Weeks passed since 'the party'. Life got very busy and sex became less frequent because of it. Spring led into summer and soon it was June with the temperatures climbing upward into the 90's. With my workload increasing due to the economic downward spiral, my time at home was limited to a late dinner, a shower, sleep and coffee to go the next morning. Maria picked up an extra shift at the hospital since I was hardly home. Regardless, we made sure that Saturday night was just for us; or should I say, just for sex.
As it always is, when you plan things out ahead of time, something is bound to go wrong. Well, it did. Back to back Saturday's I was caught up fixing a huge error at work and followed it up with my health finally giving up on me due to the several months of non-stop work stress. Worse yet, it had been over a month since my wife and I had been naked together and when I finally am finished with the job, I am stuck in bed with a fever, headache, and dizzy.
Maria looked like an angel bringing me juice and water, the sunrays peeking through a crack in the curtains behind her. A bit delirious, I remember her saying something about the lawn, kids, and money. She kissed my forehead and I drifted off.
In my medicated ill-slumber, I heard the voices of Alex, Karen, Maria and several unidentifiable others. Over the next few hours I heard the sound of my lawn-mower, the garbage can lids dropped, laughter and muffled yelps of surprise. Tired, but not sleepy I decided to let a bit of sunshine into the dark room. Slowly, I opened the curtains a crack, letting my eyes adjust. The bright glare turning to colors, turning into images. Not a cloud in the sky, sun directly above.
Looking down from the upstairs window, I noticed my lawn was nicely manicured and my wife sweeping some of the leftover clippings off the cement patio and into a small pile. Just as she finished, a tall dark figure walked into the scene with my green lawn can. He wore only shorts and running shoes; torso without an ounce of fat, rippled with young muscle and dripping with sweat. My wife bent over to pick up the grass and toss the piles into the waste container. The boyish-man bent his head to admire my wife's skimpy shorts clinging to her ass. He liked what he saw and adjusted his jock as a result.
Hearing a buzz in my head, no, not in my head but rather in the front yard. I walked across the hall to the guest bedroom, peeked out the window and found yet another tall, lean, young and topless gardener edging my front patch of lawn. His light brown shaved head reflected the June California sun and sweat rolled off his back; it was then I saw the tattoo and it all made sense. Alex, our neighbor, supported his old high school basketball team's summer camp and they often came by to pay respect by running errands and such. Alex, knowing that I was sick, must have asked them to help me out. Nice. Very nice...
I retired back in my dark den of solitude, soon my world was silent and I fell back into a groggy slumber. The silence was broken by light hushed footsteps across the carpeted floor, an opening of a dresser drawer and a slow quiet closing of the bedroom door. The silence remained, but my brain began to stir. My mind re-ran the images of our volunteer gardeners and the secret admiration of one of the boys. Boys? These were men, only boys by age, 18, maybe 19 tops. I was no longer sleepy.
My thoughts were broken by the sound of laughter in the backyard. I looked out the window to see the two guys spraying off the patio and wiping down the chaise loungers. Looking at them with more alert eyes, I guess them to both be about six foot three or four, they still were shirtless and both wore long white practice shorts. As one sat down on a chaise smiling, the other soaked him, said something I could not quite hear and looked worried into the house. He jumped, but then laid back down ignoring his friend.