Another ninety-degree day poured heat onto Portland. Inside, hot air clung to everything. Seeking cooler, finding shade in the side yard of the house. Although Emily had beaten me to the umbrella, a tempting dark shadow unlit a patch of withering grass.
===<>===
I had been living in this large rambling house in northeast Portland on Halsey for a few weeks. It was a short-term proposition. Five more weeks before the long-term renter returned from an African adventure. My life had been pretty unstable for too many years but it felt less like being homeless here. Of the five roommates, Emily was the most friendly.
Born and raised in Kentucky, she left the safety of family, moving to Portland for work.
I'm kind of old. Not dead. Just that no one really caught my interest like my last wife did, so I languished romantically. Too old for Emily but window shopping is OK. Right?
Not that I'm too sure about her sexuality. OK, I am sure. She likes girls. So do I but it's not quite the same. But window shopping...
One night, returning home late, not unusually late, Emily and another young woman were sitting at opposite ends of a small sofa. Facing each other, their feet up, knees bent on the sofa under a gray blanket laid over their legs. Imagination rife with the thought of their feet snuggled against the others pubis. Toes playing footsie. Maybe that's why they call it a love seat. Emily held the shared glass of wine with a well used bottle at rest on the coffee table.
Jumping to conclusions while I took in the scene, hoping a natural smile set before saying, "that looks cozy."
Emily replied, "It is, got cooler."
Her friend turning to say hi. A few more forgotten words before I headed upstairs.
Thoughts of feet pressing between each others legs hidden from view under the blanket bringing a smile to my face even though it was likely they were just friends. Good friends.
Waking in the early hours, I had taken a trip to the the bathroom. Passing Emily's bedroom I heard murmurs and stifled laughter coming from the other side of the door. Slowing on the return trip outside her door, the sounds died away. Thinking they must of heard the footfall pause and stopped whatever they were doing as they strained to listen too.
Thoughts of Emily and her friend making out kept me too wired for sleep. I had opened the door to my room a little to listen to the muffled conversations amplified by the night, drowsy voices becoming broken whispers for a few moments before resuming. Silences growing, generating images of two forms caressing and touching, stroking each other, movement and juices. Ears had strained for sounds as they mated, their moans and orgasms too much for me as I stroked my cock, pumping cum into my hand, trying to catch the spill as it dripped to the floor.
The next morning while eating breakfast, listening to the news, Emily had came down in a short wrap displaying long legs and a bright smile. A sing-song-happy, 'good morning' in response to mine.
A few minutes later the friend, from the previous night appeared, dressed for work, a shy smile on her lips.
Offering a 'good morning,' trying not to leer. Her response not giving much away.
The friend sat on the sofa where they had been entwined the previous night, just out of sight from the dining table. Emily walked past, I watched as she sat on the floor in front of her friend. I could overhear her part of the conversation, "I can make eggs and coffee," pulling images of morning after small talk I have shared with sleepovers. Seemed like her friend needed to leave.
===<>===
Dragging a faded beach chair to the shifting shadow patch, a few positions tried so as not to crowd the younger woman. We have not acknowledged each other. Maybe she's asleep. My mind wanders to the time I heard her lovemaking with a girlfriend. The chair creaks as I reposition a stiffening cock.
Emily lies on a beach towel in umbrella shade, wearing what looks like a bikini top and short shorts. She is tall and quite shapely. Neither pretty nor beautiful but close enough, a looker by most anyone's standards. Besides, long legs and luscious curves mute many quibbles.
The heat was taking its toll. An earlier breeze failed to deliver more than the occasional waft of warm air and that was now still. Two beers left a buzz that melted to soporific malaise, leaving just enough energy to raise an eyelid to take in the view of Emily laid long, face down. Stop it fool.
Emily has pale skin that likely burns easily. She had spent most of the time in the shade of the umbrella but the sun had changed enough that it was searing her arm. She hadn't moved for awhile. I knew because I kept checking. Not so concerned about her UV exposure as with the general exposure of her curves.
"Emily?" Louder, "Emily!" Nothing. Or, she was ignoring me. Likely the latter. No, she must have seriously dozed off, the arm will be burnt. Rousing myself to sit, pausing before standing in the heat, brushing the back of my fingers on her shoulder, "hey, Emily,' watching her start.
"Mmmm," half turning.
"Your arms getting broiled." Watching, there is a lot of watching, as she pulls the arm to her side, rolling over, sitting up.
"Oh. Thanks." Slowly running a hand over the arm, "must be the heat, I'm really out of it."
"I called out a few times before nudging you."
"You nudged me? Where?" Looking directly into my eyes, "I didn't feel anything."
"I've had a few women tell me that." Smiling, hoping I wasn't confirming any dirty old man stereotype. "Your shoulder. It was just a nudge."
"I can feel the heat in my arm, it was probably an emergency, so thank you." Standing, extending her arms, linking her fingers and stretching with a yawn. Eyes devouring, lingering, enjoying the show before averting my gaze and returning to the beach chair.
Emily walks into the house, I wonder if she feels my eyes on her, wondering if she even cares. The urge to flirt suppressed. I'm almost old enough to be her grandfather. That urge, however, is great.
===<>===
The reaction to the cold glass on my shoulder brought me out of whatever heat and alcohol induced slumber enveloped me. Focus returning to long bare legs, rumpled shorts, bare tummy, curves, all of them, finally Emily - standing over me. "I have chilled lemonade if you're interested?" I must have looked confused, senile maybe. "Sorry to wake you."
"Must have been pretty out of it myself." Recovering, hoping the spasm of the shocked awakening wasn't too off-putting. "That would be great. Thanks." Taking the offered glass, water beading, dripping, "homemade?"
"You'll be lucky."
