"You should come along to one of our coffee mornings," smiled Claire Revill.
Her new neighbour, Samantha (Sam to her friends) Romano gave a small nod, "I'd love to," said the twenty-nine-year-old divorcee. In reality, she was neutral, Claire seemed nice enough, allowing a few days for Sam and her two elementary school-age children to settle into their new house, before coming over to introduce herself, but she was in her mid-forties, with her own kids now away at college; would Sam have much in common with her, never mind the other neighbours who she hadn't even yet managed to speak to (though one had waved to her as she passed by the woman as she was unpacking her car)?
"Good, we're meeting tomorrow, at ten if you're free," said Claire, still beaming broadly and welcomingly. She rested her fingers briefly on Sam's hand, a casual touch -- no more, "I always like to get to know new women, so do the others."
For a moment Sam wondered if the movement meant something. It had been a long time since she'd been in the dating game, since she was twenty in fact, even longer since she'd had been in the lesbian club, near her college. She briefly smiled at the memory, she'd not done anything then, beyond a few drunken kisses and a couple of slow dances, but sometimes it was nice if she and her friends had been celebrating or commiserating a break-up with a guy to go to a club made up solely of women and moan about guys being bastards, without worrying about one of them trying to pick up a slightly drunk college girl on a rebound. She quickly came to present as she saw Claire was looking at her, awaiting a response. The twenty-something blonde could have told the older woman she was busy (which was true, she worked from home, but she did have to read a couple of long reports over the next couple of days), equally Claire could see she was smiling and Sam didn't want the woman to think she was rude, so instead she widened her grin as if that was what she had been thinking about and replied, "Tomorrow at ten sounds great, I'll be there."
"Looking forward to it," replied Claire and removed her fingers from Sam's hand. They continued to speak for a few minutes, but Claire could equally see Sam was still busy with the move and work, and politely excused herself -- albeit with a reminder about meeting tomorrow.
It was strange, thought Sam, as she closed the door on her new neighbour, but for some reason she was looking forward to the coffee morning.
*
The next morning, she remained excited about it. Once the children were in bed, instead of her normal post-split routine of a large glass of white wine and whatever she could find on Netflix she did some work to make sure she was free tomorrow morning. In bed, she found herself thinking about meeting Claire and remembering the brief touch of the fortysomething divorcee -- rationalising that it was natural to be excited about meeting some new neighbours, after all, she was planning to stay in this house for at least until her kids had graduated and possibly longer. Still, she wasted no time returning home after dropping them off, not even bothering with her normal socialising with the other (mainly married) Moms at the gate.
Stripping off in front of the mirror she gazed at her reflection. Her nose was a little sharp, but apart from that she was doing okay; one thing about her husband fucking off with the woman down the street was that it had encouraged Sam to return to the gym and sports and she'd lost the fat she'd put on since giving birth to replace it with a lean, toned body. She lifted her tits -- a college friend had once said they were her best feature when clubbing and when she was in her early twenties her ex had agreed. Looking at them she decided they still weren't bad, soft enough to jiggle when she moved, firm enough that the sag was hardly noticeable and certainly noticeable as long as she went for a tight enough sweater and skipped on the bra.
Daringly, that was what she decided to go for, the top she was going for (a vest really) exposing more of her cleavage than she ever dared show at school pick-up and her jeans felt tight around her butt and down over her calves and thighs. Beneath them she decided to go for a thong -- goodness knows why, they weren't as comfortable as the sensible panties she discarded. She brushed her long blonde hair, deciding it looked better free and flowing than either done up or platted, before putting on her make-up, something she seldom did for casual events.
Again, she gazed in the full-length mirror, not bad, she decided, actually pretty good. She briefly struck a pose, giving her most sexy face, making her look almost wanton. Straightening up, she blushed, half wondering what she was doing and whether she should quickly change back into a looser jumper and longer skirt. No, that wouldn't impress Claire, thought Sam, blushing some more as she wondered whether she had a slight crush on the older woman -- it had only been a touch on the hand, nothing more, but it seemed to have set a chain reaction within Sam and suddenly she found herself wondering where it would lead.
Looking at the clock, it was near five past. She didn't think that Claire would mind she was a few minutes late, but equally, she wasn't going on a date where she'd expect that tardiness would be accepted as long as she dressed hot, so she quickly headed out and across the street to Claire's house.
There was only the other woman's car in the drive, from what Claire had said her husband worked long hours in the city and, her teenage daughter, who still lived at home was also working in a local Starbucks (even if she was applying for better-paid jobs now she'd finished university). Sam took a glance at her reflection in the window beside the door, wondering if perhaps she'd dressed too sexily for a coffee with some other local Moms. But it was too late, so she rang the doorbell and waited.
It was only seconds before Claire opened the door, her shoulder-length hair freshly curled and looking a lighter shade than yesterday with her blouse and skirt conservative and neatly pressed. She gave a very quick glance at Sam, so swift the younger Mom almost missed it, a smile spreading across her face as she did so. "Welcome," she leaned forward, hugging Sam and kissing her cheeks. The twenty-nine-year-old could feel the other woman's breasts briefly squishing against hers and she had to admit it wasn't a bad feeling. The hug was only momentary before Claire broke away, "Come in and meet the others," she said, gesturing for Sam to enter and shutting the door behind her.
The older woman led the younger one to the main room. There were already two women there and Claire introduced them as they stood up to greet the newcomer. "Mandy" she said of a woman of about her age but with darker hair, wearing a light purple blouse which was translucent enough you could just about see the black bra she was wearing beneath. Mandy smiled and held out her hand to briefly shake Sam's, her finger briefly tracing a light circle before she let go, leaving Sam blushing. But before she could say anything Claire was introducing the second woman, "Tiffany". Petite with her hair somewhere between strawberry blonde and red, probably nearer Sam's age and at least no more than mid-thirties, wearing a colourful one-piece dress with a zip at the front. She moved over and quickly enveloped Sam in a hug and for the second time Sam that morning Sam felt her own large breasts crushing at another woman's, smaller than Claire perhaps, but equally firm as if neither woman was a stranger to exercise.
"Come and sit between us," Mandy was back on the couch she'd been sitting on, patting a space between her and Tiffany. Luckily, she and the other women were slender, as it wasn't the biggest couch Sam had seen, but she settled herself there, feeling Tiffany's leg brush at her own as the redhead sat down.
"Tea?" Claire gestured at a teapot sitting on the table, "Coffee?"
"Tea would be good," replied Sam, though as it was still morning she'd have preferred coffee, but the others were all sipping tea, and she didn't want to create a bad impression by making Claire go to the kitchen to get another drink. She watched as Claire carefully poured the tea into a china cup, before adding milk from a small jug.
"So we were just complaining about men when you arrived," said Tiffany.
"My ex, Tiffany's soon-to-be and Claire's might-as-well-be" added Mandy smiling.
"You're preaching to the choir," smiled Sam, glad to find the topic of conversation was one she could easily fit into, "I've just finalised my divorce last week, adultery -- once he was forced to admit to as he was living with the skank, but it wasn't the first time -- he'd been cheating on me since I was pregnant."
"Men are bastards," agreed Tiffany, "I could have lived with fucking other woemn, as long as he was discrete but honest to God, he was as obvious as a flashing neon light in a desert."
"Mine wouldn't have been able to keep his cock up long enough to stick it in anyone else. If it didn't gallop and jump fences he wasn't interested and I certainly wasn't going to wear a bridle and finish first at twenty-to-one odds," grinned Mandy. "I don't know how you stick it, Claire"
"I have a selection of large dildos in my drawers, Frank never goes in there and I'm normally finished by the time he switches off his computer and comes to bed, if he comes to my bed and doesn't decide to sleep in the spare room as he needs to get up early," Claire shrugged, "Anyway, I'm not planning to leave -- I can get sexual satisfaction elsewhere..."[did she glance at Sam at this point, the younger blonde imagined she did] "but I can't get this," she gestured round the large lounge, immaculate and expensively, but tastefully, decorated.
"Dildos are life savers," replied Mandy, smiling widely.
It was probably Sam's imagination that the other woman moved her leg as she spoke so it deliberately brushed alongside the younger blonde's. Sam wondered if she should say something, she'd certainly been using her dildo a lot since her divorce, pumping it into her hole most nights and many a morning, but equally she had just met the others and it seemed to be too early for such a confession, even if Tiffany was nodding in agreement with her friends, "Guys are over-rated, what do you say Sam?"
"Mine was," Sam moved the conversation onto safer ground, "He seemed to think taking the trash out was the only chore he needed to do, even if I'd been in online meetings all day he'd expect the house to be spotless when he got home."
