Simon rang the door bell, prompt at 2 pm, somewhere between nervous and excited and wondered quite how he had reached this point.
He had met Sally in, of all places, a crowded cafe at King's Cross when all the trains were late. She'd pulled up a stool next to him , asked if it was okay to sit and started chatting.
She was so easy to talk to, middle aged, nice looking if obviously putting on some middle age weight but stylish and comfortable and, as he couldn't help but notice, wearing stockings and suspenders peeking out under her skirt.
They'd ended up talking about relationships, she a divorcee and mother of two, now young adults doing "online IT website stuff," him married for just seven years and he admitted things weren't great as she joked about the seven year itch.
She'd said smiled said "Call me Aunty and tell me all about it," and patted his arm, eyes twinkling "especially if it's the naughty stuff!"
Somehow he'd admitted that he loved his wife but they just didn't click, he was missing something in "you know that department," and then he'd blushed and clammed up, looking around. She'd picked up on his hesitance but also somehow his obvious desire to unload a secret to a stranger all rather easily.
"Well, Simon i'm about two stops down the same line as you and I'm renting a place by the station, why don't you 'work late' and have a drink and a chat with Aunty in more pleasant surrounds."
He realised she was right about the trainline. A quick train journey later, her nattering about this and that, somehow drawing him into to silly gossiping and whispering , jokingly comparing notes on the women around him, and ending up somehow in a giggly game of 'stockings or tights' making him laugh and get all embarrassed , shushing her.
A short walk, the key turned in the lock and she was pouring a chilled glass of wine each, topping him up as he talked, sipping her own, rambling at first about his lovely but prim wife, who clammed up whenever he tried to talk to her about anything other than work or legal career, they had a 'movie night' in once a month, always a romcom or similar and then an increasingly routine, almost automatic and less than fulfilling sex.
Aunty giggled, "So Simon what do you do, look at those naughty websites I've heard about?"
Simon laughed at her provocative but friendly tease, blushing slightly and admitted, "yeah , i guess some ..." and she smiled with a friendly open face.
"Ones in particular that little miss prim would disapprove of?"
Simon blushed at the sudden increase in intensity, feeling a bit tipsy , glass repeatedly topped up as they'd chatted, "well all of them i guess its ... well porn after all mostly ..."
Aunty put her head on one side, "Mostly? Don't worry Simon tell Aunty , I promise I won't be shocked. After one husband, two children and the odd dalliance and my gossiping friends you wouldn't believe what I've found online from time to time!"
Aunty winked with that easy trusting manner, "Why some of the toys even made me feel all flustered!"
She patted him again, cuddling up, "come on dear, tell Aunty."
Simon laughed, feeling like he could talk to Aunty, "I guess I started looking at you know about the clothes as much as the girls, lingerie , but ..."
Aunty smiled pulling up her skirt just a little, making a suddenly more intimate feel to the conversation, "like mine Simon?"
Simon swallowed but smiled, "Yeah I kinda like stockings and garters."
Aunty took his hand and placed it on her thigh, "sheer ones, Simon, like these?"
Simon suddenly felt that a whole new level had been reached, touching, feeling them , stroking them.
"Yes those are lovely."
