Linda Bauer took one last look around to make sure there was nothing left to do. Confident the place was ready, she collapsed on the secondhand sofa with a sigh.
It was a lot of work transforming Art's basement den into a cozy little Mother-in-Law apartment. She knew it was hard for her husband to give up his little oasis, but they needed the money. The opening of the new retail superstore just outside town was cutting into business at Art's appliance store and with Art Jr. in college, something had to be done to make ends meet.
After selling the pool table last month, the place was pretty bare anyway; converting it into a rental was just the next sensible step. It already had a full bathroom, a small kitchenette, and a separate side-entrance, so there really wasn't much to do. They already had a garage full of old furniture and Art picked up a cheap but decent second-hand bed at a yard sale..
As Linda surveyed the main room, she caught sight of the clock above the sink.
"Seven o'clock already," she gasped. She dashed through the door and upstairs to find Art. He was where he usually was on Saturday evenings, sitting in front of the TV with a can of beer in his hand.
"Art honey, Derek will be here any minute. Would you mind turning off the TV?"
Art grunted and snapped off the television.
"Alright,: he grumbled. "But if this little snot so much as tries to haggle over the rent, he can take his ass somewhere else."
"Please Art – he's no little snot, he's Eileen and Marty Cullen's boy and you've known him since the day he was born."
Linda understood he was worried about his business, but she hoped he wouldn't give the boy a hard time. He was the only son of her best friend Eileen and it was a stroke of luck that he just happened to be looking for a place to live. He was taking a year off from college to earn a little tuition money by working a construction job in town.
Linda heard the sound of a car out front and peeked out the curtains just in time to see Derek climb out of an old yellow VW bug. At first she wasn't sure if it was him. She hadn't seen him in over a year and remembered him as a skinny kid with a buzz cut. However, the person walking up the front steps, was a tall, strapping young man with a longish mane of wild dark hair.
Linda greeted him at the door with a hug and a peck on the cheek.
"My word Derek, you're all grown up! That year of college has certainly changed you!"
"I think the three weeks I've been hanging drywall has changed me even more," he smiled and patted his flat stomach.
"So, I guess you probably want to see the place," Art yelled from the kitchen.
After a nod and a quick handshake from Art, the three of them made their way to the basement. At the apartment door an anxious Linda momentarily fumbled with the key before getting it open.
"Here it is," she gushed.
Derek surveyed the room while Art sulked impatiently in the doorway.
"Wow, this place is great! How much were you thinking of charging?"
"Five-hundred a month," Art barked.
Linda shot him an icy glare. Since Derek was practically family, they agreed they were going to charge him $375. She figured Art - still bitter about having to give up his beloved den - was trying to sabotage things.
"It's a deal," Derek replied. "I'll pay the first two months in advance.
Art seemed more surprised than anyone as Derek opened his wallet and peeled off ten crisp one-hundred dollar bills.
After giving him the keys, Art filled him in on the house rules.
"No overnight guests, no parties, no smoking, no loud music."
Derek agreed and left with the promise that he would move in the following day.
Satisfied that they had found someone they could trust, Art went back to his TV, and Linda rewarded herself with a nice warm soak in the tub.
Linda found baths arousing and hatched a plan to loosen her grumpy husband up a little. Their sex life had never been sizzling, and since Art's business had been suffering it had been non-existent. It must have been at least three months since they'd made love. However, Linda was confident she could stir something in him tonight.
Maybe that thousand bucks burning a hole in his wallet will improve his mood,
she mused as she stepped out of the tub.
As she toweled herself off in front of the full-length mirror, she dropped the towel and took a critical look at herself.
Not too bad for an old gal
, she mused.
Time and gravity had been kind to Linda's body. Granted she wasn't as lean and nubile as her days as Captain of the Pikeville High Cheerleading Squad, but she thought she had held up better than most women her age. Her breasts were still firm and perky and the few extra pounds she carried on her butt and hips gave her a nice hourglass figure
.
Besides, men liked a nice round behind on a woman
, or so she'd heard.
Only the subtle laugh lines around her eyes and mouth betrayed her age. Although, she had recently had her light brown hair lightened and stylishly cut, she still looked like the small-town wife and mother that she was.
Linda retrieved the towel from the floor, wrapped herself up in it and made her way down the hall to the bedroom. Eagerly, she opened the top drawer of her vanity and pulled out her new acquisition – a lacy, red camisole she purchased from the
Victoria's Secret
catalogue which her hairdresser Marge had lent her. She ordered it on a whim months ago and was waiting for the right opportunity to wear it. Her instincts told her that tonight was the night.
As she slipped it on, Linda thanked God for mail order; she would never have the nerve to walk into a shop and purchase something so daring. Clearly this was a garment made for illicit purposes.
Why else would it have snaps on the crotch?
Once she had it on, Linda shivered with anticipation.
"A little bit of
war paint
and I'll be
irresistible
," she said aloud to her reflection.
She took a seat at her vanity and carefully applied her makeup: glossy red lipstick, eyeliner, and just a touch of rouge on her cheeks. As she the final touches, the bedroom door opened.
"What's goin' on," Art asked.
Linda knew from the bleary look in his eyes that he was drunk. He had no doubt been dipping into the liquor cabinet.
"Art honey," Linda whispered, rose from the chair and slowly walked toward her husband.
"I thought we could make love tonight."
He chuckled and crudely swatted her butt. Linda hoped he would be a bit more tender but was encouraged that he was receptive.
"Damn – you're all tarted up like one o' them slutty high school kids I see at the mall," he growled, and angrily smeared her lipstick with the palm of his hand.
"Please Art," she pleaded. "Don't be crude! I-I want this to be special."
"What the hell are you wearin'" he snorted while stepping back to take a better look.
The way he eyed her made Linda feel dirty, and she instantly regretted the ill-thought attempt at seduction.
What was I thinking,
she wondered as she watched her husband sneer at her attire- beads of sweat dripping down his balding head, his beer gut shaking under his t-shirt.
