Monica Grayson stood impassively at the graveside as her husband's coffin was lowered into the earth. She betrayed none of the strange mixture of emotions she felt at that moment on her exquisite features.
Her petite form was dwarfed by the men lowering the coffin, as well as by the figures of the members of the family clustered around her.
In fact underneath the mask she had worn for the last several days was both grief for Leonard, her husband, who had surcumed to a long illness, together with relief from the constant demands made on any long-term carer.
Tyrone looked on from a respectful distance. He saw a shaft of sunlight reflected off Monica's fair hair. She was the only female mourner with out a hat. She wore every woman's old standby, a simple black dress, black patent-leather high-heeled shoes and "nearly black" shiny nylon stockings.
Tyrone guessed they were stockings from previous observation of her earlier in the summer. She had worn a billowing summer skirt as she had descended the stairs to the sunken garden where Tyrone had been working. A sudden swirl of wind had billowed Monica's skirt up.
Stockings and white panties, he recalled!
She had come to him to talk about plans for the garden. He had been the Grayson's gardener for five years and still called Monica "Ma'am."
Now Tyrone wondered idly what she was wearing underneath that black dress. Probably black all through, he mused.
Leonard had married Monica on her nineteenth birthday, almost eleven years ago. He was rich and getting richer every day, making several millions a year as a commodity broker. After only three years of marriage he had started to suffer from the disease that finally killed him.
Tyrone had noticed that Leonard's brother had been a fairly frequent visitor to the house until the last two years. He sometimes stayed the night in Monica's bedroom! Tyrone reckoned any young woman in her situation was entitled to a "little something on the side."
He smiled as he looked across at Monica's brother-in-law standing alongside his new blond wife. Tyrone thought she looked just a little tarty, and she clung to her husband's arm too tightly.
Tyrone was not an ambitious man. He knew what he liked and got enough of it to satisfy his needs.
He had won an athletics scholarship to college. He developed a taste for boning blond cheerleaders, of whom there were plenty. They seemed anxious to sample some black cock before they settled down and Tyrone was only too ready to oblige.
He intended to become a professional footballer but he had taken the precaution of studying horticulture. Just as well. Within six months of the start of his professional career, he had suffered an injury to his knee that closed that avenue for him.
His horticultural degree then came in handy. He got a series of jobs with civic amenities authorities before landing the job with the Graysons.
He had stayed with them ever since.
His main concern at the moment was what would happen to him in the immediate future. He realised that the house and grounds were too big for a woman like Mrs Grayson to manage alone. Would she sell up? He had a young cousin, Leroy, working as his under-gardener and his Aunt Bertha had been the Grayson's cook since before his time. There were a couple of maids from the other side of Aunt Bertha's family too.
Tyrone's family had a lot at stake with Mrs Grayson.
The group made their way back to the house for refreshments. Bertha and the maids looked after the family guests while Tyrone and Leroy ate in the kitchen as they usually did.
Tyrone pondered the instructions he had been given only two months previously. Why had she done that when she must have known her husband couldn't last much longer?
He wondered if she had been coming on to him. She hadn't tried to keep her skirt down when the wind took hold of it. And she had lightly touched him on the arm a couple of times. Perhaps he was losing his grip. Maybe he had missed a good chance. He shook his head. It was all idle conjecture, although his shapely mistress certainly appealed to him.
He admired her flat tummy, pert but not too big tits and that ass which wobbled so deliciously as she walked away. Most of all, he loved the way her body curved in just above her hips. He had never seen a body with such beautiful curves. He had often fantasised about running his hands all over them.
"What yuh daydreamin' 'bout now, Ty?" his Auntie asked from behind.
"Oh! Nothing particular," he lied.
After the funeral there were a lot of comings and goings connected to the estate. Then, two weeks after the interment Monica came down to the sunken garden where Tyrone was working.
He was digging and wore short trousers because of the heat. It had rained a little the previous day and the ground was still damp. Also the air was humid.
She still wore a little black velvet dress, patent leather high heels and sheer black nylons.
Tyrone warned her,
"The ground is a bit soft for those heels, Ma'am."
She smiled at him and he still couldn't help speculating on whether she was wearing black all the way through.
As she stepped forward despite his warning, Tyrone held out his arm which she took and held tightly.
"Thank you, Ty," she said.
Tyrone smiled back at her. She had never called him by that familiar abbreviation of his name before. They walked arm in arm to a bench near the swimming pool and sat down.
"I wanted to tell you there will be a lot of work going on at the house over the next three months. I'm going to open a girl's boarding school. It will be for the daughters of people servicing overseas who want or need to have their offspring back here. But I have to have a great many alterations done. It won't affect you so much as the others.
I've told them they won't be needed here until the work is done but they will be welcome back at the end of it. I said I would let them have their basic pay for three months. Do you think that's fair?"
"It's more than fair, Ma'am. It's very generous. We all wondered what was going to happen. It's good to know you won't be selling up!"
"Of course I'm not selling up. Where would I go? What would I do? I'm not qualified for anything. I've only completed the first year at college before I married Leonard. I'm a bit too young for a nursing home, you know!" she laughed.
She looked so lovely smiling up at him, holding on to his arm with her well manicured hand and with her nylon clad knee touching his. Tyrone felt her vulnerability. He wanted to protect her, soothe her and console her.
He moved the arm she was holding and slipped it round her shoulders. He was delighted as she relaxed against him. He felt the warmth of her body. He heard her sigh. His other hand reached round to lift her face towards him. He bent and kissed her very lightly. She didn't withdraw. He continued the kiss, increasing the pressure. She began to respond.
As her tongue flicked across his lips, Tyrone's cock took control of his brain. He kissed Monica harder. Then he rolled onto the damp grass, pulling her on top of him. He reached down to pull up her dress. She opened her legs and he unzipped to allow his cock out. His hand was on Monica's panties now. He ripped them off, noting in passing that they were, as he had suspected, black. She was feeling his cock, positioning it so he could enter her. He thrust his hips up and felt himself sliding slowly into her tight cunt.
