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."
