The Big Bang! Theory - A fourth--and final--short, erotic encounter of the Judy Banger kind Read Free Page B

he'd intended to
ask. Why make small talk when all he needed to know was his son's
whereabouts? But, strangely, he held his breath awaiting her
answer.
    She took a long draw from
the built-in straw of her over-size plastic water bottle. After
daintily wiping her lips on a paper napkin, she said, "Anything
that pays more than minimum wage and, ideally, would be open to
letting me work at the gym, too." She lifted her right arm like a
body builder and tentatively poked her bicep. "I've never been
stronger." A pink blush colored her cheeks. "I still have a long
way to go, but...it's a process."
    "What kind of work do you
do?" Stop it, Wiley. You're not
cross-examining a witness.
    She fiddled with the napkin
a moment then said, "Until Buddy Fusco dropped dead in my bed, I
was the Activities Director for Heritage House--an independent
living center for seniors. Now, I lead a workout class at the gym
five mornings a week for many of those same seniors. We call it
Golden Sneakers. Not my idea. Sounds a little bit too much like
golden showers for my taste."
    He laughed. His second of
the morning.
    "You're funny."
    Oops. Her frown said funny was not a compliment in her book.
    Before he could explain
what he meant--that she wasn't as serious as the people he saw in
court every day, the barista arrived with their order.
    "Thank you, Beth," Judy
said. "Tell your mom I hope her ankle gets better soon."
    Beth smiled. "Thanks, Judy.
She's more upset about missing your class than breaking a bone in
her foot. That box of books you gave her should keep her mind off
the pain for a week or two. Appreciate it."
    She nodded at Wiley as a
formality then left.
    "You come here often." He'd
meant the statement to sound more like a question than a fact
entered into the public record. Damn. He truly had become the
person Fletcher predicted he'd be--a judgmental hypocrite with an
atrophied sense of humor.
    She carefully aligned her
paper cup, plastic parfait dish and the napkin with a slice of
moist, dense bread before answering. "Beth's mom is a retired
nurse. She used to give me my mammograms." She gave her bosom a
little jiggle, which, naturally, drew his gaze straight to her
chest. "With udders this size, it's hard not to develop an intimate
relationship with the person squishing them." He wanted to squish
them. Just once. He'd never dated a well-endowed woman. Both his
wives had been petite. Have I ever stared
at a woman's breasts this much? What the hell is wrong with
me?
    She reached for her coffee,
politely ignoring his impoliteness. "She broke her foot in a
parking lot a couple of weeks ago. Beth said she's bored and still
in a lot of pain. So, when I cleaned out my office at Heritage
House, I took her the box of books I'd been saving to give to the
Herry ladies."
    Herry as in Heritage
house. Again, he smiled, impressed by her
wit.
    "I know a bit about pain,"
he admitted. "Fletcher's step-mother lived with chronic pain for a
number of years following a car accident that she and Fletcher both
survived. He was in a coma for three days but came out of it
without a scratch. She endured five major surgeries in six years,
but nothing the doctors did truly helped. Basically, pain was the
fourth member of our family." Another admission he hadn't planned
on sharing.
    "Fletcher said she passed
away a few years ago."
    "A week after he graduated
from college she bought a gun and killed herself. In our car. At
the same intersection where the accident happened. Symbolism was
important to her. She wrote a great deal of poetry in her final
years. Fletcher's read it." Wiley couldn't. The last thing he
wanted to be reminded of was how badly he'd failed as a
husband.
    Her lips parted in
surprise, her lovely compassionate eyes welled up. "How tragic for
you all. I'm sorry."
    Wiley slugged down a drink
from his paper cup, as if it was a beer. He would have burned the
roof of his mouth if not for the ice cube Judy Banger had suggested
adding. "It happened a long time