Millie sat in her kitchen, a glazed look on her face as she looked out the window at the road in front of the house. She was halfway between daydreaming and zoning out; the cup of tea in her hand was cold and sagging at an angle that would have caused tea to spill out, if she hadn't already consumed over half a cup. But it had been in this position for over 15 minutes. She had sat with the tea after she got back from dropping the kids at preschool, but her mind had wandered, and instead of getting on with her chores she let her mind get away from her.
Part of that was caused by Arron walking past the window and waving. He was her neighbour, older than her, but still in good shape. He owned the big house next door, where he lived with his wife and three grown-up children; they could not be far from moving out now. Millie had always suspected he had a thing for her; he made a point of talking to her and often flirted. It was subtle, but it was flirting. If there was an opportunity to help her, he always took it, and most importantly, when she was in the garden in a swimsuit, he could always be seen in the window of his house doing something that meant he could look over at her.
For some reason this morning, on seeing him, she had fallen into her own thoughts about what he might fantasize about doing to her. This was new; she did not recall thinking about this before, and it was very odd for her to get caught up inside her own mind the way she had. But she was brought back to reality with a splash as the angle of the cup got just that little too great and tea dripped out over the table.
As she cleaned up, she pondered what had caused the lapse. Was it the January blues? It was only a week ago that Christmas decorations were up, and everybody was still in the new year buzz. Now everything was back to normal. She was on the evening shift today, off to work at 3 p.m. Her husband Ben would be picking the kids up later. She was free for almost 6 hours, and really should be getting the washing on, and catching up with the ironing, but no, she was daydreaming, and feeling a little down. Bored, even.
She finished cleaning up not only her mess, but also the kitchen generally, putting the rubbish it created in the bin, which was full and should have been emptied by Ben this morning when he filled it. She sighed, partly in frustration, pulled the bag out and after a little effort to make what was in there fit, managed to get the top tied. Millie took it to the door and out of the house to the bin at the top of the driveway. As she got there, she saw Arron walking back up the road, a bottle of milk in his hand.
"Morning," she called to him. "Chilly today."
"Hi, yes, it is. I wish I had put my bigger coat on to go to the shop." There was a moment's pause before he added, "You had an accident washing up?" as he glanced down at her belly.
Millie looked down and saw that the bottom of her t-shirt was wet. She was not sure if it was the tea or the cleaning up, but either way she was embarrassed to be out in public like that and felt herself blush. "Err, something like that," she replied. Something quite perverted and not what a polite married lady would think about flashed through her head, but the teasing element of it made her open her mouth before she had time to stop her thoughts translating into words. "Want to come help me dry it?" her voice had a devious sound to it, that surprised her.
"What?" Arron almost stammered, genuine shock in his voice, like he must have misheard.
"Sorry, having a boring morning. You want to come in for a cup of tea and a chat?" Millie said with a far more normal tone to her voice, but her thoughts were anything but normal. She was being very dirty inside her head.
"Yes, that would be nice," Arron replied with a smile, and started to follow her into her house.
Millie closed the door behind him and walked through to the kitchen, she motioned towards a seat at her kitchen table. It was something that made her smile every time she saw it. It was old, probably over 150 years old, a solid oak farmhouse kitchen table, with matching chairs. If was a heavy thing, two people could just about lift it and moving it to clean on your own was impossible. It was a beautiful and unspoiled item in a house that she felt the kids had completely taken over.
As Arron sat, she started to fill the kettle. As she plugged it in, she asked, "So, you have a good Christmas?"
"Yes, family up and all that. Made it busy, but it was nice, and we had a good time," his voice trailed off like he was going to say more, but got distracted.
Millie knew what distracted him: with her back to him she had removed the wet top and pulled a new one from the washing pile, pulling it over her head. She was sure that the thing really getting his mind going was the fact that she was not wearing a bra, which was obvious with her back to him and no top on. She was 29 and worked hard to stay fit; her breasts were not big, not small either, but pert enough so she could just about still get away without a bra.
She pulled the t-shirt down and turn back to face Arron, who looked a little shocked. She pulled her long blonde hair out of the back of the shirt where it had caught as she put it on. She ignored his shocked look and said, "Ours was much the same," pausing for him to follow her with his eyes as she walked to the cupboard and got a couple of cups out and put them on the side.
"You ever think that there must be more?" she asked, but did not wait for a reply before she went on. "You know, I am 29 and my life is work, kids, looking after the house, and a fuck once a week from Ben. I feel like I am too young and have too much I want to experience for this to be my life from now on."
She saw his eyes widen at the word "fuck" but he remained composed and as the kettle started to whistle said, "You mean like wanting to see the world?" He sucked in a breath, and continued, "I am quite a bit older than you, and I still want to see so much of what is out there."