Care In The Community Pt 01

Gina Thornton rung the bell and knocked on the door for the third and final time. This was her last call on her first day of community volunteering, and she was not sure if there would be a second day. With both kids at university Gina thought it would be a wonderful opportunity to get back into the marquee rental business she started with her husband Howard 25 years ago. The business was her idea when she discovered the ridiculous charges for renting a tent when she was planning their own wedding. For not much more than the rental, they could buy one and rent it to others afterwards. A business was born and now they had 12 staff and a good selection of contracts and repeat customers.

Gina wondered why her husband Howard was reluctant for her to get back into the business. She suspected he'd become used to being the boss and didn't fancy sharing decision making again. He'd stalled her by suggesting she try volunteering with the Council welfare services as a community liaison person, as a gentle way back into work. She was going to object, then thought it might be nice to bring a bit of cheer into elderly peoples' lives for a little while. In reality, it felt like visiting her own mother several times a day; or worse, fast forwarding thirty years to visit her own future. Gina realised she lacked the compassion necessary to do the job justice.

She examined her reflection in the glass panel of the door. At 51 she was still youthful, healthy and attractive. In fact, it quite surprised her when a chap, half her age, eyed her up on the bus the day before. Gina thought he must have a Mrs Robinson fixation as she bore a passing resemblance to the actress in that film. Her black shiny shoulder length hair framed her full, sensuous mouth and dark eyes. One of her sons' friends said she was like Katharine Ross in `Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,' which was flattering. When he thought she was out of earshot in the kitchen, he said to her son, "Your mum's a real MILF." Ryan told him to shut up, and he apologised. Later Gina looked up MILF on the internet and was shocked at the sites that came back. It looked like older women were very popular with younger men. It was a pity Howard no longer looked at her the way Oliver and the young man on the bus had.

Gina realised that she'd been standing at the door lost in her thoughts for a good five minutes. She turned to leave and was almost knocked over by the big red motorbike that coasted onto the drive. She was as startled as the motorcyclist, who was not expecting to find someone stood there. He put the brakes on and switched off.

"Sorry, are you okay, love? I didn't expect to see anyone." The voice was deep and pleasant in contrast to the sinister outfit he was wearing. Black leather jacket and trousers with red plastic pads on the knees. Black gloves and boots and a red crash helmet. He got off the bike and stood about six foot two, towering over her five foot seven in low heels. He pushed the visor up, but all she saw were his black aviator sunglasses, which added to the space man image.

Gina said she was okay, and he asked if he could help her.

"I'm looking for an older gentleman, Mr Jack McMillan, he's a widower. I'm a community volunteer for the Council welfare services; we want to make sure elderly people living on their own are okay."

The motorcyclist removed his sunglasses, revealing the most piercing grey eyes Gina had ever seen. Gina's own eyes opened in shock and she could tell that the motorcyclist was smiling under his helmet as if he were used to that reaction.

"You'd better come in, Mrs..."

"Thornton, Gina Thornton," she filled in.

"Okay Gina, let's see if we can raise old Jack."

He opened the door and led the way in and called out for Jack.

"Jack, you've got a visitor. A lady. He'll be down in a moment, please come into the lounge." He led Gina into a room decorated in the rich colours of another continent. At first she thought it was North African, but it was not quite right. "Moroccan?" she said.

"Close," he replied cryptically. Then she heard him going up the stairs. "Come on Jack, don't keep the lovely lady waiting."

She smiled as she examined the foreign objects and photographs covering almost half a century. It was only when she looked closely at the photos, she recognised the man with the grey eyes in several of them.

"What can I do for you, dearie?" came a poor impression of an old man's voice from behind her. Gina turned to see the grey-eyed man now dressed in a black tee shirt and grey jogging bottoms and flip-flops. His salt and pepper hair and very short beard matched his monochrome outfit. His wry smile added to his attractiveness.

Gina was miffed. "Why didn't you say you were Mr McMillan?"

"Because you were expecting an old codger and I guess a 67-year-old motorcyclist would not qualify for whatever support you are offering."

Gina was surprised again. He looked her age and if he was vain enough to use hair dye, could pass for a few years younger.

"You seem to be pretty self-sufficient Mr McMillan; I don't think welfare services can do anything for you," said Gina sniffily.

"No, but you can Gina, you can save me from terminal boredom." Gina looked at him as if he read her mind. A concerned look came over her face and he saw it. "At least have a cup of coffee with me before you go Gina." He left the room, and it never occurred to Gina to object. She just followed him out. She wanted to find out more about this curious man.

In the large kitchen, Jack invited Gina to take a seat at the island while he busied himself at the sink. Again, there were warm colours of a foreign land, rather than the antiseptic white or cream of the popular Scandinavian clones. Gina marvelled at how everything was functional, yet stylish. Real thought had gone into the planning.

He took her coat and hung it on the door. While she was admiring the decor, he admired her figure. She filled the white sweater nicely and the dark knee-length skirt had ridden up as she crossed her legs, displaying a few inches of shapely thigh above the knee. She spun and caught him like a naughty schoolboy and he looked away, embarrassed.

"You must give me the name of your kitchen designer; they've done a superb job," she said, blushing. She uncrossed her legs and smoothed an imaginary crease out of the skirt, which was now knee length again.

Jack moved to the kitchen counter in front of her. He leaned over his shoulder and smiled, "Thanks. That will be me then; I used to do it for a living. Well, interior design anyway. I had a practice, but sold up and retired when I turned 60." A comfortable silence covered the sound of Jack setting up the coffeemaker. Soon coffee ran through the percolator and its rich aroma filled the room. Gina sniffed approvingly.

"It's Kenyan, a reminder of home, as is the colour scheme. You were close."

Gina was attracted to the layers of the man in front of her. He seemed an exotic creature, and she felt ordinary in comparison.

He took his place opposite her at the counter and they sipped the rich liquid and let out a mutual sigh of contentment, then smiled at the coincidence.

"Kenya?" she questioned. She could not stop her nosiness.

Jack smiled at her interest. "I was born there. A Scottish father and English mother, both working for the Colonial Service of the British government before the war. He was a district administrator, keeping the peace between the rich white farmers and their poor Kenyan workers, and she was a schoolteacher. They were fair-minded people and thought everyone should be treated the same, so I attended the local school with the African kids. I guess I've always had an outsider's attitude."

Gina took all this in, thinking of the contrast with her own conventional Home Counties upbringing. Jack was a guide to a life she could never imagine. "Looks like you've had quite a life, Jack." She could not keep the regretful tone out of her voice.

"Don't sound so sad. I'm sure you have a good tale to tell and I've got the time to listen."

Mention of the time made Gina remember that she had chores to do that afternoon, and she looked at her watch.

He looked up and gave her his full attention. Those eyes. Her chest felt tight. Suddenly she felt unsafe about her interest in him. "Jack, it's been lovely to meet you, but I have to go now."

"That's a shame Gina. When will you be coming back? I am a vulnerable pensioner all on my own," he teased, looking nothing of the sort.

"Jack, I'm not sure this visiting is for me. It's all too--"

"Old?"

"Does that sound mean?"

"No. You are too young for it, and so am I, whatever it says on the bus pass. Perhaps you could do something else for me?"

"I don't know, what are you thinking of?" said Gina. Her pulse rose, and her face flushed. What was going on in her imagination?

"You caught me admiring your figure earlier and I apologise if I made you uncomfortable, but it was a professional appraisal."

"That's one way to describe it." She blushed and avoided his eyes. She'd be safe if she did that.

"Okay, I guess you're right, but I used to be an artist, trained at Central St Martins when I came to the UK in the early 1960s. Would you pose for me, Gina?"

She reminded herself he had not said nude, despite what her imagination heard. She looked at him sceptically, and he told her to wait there and left the kitchen. He returned a couple of minutes later with several small watercolours. She recognised the garden and two pictures of older people who she assumed were his neighbours and even a dog. They were good.

"I need to practice, but I haven't found a subject to inspire me, until now that is. If you like what I do, I could make you a present of the finished work; perhaps your husband would appreciate it."

Gina considered his offer. It might be an exciting diversion. "Okay, I'll do it" she said, feeling the need to do something out of the ordinary today. If Jack could produce something that would rekindle Howards' interest, so much the better. Enjoying Jack's company had nothing to do with it, she lied to herself.

"Good," he said. His wide smile was an accomplice to his eyes. "I will need to do a few sketches to find a pose you are happy with and get you used to sitting. When you are comfortable, I'll start painting. It will take a few sessions."

"I think I could manage that," said Gina, smiling. An hour before she had been regretting volunteering, but now it seemed like it could be the thing she needed to shake up her life.

That evening she had to remind Howard she started the community visiting. "How did it go? I hope there weren't too many toothless oldies smelling of cabbage," he said uncharitably.

"As a matter-of-fact none of them did. In fact, there was one who you would not--" She cut off. She did not want to explain Jack to him. She told herself it was because the painting was a surprise, not that she met an attractive man who was interested in her. Not that at all. She had no intention of anything happening. Anyway, Howard was only half listening, with one eye on the TV, and did not realise she had dried up.

Gina did not sleep well; her dreams punctuated by erotic thoughts brought on by a combination of the appreciative looks she had got from Jack, her son's friend, the young man on the bus and the pornographic images from the MILF web-sites she stumbled across. She awoke aroused and wet. Howard was snoring and her first thought was to play with herself; something she had not done in years. But the idea of him waking and catching her was embarrassing. She wondered if she was a prude. Although she enjoyed sex, she was never an initiator, and she had little experience before meeting Howard. He seemed content enough with things as they were, and it puzzled her why she was suddenly asking herself the question. She went back to sleep but her dreams found her on a modelling catwalk, posing in swimsuits, day and evening wear that were part of the `hot MILF collection'. She could hear the enthusiastic comments from the male audience and responded provocatively. Rolling her hips as she walked in high heels, tossing her hair and pouting. The men cheered and whistled.

This time Gina woke with an urgent pulse in her groin. Her light blue silk pyjama trousers had a dark stain between the legs and her erect nipples ached as the thin silk caressed them. She looked over to Howard lying on his back and ran her hand over his crotch. When they were courting, Howard was always pestering her for early morning sex. She enjoyed it, but not the feeling she still had a knicker full of him at lunchtime. Another minute of her gentle teasing and he was hard, and she threw back the covers as he woke. His six-inch cock rose like a flagpole from the fly of his pyjamas. He looked at her, at first puzzled and then with a smile as she pulled her pyjama bottoms off. He was about to speak, but she put her finger to his lips and mounted him. She was so wet that he slid in easily and they both gasped.

"Just fuck me, Howard," Gina said. She rarely swore, so the words were a real turn on for him. Gina rose and lowered herself on his cock. Her outstretched arms and hands rested on his shoulders, trapping him beneath her. Howard was panting and moaning. "Harder Gina, fuck me harder, you sexy bitch."

The last bit took aback her, but she had started it. Howard undid her pyjama top and pushed her hands away. She fell forward, her breasts in his face, and his mouth moved from one nipple to another, sucking greedily. Gina was lying on his chest now, and Howard pumped into her with more vigour than he had shown for ages. She felt her orgasm building and had the urge to sit up and feel him engulfing her. She ground her hips against his groin and he moaned, "Oh Munchkin" and slid his hand between them, circling her clitoris with his thumb. This was not something she remembered him doing before, but the combination of external and internal stimulation was delicious and she felt tremors building. Then it was upon her.

"Oh God, Howard, I'm coming." Her hips jerked on his groin as if she'd had an electric shock and his thumb continued to tease more spasms from her until she could stand no more and she slumped forward on him. She lay catching her breath for a minute before she realised, he was still hard inside her.

"I always last longer going uphill," Howard said with a smile. "Now it's my turn." He thrust again. The strength had gone from Gina's legs and she just lay on top as he pounded into her. This violent penetration was so unlike him, and Gina felt both turned on and shocked by it. His hands reached behind her and slapped each cheek of her bum in time with his thrusts. Gina moaned in pleasure pain. He had never spanked her before, never even suggested it, but here he was taking control.

She felt her cheeks glowing "Please, no more Howard". She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He reached behind her and felt him spreading her cheeks. The index finger of his left hand teased the sensitive opening of her bum hole. They had done nothing like this before. It surprised her how stimulated she was, both with fear and desire that he would enter her there. She felt his balls twinge and knew he would come soon. He seemed thicker and longer than ever before. These new things were turning him on. As he came he slid the tip of his index finger into her bum and the combined stimulus of the double penetration plus the feel of him coating her womb with spurt after spurt of come, triggered another orgasm. She cried out `Oh Howard', but the face she saw behind her closed eyes was Jack. She was having the urgent sex she thought she would have with a man like Jack. Not that she ever had the intension of doing that.

Gina slumped off Howard and they lay for a minute listening to their breathing before she felt gravity taking its course. She got off the bed and did the funny cross-legged shuffle to the toilet that always made Howard laugh; except this time, he slid back to sleep after his exertions. Gina sat on the loo, trying to make sense of what happened. They had just made love. No, to be honest they fucked, with a passion neither of them had shown for a long time. She wondered what had inspired Howard to try these things. It embarrassed her how turned on and disgusted she was with herself for responding to his spanking and bum probing. She realised she had a strong prudish streak, but Howard had shown her a new side of herself. To improve their relationship, she needed to be more willing to experiment with her husband. She did not need the dangerous diversion of Jack, or the lustful looks of young men. Gina went back into the bedroom and snuggled up to her husband. She pulled his arm around her shoulders and lay her head on his chest. Howard mumbled. "Not so soon, Munchkin, Howie needs to sleep for a while." Gina froze. She never called him Howie, and he had never called her Munchkin. Gina knew where Howard had learned his new moves. Howard was having an affair.

***

Gina fretted all morning about the identity of Munchkin. She was certain it was someone Howard met through work, and that was why he was so reluctant for her to get involved with the business again. Either it was someone at work, or he needed to get away from the office to meet this person and he did not want Gina around to clock his movements. She felt angry the impact this interloper had on their relationship. This woman had made her husband a more skilful and attentive lover, which challenged Gina as a woman, and she felt guilty she responded so enthusiastically to his advances. How long had this been going on? Did he want more sex? Different sex? Or just sex with someone different?

That afternoon she called into the office unannounced to see his reaction, but there was only him and Jim working on proposals. All the on-site teams were out on various jobs. She picked up their latest brochure and scanned the faces. "Is this everyone we've got working for us these days?" she asked Jim. He had worked for them for years and Gina knew him well, but he seemed nervous.

"That's everyone on the books. Then there are the interns," he added. She looked puzzled. "We have a couple of undergrads as unpaid trainees here for work experience."

Gina had the awful thought. Howard was sleeping with someone younger than their own daughter. "Have we got any female interns at the moment?"

"No. We prefer men because of all the lugging about when we set up, but we can't say that off course. The girls prefer the catering and corporate hospitality companies we work with."

Gina instinctively knew that was where Munchkin had come from. Howard had been practicing his new moves on her premises. But there were so many event hospitality companies within 50 miles of their Chichester office. It would be difficult to track Munchkin down.

When Howard came to bed that evening, he found Gina bathed, perfumed and wearing a lace negligee he bought her from an Ann Summers type shop years ago. She had only worn it once to say thank you for the gift, because she felt it made her look whorish. But if that was what he was looking for, he could get it home. His eyes lit up at the sight of her in the black almost see-through garment and he was soon hard. She leaned over and took him in her mouth, something she was not fond of doing, but tonight she felt dressed for the part.

Howard moaned in bliss. "Last night whetted your appetite did it, love? Do you want to try something else new?" Gina nodded, afraid he wanted to take the bum sex to the next phase. When he asked if he could come in her mouth, it was a relief, even though she'd never been keen on it. He instructed her to nibble the head and tease the sensitive glands and squeeze the base, and she realised he'd had enough blow jobs to know what made a good one. Gina felt like she was the intern being given a lesson in cock sucking by proxy from Munchkin. After he came, not as much as in the morning but still enough to make her gag; he went to climb on top to return the favour, but he looked tired. She felt unstimulated by the entire experience and was happy to leave it there. He promised to make it up to her in the morning.