All characters are fictional and it isn't autobiographical!
The reference to the lad being a nerd is intended to be his own, and other people's perception so please don't think there is any attempt to stereotype!
_______________
Thomas struggled all day to concentrate on his work. A couple of times colleagues had to nudge him or repeat themselves and raise their voices to attract his attention. One even asked if he was feeling okay; he replied that he was, and that he simply felt a bit tired. To his annoyance he found a couple of mistakes he had made, too, and had to correct them.
At his lunchtime he grabbed his jacket and sandwiches, and headed for the park nearby, glad to be able to clear his head.
Mrs Barrett. He found it almost impossible not to leer at her (though discreetly), and most mornings before going to her house for his lift to work he masturbated to the thought of her. Both acts made him feel guilty and ashamed. She was genuine, friendly and kind (she had offered to give him a lift to work without even being asked), and had a good sense of humour. And either she was unaware of his furtive leers or else she chose to ignore them.
Being in the car with her was both a delight and a torment. There was something inherently intimate about being alone with her, his hands just inches from her partly bared slender thigh. In his workplace there were girls and women who were younger and more attractive than she was. Not that Mrs Barrett was ugly or even plain, though. She was always smartly but not provocatively dressed. Maybe her age and married status appealed to him directly. Or maybe her easy-going manner and the fact that she was clearly unattainable simply made him feel more relaxed with her than with girls his own age.
Although he was twenty years old, Thomas had little experience with girls. He had attended an all-boys' school, and although he had mates, his shy disposition never really allowed him to be comfortable with laddish socialising and excessive drinking. He had had a girlfriend, Dawn, for a couple of months, but she had finished with him some time ago. And, though he never admitted it to his friends, he was still a virgin. Dawn had allowed him to play with her breasts but never "below the waist."
After considerable agonising he had once plucked up the courage to ask out Amy the receptionist from his workplace. Not only had she given an outright "no", she had also wrinkled up her nose as if the very idea repulsed her. It didn't help his confidence. And maybe it contributed to his lust for his forty-three year-old neighbour, Mrs Barrett.
Thomas knew that some people thought he was a bit of a nerd, but most people respected his ability to analyse situations. Yet the more he analysed Mrs Barrett's behaviour that morning the more puzzled he became.
As he ate his sandwiches he re-lived the shock of that morning when she had splashed washing-up water down herself and changed her clothes right in front of him. He had seen her down to her underwear. She had even asked him to zip up her skirt! He racked his brain for a likely explanation. He could only think of three. Firstly, perhaps she was deliberately embarrassing him to pay him back for leering at her. But then, if she was uncomfortable with the way he looked at her, surely she would say something direct or make excuses not to give him a lift any more. And if she felt awkward when he was around she would hardly half-strip and ask him to zip up her skirt!
Secondly, he thought, she might have acted in all innocence, and he was reading his own wishful thinking into her behaviour. But a forty-three year old married woman would hardly think it normal and harmless to change down to her underwear in front of a young lad from across the road. The only thing that made any slight sense of this explanation was that she had apologised if she had embarrassed him.
The only other possibility seemed too ludicrous to consider. Might she, he wondered, have teased him in order to tempt him, to give him the come-on? But what was the likelihood of a woman married to a successful businessman seducing him, a non-athletic and slightly nerdy twenty-year old and shy lad who lived opposite her? Besides this, she had acted in the car immediately afterwards as if nothing at all had happened. The conversation had been even more one-sided than usual due to his embarrassment, confusion and excitement, and had been entirely trivial. He dismissed this possibility. It left no other one in his mind.
He glanced around the park to avoid looking too intense. He realised that his feelings for her had reached a new peak. He had now seen this neighbour whom he fantasised about in her bra and panties, her stockings and suspenders. What was more, she had even handed him her cotton blouse and asked him to put it in a bucket of water to soak! He had held it in his hands. The fabric had been soft -- AND WARM in his hands -- from its contact with the skin of this mature, married woman who made him as horny as could be. Then, to cap it all, she had asked him to zip up her skirt. He had done so, his fingertips a fraction of an inch from her bum cheeks...
The stockings and suspenders were the other real mystery. He wondered if they were a treat for Mr Barrett when he arrived home. But why wear stockings for work if they were to benefit her husband? As she always arrived home from work long before her husband, why not just change when she got home? Could it be that this demure neighbour had a secret lover, maybe in the office where she worked? Still baffled, Thomas headed back to work, determined to concentrate harder on his job that afternoon.
For the next few mornings he deliberately arrived just as she was reversing the car out of the drive, to avoid having to go into the house. Their conversations in the car remained as stilted as ever; she did most of the talking, just idle chit-chat. It was as if he had imagined the whole thing, with just two slight differences. He struggled even more to avoid looking at her thigh and at her breasts as she drove the car. And he wondered whether she was wearing stockings again and, if so, for whose benefit.
There was one further difference, too. He masturbated to the thought of her each evening in the bathroom as soon as he got home form work, and then later when he went to bed, as well as each morning. In his mind's eye he slid his hand inside her open skirt zip instead of fastening it, and stroked her bum cleft through the warm nylon of that navy blue underskirt. In his imagination she giggled, slapped his hand gently and playfully, and told him he was a naughty boy. But then in his mind she turned to him, and took him by the hand to lead him to her bed. The sheets were still warm from where she and her husband had screwed, then slept, the previous night, then screwed again that morning before leaving for work. Then, as he closed his eyes and jerked off, he imagined her stripping naked and begging him, Thomas to fuck her...
_______________
Diana also struggled throughout that day and the next few. She was torn between patiently allowing her partial strip to do its work in his head, and making a more positive move sooner. His arrival just in time for his lift the next few days made her wonder whether she had scared him off. But on the fourth day -- the Friday -- he arrived about five minutes before they needed to go. She had already rehearsed her plan.
_______________
He knocked on the door as usual, and stepped into the kitchen where she was waiting. A thrill went down his spine as he saw that she was wearing the very white, striped blouse that he had handled a few days previously. Under it her modest breasts looked shapely. He glanced immediately away, but he suddenly felt hot. He could not be sure, but she did not seem to be wearing a bra.
To make matters worse, she was wearing the same blue skirt that she had splashed (apparently accidentally), and that he had handled before placing it to soak in the bucket of water with her blouse. And she was wearing sheer black tights -- or maybe even those stockings -- again.
"Hi Thomas."
"Hi Mrs Barrett."
He tried to force a smile.
She picked up her handbag and checked its contents. His gaze automatically drifted to her breasts and he knew that she was DEFINITELY not wearing a bra. Her average sized breasts swung down as she bent forward, and they quivered arousingly as she straightened.
"You'll be glad to know that I've done the washing-up already, Thomas -- and not splashed myself today!" She laughed. He thought it was a bit forced. He felt himself blush, wondering why she was saying this when so far she had made no further mention of it.
"Oh, yes, right, Mrs Barrett," he said, unsure what to say.
She stepped closer to him and smiled again. Between the buttons of her blouse he could see -- a few inches away -- the pale, bare skin of her breasts.
"I AM sorry if I embarrassed you on Monday morning, Thomas..."
"That... that's alright, Mrs Barrett... you didn't embarrass me. I didn't mind... I... mean..."
