Marcus stood nervously in the hallway and knocked lightly on the door of Mrs. Stewart's home office. He'd moved into the empty suite at the Stewarts' house, originally designed for a live-in maid, to attend the college that was just down the road. Mrs. Stewart was a close friend, she'd called herself a "bestie," of Marcus' aunt Bess, his mother's youngest sister. At 19, and only a dozen years younger than Bess and Mrs. Stewart, Marcus always felt a little out of place as he spoke to her in her role as landlady. He'd always had a playful friendship with Bess growing up, but his relationship with Mrs. Stewart was more formal and, if he had to admit it, awkward.
For Marcus, it didn't help that Mrs. Stewart was an absolute MILF. She didn't have any children, but that's the term that came, again and again, to Marcus' mind. Every time, after he told himself he wasn't going to make her the center of his stroke sessions again, he was right there, imagining all the ways he would enjoy himself with his curvaceous landlady. And every time, he fought back the guilt it raised as he imagined her innocently laughing and smiling with Aunt Bess who had always seemed more like an older sister.
Inhaling slowly, Marcus waited for his knock to be answered. At 5-feet 6-inches in height, he knew that even with the way his body had filled out through puberty and been toned by wrestling in high school, he didn't exactly present a strong physical presence. Mrs. Stewart... Katherine... stood 5-feet 9-inches in her stockings. Her predilection for wearing heels, rarely less than three inches in height, ensured that she seemed to tower over Marcus whenever they were close to one another. With a gymnast's athleticism that she maintained in their home gym, and light brown hair usually in a loose braid or a bun, Katherine Stewart had a personal presence that could dominate any room. She knew it. She dressed for it. And she had a gentle yet controlling manner that ensured people did things her way because they wanted to.
It was a full five minutes before Marcus timidly accepted that his knock hadn't been heard. He figured Mrs. Stewart might have been using her headphones, or the knock just wasn't hard enough. He raised his hand to try again, harder this time.
As Marcus' hand started it movement towards the wood panel of the door, he barely registered that the door opened wide. Mrs. Stewart stepped forward just in time to feel the impact of Marcus' knuckles against her left breast.
Realizing the immensity of his error, Marcus gasped. Eyes and mouth wide, he half-jumped, half-stepped, backward until he was against the other side of the hallway.
"Oh, my, God!" gasped Marcus, "I am so, so, sorry, Mrs. Stewart."
Mrs. Stewart stood in the open doorway holding a coffee cup in one hand. She wore a white blouse and a knee-length grey wool skirt with a stiff leather bustier covering her bloused torso from her waist upward to cover her firm breasts with full cups of shiny black leather. On her legs, she wore grey patterned thigh-high stockings and shiny black pumps with 4-inch heels. While others on her Zoom meeting calls might be content with head and shoulders in camera view, Katherine enjoyed positioning the camera so that it showed her as she moved around the room. She knew that taking that liberty also gave her a sense that the others were in her space for meetings. Katherine wasn't in the habit of giving anyone an advantage if she could avoid it. In the male-dominated world of insurance adjustment, she'd learned early that control of any situation was an advantage.
"Good morning Marcus," Katherine said, "I only have five minutes and I need to refresh my coffee. If you need to speak to me, do so as we walk."
With that, Katherine strode past Marcus and headed into the main area of the house toward the kitchen. Marcus faltered, then tried to keep pace with her. As he moved, he felt the pounding of his heart as the hot flush of embarrassment reddened his face and overwhelmed him with the sense of having just "knocked" on Mrs. Stewart's breast.
Marcus bit his lips to suppress the tiny moan as he replayed, over and over, the touch of his knuckles against the leather surface of Mrs. Stewart's bustier. In his mind, he saw all the ways he'd ever imagined touching those luscious rounded breasts. He'd tormented himself with trying to decide if they were natural or enhanced, but could never be certain.
Katherine would be delighted that Marcus couldn't tell. She was proud of her breasts. They were a firm rounded C-cup that she'd had promoted to a D-cup before her wedding, a decision she'd never regretted. Everything else, she was equally proud to say, was completely natural and toned and treated with careful attention to diet and exercise.
Watching as Mrs. Stewart turned the corner into the kitchen, Marcus was focused on the way her waist was cinched by the bustier and the flare of her hips. With each step her bottom moved, enticed, and teased. He knew he was supposed to be talking as they went but the mesmerizing flow of Mrs. Stewart's form prevented rational thought in his teenage brain, at least until he reached the kitchen to find her waiting for him.
The kitchen seemed almost as big as the bungalow where Marcus and his mother had lived after his father's death. From the large preparation and cooking island and then the dividing high counter, the view from the kitchen opened onto a huge living room space that could comfortably seat a dozen in the custom sofas and easily another dozen standing or in ad hoc seating arrangements without crowding the space. A dining table at the end of the kitchen could seat six, and larger dinner parties of up to a dozen when the table was extended.
Opposite the kitchen across the spacious living room were the polished hardwood double doors that led to the Stewarts' master suite. Marcus had never been invited in there, but Aunt Beth had described a huge king-sized bed, double walk-in closets, and his and hers bathrooms. Beside the hallway that went past Mrs. Stewart's office, and led to Marcus' small suite and the garage, was an open stairwell to the second floor. Marcus knew that there were three large guest suites upstairs, each with an en suite bath, walk-in closets, and more. The spacious house was the result of Mrs. Stewart's family wealth and the combined pay of two well-placed executives in their respective fields. Just to be on the periphery of their lifestyle was imposing for Marcus, and he was very aware of the benefits that could come with being associated with the Stewarts, a relationship he wanted to maintain at any cost.
"Talk, now," Mrs. Stewart said bluntly as she stirred a touch of cream into her coffee, "you've already lost a minute, probably while staring at my ass."
"Uh...," Marcus stammered, "I got fired today, from my job, and may not be able to pay rent if I don't find another job soon."
"How long will your savings last?" Mrs. Stewart inquired bluntly.
"Two months, I think."
"Okay, then it's not a dire emergency. We will discuss this further at the end of the day. Try not to punch me in the tit next time you want to talk to me."
"Oh, Mrs. Stewart," Marcus sputtered, completely off guard, "I am so, so, sorry about that. I didn't mean..."
Marcus cut off trying to speak as Katherine's hand raised to signal "stop."
"Your schooling is important and I promised your aunt I would help. I know your scholarships cover the tuition and books, and that you need to cover rent and living costs. You won't find a better deal than living in our maid's suite. We will discuss options later. Now, I must get back to work."
Before Marcus could say anything, Mrs. Stewart turned and headed out of the kitchen with the same determination she had come down the hall. She had one more thing to say to Marcus before the disappeared into her room.
"Don't you have a class soon, Physics 103, isn't it?"
Marcus blinked as his brain absorbed everything Mrs. Stewart had said. He was jolted into realizing that his time to get to class was becoming critically short, and he put himself on that objective. He took one look around before heading to his room to grab his books, shoes, and jacket.
Marcus was out of breath by the time he'd jogged the half-mile to campus and reached a seat in the auditorium for his physics lecture. Distracted by his interaction with Katherine, he barely heard a word that came out of the professor's mouth. After that class he had an hour-long break, during which he made himself read over the section of the physics text that he supposedly just learned about. By the time he arrived in the class for his English literature elective, Origins of Science Fiction, he was more focused and had a functional brain once again.
Katherine finished her last meeting for the day and, as Marcus was being introduced to the literary elements of Jules Verne, she opened a fresh document on her computer screen. She smiled as she mentally reviewed Marcus' earlier actions. She already knew about him being laid off since it was with a company she regularly sent contracts to. It was also not an unexpected event. Katherine had also sent a quick email to Aunt Bess, to assure her and her sister that she would look after Marcus. By the time Marcus returned, Katherine was ready.
