Gardener

Her stylish red glasses had slid down her nose, and she tilted her head back to peer at me, after reading my note.

"Mrs. Leach recommends you very highly, and I respect her opinion, but I may be more demanding when it comes to my yard than she is."

She stepped off her kitchen stool and walked to the sliding glass doors which led to her sprawling garden, with pool, and flower beds, once finely manicured, now shabby from non-maintenance.

Her long legs caught my eye, I was surprised she was so tall, about 5'10. She turned dramatically.

"Since Henry left, things have gotten shoddy. His replacement is a slob! He shows up and runs engines and motors, and it's as if he did nothing!"

She was angry, and I didn't blame her. From what I had been told by Mrs. Leach, this lady was paying top dollar and getting hosed. The guy had a reputation of blustering about, intimidating employers, although I couldn't picture Mrs. Jenkins being intimidated by anyone.

She had a persona that shouted, "I'm in charge," and it seemed she wouldn't back down from Satan, himself.

There was a rumble of a truck in the driveway, and she shuddered. "That would be him, again. I told him he was through on the phone, but he said he was coming over. Excuse me."

He was a big man, slovenly, maybe 45, over 6 foot and 275 at least. I could see how he could intimidate women, the way he glared at her.

She met him at the gate, and she held that head high on her long neck, not giving any ground but he was visibly upset.

"We had a deal!" he barked.

"The deal was that you maintain my property. Look at it! It's a mess!" waving her arm for effect.

"I do what I do!"

Well, it's not good enough."

He seemed ready to grab her and I stepped out the door. "Is there a problem?"

He glared at me. "Who are you?"

"I'm Mrs. Jenkins' brother, former police officer John Walker. Is there a problem here?"

He looked my six foot frame up and down. He may be able to take me, but as a former cop, who knew if I had a gun? Or special training? Or friends on the force if it came to that?

She looked back at me, eyes wide.

"We had a deal," He said, more civilly.

"But no contract, remember?" she injected.

I stepped up next to her. "No offense, buddy, but look at those edges! All over-grown. My sister is very picky about her garden, always has been. Why, I remember.... oh, never mind. Suffice it to say, you should take this as a learning experience and use it at future employment. Follow me?"

He just glared.

"Now, if there's nothing else," I draped my arm around her shoulder, casually, and she stiffened. "We'd like to get back to our coffee. Now that we're gonna be neighbors again, I'm sure we'll spend a lot more time together, right Sis?"

I squeezed her shoulder and she forced a smile. "Yes, right...John."

He shrugged his shoulders, said, "Just as well, I wasn't charging you enough for all the time I spent here."

Before she could say anything, I jumped in. "well, then it worked out well for both of you. Have a good day." I led her away and she kept looking back as he climbed in the truck and backed out.

When he was out of sight, I let her go, and she spun, glaring at me.

"That was none of your business!"

"I know."

"I could have handled it myself."

"I'm sure, but if he would have laid a hand on you, I would have had to hurt him. Then I really would have been involved. What's the big deal? You were firing him anyway."

"Because I don't need some gardener to look out for me."

"Jeez, Lady, all I did was mediate an argument. No harm done. Is it because I touched you? I showered this morning."

"And where did you come up with "sister?"

"Do you think he would have listened if I said I was the guy who was looking for his job?"

She stared.

"I didn't think so, either. Look, I didn't expect to get the job because of what I did. I just hoped to defuse a problem before it got larger. I'll take my letter back and be gone."

"Wait."

I stopped and turned, both of us on her porch. She seemed less sure of herself, hating her vulnerability.

"I...I'm sorry. Thank you. I was hot for an argument and so was he. Thanks for stepping in." Then she smiled, "But 'Sister'? More like mother! Or at least Aunt."

That was probably true, since she was twenty years older than me, I figured. But I still needed a job, so I said, "He never would have believed that you would allow your child to be as grubby as I look. A brother, maybe!"

She smiled, then seemed to feel she had smiled too much. "Okay, let's start over. Do you still want the job?" I nodded. "At the same rate as Mrs. Leach?" Now she was negotiating, back where she felt comfortable.

"Your yard is bigger."

"And more open, easier to mow."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not good at this. Okay, are Fridays okay with you?"

She smiled, having won again. "Not too early, I like to sleep late."

I can play this game too. "It can't be for beauty sleep: You're perfect already."

She smirked at that. "Don't spread it on too thick, John. Like fertilizer, it's just so much shit, after all."

On Friday, I backed my truck into her driveway. The garage door opened, and a BMW zipped out, her horn honking like a pit bull.

I pulled back out, she followed and parked at the curb.

"I thought you weren't coming!"

"It's 10 O'clock. You said..."

"I didn't mean this late!"

"I'll be here at 8AM if you want."

"I'm late," she spun and slid back behind the wheel, kicking up gravel as she left.

It was a nice day, I went to work, cleaning the flower beds, mowing, edging, cleaning up, and she returned three hours later.

"Still at it?"

Covered in dirt, sweat and grass shavings, I turned to look at her. Her appointment was obviously at a beauty salon. Her hair was up in a Scrunchie that first day, but now, it was down and blown out, auburn with blond highlights, shoulder-length.

She stood with the sun at her back and her hair haloed around her. As my eyes adjusted, her eyes became clearer. They were done up, too. Mascara, thick eye lashes. The red glasses only magnified the green orbs.

Wiping my hands as I stood, I said, "Yeah, almost done. Got a date tonight?"

She seemed taken aback. "Why do you say that?"

"Your hair, your makeup, you look terrific."

She smiled, almost embarrassed. "Oh, thank you. He look pretty spiffy yourself!"

I looked down, dirty cut-off jeans, tee shirt off and covered in sweat. I smiled. "Yes, I do! Thanks for noticing. I have a pressing engagement with a very large, very cold bottle of Bud in about an hour!"

"You look like you need it. Excuse me." Her cell phone was ringing. She stepped away, "Yes? Oh hi honey..."

I loaded the truck, waited, hoping I'd get paid before I left.

"But... We were...I know! I know! Fine, yes, have a safe trip, yes, okay." She slid the phone back in her Coach bag that was probably worth more than my truck. She looked me as if she couldn't focus. Her eyes were welling up.

"You okay?"

"Huh? Um, yes, fine, can I write you a check?"

"Sure, make it out to cash, if you can."

"Come to the house when you're done." She turned and walked away, and I wanted to console her, but this time I really would be overstepping my boundaries.

I cleaned up, even taking off my shoes and hosing myself down, to get clean enough to sit on a bar stool and not offend the other customers. I had a towel and brush in the truck, along with deodorant and a clean shirt and shorts, which I changed discreetly behind the shed.

It was close to an hour before I tapped on the glass door. I got no response, so I opened the door and yelled through the screen, "Hello? Mrs. Jenkins? It's me, John!"

"In here!" I heard her shout.

I followed her voice. She was in the den, sitting at the bar, a cocktail in her hand. She smiled. "Your talk about that beer made me thirsty. Cosmos are my weakness."

I smiled. Her legs were crossed. She had a track suit, red, which seemed to match her glasses and red flip-flops. Her long legs were crossed and she toyed with her drink with her long red-nailed fingers.

I approached and she had the check already written.

"And look at you! All cleaned up and ready for a wild Friday night!"

I smiled. "I don't know how wild. I'll probably be in bed by ten. I'm a bit achy."

"I can imagine. I love to sit in the whirlpool after a good workout!"

"Well, my whirlpool consists of an old claw-foot tub blowing bubbles!"

She sipped her Cosmo, watching me with those eyes. "Hmm, you should try it sometime. There's a bucket behind the bar with some Budweisers on ice, if you'd care to join me...in a beer I mean! Not a whirlpool!" We both laughed, her from nerves, I imagine, at her faux pas.

"I'd kill for one, thanks."

I went behind the bar, grabbed a long-neck and twisted off the top. Ice clung to the sides, like a commercial, and before she could offer me a glass, I downed a third in two gulps.

She watched, her eyes sharp. The red top of the running suit zippered down the front, and showed just enough cleavage for my eyes to target it.

"So, what time's your date tonight?" I asked, breaking the silence.

She looked down at her glass. "He, we had to cancel. My husband... a business trip, to Florida. That's what he says."

I didn't touch that one, but she went on.

"He does a lot of business down there lately. And since he's in meetings all weekend, I can't join him...he says."

"He must have a big job."

"Yes, he does... he has people who used to do these trips, but the Florida one, he does himself for the last year. He says it's a very important account. I asked him the name of the company. He was so hesitant. When I checked on line, there's no such company listed." Her eyes were deep in the glass, speaking without emotion, reciting some lost poem from memory.

"I'm sorry..." I injected. It seemed to snap her from her trance.

"Oh, yes, thank you. I've accepted that I'm not as young or pretty as I once was. And he's still got needs, he's handsome, rich, and women throw themselves at him."

She was talking to me again, not the glass. "I never asked but I know she lives in Miami, and he spends more weekends with her than me now. I just hoped for our time together to be good. This weekend especially, our anniversary. And he's off humping someone younger, prettier."

I finished off the beer and she had me pour another Cosmo from the pitcher. I said, "She may be younger, you can't control that. But I doubt that she's prettier, and no way is she classier. And honestly, you look terrific, better today in fact than when I first met you."

She smiled. "For someone my age, you mean."

"I didn't say that because I didn't mean that. You must feel how guys look at you. I'm sure you turn heads where ever you go."

"Turn their heads away, you mean."

"See? There you go again. I know what I mean, and if you want encouragement to wallow in self-pity, you don't need my endorsement. I'll just take my pay and be going. But you gotta lighten up on yourself. Let people in. Not everyone, but maybe girl friends? Somebody. If your life sucks that much, change it. You're definitely strong enough on the outside, how about inside?"

She was looking down her nose at me again. Who was I to be so blunt, her long neck stretched regally.

"I'll be going," I said.

"No, please, stay. Have another. I like you, John, you don't take any shit but you aren't arrogant about it. I need to learn that balance."

"Thanks, I think I will." I popped another cold one.

She sipped her Cosmo, thinking. "So, is there a Mrs. John Walker?"

I smiled. "That's not really my name, its my favorite Scotch, Johnnie Walker Black!"

"Oh, very good! But you are John?"

"Yes, and I have no idea your first name."

She reached her hand out to me and I took it.

"Janet."

"Hi, Janet." I held her hand and looked closer at her. How old was she? Hard to tell, but 45 at least, maybe older.

"John, how old do you think I am, and be honest."

I smiled again, still holding her hand. "Honestly I was just thinking the same thing. Let's see, I would guess early forties."

"Thank you, I wish my husband thought so."

"So, now I have to know, how old?"

"You're off by a decade or so, but thanks, it does my self-esteem wonders!"

"No way you are in your fifties," Stroking her ego, but still surprised.

"I'm 56, next May."

"Wow! You look..." looking her up and down, stopping again at that zipper, feeling her hand tighten in mine, obviously enjoying my compliments.

I thought, then said, "When I met you last week, I thought you tried real hard to be a Bitch. I think that's a defense mechanism for you. But even then, I thought you were hot, and the way you looked down your glasses at me, I felt like I was with my first grade teacher who I had a huge crush on."

She seemed thrilled with that. "And now?"

"It's like I met that teacher twenty years later and could see the real person she was, and I still have the crush on her."

"Why, John!", playing with me. "You've grown so much since First Grade!" Putting on a hoity toity lilt to her voice. "Look at how big you've gotten?" squeezing my hand. "And you came back to visit me at the Old Folks Home!"

I can play, too. "Oh, Miss Prince, you haven't changed a bit, still 29, as lovely as ever. You broke my heart when you came back from Spring break as Mrs. Jenkins!"

She smiled, standing and touched my cheek. "I got rid of that stiff, and hoped you'd come back some day!" smiling gaily.

I moved in tight. "I'm sure he didn't deserve you."

The Cosmos twinkled in her eyes as she became more a part of the role. "John, you were always the one."

I played along, feeling myself drawn to this hard woman with the soft interior. My hand went to her hips and pulled her body to mine, We stood eye to eye. "I've wanted this since I was five years old." I tilted my head and kissed her.

She seemed startled, then almost relieved, looking hungrily into my eyes. "John, you play this too well."

I stared for a second, not letting her go. "Should we stop?"

Her arms were around my neck now. "I don't think I want to, but our ages..."

"What about them?" I kissed her again and she kissed back, a deep soul kiss, our tongues slowly dancing.

Her fingers were in my hair as she whispered my name and my hands held her close, one moving down to her ass, and getting a good hold then grinding against her.

She moaned as she ground into my growing cock. I wondered if she had been with another man in a while, and how often the husband had satisfied her. She seemed hungry for it and I was, too.

I felt her tits through her red top, and her breath became more shallow. I felt for the zipper and slipped it down in one move. Her long neck bent for my kisses as I slid the top free, and she wore a red bra, lacy, not for running. I cupped one tit and felt her hard nipple and tasted her lips as my fingers teased her.

She was working on my cut-offs, first stroking my cock through the jeans, then opening them, her long fingers wrapping around the shaft, stroking it as I thrust my shorts down.

I had her bra off as she led me to the large couch. "Over here," she whispered, sliding her own pants and panties down as we moved. She pushed me back, taking off her glasses as she looked at my 6 inches, throbbing. She smiled, "I like to be in charge."

"It's your class," I replied, and lay back for her to kneel, and stroke my cock. "Oh, John," in her teacher voice, "Look how you've grown!"

She kissed the tip, then licked it. I'm sure I smelled musky from the sweaty day, and it seemed to spur her on more. She licked and sucked, being careful not to bring me too far.

Now she stood, and I saw she was shaved, and I thought she had done this today for her husband, along with the salon visit, and I was reaping all the rewards.

She stepped over me, one foot on the couch as she spread her lips, and I could see her wetness. I reached up and she swatted my hand, playfully. "No touching, Mr. Walker!"

With one hand holding my cock, she lowered herself, finding her hole with my tip, and using my cock as a dildo to tease herself, making me crazy for her. Never did I think I would be this hot for a woman older than my mother.

After totally smearing her juices on my head, she lowered herself onto me as her eyes fluttered. She settled onto it, and gave a sigh, then opened her eyes again, saying, "You don't know how long..."

She leaned forward and kissed me, and her tongue played with mine as she slowly moved up and down my shaft. Between kisses, she offered whispered how good it felt, asking me if I enjoyed it. I could barely grunt "yes" as she smothered my mouth again.

She sat back up and I could feel her muscles tighten around my cock.

"Oh, God, you are killing me! It's been so long!"

I began moving my hips with her, allowing my full length to ride back, then forward. She grunted and groaned, biting her lip as she rode me.

I could feel myself welling but before I could reach it, she shuddered, and her head dropped then she howled, "ugggghhhhhh! Ahhhhhhh"

She had come and now was on a mission, humping faster, bringing me to the brink again, her voice spurring me on. "Yeah, fuck me, baby, fuck me, yeah!"

I shot and she felt the final thrust and gave out a wail, her own body as tense as mine, and I released into her love canal, and she moved in a whirl, mixing her hips around my cock.

I laid there, her weight fully on me, and she did not move, only breathed. Then she kissed my neck. She giggled like a little girl and said, "You know, I just remembered I had a crush on my French teacher! Do you know French?"

"Oui, oui!"