The morning was still as Lucy sits on her back patio. She can feel a warming energy from the sun's rays as it breaks through the trees, hitting her skin. Somewhere in the distance a Pied Butcherbird sings its beautiful song. Enjoying the moment, Lucy smiles to herself, closes her eyes and lets the sun creep across her face. With eyes shut, she takes in a number of deep breaths and listens to the melodic whistle of the birdsong.
Abruptly, Lucy's morning reverie is broken by the sound of a car making its way up her driveway. Coming out of a state of meditation, she opens her eyes, slightly annoyed that her morning reverie has been broken. She quickly begins to wonder who has arrived. She isn't expecting visitors and was hoping for a quiet morning, lounging about in her homebody, active wear. Checking her phone, she suddenly remembers that Mike, her gardener, is due that day.
Mike comes through once a fortnight in the summer and had been managing the garden on the property for years. They were beautifully kept, with a mixture of tidy lawn, tropical trees, accompanied with lush undergrowth and surrounded by natives on the outskirts of the property. It was one of the reasons that Lucy bought the property a little over a year ago. So, it made sense to keep Mike on, the property was too big to manage it alone, he really knew his stuff and was an endearing older gentleman.
Listening to the crunch of stones under boots as he approached the backyard, Lucy stands up with coffee in hand and walks over to the edge of the patio to greet him. But as she looks at the approaching figure, the face greeting her isn't Mike's. The person looking back is younger than him, a faded trucker cap obscuring his eyes from the morning sun. Though as he comes closer, she notices that he has kind, deep-set brown eyes and a five o'clock shadow -- he smiles.
"Sorry, can I help you?"
"Morning, I'm here to do the garden."
"Oh, umm ok. I was expecting Mike."
As Lucy finishes her last sentence, she vaguely recalls Mike telling her that he would be away for a few weeks and that somebody else would fill in for him.
"Actually, sorry, I just remembered Mike telling me that he was going to be on holiday. I had spoken to him about a couple of things I was hoping to have done this week..."
"All good. He has given me clear instructions for the next couple of weeks."
"Ok great, I'll leave you to it then."
He smiles again before passing by Lucy without another word and heads down the back of the property. She catches herself watching him walk away, and cannot help but notice that beneath the worn, casual tee is a body that is not unfamiliar to manual labour. His arms noticeably firm, are bronzed along with his legs, another sign of spending his time outdoors. Lucy turns to go inside and in doing so catches a woody aromatic smell lingering in the air from his cologne. Suddenly self-aware of her attire and bed hair, she rushes inside.
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'What the fuck?' Lucy thinks to herself. She is lying in bed, drowsy having just woken from a dream. Even though the morning is warm, she pulls the doona up to her chin, feeling into the comfort that its weight brings. Closing her eyes again, she tries unsuccessfully to dive back into the dream. At least to recall it and piece it back together in her lucid state. 'It was intense' she tells herself. She can feel the physical response to it. Underneath her top, Lucy's nipples are hard. Down lower a feeling of wetness. 'Damn it' she thinks to herself. The dreams details elude her, but she knows that it had something to do with the gardener from the day before.
Too aroused to simply jump out of bed and start the day, Lucy gently allows her fingers to trace her body. One hand slides up and under her top circling her breasts, the other heads in the opposite direction, finding its home between her thighs.
She hears the Pied Butcherbird start up its song in the distance.
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Arriving home from the hairdresser, Lucy pulls up in the driveway to the sound of garden equipment in her backyard. Heading inside she places the keys down on the bench and goes to her room. She stands in front of the mirror, tussling her hair a bit, throwing it over the side and back again. Happy with what the hairdresser has done, she begins to play with her blouse unconsciously, untucking it at first and then changing her mind and tucking just the one side into her denim shorts.
She then adjusts another button from the top. 'What the fuck am I doing?' she asks herself suddenly, 'it's just the bloody gardener'. Fixing the buttons back up again she can't help to take one last glance in the mirror. Staring back at her is a woman with long legs, their contour highlighted by a summers tan. Her waist and shapely ass are accentuated in the denim shorts that she is wearing. Now close to forty, she is aware that not that many people would be able to guess her age, always having made the effort to take care of herself.
Stepping out onto the back patio, Lucy sees the gardener using the whipper snipper to tend to the garden edges. His back is turned, and she can see the effect of the day's work in the sun. His khaki work shirt is wet, sticking to his body. It grabs at his torso, shaping his lats as he works the lawn over with the whipper snipper, moving left and right. He turns the machine off, removes the earmuffs and adjusts his hat. Lucy clears her throat, and he turns around.
"Hey, morning."
"More like afternoon" she replies with a smile.
"Ahh so it is" he says, ignoring his watch, instead looking up at the sun as if to confirm the time.
He pulls the whipper snipper strap, up and over his chest. It causes his shirt to lift, and she catches a glimpse of his torso. He puts it down and starts to walk over as he rolls up his shirt sleeves and dusts off his blue jeans. They are dirty with grass, faded and worn in places, but are well fitted to his body, with the cuffs tucked into his ankle high work boots. As he gets closer Lucy picks up the same woody aroma from the first meeting.
Suddenly she has a flash of memory, only it isn't a memory, it's a moment from the dream two weeks ago. It had escaped Lucy in the drowsiness of the morning and left her only with a feeling. Now she can see it as clearly as if it were happening. He, the gardener, has her in his arms. Lifted off the ground, her legs are wrapped around his waist, pressed hard against his body and his hands are holding her up, grabbing tightly to the underside of Lucy's thighs. He is inside of her.
The flashback only lasts a split second, but it is long enough for Lucy to missed what he was saying to her. "Sorry?" she replies as her cheeks and the side of her neck turn red. A sudden change in complexion that doesn't escape his eyes.
"Lemons" he says pointing to a basket on the patio table. "You tree was full of them, and they look nice and ripe."
"Oh, right, thanks" Lucy replies.
"You, OK?" he asks with a smile forming on his face. A soft, disarming smile.
"Yeah, I'm good" she responds, trying to sound nonchalant. Lucy quickly changes the topic back to the lemons so that he doesn't have a chance to follow his line of questioning and point out her blushing cheeks.
