My wife was not due until Monday. Though she's regularly sent on a business trip, I can't get used to the arrangement because being alone on a Saturday is still the thing I dread most. What is there to do but clean the house and arrange the living room. For a consolation, I had made plans for the afternoon anyway. It's good to meet my drinking buddies once in a long while.
I took a bath after lunch and was dressing up when someone knocked. My disgust was wiped off when I saw our neighbor's face in the gaping door. Since I am known as the know-it-all guy in the neighborhood, she wanted to consult me regarding investments. Her husband is working in a foreign country for quite a time and they had been duped twice of their savings.
I asked her to come in. She was wearing decent shorts but her blouse has that revealing cleavage. Having teenaged kids doesn't show in her figure and in her face as well. She's a flirt with her smile especially so when she remarked that she liked the perfume I was wearing.
After offering the settee, we went down to business. Interest in the bank is meager but safe while other investments promise a rosy income though they are risky. I explained the mechanics of long-term investments in treasury bonds and she agreed that it is a good option. I was trying to lengthen the conversation and it seemed that she was supporting my idea. She asked the whereabouts of my wife and where I was going.
The conversation went the way of our lives, particularly the loneliness of staying alone in the house. Once in a while she stooped to fix the broken lace on her slippers, giving me an ample view of what's inside her loose blouse. I knew she was soliciting an advance from me when she asked, "Suppose you don't go and we just play scrabble, the two of us. Do you think you can beat me in 10 games?"
I couldn't answer because I was already developing a mild hard on. Just then someone appeared on the door. The smiling face of my mother-in-law irritated me no end. Our neighbor hastily bid goodbye, a bit embarrassed, leaving me in the boring hands of my dear mother-in-law. As I expected, she has a problem. She quarreled with her other daughter with whom she is living with.
"I'll be leaving soon," I said to cut off her litany and pointed to my shoes to support my statement. "She hit me with a pan," she said crying as if she didn't hear me. One thing's going against me is my soft spot for a melodrama. She showed the slight bruise on her left shoulder while complaining that the impact might have sprained her arm.
She stopped sobbing when I offered to apply oil on her shoulder to relieve the pain and advised her that she could not take a bath for at least a day. I consented when she suggested that she would first take a bath before I apply the oil. She went to the spare bedroom for the towel and her extra clothes while I myself changed to a comfortable undershirt and took off my shoes.
My mother-in-law is around 50 at that time and a long-time widow. She's a nice woman except for her vice - she's a chronic liar who enjoys inventing sad stories. This bad trait made her an outcast such that all her children avoid talking to her whenever they could. And it's only me in the family who gives her time so I am always her refuge in times of crisis.
She came out of the bathroom wrapped in a big towel and her hair was dripping so I asked her to wipe her hair lest it will mess the floor. I made her sit on the settee and started applying oil on her damaged shoulder. It made her feel good as to close her eyes and I didn't have the heart to hurry. Besides, my mood was already ruined so I had decided against going that early anymore.
Not content with the shoulder, she raised her left arm while her right hand was holding the end of the towel. Since I was kind of pissed off with her unannounced coming, I was thinking of a way to get even. "I think the wet towel is not good. Better you change to dry clothes." My tone was business-like so she obliged. I then locked the main door and shut the windows. It was a cool afternoon anyway and there's no need for extra air.
She came back with a loose white tee shirt that reached her knee. Her brown aureola can be gleamed on the tansluscent white fabric. That gave me an idea in getting even with her. I began applying oil on her arm, sometimes pulling, sometimes kneading. She was sitting with eyes closed and head reclined on the back support of the settee.
I inched my hand inside the wide sleeve of her shirt and touched the side of her breast, wary of any protest. And since there was none, my hand caressed the side of her breast. She spoke without opening her eyes, "Is that necessary?" I replied with a simple yes then followed up with "The muscles need this to prevent any complication."
I continued massaging the whole side of her breast and not once or twice did my hand brushed on her nipple which was much bigger than my wife's and it was hard to my touch. She let out short, suppressed moans as I caressed the side of her breast. I was thinking of cupping her breast when she spoke, "The heat has gone out on me. At my age, there's no more desire left."
To me, that remark meant she was not sexually excited although the oppposite was obvious. Fifty is not that old and her body looks all right to me. With a few wrinkles, her face was smooth as my wife's and she had what I call matured beauty. But instead of being challenged, my hard on wilted to the thought of rejection. "I think that's enough," I nonchalantly said and stood up. She appeared dumbfounded as if she had said something foul. "I got to be going," I added and headed straight to the bedroom.
I dressed up again and when I came out of the room, my mother-in-law remained in the settee, unmoving but with her eyes fixed on me. I was already at the door when she spoke up. "Can I spend the night here? Just want to avoid the temper of your sister-in-law." Since she knew the way around, I didn't see any problem. "Sure," I said, "but can you cook dinner for yourself? And no need to wait for me, I might come home late."
I proceeded to my friend's place where our other drinking buddies normally converge on weekends. When evening came we went to a bar. It was truly an enjoyable evening for me. It was quite a time since I last joined my drinking buddies. We split up at almost midnight.
Feeling tipsy, I was surprised to see our main door unlocked. My mother-in-law was watching TV. "You didn't have to wait for me," I said with disgust in my voice. She was still wearing the white tee shirt but her hair was wet. In a reprimanding voice, I said, "You shouldn't have taken a bath. I told you it's bad for the muscles."
She just sat there motionless, looking at me. With a sneer, I proceeded to the bathroom but I almost lost my balance so I backtracked and sat on the other end of the settee where she was sitting. "I think I'm dizzy," I unconsciously said. To this, she stood up and proceeded to the kitchen. I didn't know why I feel angry at her. Maybe because she interrupted my close encounter with our sexy neighbor.
I lit a cigarette and my mother-in-law came back before I finished my smoke. She had a steaming cup of black coffee in her hand. She sat beside me and assisted me with the coffee. My lips almost got scalded and this added to my spite. "Just let me, okay?" She handed me the cup.
A few more sips before she spoke, "I'm sorry if I have been a bother. I think you need a sponge bath," she said apologetically. I gave her a sharp look that immediately waned because I saw the tears in her eyes. Again, she hit me in my soft spot. And before I could say a word, she stood up and came back with a face towel and a basin of tap water.
She started wiping my face with the wet towel. "I didn't take a bath, just shampooed my hair," she softly said. I could smell the aroma of her hair and the image of our sexy neighbor got back to haunt my imagination. "Okay," I said and grabbed the face towel from her. "It is you who need this." It was more of a command than an offer that I was sure would intimidate her.
And I was right. She didn't resist when I wiped her right arm, saying that it is all right but not the left arm and shoulder. The towel went inside her tee and into her back by way of the neck entrance. It took a while before I got a nice idea. I nudged the hem of her tee, a signal for her to remove it. I wasn't looking at her but I was sure she saw my poker face.
With obvious reluctance, she turned her back to me and removed the tee. I could espy on her sagging large breast and the sight of her bare back seemed inviting such that I was beginning to develop a hard on. The towel traversed the length of her back for a time before it glided on her side and into her front. We were both seated with her back on me. I noticed that she was holding the tee shirt serving as cover for her front.
With deliberate precision, part towel and part of my hand slyly moved to her breast causing her shaking hand to give way and expose one of her upper jewels. I seized the opportunity and slightly tagged her right hand downwards. Again, she gave way and the tee shirt, together with her hand, fell on the arm rest.
I was already rubbing the entirety of her right breast when I felt very uncomfortable with my stiffening masculinity. And before I could wonder why the hell it was rising, my left hand moved and unzipped my pants. Another idea hit my numbed head. Why not toy with her?
Once more with her back, the towel reached the garter of her panty. I nudged her to stand up and she obliged without a word. The small towel got inside her panty and rubbed her butt and then a little at the front just above her bushy mound. I knew it was a tease and I was enjoying it, not sexually though but emotionally. Now I'm getting even, I said to myself.
