Only half an hour earlier, the sky had been bright blue, and Josh had figured he could get the lawn done in just over an hour, get paid and be on his way. But then the clouds had moved in quickly, dark ones, and then the rain came, pelting down hard. He got drenched as he moved the lawn mower into the shed, but there wasn't enough room in there for him to wait out the rain, which only seemed to be getting worse.
"Mrs. Pearce?... Hello?"
As he came down the hallway from the back terrace, Mrs. Pearce emerged from the kitchen. He got a better look at her as she stepped into a cone of light under a ceiling lamp. She wore an elegant, thin knit sweater that buttoned down the front, showing off her breasts to spectacular advantage. There was no sign of a bra, and her nipples stood at proud attention, straining against the fabric, casting shadows under the overhead light.
Her lean, graceful legs were encased in tight, white capri pants. She was barefoot, and her hair was tousled. Apparently she hadn't been expecting anyone to come into the house.
"Josh? What are you doing here?"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Pearce. The rain just started so suddenly, I had to come in for shelter. I hope you don't mind."
She examined the young, handsome man standing in her hallway. Tall, solid muscle, and right now the sudden downpour had caused his T-shirt to cling to his torso, showing off his muscles.
Look at that,
she thought
, he has an actual six-pack.
She'd been in a sensuous mood, partly fueled by booze, for most of the afternoon, and the sight of this young, solid man in her own house started to stir deliciously lusty sensations in her lower abdomen.
***
At 37, Mrs. Pearce was a well-maintained, attractive woman. Josh had thought so ever since he'd first gotten to know her about two years ago. Slightly above average height, with sensuous curves, he had often stolen glances of her body as she sunbathed while he was mowing the lawn or cutting the hedge or cleaning the pool.
He would have done the yardwork for free just for the visual pleasures it afforded him, but she actually paid quite handsomely. Her husband worked in the city and wasn't around much, which he compensated by keeping her financially satisfied. Their house was tastefully furnished and decorated, and Mrs. Pearce always looked well put-together, her make-up just so, her elegantly demure, stylish outfits always matching when he spotted her around town or at the mall.
Still, their marriage was a childless one, and she sometimes struck him as a little lonely. Sometimes he wondered if she had perhaps taken a lover or two over the years. When he had struck up a conversation with her a few times, she seemed vacuous and self-absorbed, chattering at length in a slightly high-pitched voice about anything that popped into her head. He had never felt much of a personal connection with her, maybe because of their age difference, but that didn't stop him from occasionally fantasising about ravaging that luscious body of hers.
***
"Do you want to wait it out?" she asked.
"I might have to... if that's all right with you. I don't want to be a nuisance though."
"Don't be silly, Josh. I can't send you home in this downpour!" It was true, the rain outside was just torrential. There was a flash of lightning and a few moments later the low rumble of thunder. "Your mother would never let me hear the end of it! Just make yourself comfortable. I could make you a drink in the meantime. If you'd like."
"Sure, okay."
"What can I get you?"
"Whatever you're having, Mrs. Pearce. I'm easy."
"Go in and have a seat, I'll be right there."
He watched her turn and admired that perfect ass and those lean, slender legs sensuously swaying back into the kitchen, and then he moved on the living room: a glass coffee table, a couch, two armchairs, an ottoman, a couple of side tables, a big-screen TV. On one of the side tables, he noticed a paperback with a Fabio-type cover model - a racy romance novel, borderline soft-porn. It was open and face down, as if she had just put it down while reading it. A pair of reading glasses lay next to it. He had a look at the ripped male torso on the cover.
Huh.
He plopped down on the couch, and as his hand touched the couch cushion, he realised it was slightly warmer than other parts of the couch. She must have been sitting or lying right here just a few short minutes ago. And then there's that book.
Hm. Okay, then.
In the kitchen, Adrienne poured drinks for both of them. Suddenly she realised she had left that damn book lying on the side table. He was sure to have seen it.
Well that's just dandy, Adrienne
, she thought.
How embarrassing.
About an hour earlier, she had settled in with a bit of booze and erotica, and ten minutes ago, she had gotten into the mood -
really
gotten into the mood, gently rubbing her clit through the crotch of her pants, her insides starting to stir while reading one of her favourite saucy parts of that novel. She'd been planning to take her clothes off and make herself a
lot
more comfortable as soon as Josh was done with the work outside and had left.
That's when the torrential downpour had started. Distracted, she had noticed her drink was empty, and she had gone back to the kitchen for a refill. And that's when Josh had shown up, damn him.
Bad timing... or was it?
Not that I could be mad at him,
she thought as she entered the room and looked down at his impressive physique, right there on her couch. She took a throw pillow and casually tossed it onto the book to conceal it. At the very least she could make the point that she was embarrassed, if he happened to have seen the book. Which she was sure he must have.
She placed a drink on the coffee table in front of Josh, then walked past him, not registering that she was treating him to a perfect view of her ass and legs, sensuously gliding past him. When she sat down on the couch next to him just a little too hard, almost falling the last bit, it occurred to him she might have been drinking.
She held up her drink and they casually clinked glasses. His suspicion was confirmed when he took a sip of what he had assumed was coke, but turned out to be rum and coke, with what seemed like at least as much rum as coke. He felt the warmth of the liquor spreading through his chest.
She felt a little flustered sitting here with him now. She took a swig from her glass while avoiding eye contact, inadvertently giving him an opportunity to check out her curves, her soft belly and sleek legs. On the way back up, his gaze lingered on the pleasant swell of her breasts, and when he looked up at her face, he was startled to see she was looking right at him.
Busted!
She was no stranger to being checked out by the opposite sex, and she usually bore it with a mixture of pride and quiet indignation, depending on who happened to be ogling her. In this case, perhaps as a result of having her hormone-laden, booze-fueled session interrupted, she felt oddly titillated and flustered. As a result, she did what she often did when she was nervous: she avoided eye contact and started making conversation - solo if necessary - about anything that popped into her head.
For his part, Josh really had just come in here seeking shelter from the raging storm outside, but now, as he watched her speaking in that lilting tone, apparently off in a world of her own, that distance between them, and took in that luscious body, a different plan began to form in the recesses of his reptile brain. A plan that might even be fruitful if that steamy book on the side table was any indication.
Soon enough, they had finished their drinks. Josh politely offered to make the next one, which she gladly accepted.
What a nice young man,
she thought to herself as she handed him her empty glass.
Well-built, too,
she thought as she admired his powerful thighs and calves.
In the kitchen, Josh thought of a way to move things along.
How to get a woman to take off her pants, by Josh Riley, chapter one. Watch and learn, kiddos.
When he brought the rum and cokes - in the same concentration as before, he made sure of that - out into the seating area, he pretended to trip and sent one of the rum and cokes flying into her lap, soaking her. She whooped with surprise, and he acted horrified and contrite, quite convincingly even, as he quickly got paper towels from the kitchen and then used them to dab her capri pants dry.
"These are
soaked
!"
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Pearce, I just tripped, I didn't mean to -"
"It's all right, Josh. I'll just go get changed and put these in the wash." She got up and swayed momentarily, the booze taking hold. He held her by her arms, steadying her.
"Oh, thank you, Josh," she giggled. "I'll be right back." She squeezed past him, one breast grazing his arm, and he was thrilled by the proximity of her.
"Actually... um, while you're doing that, would you mind putting my shirt in the dryer?" She turned and looked at him quizzically. He tugged on his shirt, which was plastered to his body. "It's just not very comfortable sitting here in a wet shirt, that's all." Without waiting for an answer, he peeled the shirt over his head.
It was her turn to leer as she took advantage of the time his head was covered by the T-shirt to admire his rippling muscles, the solid build of his torso, pecs and biceps.
"I'd really appreciate it," he said as he held the wet T-shirt out to her.
I'm already appreciating it,
she thought to herself as she took it from him.
