Malcolm cursed as he stumbled across the road towards his house. He was drunk. Not enough to be completely incapacitated, but enough that he would have a sore head in the morning. He glanced at his phone. Just after midnight. Of course it was. He'd got the last train home from the city to the sleepy suburb he lived in with his wife and three young children.
He looked around the street. It was empty, the streetlights providing a dull orange glow on the cars parked nose to tail. The houses were all dark. Everyone in their beds asleep, despite it being a mid summer Friday night.
It had been a long week. The new enterprise wide IT system had launched on Monday, and as the Manager in the Procurement team he'd spent a gruelling week ironing out problems, sorting out data and appeasing internal and external customers. "Straight to the pub after work" had been the call from a colleague, and he hadn't hesitated in calling his wife to say he'd be home late.
"You can sleep in the spare room if you plan on coming home drunk," she'd snapped.
He sighed. Well, at least he could snore in peace and hopefully be left to sleep off his hangover in the morning.
He put his hand in his pocket and felt the nearly empty packet of cigarettes. It was an old habit, one that he'd kicked when his first child was born. Five years in fact. He cast his mind back to the Christmas party. It was Rachel, the graduate trainee, who had tempted him have a cigarette again. It was more the opportunity to ogle at her cleavage outside the club that had tempted him really. He'd managed to avoid starting smoking again, though it now seemed that after a few beers he couldn't help himself from buying a pack of Marlboro's and indulging in a secret habit.
He sighed again. Pauline would kill him if she found out. His wife was an ex-smoker too, and he knew she would be unbearable if she discovered he was having the odd pack here and there, even if it was more likely a financial rather than health concern.
He took the packet out of his pocket as he approached his house. He lived in a terrace, a row of 8 houses joined together, his being the one at the very end. The front door was literally on the street and he shook his head when he saw his car parked outside. He had a garage at the back of the house, and much preferred the car to be stored there overnight. He worked hard, and although his Audi was basic in specification, it was still his pride and joy. He was sure Pauline left it on the street just to annoy him.
There were still two cigarettes in the packet. He knew he should really just dump them, especially as he taken care to wash his hands and face in the train toilet and chew several sticks of mint flavoured gum to rid himself of the tell-tale smells.
He looked around the street again. It would be just his luck that someone would peek out of a window and see him. He knew the chances were slim, what with it being so late, but he concluded it would be a better bet to sneak down the lane at the back of the house, where the garage was, and where he would have total privacy.
As he approached his house, he glanced at the front door of his immediate neighbour. Chris was a good friend; they'd been neighbours for nearly ten years now and regularly had a beer or two in the local pub. He was going through a rough patch though. His wife had left him two years ago, and Malcolm had spent many hours consoling him. Things had looked brighter at Christmas when he met another woman, and Malcolm was pleased to see his friend cheering up. The relationship had moved on quickly, so much so that she'd moved in with him just a few weeks ago.
He walked on past his own house and turned right, checking the windows to make sure all the lights were out. Pauline seldom went to bed after 10PM, so he was pretty sure she'd be asleep. And his children were, thankfully, great sleepers.
He thought about Chris again, and the conversation they'd had in the pub last Saturday. He'd been looking stressed again, and had admitted he was having second thoughts about his new girlfriend moving in. Malcolm had asked why; adding that she seemed very pleasant.
"It's not her," Chris had said, rolling his eyes. "It's her fucking daughter! She's 19, with an attitude that I can barely describe. She doesn't say two words to either of us, skulks about the house with a face full of misery, stays up until god knows what time on her computer doing god knows what. Honestly, for your sake Malcolm, I hope Sylvie doesn't end up like that."
Sylvie. Malcolm's daughter, his middle child. She was 3 now. He shuddered at the prospect of her growing up. His mind wandered back to the pub they'd gone to after work. There were a lot of young people in his company. Rachel was a good example. Just 21, half his age, when she'd joined the team, causing plenty of distraction by wearing tiny skirts and low cut tops.
He walked as silently as he could along the lane behind his house. It was a clear, cloudless night so although there were no streetlights, the near full moon provided enough light for him to make his way. There were garages on both sides, and with the houses all having long thin gardens, he was confident he wouldn't be seen. It felt a little thrilling actually, sneaking behind his house for a sly cigarette.
He chuckled to himself. "Just like been 15 again," he murmured.
He stopped by his garage door and took out a cigarette, inhaling deeply and savouring the taste. He thought about Rachel again. She'd looked particularly attractive earlier, taking advantage of the Friday dress down policy by wearing skin tight jeans that accentuated her pert bum, and an even tighter fitting t-shirt that did the same for her boobs. He shifted his stance, taking another draw of his cigarette as he pictured her boobs. They were large, slightly out of place on her otherwise slender frame. He wondered what they'd be like released from the push-up bra's she always wore.
He slid his hand into his chino pocket. Bet they'd bounce up and down like crazy, he thought, suddenly picturing her naked, bent over his desk. He shook his head. Wrong, so wrong, to think of an employee like that. But as he extended his fingers in his pocket, he felt his cock hardening.
He took another drag and blew the smoke upwards. The image of a naked Rachel filled his mind again and he let his fingers massage his cock though his pocket.
Maybe he would see if Pauline would be up for a little fun, he thought. He dismissed that idea almost as quickly as it had formed. Not only would she instantly know he'd been smoking if he got that close, it was a rare occasion indeed that they had any sort of fun in that department. Or any sort of fun at all, he thought. It sometimes amazed him they'd even had 3 children.
He sighed, and took another drag. At least he'd be in the spare room. He could pleasure himself instead, thinking about Rachel, or maybe taking his laptop into bed with him and finding something on the internet to help him out. Ah the internet. He felt his cock grow fully erect as he considered some of the sites he regularly visited. He knew it was pathetic; bit dirty old man even, but in the absence of actual sex, it was the next best thing. And anyway, he wasn't even very good at real sex in truth. He'd had very few sexual partners before Pauline, and they'd been together for 15 years.
He blew out smoke, allowing himself to sigh at the same time.
"Didn't know you were a smoker."
Malcolm span round in shock, instinctively dropping his cigarette on the ground.
"Ha ha...too late. Already seen it. Fuck, don't look so guilty."
Malcolm took a deep breath as he looked at the girl standing in the entrance of the alleyway between his and Chris' garage; the access way to their back gardens.
"Christ...you gave me a fright there," he said quietly. "And...ummm...I don't usually smoke." He tried to shrug his shoulders casually, despite feeling tense. "It's just a drunk thing, if you know what I mean?"
The girl shrugged with a coolness he wished he'd been able to portray.
"What the fuck do I care? Smoke if you want." She lit her own cigarette, stretching out her neck as she blew the smoke upwards.
Malcolm felt his cheeks flush. He bent down and picked up his cigarette, brushing the filter before taking another long drag. His eyes widened as he looked at the daughter of Chris' new girlfriend. He'd seen her a couple of times before, but only ever briefly. Now she stood in front of him, 5ft8 in tight skinny jeans and just a thin dark boob tube top; her thin waist, stomach and arms bare, her long dark hair swept across her right shoulder.
"It...it's Samantha, yes?" he said, surprised at her skimpy upper clothing.
"Sammy," she replied sharply. "Only my fucking mother calls me Samantha." She took another drag and narrowed her eyes. "And Chris."
"Oh, ok," Malcolm nodded. He immediately understood his friend's complaints about the girls attitude. It wasn't just her language; she had an air of truculent teen about her that radiated the space around them.
She leant against the wall of Chris' garage and took another long drag, again blowing the smoke upwards.
"So, you drunk then?" she asked, eyes still narrowed as she looked him up and down.
"Yes, I'm afraid so," he replied, forcing a chuckle.
"What you afraid about?" she responded. "Wife gonna give you grief?"
Malcolm rolled his eyes dramatically, feeling discomfort from her tone of voice. "Well, probably. She...ummmm...doesn't really like me smoking. I gave up a few years back, so she'd kill me actually if she knew I'd given in to temptation."
Sammy rolled her eyes naturally. "You're a grown man aren't you? Smoke if you fucking wanna, I reckon."
Malcolm shook his head. "You've not met Pauline then?" he laughed.
She shrug her shoulders, not bothering to reply.
He finished his cigarette and stubbed the butt on the ground. His eyes were drawn to her again, making out her slim face, sharp, thin lips, prominent cheek bones and dark, heavily made up eyes. He tried to avoid letting his gaze linger on her tiny boob tube but failed, feeling his cheeks flush again as he noticed her nipples were visible through the material. He felt his cock twitch as he clumsily looked away.
"So...how are you...ummmm...settling in?" he asked, feeling the need to keep the conversation going.
"What? In this shithole of a place?" she huffed. She exhaled more smoke, and his eyes followed the glowing cigarette in her long thin fingers as she lowered her arm. He noticed that the top button of her jeans was undone. They were so tight they weren't in danger of falling down, that was for sure. He surmised it must be the fashionable way to wear jeans.
"It's not that bad," he chuckled. "Is it?"
She pushed herself away from the wall, taking another drag. "You're kidding right? This place is fucking dead."
Malcolm was conscious he had little, in fact no, experience of what it must be like for a teenager to live here. He didn't know anything about her, and made the assumption that being forced to move in with her mother and her new boyfriend would probably be hard, and could explain the attitude Chris had complained about and he was starting to witness.
"I guess there aren't many places to go, without going into town," he sympathised.
