SWEET SPOT
by
Elizabeth Black
When Derek first saw the woman, she emerged from the fog that sat over the graveyard like a cotton blanket. He stood with a crowd of similarly black-clad mourners, too busy indulging in their grief to notice her, surprising Derek. A woman with her looks commanded attention. Standing behind the crowd, she watched him. He felt her gaze upon his face and body as if bugs crawled all over him. She made him itch.
It took a moment for recognition to register. When he realized who she was, he nearly fell over into Jim's grave.
It was Amelia, the cast-iron bitch who dumped him when he got a little too close to her domineering husband. She hadn't aged a day. That lithe body had to be fifty years old, and she didn't look a day over thirty. How did she pull that off? Liposuction? Pilates? Sold her soul to the devil? She was twice his age, yet she could outlast him in bed. She was like a virago when it came to fucking. He could barely keep up with her. In the end, she tossed him aside like a wet dishrag when a younger, buffer stud came into the picture.
There could only be one reason why she was at this burial--to see Derek, and to humiliate the hell out of him.
Derek wouldn't let her even feel the satisfaction of her revenge.
He studied her so intently that he didn't notice Jason whispering to him. A few taps on his shoulder brought him back to his senses.
"Are you coming to the house after the burial?"
"I might. I should get home, though. There's a storm brewing, and I don't want to get caught in it. I have a long drive ahead of me."
"I'm really glad you came, although I wish it wasn't for a funeral. We've been out of touch for too long. A phone call a few times per year just doesn't cut it."
Of course they'd been out of touch. After his disastrous relationship with Amelia, Derek couldn't create enough space between himself and Ipswich. Jason's frequent phone calls and invitations to hang out on their boat on the Essex River couldn't budge Derek from his apartment in Manchester.
The problem was how could he convey his disinterest in his old friends and family while dropping in on Ipswich unannounced? He was only here to check up on Amelia. After his wife left him because of his affairs, Amelia monopolized his obsessions. Could he have one fling with her before returning to Manchester? Could he fuck the hell out of her the way she liked it, and then dump her without so much as a goodbye the way she had dumped him? The bitch wasn't above a quickie. After all, that's what he was to her the year they dated, if one could call quick fucks in her car dating. She liked to be tied up, bound, and gagged. Derek was surprised she was submissive. He thought for sure she'd prefer to be dominant and in control, but he realized soon enough that being submissive put her in control. She refused to use a safe word, but he insisted on it. He ended up using their safe word much more than she did. He was always surprised by how far she wanted to go--gagged with a ball in her mouth; spanked until her ass was cherry pink, nipple clamps yanked on while she came hard on his dick. She liked it rough--the rougher the better. Their affair barely lasted twelve months, until she found better fresh meat to tear into. She had the typical bitch's excuse--he was too clingy. Figures. A woman's excuse got latched onto him. He was as clingy as anyone would be after being dumped with no explanation and being replaced by a silicone god wannabe with synthetic man boobs.
Is she still married? Her husband had to know she was as horny as a cat in heat, and she liked to satisfy her cravings with the hot bodies that gravitated to the town over the summer for vacation. Why did he care if she was married or not?
Somehow, Amelia managed to get under his skin again, and she hadn't even said two words to him. He would never admit to Jason that Amelia was the reason he returned to Ipswich; not his friends, not his family, and certainly not Jason. Still, he had to make up excuses before Jason grew suspicious.
"I'm glad I came, too. I wish it didn't have to be for Jim's funeral. How did we grow so far apart? We were tight when we were in college."
"Twenty years is a long time. We got married. Had kids. Started working. Moved. I guess all of us just drifted apart."
"I don't want to let that go on. You want to keep in touch more?"
"You bet I do. It's too bad it took Jim's funeral to bring us together again. We were inseparable all those years ago."
"Let's be inseparable again."
"Sounds good to me. The after-funeral get-together is at my house."
"Amelia isn't going to be here, is she?"
"Are you kidding, bro? That's not funny. Don't joke about that here, now. Just come to my house after we wrap up here. Don't spend any more time alone in this place than you need to."
"You think I'll see the hag or something?"
"You know the story. It appears to you in the form of what attracts you. A sexy woman if you're a guy, and a hot dude if you're a woman. You make a date to come back to her here at the graveyard, and you seal it with a kiss. You do return on the appointed date--in a coffin."
"What if you're gay?"
"Stop being facetious. You obviously still have it bad for Amelia. Why, I have no idea. The woman is poison. Come to my house for a late lunch. Don't you linger around here longer than you have to. No one does."
Amelia was his weak point, as Jason figured out. She was his Sweet Spot, that spot just below his collarbone where a quick thumb jab would render him stupid.
Derek never believed in the hag, but he thought it would be exciting to actually run across the old witch. That the hag would appear as Amelia didn't surprise him. The woman was a nightmare gone mad.
How could she be called a hag if she was a hot little number as he expected she would be? That's how she'd appear to him--as some luscious babe. He saw no reason to complain about that.
Derek looked over the shoulders of the mourners, and caught Amelia's eye again. She smiled at him. Nodding his head toward her, he curled one side of his mouth up in a snarl, and she grinned catlike back at him. Old wives' tales be damned. She was a flesh-and-blood woman, and he wanted to knead his hands into that tender, sweet flesh until she begged him for mercy. Even if she was a phantom, he could get his jollies by fucking her hard right here in the cemetery and then ditching her, spread-eagle and pussy throbbing, amongst the headstones. Would serve her right.
When was the last time he had a good fuck? His girlfriend lost interest in sex, and she wouldn't do to him all the kinky things he wanted. Would Amelia have him, despite their past? Of course she would. She liked damaged goods. She would fuck him even though they had not been introduced, not that an introduction was necessary. He wanted a good, hot, pounding fuck session, and it looked like she was game.
She fingered her full breast that overflowed above her low-cut dress. Derek felt that familiar stirring in his pants. Damn, he was horny. It had to be the repressive funeral, the snug, black clothing, and those pale white breasts bursting from her dress that had him bulging in his boxers.
Mourners scattered after the burial was completed and prayers were said. Amelia stood next to a weeping willow. Wearing her dress like a second skin, Derek eyed the linen flowing over her body like water over a waterfall. With her gaze fixed firmly on his crotch, he knew what she wanted, and he was going to give it to her until she begged him to stop.
"Coming to the house?" Jason asked.
"Yes, in a few minutes. I'm hungry. That ham you bought has my name written all over it."
"I figured you'd like that, but don't think I bought it for you. The sale price was so good I couldn't pass it up."
"Geez, and I thought you bought it for me. Tease."
"Whore."
Derek laughed. It felt so good to be in tight with Jason again. They used to call each other "tease" and "whore" for fun all those years ago when they were freshmen. But he wasn't here to see Jason. He was here to see her.
"I'll be right over. Save a seat for me."
"Will do, and don't you waste any time here. You have friends who want to see you. We haven't seen you in years."
Derek didn't care about the food, even though his growling stomach begged for a ham sandwich. His attention was riveted to the captivating woman who leaned against that weeping willow. Amelia thrust her hip at him and tilted her head, an invitation if there ever was one. He had heard the story of the hag since he was a child, and he knew it couldn't possibly be true. At this point, he didn't care. All he could think about were those huge tits and that come-hither look she gave him. Maybe he was finally going to get lucky. He couldn't remember the last time he had a good fuck session with his girlfriend. She had turned into a prudish old maid, not interested in fucking at all. Must be the baby. She was always too tired or too busy. Or her pussy hurt.
Amelia rubbed one leg upward against the other one, showing a bit of the lace at the top of her stockings. This was the day Derek was finally going to get laid but good. He was going to fuck her brains out, and then ditch her like she had ditched him all those years ago. Served the bitch right.
As the mourners retreated to their cars, Derek walked toward Amelia, never once letting his eyes leave her face, which took immense concentration on his part because all he wanted to see were her tits. Her flushed face was all he saw. The mourners who patted him on the back, wishing him well in light of the death of his cousin, walked out of the graveyard with Derek barely giving them a nod.
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