The Blue Flowers of Trouble and Desire
by Emjay Zielony
Part Three
The following are extracts of my erotica novella "The Blue Flowers of Trouble and Desire. I've condensed them and left off a previous chapter of backstory but I welcome any feedback (good or bad) to improve my writing. I will endeavor to publish one part per week. Please enjoy.
Monday was OK, Monday was fine. I went straight into Mrs Prendergast's cottage and emptied the bathroom bin first before I did anything else. I didn't even look inside. I finished my rounds and even saw Mrs Prendergast coming down the path and was able to say hello without any sense of inner embarrassment. I went home that night and checked out some of Billy's 'shaven haven' sites on the computer. I managed to jack off but it was pretty perfunctory. I wasn't sure this was much better than what I had been doing. The girls were all well over the legal age but with completely bald tushes they looked a little too much on the prepubescent side which made me feel a little awkward. Only after the fact of course.
I strode up to number 3 the following morning full of resolve and determination. I left the bathroom till last. I whipped the sheets off her bed in one swoop and took them to the cart. I wiped and cleaned until I faced my last hurdle. I opened the bathroom door, took out the cloth liner and straight out to the cart. But I couldn't resist. I took a peek. Yes they were in there. Inviting. I quickly closed it and thrust it as far down into the cart as possible. As I made my way up the path I wondered if this was what it's like to be an alcoholic or a drug addict. Just taking it a day at a time. Fighting the urge. "Morning Emjay." Mrs Prendergast said as she passed me. It startled me a little as I was away in thought. "Oh, sorry, good morning, didn't see you there." To be honest it was starting to feel mentally draining. I was dead tired when I home and decided on an early night. I didn't jack off. But maybe I should have.
I woke up Wednesday with a raging hard on. I'd had sex laced dreams through the night but they were fuzzy and fading as I slowly came to. All I knew was that I was as horny as hell. I wrestled with my thoughts over a cup of coffee. Should I or shouldn't I. No, you can't.Yeah but you want it, the other voice says, you really want it.Back and forth, back and forth.
Then finally the other voice wins. You think, yeah fuck it, I'm going to do it. I know it's illicit. I know its taboo, but I'm going to do it. And its that moment when you give in and decide to do it that you get a rush of excitement. You let the anticipation flow through you. Your heart beats a little faster and a tingle grows between your legs. A slightly woozy feeling in your head as you let the lust pass through your thoughts. It tightens in your stomach. It feeds your loins.
I pulled on my uniform and fiddled with my name badge, pricking my finger slightly in my excitement. It was crooked. I fiddled again.The drive to Garden Village was only five minutes but seemed to take half an hour and the one set of traffic lights lingered on red. I was behind one car while absolutely no-one drove the other way through the intersection. What the fuck is it still red for!! I swung into the staff carpark, slammed the door and marched through the back entrance to the laundry. I pulled out my cart, dumped a pile of folded clean sheets on the lower rack, checked there were enough cleaners and headed down the path.
I greeted Mrs Quinn who was putting her breakfast dishes in the sink, "Morning Mrs Quinn, you got one of your gin get togethers coming up I hear?" She laughed. "Sounds like you're angling for an invite.""Oh, I wouldn't be so presumptuous" I replied in mock offence."Of course you're invited, you're always welcome with all you do for us.""You're too kind, it's my job." I replied."Tomorrow" she said " At four thirty, but don't come early, I like to have a quiet one myself before everyone turns up."That could be five or six if she got on it before lunch. She'd certainly be loud and gregarious.
I moved on next door to Mrs Rutherford's. She was in her usual pose. "What'ya watchin'?" I asked. "Greys Anatomy.""Is that still going?""Reruns" she replied without taking her eyes off the screen. "Was that the one that George Clooney got his start in?" I wondered aloud. Mrs Rutherford didn't answer. There must have been a delicate moment in the operating theatre, a life hanging in the balance that required her undivided attention. "Mmm, or was it the other one" I mumbled to myself as much as anything "What was that called?" "ER." she said with a snip that told me she she was concentrating and I was on the verge of becoming a nuisance. "Umm," I cautiously asked, "Should I run the vacuum around?" "No thank you." she said without looking up "Its fine today." I got the message and quietly slipped outside her back door.
It dawned on me that I was ahead of schedule and it would be 10 minutes or so before Mrs Prendergast would heading up for coffee. So I decided to change the routine. I knocked on Moira Jackson's door to no reply so opened and poked my head through."Mrs Jackson?"At that moment she appeared out her bedroom door in a blue dressing gown with a white towel wrapped around her head. She looked startled.
"Sorry," I said, "I'm little ahead of myself today."
"Well" she replied as she took off the towel and started to vigorously dry her hair, "You are, I've not had breakfast yet...I hope you weren't trying anything."
"Absolutely not Mrs Jackson."
As she rubbed her long dark hair she did get me thinking. With her hands busy I could make out her shape through the light gown. She had the fuller figure of a 1950s pin-up girl that had matured into something even more comfortable. It was somehow alluring. A certain sexiness in softball size breasts that floated under the fabric. An inviting handful of paunch about her tummy. I could see her buttocks were full and round and imagined them to be soft and fleshy.
She suddenly stopped her drying for a moment and eyed me with suspicion. I wondered if she had read my mind as I quickly turned my attention to her kitchen bench. She resumed her rigorous work with the towel. I wondered if she'd actually like to. I dismissed the thought as I mopped the floor. That would be way more trouble than what its worth.
No sooner had I started wiping the steam from her bathroom mirror the smash of crockery echoed out of the kitchen. What had been, only moments ago, a complete breakfast, had become a myriad of shards in a lake of milk spreading itself to three corners of the floor. "Shit fuck." she said. Mrs Jackson wasn't one to mince her words. If she thought it she pretty much said it. She turned to me. "I had some shampoo on my hands and it just slipped." I could see from the look on her face the apology was genuine but it also said there was no way in hell she was going to clean it up. Not while I was standing there. "No Problem, I'll get it." I said and started on her kitchen for a second time.I finished what I'd started in the bathroom and stepped to her bed. Damn it! I'd forgotten to put a clean set of her special cotton sheets in the cart.
"Hey Mrs Jackson" I said as I came back through the lounge, "I've just got to head back up the laundry, I forgot your linen."
"Egyptian cotton!" she hollered after me as I left, "Won't sleep in anything else."
I marched back up the fifty or so yards to the laundry, grabbed the sheets, tucked them under my arm and headed back. Turning onto the top the path I saw Mrs Prendergast was nearly all the way up.
"Good morning Emjay."
"Hello Mrs Prendergast."
Time was slipping away from me. I still had to make Mrs Jacksons bed and there wasn't the slightest chance she would let me off the vacuuming. She'd managed to finish her breakfast without any further calamity as I stepped into her bedroom, tore off her old sheets, made up the new, went back to the lounge, plugged in the vacuum cleaner and made my way round the room. She wore a smug look as she reclined in a chair and lifted her legs off a coffee table so I could scoot it underneath.
"Oh" she said, "Would you mind, while you're here, getting up into the corners to get those cobwebs." I couldn't see any cobwebs save for one tiny strand near the kitchen but I couldn't refuse. I took off the head of the cleaner and ran the pipe around the edge of the ceiling.
"There," I said when I'd finished, "Job done."
"Very good."
That was as close to a thanks I was going to get.
Between the plate calamity, the sheets and the invisible cobwebs my lust had subsided, but now as I approached number 3 it came coursing back through me like a river in flood. My balls were starting to tingle and my cock was starting to swell.
I checked the time. 9.40.
I double-checked as I opened the door "Hello? Anyone home?" No reply.
I made my way straight into the bedroom and pulled the curtains closed. The shrubbery outside made it very private but I didn't want to take any chances. I picked up the body lotion off the dresser and placed it on the bedside table. The bathroom door was open as I stepped through and lifted the lid of the bin.
There it was. Just like a flower with its little yellow stigma surrounded by white and blue petals. I stood there for a moment just admiring it. I reached in and picked it up carefully as if it was a rare piece of porcelain. The smell of perfume and pee wafted gently up my nose. I brought it still closer to my face. I looked at myself in the mirror. It sent an erotic tingle up my spine to see myself inhaling the musky sweet scent. I closed my eyes and pressed it to my nose savouring it's moist pungent succulence.
My cock grew harder and harder pushing out against my pants making them stand out like a small tent. I let my tongue wander up the stain. It was delicious. It was intoxicating.
As my eyes opened they caught a flicker of movement. A fleeting glimpse in the mirror. Adrenaline shot through me with a stab so sharp it damned near killed me!
"Is that you in there Emjay?"
It was Mrs Prendergast!
Shit, shit, shit! My heart was thumping.
"Ummm, yes it is." I shouted back trying not let my voice quaver quickly and stuffing the panties back in the bin.
