Saved by the Bell: The Very Later Years (Something-something-Zack)

When they met at the bar, she looked 22 or 23, maybe. 25 at the most. Now, under the unforgiving parking-lot lights streaming in through the crack in the window, she looked 35 or 40. Maybe even 45. 


She probably had kids and maybe even a husband, or, at the very least, a long term boyfriend. 

A live in boyfriend. 

Probably a guy who she went to high school with. He probably worked at a mechanic’s shop in town. Pete’s, the place he saw when he was coming into town on 13 the day before. The place with the rickety sign and mostly-gravel lot. 

She was pretty rickety herself, but she’d been alright. She’d done things that Rebecca wouldn’t do, and really, that was Zack’s barometer. He told himself he wouldn’t feel bad if the girl (whore) would give him something his wife wouldn’t. 

But it didn’t work. It never did. The guilt always lingered there, hiding like a mischievous child in the pantry. 

And so she slept, in her haggard state of existence. Her mouth was open half an inch and he could smell the whiskey coming from her snores. He was pretty sure he could smell his cum on her slowly escaping breath, too. 

His phone rang. 

Rebecca, of course. 

“Babe?” He tried to sound sleepy, though he was anything but. She said some words. 

“Oh, yeah. It was fine. Got a big contract with the guys out of Des Moines. No. No. No, he wasn’t there. I didn’t see him. But it all seems like it’s gonna go through. Yeah. Definitely. Haha. Big time. Sure. Tell MacKenzie we’re getting a pool. Absolutely. Yes! Without a doubt. Cross my heart. Love you too, babe. See you soon. Love you.” 

Next to him, she slept. Zack couldn’t remember her name. He wasn’t sure if it was the booze, or just life. He thought she was Megan, or Meghan or Melissa. She sure had some saggy breasts, though, now that he really got a chance to look. 

Oh well. 

Being an in-home medical equipment salesman wasn’t without its perks, he thought. Even if sometimes the pussy was a little loose, even if he had to drink a shit-ton to quiet his conscious. It was all part of life. Part of success. 

Even saggy tits. 

That was life. 

He tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. 

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