I recently received a nice little inheritance. Not enough to retire on but certainly enough for me to put down a substantial deposit on my own home. With a good job and only borrowing a minimal amount I also received a good interest rate on the home loan.
I was able to take several days off to actually move into my new home and get it and the yards up to scratch. I actually moved in on the Saturday morning and basically had the furniture sorted out by lunch time. After that it was a case of spending the rest of the afternoon doing general cleaning.
The house that I had purchased was in a court. I chose the position because in a court there is no through road and the people in the court tend to get to know each other, being neighbours in a small area. This was highlighted Saturday when I was in the middle of my cleaning.
The doorbell rang and I answered, dusty, dirty, sweaty, cobwebs probably in my hair, and a broom in my hand. There were what looked like a horde of women on my front porch but this quickly settled down to just six. They looked at me and I could see the smirks they were trying to hide.
"Afternoon," said the woman at the front of the pack. She was about thirty and apparently the leader of the pack. The rest of them ranged in age from around eighteen up to thirty.
"We're your welcome wagon. We knew the condition that Marcia left the place in and we thought that you'd be busy for a while getting everything in order. To assist you we've all cooked you one home-made dinner. Just freeze them and have one a day and you won't have to cook for the rest of the week. We'll pick up the containers next weekend."
I politely thanked them, we made introductions all round, I politely apologised and explained I probably wouldn't remember all their names the next time I saw them and to make sure they re-introduced themselves. I accepted the meals and they pushed off.
I stuck the meals in the freezer. I had no objection to eating home cooked meals. In addition to saving me the time of cooking it let me know which women were decent cooks so I'd know the households where I should accept invitations to dinner.
The only thing that concerned me was the whispered warning that the spokeswoman had given me. Caesar was told to beware the Ides of March. I was told to beware of the Tuna Casserole. It might have helped if she'd pointed to a specific container when warning me.
That evening I grabbed one of the containers at random. There was a little tag on the lid saying it was lamb stew and giving microwave times for heating it. Very thoughtful, I considered this. I heated the stew and had a very nice dinner. If all the meals were like this I was set for the week.
Sunday I took my second meal out for my dinner. There were heating instructions but apart from that all it said was casserole. Was this the fearsome Tuna Casserole, masquerading as a normal meal? There was only one way to find out.
I heated the casserole, setting the table while it was heating. I dished it out and it smelt just fine. I sat down and I took a mouthful.
My eyes boiled and rolled around in their sockets. My tongue caught fire and I could feel my teeth dissolving. All my hair stood on end, spitting electric sparks into the air. I gasped out, trying to cool my mouth, finding that the foulness of my breath was enough to melt a hole in the table cloth.
Deciding that the casserole was a little hot I grabbed some bread and jammed it in my mouth. Bread is excellent for soaking up those hot spicy juices. I nervously swallowed the bread and my stomach gave a shriek of alarm but then calmed down.
I took a deep breath and a second bite of the casserole.
It wasn't too bad once I was prepared for it. It wouldn't be my first choice for a meal, or even in the top one hundred, but it wasn't too bad, and I didn't have to cook it for myself.
After I'd eaten and cleaned up I checked the other meals, just in case the real Tuna Casserole was still lurking therein. There was a Chicken Con Carne, a Ragout, a Chicken Casserole, and a Beef Stew. I guessed that I'd eaten the Tuna Casserole, although I didn't much remember getting the flavour of tuna.
Monday morning I was mowing the lawn when the woman from next door came wandering over. She was the youngest of my visitors, about eighteen had been my guess. She was probably the only one whose name I remembered.
"Justine, isn't it?" I asked.
She nodded and smiled.
"Yes, and you're Jack."
"Easy for you," I pointed out. "You only had to remember one name."
She giggled and started talking. She mentioned the weather, how it was nice to have someone in the place who would look after it, how she could already see an improvement, and so on, and something else, and another thing. She eventually got to the question she wanted to ask.
"Have you tried any of the meals yet?"
"Certainly," I assured her. "The lamb stew and the tuna casserole."
"Oh. Ah, what did you think of the casserole?"
"Unusual, but very tasty once I adjusted to the hot peppers," I told her. "Scoffed the lot of it."
"Oh." She looked both surprised and pleased.
"Most people say that my casseroles are little too hot," she said.
I wiggled my hand in a maybe/maybe not sign.
"I guess it all depends on who you're cooking for. I mean, a chef doesn't cook according to his own tastes but to the tastes of his customers. The best chef in the world won't make a living if he doesn't provide what the customer wants. I found it acceptable and as far as I'm concerned that's what matters."
I could see the message sinking in. She'd been cooking to her own tastes and stubbornly refusing to change. Complaints had probably just made her more stubborn, meaning any offerings she brought to a community event got left. Maybe she'd change now. Time would tell.
"Seeing you're here would you like to come and collect your container?"
She nodded and trotted happily alongside me as I went into the house. She was looking all around, noting everything I'd done, and I was quite certain that she'd be telling her friends all about it.
I'd been watching her as she trotted along and she looked young and innocent and sexy as hell. She had on tights and a loose top and as she bounced along her generous breasts were happily bouncing along with her. No way was she wearing a bra under that top.
I offered coffee once we were in the kitchen and Justine was quite happy to accept it. She sat down at the table while I prepared it. I was interested to note that when she leaned forward I had a nice view down her top that demonstrated conclusively that she didn't have a bra.
She chattered away. She was actually nineteen, having got married shortly after her eighteenth birthday. Her husband had a good job and she didn't need to work but she was restless and bored at home. I advised her to find a job anyway. She could always squirrel the money away for a rainy day and she could always quit the job if it got to be too much. I could practically see her tucking that thought away in her busy little mind.
When she'd finished her coffee and started making noises about letting me get on with my work I had one last thing to say to her.
"Before you go I should tell you that I've every intention of seducing you. The sooner the better."
She blinked and giggled. "Even though I have a husband?"
"Certainly. With a husband attached you're not going to try to make me make a commitment."
"What about the other wives in the court? Do you intend to seduce them as well?"
I made that iffy sign with my hand again.
"Depends on how I feel once get to know them a bit better."
Justine was laughing outright now.
"Want to take a guess at what a couple of the girls were debating after we dropped off the dinners?" she asked.
I gave her a quizzical look and she giggled again.
"The likelihood of them seducing you. A couple of them are going to try."
"Interesting. Ah, don't tell them how remarkably easy I'm going to be to seduce. I'm sure they'll have me wrapped around there little fingers in no time flat. Were you one of them?"
"Oh, no. I most certainly didn't tell them I was going to have a go at the art of seduction," she said with a giggle. "I thought I'd just go ahead and do it."
With that she calmly took off her top and dropped it on the table and her hush puppies were right there ready to play, and a friendlier sight I never did see.
I rose from my chair and moved around the table until I was standing in front of her.
"Purely in the spirit of helpfulness, seeing you want to practice the art of seduction but are a little inexperienced, maybe I can give you a few hints. If I was trying to seduce you I'd start by trying to get your clothes off and getting a little skin on skin contact."
"I've already got my top off," she protested.
"And a very nice top you have, too, but it doesn't count. If you're trying to seduce me then it's my clothes that have to come off. Yours are secondary."
Justine blinked and said, "Oh," in a rather thoughtful voice. She looked me up and down. The weather was warm and I'd only been wearing shorts while in the garden. She calmly reached for them and undid the tie at the waist and pulled them down. She'd barely started pulling them down when she stopped, adjusted her grip so she had hold of my jocks as well, and pulled both items right down, even sinking onto one knee to hold them still while I stepped out of them. Then she rose and sat down again.
She contemplated me again, her eyes settling on my cock, which was turgid, but not really erect. She took hold of it, gently stroking it, and it swelled to a full erection awfully fast. She laughed, both hands now holding me as she stroked me.
I let her play for a few moments and then made a casual observation.
"Of course, if it was me doing the seduction I'd probably be looking at doing a bit of oral sex to warm up."
