There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to go through with it. She will try to pick some random stranger and fuck him, all in revenge to her...husband. Classic rock radio station was playing in the background as Barbara sat at the table in the bar where she and John used to go often. It was a relatively clean bar, where there was always someone drinking, watching the game, or just chilling with their friends. As she sat there at the table, sipping a margarita she bought, she was. They were trimmed to the quick, but the beds were long—a perfect end to the shapely fingers they capped. He waited patiently for his purchases to be rung, tapping his fingertips in time to the inoffensively boring music that wafted through the shop. I imagined that he worked in an office of some sort, for his hands bore no sign of manual labor. Yet they had a strength about them, an enticing dexterity that made me wish he was tapping them in a far more intimate place—a place that was growing. More

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