Frank walked into the old bank. Men were hanging lights on rafters and women were taking notes. His eyes wandered endlessly. Orders where handed out sporadically. He took a seat in the middle of the room and watched. A girl with a notepad stood at his side. She wore a head set with a microphone.
At ten in the morning he got up. He sat down in a stall in the men’s rest-room. He waited twenty minutes flushed, and pulled up his pants. He went back to his chair.
The girl with the notepad bent over and spoke into Frank’s ear, “The sets ready.”
He looked into her chest and imagined her tit popping out of her shirt. He looked up at her, smiled, and pulled a phone from his pocket.
“The sets ready Frank” he hung up the phone, stuck it in his shirt, and pulled out a silver flask. He sucked it dry and slid it back home.
Jill woke up alone in Frank’s bed. She pulled his pillow into her face and wept.
Jill strolled into the kitchen in a t-shirt. Her panties had climbed up her ass and she was missing one sock. She slammed a frying pan on the grill, picked up an egg and struck the edge. Half of the egg dripped on the stove. After breakfast she jumped in the shower, and paid close attention to all of the hard to reach places.
She spent an hour drying and styling her hair, thirty minutes putting on make up, and two hours trying on clothes. At three in the afternoon she lay naked on the leather couch and flipped anxiously through 1,000 television channels. She rubbed lotion along her legs and arms. At a quarter to five she walked into the bedroom and put on the dress she had picked out earlier. At five-twenty she heard a motorcycle pull into the driveway. She waited at the door until she heard the footsteps stop. The door swung open and Frank walked in. He wasted no time in undressing her.
They fucked until they got hungry. They drove over the hill to a steak house on Third Street. They ate until they got horny.