Abbey comes for a visits most shocking and romantic story_part 1

I had to drive my wife to the airport Sunday evening. It wasn’t high on my list of ways to end the weekend. I’d been pretty stressed out at work the last few weeks. The last thing I wanted was to give up Sunday with my wife.

Elizabeth had a flight to Porthacourt where she was going for several days of meetings with a client. She was meeting a colleague, one of her firm’s partners, Dayo, at the airport. They’d go to Porthacourt together. Dayo would drop Elizabeth at home when they returned.

Elizabeth turned heads. Even in the conservative business suits she wore to work. Her six-foot-one inch height alone made her stand out. Her face could light up any room with a smile. A slender, athletic frame with the right curves, long beautiful hair, grey contacts and legs so long they seemed like they never ended attracted surreptitious glances from both men and women. Elizabeth had trouble finding pants because she needed a thirty-seven-inch inseam. At six-foot-four, I only needed a thirty-four-inch inseam. I loved those long legs. Especially when they were wrapped around me while we were making love.

Elizabeth and I spent weekends together. Sometimes at home. If the weather and circumstances allowed, we’d spend the weekend on our sailboat. We’d cook breakfast together. If we were home and the weather was nice, I’d pipe the music out to the deck so we could listen while we enjoyed the backyard and the pool. Or the hot tub hidden in our backyard.

My wife’s s8x drive went into overdrive on weekends, especially Sundays. I’m unsure why. She was often interested in s8x on other nights. And some mornings. But Sundays, she was nearly insatiable. Maybe it was her way to decompress from her work week. We were both in our late twenties. Both in high-pressure careers.

Elizabeth was a corporate attorney at a prestigious VI law firm. She became a senior associate so quickly it pissed off associates with more time with the firm and more experience. But less talent. She was on track to become the youngest junior partner in the history of the firm. I managed the number crunchers for a hedge fund. My team’s work was critical, affecting decisions for investments that could yield hundreds of millions of dollars in profits. Or cause inconceivable losses if our calculations led fund managers to make the wrong decision.

We’d enjoy numerous sessions of lovemaking throughout the weekend. At home after a nice evening meal, a couple glasses of wine, and heated caressing, petting, and teasing throughout the evening, we’d end up in bed early for a marathon session, often not falling asleep until after midnight. Exhausted, sated, and relaxed.

Elizabeth’s flight left at noon. All the later flights were sold out, as were the early Monday morning flights. The trip had come up late in the week. MMM Airport was over two hours away. If there was no traffic. We had to be on the road early. Elizabeth had been preoccupied with work all weekend. I understood but I was not happy.

I pulled up to drop my wife at her  terminal. I got out and unloaded her bag. She gave me a hug and kiss appropriate for public spaces and said goodbye. I stood and watched her until she disappeared in the crowd, feeling a bit bummed. I got in the car and drove off before the cop monitoring the drop-off area told me to move it.

Less than an hour later, my cell phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth. Elizabeth’s number displayed on the screen. I answered, wondering if she left something in the car.

‘Hi, babe. What’s up? Leave something in the car?’ I asked.

‘No, I’ve got everything. Where are you?’ she asked.

‘Headed home, maybe halfway to the third mainland bridge.’ I told her, adding, ‘Already missing you.’

‘You’re sweet. Can you swing back to the airport before you go home? Abby just called. She’s boarding for Lagos. She should land about the time you get back to the airport. She’s on an Aero flight.’

‘Did you know she was coming?’ I asked.

‘Not until just before I called you.’

I’d never met Elizabeth’s best friend Abigail (they went to school together in the United States), Abby to her friends. She was a climatologist on a research sabbatical from Columbia and had been working in the South American rainforest for the last three years. Most of her time was spent in remote areas with limited access to the outside world. When Elizabeth and I were planning our wedding, we were unable to reach her. We didn’t have a big wedding. But Elizabeth badly wanted Abby to be there. Abby learned about our marriage after the fact. To the best of my knowledge, she didn’t know what I looked like. Photos I’d seen of her were at least five years old.

‘Abby doesn’t know me. It might be tough to find her.’

‘I sent her the photo of you Elizabeth told me. ‘She sent me a selfie. I’ll send it, her cell number and her flight number when I get off the phone.’ Elizabeth told me.

‘Where am I taking her?’ I asked.

‘She’ll be staying with us for now.’

This presented a problem. We lived in a two-bedroom house. The extra bedroom had been converted to an exercise room and home office. There was no bed in it and no room for one. There was a large space above our garage. But it was unfinished until we figured out what we wanted to do with it. Our sofa wasn’t a sleeper. It was comfortable for sitting but it was terrible for sleeping. I’d made the mistake of falling asleep on it a few times. It sucked as a bed. I felt like I’d been used as a tackling dummy when I woke up.

She’s not going to like the sofa.’ I said. ‘And I can’t sleep on it. You know what it did to me.’

Elizabeth didn’t say anything for a moment. What she said next was a shock. ‘She can sleep with you. We’ll figure something out when I get back.’ She told me.

‘You’re yanking my chain. What’s Abby going to think about those arrangements?’ I asked.

I could hear the amusement in Elizabeth’s voice when she responded. I could almost see her smiling. ‘We’ve already talked about it. She’s OK with it. It’s not like we haven’t shared in the past.’

Shared? What the hell did that mean? Elizabeth told me they had dated some of the same guys when they were in college, but what did Elizabeth mean when she said shared?

‘What are you telling me, Elizabeth?’ I asked.

‘I can’t talk much longer. My flight has just been called. Let Abby sleep in the bed with you. You’ve got a hall pass until I get home Wednesday night.’

I had an understanding of the term hall pass. I wasn’t sure if Elizabeth meant what I understood the term to mean.

‘Hall pass?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, hall pass. I know what it means. Gotta go. I’ll talk to you tonight.’

That was explicit enough. But it struck me as odd. I still appreciated an attractive woman and I’m sure Elizabeth enjoyed looking sometimes. But looking was one thing. We didn’t have an open marriage. We had never invited anyone to our bed. Or even joked about it. Now I had permission to sleep with and have s8x with her best friend?

I got off at the next exit and turned back to the airport. As soon as I boarded the shuttle, I checked my phone and found Abby’s photo and flight info. Her face was thinner. And she looked tired.
It was another twenty minutes before the first passengers arrived at the carousel. Abby was one of the stragglers. She had the two allowed carry-ons and looked worn down, obviously ready for her journey to end. She was also searching the crowd for me. As I approached, she turned away, sill looking about.

She had just taken out her cell phone when I said, ‘Hi, Abby. I’m right behind you.’

She turned to face me and smiled widely. She didn’t look quite so haggard when she was smiling. She shook my hand, then pulled me into a hug.

‘Hi, Femi. It’s nice to finally meet you,’ she said.

‘Same here. You have more luggage?’ I asked, fully expecting she did.

‘Two suitcases,’ she told me.

‘Point them out, I’ll grab them and we can get going. You look tired. I bet you just want to kick back and relax.’ I told her.

Abby sighed. ‘You have no idea. I’ve been on the go for almost forty-eight hours. I’m hungry and tired. And I could do with a drink, too.’

‘You didn’t have one on the plane?’ I asked.

‘I don’t like to drink when I’m flying. I stick with water. The two idiots I got stuck sitting between drank more than their share. They were traveling together but made me stay in my assigned center seat and talked past me the whole flight. I couldn’t sleep at all.’

Abby looked relieved and happy to see the fourth and fifth bags onto the carousel were hers. We made our way to the car, loaded up and took off for home. Traffic sucked. It took more than two hours just to get to the Whitestone Bridge.

Abby had slimmed down while in South America. She wasn’t fat in the old photos. Full-figured would be more accurate. I thought she looked damn good considering how tired she was. She wore loose-fitting jeans and a red leotard under an unbuttoned long-sleeve shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra. When she moved, I got an occasional glimpse of a n!pple pressing against the tight-fitting Lycra.

Abby was a few months older than Elizabeth and perhaps four inches shorter, though still tall. I’d guess about five-nine, maybe five eight. She had same color hair as Elizabeth without blonde highlights. Elizabeth had a full head of long, straight hair. Abby’s was short, thick and wavy. Her hair style had a s8xy just-rolled-out-of-bed quality to it. She wasn’t flat-chested but no longer had the prominent bre*8ts from the old photos. Her brown eyes had flecks of gold that glinted when the sun caught them. Abby had a wide mouth that presented a goofy countenance when she smiled widely. When she laughed, you couldn’t help but join in.

We got acquainted on the drive home. Abby was friendly and open, had a quick, acerbic wit and smiled readily. She was very easy to like. We got so comfortable with each other it seemed like we were old friends before we got home. My relationships with the best friends of girlfriends before Elizabeth had been problematic. This was a welcome change.

My sister and her best friend, who I dated briefly, were tight. Both had been scholarship athletes with deep-rooted competitive streaks. There was always this underlying tension between them. They took occasional biting, but good-natured pot-shots at each other, when together and in conversations with me when they were apart. Don’t get me wrong, they loved each other and would wreak havoc on anyone that did harm to the other. But it made life awkward for me sometimes. I didn’t detect any competitiveness or pettiness in Abbie. And never heard any from Elizabeth. Abby was clearly looking forward to seeing Elizabeth and I was sure Elizabeth felt the same way.

I offered to take Abby to dinner but she preferred to eat in. She asked if we could have beef for dinner, complaining she hadn’t had a good steak in forever. We made a quick stop at the supermarket for rib eyes and salad fixings. Abby asked if I had any tequila at home. When I said we had an unopened bottle, she filled a bag with limes. She wanted to pay but I insisted on treating.

At the house, I seasoned the steaks for grilling and set them out while Abby made a pitcher of margaritas. After literally gulping one down, she asked if she had time for a quick shower before dinner.

When the shower stopped, I knocked and opened the bathroom door a crack to ask if I should put the steaks on. After receiving an affirmative reply, I took them outside and put them on the already hot grill.

Abby joined me a few minutes later looking refreshed and energetic. She wore only a pink Lycra leotard that snapped at the crotch and a pair of shorty socks the same color. I did a double-take. The leotard hid nothing. I turned back to the grill to hide my growing c*kc.

We ate dinner then watched GOT while we finished the margaritas. I was impressed. Abby was an observant and knowledgeable fan. She was pretty good at predicting, and was critical.

Elizabeth called just after the episode ended. We talked for only a few minutes because she was tired. She and Dayo had worked on the flight and again when they got to the hotel. I offered a chance to talk to Abby but she declined, saying she wanted to get to bed and would talk to her tomorrow.

It was time to address sleeping arrangements.

‘Elizabeth told me we’d have to share the bed for a couple of nights because you only have one bedroom and the couch sucks,’ Abby said, smiling.