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Niah
Star
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2010
The middle aged woman sat quietly at her bedroom vanity table. Her grey blue eyes staring almost dead like into the mirror. Once again she had woken up alone this morning, her husband was long gone by the time her alarm clock had blared out at her. Months it had been since he showed her any affection, in every sense of the word. He barely looked at her, never mind made love to her. She was in a sexless, and she feared, loveless marriage. Christopher Evans, as her husband was called, had become consumed with his work and no doubt the pretty blonde receptionist that came with it. Marissa Evans couldn't believe what was happening, she continued to gaze into her mirror. Was she really so hideous that he had to look for sexual gratification elsewhere? The answer was no to be honest, Marissa was thirty-eight years old and as looks went she was aging terrifically. Not that thirty-eight was ancient, but she supposed it was more so than the twenty-one year old receptionist her husband was no doubt screwing. Marissa was dark haired, pale and her skin was fairly wrinkle free, a few crows feet were starting to settle in but she still maintained a beauty about her. Her body was in good shape, she made a point of working out at the gym. It used to be for her husband, now she worked out simply to kill time, as it was depressing being in a house all alone.
All in all she would say that she was still attractive... just not to her husband. The thought depressed her somewhat and so she pushed herself away from the dresser and headed instead towards her wardrobe. Fifteen minutes later she was dressed and ready to go, her make-up light and complimenting, her hair loose around her shoulders. She wore a tight pencil skirt that showed off her figure and tucked into it was a slightly unbuttoned blouse. Her heels clicked as she left the house and walked down the drive towards her car. She had an hour to get to work and set up her classroom. Marissa was a teacher at the local college, her days were spent teaching young, virile men. They were barely legal and she would lose her job if anything were to happen. However she'd be lying if she said that she hadn't had a few fantasies about her male students. With her husband's continued disrespect for their wedding vows, the fantasies had become more prominent of late.
Jumping into her vehicle she backed out of her home drive and was at the college grounds within ten minutes. She parked up in her teacher's spot and headed on inside. A warm coffee in one hand and a stack of papers under the other. She walked to her secluded classroom, where the blinds were still down and the door was locked. Letting herself in, she entered the empty room and set her belongings down on her desk. Marissa left her door ajar, so that any early students who needed to speak to her could come in if they wanted to. She then settled herself down behind her desk and began going through the papers.
All in all she would say that she was still attractive... just not to her husband. The thought depressed her somewhat and so she pushed herself away from the dresser and headed instead towards her wardrobe. Fifteen minutes later she was dressed and ready to go, her make-up light and complimenting, her hair loose around her shoulders. She wore a tight pencil skirt that showed off her figure and tucked into it was a slightly unbuttoned blouse. Her heels clicked as she left the house and walked down the drive towards her car. She had an hour to get to work and set up her classroom. Marissa was a teacher at the local college, her days were spent teaching young, virile men. They were barely legal and she would lose her job if anything were to happen. However she'd be lying if she said that she hadn't had a few fantasies about her male students. With her husband's continued disrespect for their wedding vows, the fantasies had become more prominent of late.
Jumping into her vehicle she backed out of her home drive and was at the college grounds within ten minutes. She parked up in her teacher's spot and headed on inside. A warm coffee in one hand and a stack of papers under the other. She walked to her secluded classroom, where the blinds were still down and the door was locked. Letting herself in, she entered the empty room and set her belongings down on her desk. Marissa left her door ajar, so that any early students who needed to speak to her could come in if they wanted to. She then settled herself down behind her desk and began going through the papers.