Pam McGregor wasn't really sick. She just needed a day off. Her office job at a local furniture store provided her with 5 sick days per year which were lost if you didn't take them. She decided that this sunny spring day was better served catching up on projects around the house.
The thirty eight year old Mother went through the obligatory coughing on the phone as she explained her planned absence. Mr. Katz knew the employees were generally lying when they used their sick days. At least Pam didn't use them all in December, right before the end of the year and during the busy Christmas rush.
Pam treated herself to a second cup of coffee after Tina was safely off to school and she poured over the ads in the newspaper. Not shopping really, just killing time. She dreaded doing the dishes and wished she had the money for one of those new electric dishwashers she'd seen. She knew she could charge it on her Sears and Roebuck Charge-A-Plate but she already owed them over a hundred dollars and wasn't comfortable running up a higher balance.
So, one by one, she washed the dishes, pots and pans. There really wasn't much with just her and Tina.
It seemed whenever she had some free time her thoughts would turn to her daughter. She couldn't help but worry. Christina had only been eight when Bob left and now, with him living in Florida, she virtually never saw him.
"Lord knows I've done the best I could." She insisted to no one in particular. But, with her little daughter now a rapidly blossoming young woman, Pam felt she had more to worry about than ever. Even a "Good Girl" like Tina was entering an unpredictable stage of her life. Pam hoped that "The Best I Could" would be good enough!
Turning to laundry, Pam loaded the washing machine with the easy stuff. Dish towels and such from downstairs before venturing up to collect the clothes from the bedrooms. As she made her way up the stairs, Pam could feel the air getting hotter! It wasn't even 11 o'clock and the thermometer was already climbing at an alarming rate. She and Bob had bought this little tract house in the winter and really weren't aware of how hot suburban Los Angeles could get.
She emptied the contents of Tina's hamper into the laundry basket and headed downstairs to continue her chores. As she was loading Tina's hamper into the washer, Pam was shocked to see the lurid pink panties Judy had given her among her things.
"She...she wore these?" She wondered to herself. Why...they were totally unacceptable for a young girl! They were unacceptable for anyone for that matter and Pam decided her daughter was going to get a stern lecture when she returned from school.
Judy, Tina's best friend next door, had presented them to little Tina for her 18th birthday, claiming she had purchased them in Jerusalem. The Frieberg's had sent their daughter to Israel to live on a Kibbutz last summer and the experience had apparently broadened the youngster.
Honestly! Pam felt like going over to the Frieberg's and giving Ellen a piece of her mind. She understood that they raised their daughter a bit differently than most would and that was their right but...
Taking a deep breath, Pam threw the skimpy underpants into the washer. She didn't approve of what Judy had done but she also needn't make a big deal out of it.
With the washing machine now humming, Pam began to think and realized that Tina insisted on laundering any new clothes before wearing them. She like the freshly washed and line dried smell they had when her Mom did them.
Of Course! Pam finally admitted to herself. She was just throwing them in the wash like any new clothes. What am I so worried about? Still...there was that gnawing question: Why was she laundering them unless she was planning to wear them?
Putting the thought out of her mind, Pam moved on to the vacuuming and dusting before heading to the living room to straighten up.
As she was unloading the washer, Pam thought she heard a light knocking on the back door. But no one would be knocking back there, especially in the middle of a weekday. The busy divorcee continued with her chores.
A few minutes later, Pam decided it was hot enough to warrant a cool glass of lemonade. She got a frozen can from the freezer and reached into the upper cabinet for the pitcher. Glancing out the window, she noticed Greg, the pool guy, was hard at work in her back yard.
"That must have been him knocking," she reasoned, "And I know why." Pam was perennially short of money and, since she was virtually never home when he came, Greg's bill always ended up in a pile of bills on her dresser. Greg seemed to be an easy going guy but she was sure he needed the money.
The pretty 38 year old brunette dumped the frozen cylinder of lemonade into the pitcher and absentmindedly watched Greg at work while she filled the pitcher from the tap.
Greg appeared to be in his early twenties and was usually dressed in cutoffs and a white tee shirt. From time to time he would go "On Safari" and miss his Wednesday pool cleaning, only to return on Saturday to catch up. He always had great tales of riding big waves at places like San Onofre, Tressles, Doheny Beach and some place called "Swami."
Pam had to admit she envied the young man for the freedom he appeared to have. Did a nice job on the pool too.
While waiting for the frozen blob of lemonade to melt, Pam retrieved the laundry from the dryer and set about folding it on the kitchen table. She looked up from time to time to watch as Greg skimmed the leaves from the surface of the pool.
And then...There "They" were. Those panties again. Now freshly washed, Pam had to admit they were actually kind of pretty...though certainly not intended to grace the body of a teenager.
"Look at the fine detail on the lace." She thought as she picked up and examined the garment. the panties sported fine lace around both legbands as well as the waist. The two delicate pink roses that adorned the front had an almost three dimensional quality to them.
Pam, an expert seamstress in her youth, couldn't help but marvel: "How did they ever do that? Just look at how fine the mesh is on the fabric! You could probably read a newspaper through them!" Still wondering what kind of material they were made of, Pam rubbed her hands over them several tiimes but was unable to identify the fabric.
Judy had gone on about how she'd bought them at an open air market near the west gate to the old city in Jerusalem from a gypsy woman. She'd implied that they were somehow "Special." Pam rejected that silly idea out of hand. "Special panties indeed!" They looked like something you had to buy from those ads in the back of "Confidential" magazine...from that outfit "Fredrick's of Hollywood." Trashy stuff only a whore would wear.
But they really were pretty. There was no label as such but Pam assumed they were about her size. Then a frightfully naughty idea came into her head. No! No! She couldn't do that. And yet, what's the harm? Oh No! That's...that's just too weird!
But then, against her second mind, Pam reached beneath her khaki skirt and began to wriggle her sensible white nylon panties down her legs until they lay in a puddle at her feet. Without hesitation, she brought the scandalous pink panties down to her feet and stepped into them.
"I can't believe I took off my panties with the pool guy right outside the window!" She thought as she pulled the panties up over her creamy white thighs until they snugly encased her loins.
"My Goodness! They certainly do feel..." Pam was unable to finish the thought. Glancing out the window to where young Greg Olson had been finishing up, she was surprised to see him casually pull his tee shirt over his head and toss it onto the deck near the diving board. He then kicked off his flip flops and proceeded to unsnap his cutoffs and pull them off as well.
Thirty eight year old Pamela McGregor hadn't seen a naked man for almost ten years, and, quite honestly, she'd never seen anything quite like the muscular Beach Boy who now was striding directly past the kitchen window en route to the shallow end of the pool. The young man's deep bronze tan ended abruptly where his cutoffs had been and his flaccid penis swayed gently from side to side as he walked.
Unable to tear her eyes away, even for a second, Pam knew she should be offended. Knew she should be indignant! Instead she found the sight before her absolutely mesmerizing! She took in the whole package from his curly blond locks to his muscular chest to the swinging sack beneath his cock. He was quickly past her vantage point and then, from the rear, his plump butt cheeks were on display.
For some reason, Pam began to imagine what those muscular rear globes would look like while he was piledriving into some Beach Bunny, his scrotum hanging down and slapping into her sensitive genitals...
"Pam stop it!" She firmly scolded herself. Yet, she just couldn't look away as he walked down the cement steps into the pool. He took no time to adjust to the still chilly water, apparently relieved to be out of the 90 degree heat.
"Can't say as I blame him." Pam said to herself. "I mean, he assumes no one is here and it's hotter than blazes..."
Greg swam to the far end of the pool with powerful strokes before dong a summersault and kicking off beneath the water. He reappeared at the shallow end and emerged from the water.
Pam thrilled to the sight of this young adonis...once again gloriously nude and on display for his unseen audience of one. He again walked, dripping wet, past Pam's vantage point. She made no pretense of trying to avoid staring at him now. This was somehow beginning to awaken feelings in the long celibate mother that she had forgotten even existed.
As Greg climbed onto the diving board and raised his arms above his head preparing to dive, Pam realized she was now wet! Almost as wet as the youthful skinny dipper just outside her window but in a much different meaning of the word!
