What a week, and a week after that, and another, and so forth, I had that summer!
I was home from college, had lined up a summer internship with one of my dad's friends' companies, and had a week between school and starting that, so was enjoying the post-exam week opportunity to just veg around the house, planning on taking advantage of the folks' lodging hospitality for the summer. I'd done ok in school, and we were all getting along fine, with me expecting my next two months of life to be good, if unexciting; and if that hadn't been about to change I wouldn't be writing this now.
It started, I guess, at dinner at home. The folks had invited the next door neighbors over, Ted and Sheila Blair, and the five of us were doing casual friendly, with me playing the dutiful son being extra polite to the "adults," although I was 20 then myself. Naturally, the "adults" were eating it up, but I'm good at that - no Eddie Haskell, but I know where my bread's buttered and all that.
Mom cooked up a pot roast, one of my favorites, and we were all sitting around. Mr. Blair and my dad play golf together sometimes, although my dad doesn't take it nearly as seriously as Mr. Blair - and of course isn't as good as a result. My mom and Mrs. Blair aren't really close, but they're friends and good neighbors, each with her own life, I suppose.
While I was chowing down on the roast, the Blairs were droning on about the troubles they'd had in recently remodeling their master bath after the Japanese style Mr. Blair had admired on a trip to Asia. Apparently it was a mess for weeks, but they liked the results. My folks were talking up their vacation plans. They were leaving the next day - before dawn, as was my dad's preference for long road trips - for a couple of weeks, driving to visit with my mom's sister near Boston, a day's drive away. They were going to tour around New England, enjoy the warm weather they hoped they'd have, and enjoy seafood and whatever else New England has to offer.
Somewhere in the conversation, Mr. Blair mentioned that he was off the next morning as well, to drive to a business meeting that would take most of the week. I remember Mrs. Blair not being thrilled with that. You can imagine how scintillating all that was to me. I did manage to stay awake, but that was about all.
"Ted, you and Dave - you're always on the road - I thought that you said this last promotion would be keeping you closer to home than before," Mrs Blair complained.
"You're right, Sheila, I did say that, and I still think it's true - but we've got to bring this contract in, and it will take a couple of days to grind out the details. It's going to be rare, but I will have to do this kind of stuff from time to time."
My mom chimed in, I think trying to head off an argument, "Sheila, if there's anything you need while Ted's gone, just call - Will will be glad to help out, right, Will?" She turned to me, and I nodded, half zoned out by the boring adult stuff, half still paying attention.
I quickly tuned in from afar, hearing my name, and mentally backtracked to realize what had been said. I had no idea who Dave was, but it didn't matter. "Oh, yeah, sure. I don't start work for another week, so whatever, just let me know." And, with that, I went back to my dinner.
After dinner, we finished off the second bottle of wine we'd opened - my folks had let me drink, responsibly of course, at home since I'd turned 18, so it was no big deal. We sat around, I did the dutiful fill in the neighbors on how school was going and all. Mom was cleaning the table off, having declined Mrs. Blair's offer of assistance, and my dad had gotten up, probably to go to the head or something, leaving just us three.
"And how's the lacrosse team going to be next year, Will?" Mr. Blair asked. He knew that I was on a team scholarship, and was being blandly inquisitive.
"We barely missed winning the conference this year, and are only losing 3 seniors, so I think we'll be strong," I answered, buttering another roll, even though Mom had already taken my plate.
"Why did you pick lacrosse?" Mrs. Blair asked. I hadn't even registered much of her presence until then, I think, and turned to answer. She'd been next to me all evening, but the conversation hadn't really been between us before that, and so when I turned then, I saw that her blouse was open enough to show a lacy bra edge and a very nice breast pushing up and forward as if wanting not to be contained. Nothing overt, more like I was taking advantage of a wardrobe malfunction she no doubt didn't realize was presenting.
I probably stammered a bit, my focus taken away from answering her, but I wasn't going to pass up the sight, and said, "Uh, back in high school, I played soccer, and then when I got to college they had the lacrosse team and not many guys had ever played it either, so the chances were good to make the team. I found out I like it more than soccer, because it involves the upper body more - time in the weight room, slinging around the sticks and all. And I guess I did ok, because I got the partial scholarship for sophomore year, and then a full one last year, so it's been good. Plus, I like winning!"
That got a chuckle from both men, and I saw Mrs. Blair sort of staring at me. She said, "Yes, I can see where that would be a good sport for a young healthy man - lots of stamina and strength required. I'll bet the college girls think so, too! Is that part of winning as well?" She was teasing, I realized.
Mr. Blair chimed in, "Yeah, I'll bet you have to beat them off with that, what do you call it, a bat?"
"I think that's in cricket - in lacrosse it's just a stick," I answered him, seeing him over his wife's shoulder, not turning away from Mrs. Blair. She had turned more toward me and was still staring, and that increased the view for me. I was still enjoying the cleavage on display, and quickly looked back down, now seeing her two breasts pushed together a bit.
Then came the big surprise - I felt her knee press lightly against mine. I didn't know whether she even knew it, but I sure did. I gave it about a heartbeat to decide whether to jerk away from the contact, or whether to brazen it out. I took the brazen route, and smiled a bit at her. She didn't back away, but smiled back, just as my mom reappeared with dessert plates, and my dad reappeared and sat back down, and the whole spell broke. Mrs. Blair shifted back to face the table, depriving me of that nice view, but leaving me to wonder what the hell had just happened.
The rest of the dinner was uneventful, except that as we moved into the living room a bit later, I got to check out Mrs. Blair more closely. I'd never paid much attention, but she was clearly a damn fine looking woman - not skinny, but a good bit slimmer than my mom, who's not fat herself. She was wearing a flowing kind of skirt that made it hard to tell just how big her ass was, but it wasn't too big, that was for sure, and yet it had a nice rhythm to it as she walked away from me. Those breasts I calculated somewhere between a B and a C - it's so hard to tell these days, with all that bra engineering that goes on. The bra was peach colored, though, I saw enough to know that - and the lace - that was saying she wasn't just doing the utilitarian thing with her clothes, or that's what I figured. She had brown hair, cut sort of but not too short, and carried herself with a posture that said she was in charge but not a bitch about it - or so was my figuring again.
The night went on, and when the neighbors got ready to leave, Mr. Blair shook my hand and said he knew how proud my dad was of me, and that he'd look forward to coming over and seeing a lacrosse game sometime in the next season. Mrs. Blair had faux-kissed my folks with quick hugs, and so I wasn't surprised when she moved toward me. I took advantage of the moment to give her a hug, and she real-kissed me on the cheek, while pressing her breasts more into me than the occasion called for - again, so I was figuring.
Maybe I was fantasizing, all of it brought on by that peach bra and the cleavage and the knee, but I was sure enjoying it, and wished I had an erection to press back into her at the time. But it was just starting to develop as the hug broke, and I thought I was probably glad I didn't have one anyway, in case I was imagining the whole thing.
Anyway, they left, the folks turned in early, after I offered to see them off and they said no, that I deserved my sleep. I stayed up and watched some black-and-white detective film noir thing on cable, my folks having turned in right after the Blairs left.
