By August they had progressed to enjoying a glass
of wine after she’d finished her labours, and on that Saturday of the bank
holiday weekend, as it was such a warm day they had two glasses and were
halfway through the second when he said.
“So how are you spending your Saturday night?”
“Same as most Saturdays, feet up in front of the
TV”
“Why is that? You’re an attractive young woman;
with a lovely figure you should be out on a Saturday with your fella” he said
“I don’t have one” she replied
“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed, a girlfriend
then”
“NO, I’m not one of them, although I did kiss a
girl once, but it didn’t do anything for me” she explained
“Not that it’s any better with men”
“What do you mean?”
“They look all right, especially my tits, most
men look at them, I’ve even noticed you ogling them”
“Only look?”
“Well, I do go on dates occasionally, I get asked
a lot, especially working at the pub, but they have expectations and my body
fails to oblige” she said being uncharacteristically open, probably due to the
heat and the wine
“I don’t understand”
“The spirit is willing, but the flesh doesn’t
seem to get the message” she replied
“So, they don’t turn you on?”
“Nope”
“Or can’t turn you on?” he asked
“Yep”
“So, you’re frigid?”
“I’m afraid so” she confirmed
“So, you don’t get…. moist?”
“Not even damp”
“Nothing?”
“Dry as a mouses ear” she retorted and scoffed
“Have you always been like that?”
“No when I was a teenager, I was keen as mustard,
but I was very selective with my favours” she said “Now I wish I’d been more
promiscuous”
“So, when did it all change?” he asked
“When I was 19, I had cervical cancer, and after
the treatment my urges became more and more infrequent and finally, they
stopped altogether”
“So, you can’t even take care of yourself?”
“No” she replied wistfully
“I wish I could”
“I’m sorry” he said
“Me too” she said and drained her glass and stood
up “I should be going”
“Well knowing what I know won’t stop me ogling
though” he said as he followed her into the kitchen
“You don’t just have to look, why don’t you help
yourself” she said as she reached up behind her and unhooked her bra and stood
in front of the island “Not that it will do anything”
“I don’t think I should be doing that” he said,
“Isn’t that overstepping the boundary between employer and …domestique?”
“Don’t be silly, knock yourself out,” she
insisted crossly “Have at em”
“Well, I still don’t think I should,” he said
“However as you are so insistent, it would be churlish of me to refuse, and as
you rightly said I have been ogling them for months”
“Just get on with it, a quick grope and you’re
done” she said matter of factly as she pulled her pink top up from her shorts,
so he stood behind her he put his palms against her bare flesh.
She tensed briefly when his hands made contact
and then she breathed in as his hands proceeded up under her top and exhaled
slowly as he cupped the weighty plumpness of her breasts.
Her breathing deepened as her nipples stiffened
against his palms
“They seem to be responding nicely, unbutton your
shorts” he told her and she eagerly obliged.
Two
hours after she had originally announced “I should be going” she stepped out of the kitchen door and after a final
kiss Lyndsey left number 13 Stone Bridge Lane and Brendan watched her walk back
to her bike and he thought she looked as good from behind as she did from the
front and he smiled as she mounted her bike again and turned to give him a wave
before peddling away, somewhat wobbly.
She would be back however, and not just to do the ironing because following that first sensual encounter she became a regular recipient of his attentions as she helped him with his surliness and he kept her frigidity at bay.
No comments:
Post a Comment