CHAPTER 1
Two and a bit years after graduating with a master's degree in environmental design and still without employment, Fletch (Fletcher) Halifax's life received a lift.
He went to church with his mom who introduced him to Mrs Thelma Cox.
Sylvie Halifax had nagged at him for years to take her to church without success until this Sunday. Fletch had awoken without his usual Sunday morning hangover and sense of abandonment. The previous night he'd scored with Polly Westhaven whose husband was away in Taipei for two months. Fortunately for Fletch that while females tend to stay clear of losers, Polly had been rather desperate, but not being pretty and possessing a flattish chest.
After almost throwing off the blankets to show his mom his morning erection with pride, perhaps but unlikely sporting an extra quarter of an inch after the previous night's long overdue workout, Fletch had guilty said yes he'd go to church.
"Are you ill?"
"Mom!" Fletch complained in that tone men use when thinking whatever they said to a woman, especially an older woman, would never be to her satisfaction.
"Oh my apologies," she whined, kissing him. "What is that smell? Perfume? Her face colored. She said "Oh God," and hurried from the room. Her son hurried to the shower.
Most of the congregation hadn't realized widowed Sylvie had a son until that surprise appearance of Fletch and his appearances would have set most regulars thinking another contributor to the collection plate. Sylvie had insisted Fletch wear one of his late father's suits so there was an air of affluence around Fletch that morning.
During coffee after the service, Thelma looked at the blond's muscular build and said whimsically, "Fletch looks just the type to help me get that overgrown section of my garden back into order."
"Fletch would be happy to assist you wouldn't you darling. Mrs Cox's husband is in hospital with two fractured femurs."
During the sermon Rev McDonald had worked in the bit about giving generously to the community, especially the church. Fletch had thought that ideal was appropriate insofar as supporting the community but financially supporting the church to build expensive meeting places that became ridiculously expensive to maintain over time was not his idea of pious economics. Therefore he put only a dollar into the collection plate, considering that a contribution towards renting his place on the pew and to demonstrate goodwill to the spiritual leader.
Although Mrs Cox was his mother's age she was still rather good on the eye and her mood seemed, er, whimsical. Perhaps she was also a better cook than his mom and food would be offered in return for a couple of hour's labor?
That had encourage Fletch to agree to help and was told to turn up at Mrs Cox's home around 9:00 next morning because today was "The Lord's Day." Fletch wondered what day wasn't the Lord's Day to the faithfully devout? Half of this lot appeared terrified of their pansy-faced minister.
Walking home Fletch's mom displayed unusual affection to her son, taking his arm and saying how proud she was of him doing his Christian duty. Fletch thought she meant going to church whereas he thought he'd performed his Christian duty on Polly the previous night.
"You'll find Thelma Cox is a very loveable woman. She's one of my best friends. Now darling don't get upset about this but if Thelma hints she'd like a bit of male company from you I'd like you to consider that request fairly."
Fairly? What the hell did that mean in that context?"
Fletch remembered how his dad used to handle his mom in situations where he appeared bereft of understanding. So he said, "All right dear."
His mom squeezed his arm and beamed.
What the hell? What level of communication had just passed between them, if it could be called communication? Fletch knew he really didn't know and never would know unless his mom attempted to explain but he wouldn't invite that rigmarole because most likely he would remain enlightened. All the guys he knew confessed finding their moms difficult to understand and that their girlfriends appeared trained to be equally confusing in their thought process. The consensus was females were a different species although probably originating on the same planet.
There was a time when Fletch decided to remain unmarried and enjoy a happier life, consorting with his pals. But the long-established pal pool was diminishing, established victims becoming victims of marriage. A couple of former pals had returned to the pool with divorced imminent but oh boy, were those guys giant bores, having had their energy and a big slice of their assets sucked out of them and now they were reduced to unhappy moaners. He wondered what the female's perspective on that would be but that was beyond his capacity to speculate. Knowing women somewhat, he guessed their thoughts would lie on an opposite tangent.
However he might have to marry to be financially better supported than he was now.
Indeed and Fletch knew compromises were not always bad. The truth was he knew a few of his now more distanced pals had married damn fine women and the guys smiled a lot more than they had when single.
* * *
Fletch knocked and waited. He thought he heard someone stumble and shout "Oh fuck."
Mrs Cox opened the door. She looked disheveled, wearing a gown and was rubbing her arm.
"Sorry I must look a mess. I slept in and stumbling out of bed caught my arm on the er dresser."
"Fucking dresser, at least that's what they are when suddenly they're in the wrong place."
Mrs Cox didn't reply but looked at him a little reflectively. "Er come in."
"The name's Fletch."
"Oh of course, I remember now. Call me Thelma."
"Will that be okay with Mr Cox?"
"Who knows? If you're worried call me Mrs Cox."
"Right Thelma. And don't get dressed or do your hair and put on make-up. I'm used to seeing mom like this over breakfast and you look a lot better than she does."
"What are you trying to say?" she turned and stared at him. "That I'm better looking and have a better body shape for my age than your mother?"
Fletch sighed and thought here we go again, another fucking female unable to understand simple explanations. "Er I wasn't attempting to make lucid comparisons. All I was doing was encouraging you to relax. That's all."
"I knew that Fletch. I was just checking to find if you knew that's what you were doing."
Eh? Thelma seemed to think like he did.
"Come along. Don't get weighed down analyzing shades of possible meaning in language. Come and help make coffee and toast or do you want me to cook you something?"
"I've had breakfast."
"Of course you have. But men only think of three things constantly and one of them is food."
"Yeah right, and the other two are money and sex."
"Obviously we went to the same school of life learning," she said airily. "What do you think I should wear in the garden?"
Fletch thought her biggish breasts might stay in place in a strapless bra and a pair of crotchless panties might make his day more interesting. He saw color running on to Thelma's face and thought oh cap she could read his mind. He panicked slightly.
"Go on say it."
He stuttered, "I-I had c-crazy thoughts."
She goaded, "Come on say it."
Fletch hung his head and muttered he'd thought a strapless bra and crotchless panties. God his reputation of being a loser would now lift to become 'a vile loser'.
"Rather inadequate for the garden don't you think?"
Fletch looked up to find she was smiling.
"Y-you have humor."
"Oh thank you Fletch. That's my first big compliment from a male in many a day not counting your willingness to accept me looking frumpish."
"Um but that's only early morning."
"Good man. You have standards. So the answer to my question is...?"
"A hat that will stay on when you bend over; a long-sleeved shirt, long pants and boots."
"Yes and that's what I had in mind but was worried you might find that frumpy."
After breakfast they worked away cooperatively, Fletch doing the heavier work and sawing. They chatted away and became more relaxed with each other.
"You are great with an older woman," Thelma said during the coffee break. "I guess that's due to living with your mother."
"She doesn't seem all that old to me."
"Oh good man. You are rather charming Fletch."
"Thanks. And you're not too bad yourself."
"So what do you think of me?"
"You're okay."
"Hmnmm."
They worked for another two hours and then Thelma said, "That's enough for today. How much do I owe you?"
"Nothing. You're one of mom's best friends."
Sounding displeased Thelma said they'd talk about that later. "You shower first while I start lunch. I can find a change of clothes for you."
"No I'll dress in what I'm wearing. It was more dusty that hot out here."
Fletch was disappointed she didn't joke she'd try to find a pair of crotchless panties. If she was hoping for sex there were no signs of it. Damn. He'd occasionally wondered what it would be like plowing a much older woman's garden. Thelma would be in her earlier fifties, just like his mom.
Fletch was in the shower and about to reach for his dick and jerk off thinking about Thelma when he heard her enter the bathroom and say, "Got room in there for me?"
Oh for fuck sake. "Um I'm nude."
She laughed and said dryly with the water running she hoped he wasn't dressed.
Fletch turned to face the back wall and then thought why be shy? She was being brave.
She entered.
Pink nipples were centered on apricot circles, the biggest areola he'd ever seen. The nipples were already up so she must have got them up for him.
He flashed a big smile. "Great tits."
"They're too big," she said and smiled toothily when he protested, "Oh no."
