saint Paul, the Minnesotan summers were usually quite pleasant, and today had been no exception. Warm enough to go outside without a jacket, I liked that aspect. Yeah, the winters could be bitching cold, but every place has some weather that is to be endured rather than enjoyed. I was halfway through my drink when I glanced over at the door and almost felt like I couldn’t breathe. Krissi? Oh fuck, was that Krissi?
Krissi Thompson was an old classmate of mine from high school. I had a huge crush on her but I was too damn shy to work up the courage to speak to her. The last I had heard of her, she had moved to Wisconsin and that had been that. And here she was, in Minnesota! Hmmm, was this a one-time happenstance, an amazingly lucky break? I had gotten over my shyness and watched to see if she was meeting someone.
I checked her out. Mmmmm, damn she looked great, the full red lips, 5’6”, that great set of 34C’s that I’d admired many times so long ago were still looking perky and very desirable, proudly pushing up the front of the white blouse she was wearing. She was not wearing a jacket, and her body was really hitting the right notes. The long red hair that reached about halfway down her back, I remembered very well. From taking quick looks at her eyebrows when we were in school, I knew she was a natural redhead. She was wearing a wrap-around tan-colored skirt, and they nicely wrapped around the wide flare of her sexy hips. Her shape was the one that always got me the most, nice wide hips, just made for settling yourself in between that spread. Her solid well-built figure, sleek, sturdy legs, she had a few extra pounds in all the right places, full-figured but not fat. Damn, that really made my mind go, I imagined stripping her down and exploring every curve, every little bit of that amazing body.
Krissi glanced in my direction, and I saw her face take a thoughtful expression, then she smiled and made her way over.
When she got level with me, she said “Brian, Brian Jackson?”
I looked into her smiling face, and replied, ”Krissi, Krissi Thompson?”
I stood up from the barstool, and she embraced me, being 6 feet, I towered over her a bit, she felt so warm and so welcome in my arms.
When she pulled back, she said, “Wow, 25 years and I still recognized you.”
I replied, “The same way I remembered you, you still look as amazing as you did in high school.”
Krissi said, “Let me get a drink, there’s a table over there, grab it, and we can catch up!”
We were soon seated in a quiet corner, and we talked a lot. I learned that she got married 20 years ago, and she was still living in Wisconsin. She came to the Twin Cities once a month to visit her Grandfather and was just lucky enough to run into me.