For a time I used to live in lodgings and my landlord was a complete arsehole; but my landlady was just dandy. Pete and Rose they were called. Pete wasn't a bad sort when he was sober, but that was not very often. Even when he was drunk; which was pretty much every night, he was not too bad, as long as you don't mind dragging an overweight fifty year old upstairs to bed, because he couldn't walk. Couldn't walk, couldn't talk; couldn't do much of anything, except sleep.
Rose was lovely. She was 47, attractive, well preserved, always nicely dressed; her style was sort of classic, with a slightly sexy twist, and she had the softest, most winning eyes. She deserved a lot better than what Pete had let himself become. They were typical of so many couples as they come to middle age. Rose had kept her end up well and taken care of herself, while Pete had just stopped caring and dressed like a scarecrow and allowed himself to degenerate into an excuse for a human being. That's why I say he was a complete arsehole. How could a man married to a lovely woman like Rose neglect her so? The man was a fool; but what do I care about that? I was the one who profited by it. It was no wonder that she made a play for me soon after I had moved in.
Rose was friendly right from the moment I moved in; Pete was not unfriendly; just uninterested. He would grunt and I took that to mean 'good morning' or 'how are you', but that was as far as the conversation went. Rose was friendly, but a little formal when Pete was there. I don't know why she took such care, because as far as I could see, his awareness of what was going on the world didn't stretch beyond what's on the telly and how many cans of beer had he got and were there enough of them in the fridge cooling?
The room I rented from them was next to their bedroom. I found it difficult to get to sleep the first week strange bed, unfamiliar surroundings. I never heard any noise coming from their room during those nights.
I wondered what it was about middle age, one of those nights when I lay in my new bed not hearing any noises coming from their room next door. Women blossom and men go to seed and develop hobbies that involve strange items of equipment, long hours spent in damp garden sheds and seeing as little of their wives as they can manage. Meanwhile their wives go on caring and wearing nice clothes and maybe they develop hobbies and interests too, to fill up the lonely, empty hours. So I concluded that the hobbies of middle aged men were a substitute for the sex they were no longer much interested in, while the hobbies of middle aged women were a kind of sublimation of their feelings of frustration for the sex they craved, but didn't get; at least from their husbands. And as I thought about it more, I thought of some of the hobbies and handicrafts that women of a certain age took up, such as knitting and embroidery and how they all involve putting long, thin, sharp implements into little holes.
It was not long before this train of thought arrived at thoughts of Rose. The more I got to know her, the more desirable she became. Once Pete had gone out to work, she sprang into life. She was warm and friendly and chatty and flirtatious in the discreet and low key way that is intended to gain a response that will confirm to her that she still registers as desirable, but not so strong that it invites an actual pass. Then after I had been with them for about a week, and Pete had gone off somewhere; the pub probably, and I was sitting in the living room reading a book, she disappeared upstairs for about fifteen minutes. It seemed a little odd, for even after such a short time there, we had established a little routine. Pete would go out and Rose would sit and chat with me.
She came back after the fifteen minutes or so, and she had changed her clothes and put on make up. There was something a bit different about her. Her outfit was less classic and more sexy than usual, and the make up of brighter colours. She looked gorgeous and I don't think I did much of a job of hiding the pulse of desire that shot through me when she walked into the living room.
'Are you going out?' I asked her; 'you look like you are dressed to go somewhere nice.'
'I hope I am,' she said.
We started to chat and our conversation flowed easily and she asked me if I had a girlfriend. I told her that I hadn't.
'So you are all alone, then?' she said.
'Well, not really; I mean, I have plenty of friends at college and I chat with you and I like that.'
'You do!' she said, as though there might have been some doubt about the matter.
'Of course,' I said, 'you have been so friendly and made me feel so welcome and so comfortable here.'
'Good,' she said, 'I'm glad.'
Then she asked me about college and friends and going out and socializing. She said I didn't seem to go out much.
'I do usually,' I said, 'but I'm a bit busy now with exams coming up and anyway, I have been enjoying getting to know you, so there was no need to go out.'
'Really?' she said.
'Yes.'
'I don't go out much.'
'I'd kind of guessed that,' I said.
'I don't get the chance much.'
I didn't want to ask her why, because I already knew the answer and I didn't want the conversation to turn to Pete, and her woes with him. That was not going to be much of an aphrodisiac.
I had realised what she was up to and that the somewhere nice she was hoping to go to was not somewhere outside. I was one hundred per cent up for it, and everything I had said so far was intended to show her that. She was still tentative though, and I had to be sure that she was really up for it too; and not just still flirting with the possibility. If I misjudged things and moved on her and she didn't really want it, everything would be spoiled and I would probably have to move out.
'When you go out somewhere nice looking like that, Rose, you will turn a few heads,' I told her and made sure I made strong eye contact as I said it.
She blushed a little, but she was very pleased with the compliment. I had shown my hand. I had told her, even if indirectly, that she was attractive. To make sure there could be no ambiguity, I added
'You are a very attractive woman Rose.'
'Thank you, kind sir!' she said, recovering the flirty Rose I had grown to want.
But I was not going to give it to her on a plate. She had opened the game with her sexy outfit and her grand living room entrance. I had let her know that I liked her. Now she had to make her next move. The tension between us was rising tangibly and that was a great part of the pleasure, and I wanted to keep that going a little longer yet.
'Why don't you come and sit over here on the sofa?' she said nervously. 'That old armchair of Pete's is so uncomfortable, I never sit in it.
I made eye contact again and said 'ok', and I stood up and went over to the sofa and sat down next to her. She had made her move and committed herself. I had to respond quickly, otherwise we would sit there next to each other in awkwardness and embarrassment, until the moment had died and one of us; no doubt her, would get up and mumble something about tea. So I turned to her and said
'I want you, Rose;' and as soon as the words were out, my lips were on hers and we were kissing each other hungrily. In another minute we were both naked and without even being conscious of undressing ourselves and each other. I remember that she was wearing very alluring underwear; low cut bra, skimpy panties and stockings and suspenders. There were pale green.
Afterwards we chatted comfortably and amongst other things, she told me that she had never cheated on Pete before, but that she had often wanted to.
'Yes, I wanted to,' she said, 'I wanted to do many, many things, but I was loyal and maybe I'm too conservative for my own good, or maybe it was just lack of opportunity...' she trailed off.
I did not say anything. I did not want to insult him; well, no more than I already had by fucking his wife. But then, he didn't seem to want it.
The awful daring of that moment's surrender became decisive for Rose. After that afternoon she was another woman altogether, a quite different version of herself; a new Rose. She was more confident and earthier, and of course after that first time, we were having each other every time Pete went out; and it was not long before we were doing it when he was in the house too. Rose just got wilder and wilder, and I was eager to follow wherever she went. It was always somewhere nice, very nice.
That first time we were both quite nervous at the beginning, but then when I was inside her we found each other's rhythm and our lovemaking was delicious.
Afterwards, she told me that I was the only other man besides Pete that she had sex with, and she was only my third. We lay naked together there for an hour or so, until she looked at her watch and said that Pete would be home soon, so we had better get dressed.
We got into a routine. Pete went to work or the pub and we had sex together. It got better every time, and we got more and more adventurous. We were both quite inexperienced, but together we discovered the pleasures of sex, and tried more and more positions and places to do it in, and practiced oral sex on each other. To me, it was a schoolboy's dream come true; to discover the world of erotic pleasures with a lovely mature woman; for her a whole new lease of sexual life afters years of Pete's neglect.
One evening, after we had been going for about a month, she shocked me. She has been getting more and brazen with every session, and she was dressing more sexily and acting more sexily, and although she was not doing that when Pete was around, she was just different, and anyone but him would surely have noticed. She shone with a new confidence and there was a glint in her eye. And I was the same.
That evening I was up in my room studying and at about ten I went downstairs to get myself a drink. I looked into to the living room to say goodnight to her and she was sitting on the sofa looking very fed up, and Pete was out cold in the chair. Normally she just left him there when she went to bed. That evening, though, she said
'Can you help me to get him up to bed? I want him out of the way.'
Taken aback and not really getting what she meant, I said 'what?'
'I want to do it; you know...sex!' She mouthed that last word silently. 'I feel so horny this evening.'
It must have been because we had not done it that afternoon. Pete had said he was ill and he had stayed home from work that day. I didn't fancy carrying that fat drunk git up the stairs, but for the prize it would be worth it. I could barely keep my hands off Rose by then, and any opportunity to have her I was not going to turn down. It was a struggle, but between us we managed it.
As soon as we were back downstairs in the living room, we were on each other like a couple of wild cats. It was only afterwards that I got worried about him waking up.
'That was a bit risky!' I said to her.
'I know,' she giggled, 'but it made it more exciting!'
'Yes,' I replied, 'but, well, what we're doing is not good, in a way.'
She looked angry for a moment. 'I don't care!' she said, 'I've put up with his drinking for five years now. He was great 'til then; and a really good father. But look, he has problem. I know he has problems, he's ill; I know, but I'm not an old woman yet, and I deserve to have a bit of fun. We're not going to stop.'
'I know, but I feel better when he's not here.'
'He never wakes up. I know it. He!ll never catch us. And it excited me more; you fucking me with him in the house, upstairs.
