Most Saturday's I worked around my house. I acquired the gardening and lawn care habits from my own parents, who liked things to be tidy around their house. I weeded my front lawn most mornings, before the afternoon sun hit the lawn and made it too hot.
I would dig out the dandelions that took up residence on all the lawns in the neighbourhood, ever since the city banned the use of herbicides and pesticides on residential lawns. But it was the black medic that was the bane of my existence. It likes to grow on the compacted soil in the neighbourhood. It is viny with teardrop-shaped leaves, and its bothersome vines grow close to the ground. Its flowering heads appear in mid-May, mocking my previous years' efforts. The best way to get rid of it is hand-weeding. So I go out most Saturdays, and try to get what I can out of my lawn.
It is an opportunity to say hi to the neighbours. There are the older people who like to get out for their morning ambles. Some are serious walkers and dress the part. Others simply amble along, happy to be out of the house. There are the people with dogs. The pretty Chinese girl who lives on the corner. She walks her Shiba, a breed of dog that looks like a fox. Whenever she walks back, I think to myself "beautiful dog, beautiful young woman."
I have a story about how weeding resulted in a brief 'cinq-a-sept' affair. It is called this because it takes place in the late afternoon between two people, either at the end of the day or before their respective partners come home.
It came about innocently enough. Erica was an attractive woman. She had the confidence of a woman approaching her fifties in the way she carried herself, walking her dog through the neighbourhood. She was fit but her waist had thickened a little over the decade I lived in the neighbourhood, and her ass lost a little of its firmness. Her hair was now an attractive grey, and it was cut short. She would stop and talk briefly in the morning or sometimes come for a drink on my deck with her husband, Mike. She had been a nurse and he was a pharmacist. They had two teenage girls, who were involved in lots of activities.
One day, as they were walking past, Mike said "The other men are complaining about your lawn. It is too good."
"Ahh well," I said, "I just have more free time than everyone else."
"The wives get together and complain about the men every day," Erica added.
"Seriously, how do you keep the medic weed out." He laughed.
The tone of the conversation was playful, so I said, "You have to angle your finger like this," illustrating a bent index finger, "and find the root. It is a bit like stroking the g-spot."
Erica and Mike both laughed uproariously. "Can you show Mike that again," Erica laughed, "I would like him to do better at that. And then later he can work on the weeds."
We all laughed again. Their dog wanted to go, and began to pull toward another dog. They walked off and I returned to the weeding. As I did, I Erica looked back at me and smiled.
A couple of days later, I heard my doorbell ring. I was taking advantage of the late afternoon sun on the deck but I put my shirt on, did a couple of buttons up and walked through the kitchen and foyer and peaked out the curtain. Erica was on the doorstep, looking around.
"Oh hey," I greeted her.
"Hi Patrick," she cheerily said. "Are you busy?"
"Nope, just sitting on my deck. Want to come in?"
"That would be nice," she said. "Mike is out with the girls for the night. Two soccer games, two different fields. The late one is under the lights, so he is going to be out the whole evening."
"In that case, do you want a drink?"
"Sure, that would be nice."
"I have wine, spirits, I can make you a mojito, or something stronger."
"Just something easy," she said. "How about tequila?"
"Sure, I can do that. I have a couple of choices," I said pointing at the bottles
"How about the Silver Patrón," I have not had that before.
"Want it straight-up or a mixed drink?"
"Surprise me," she said, and went out on the deck.
I decided to make her a mixed drink. Grapefruit juice, cranberry juice and lemonade, with a healthy shot of tequila. I put a little lemon wedge on the edge of her glass and some chunky ice. I poured myself a couple of shots over ice.
"Here you go," I said as I put the drink in front of her. She had stretched out on one of the large wicker chairs on my deck, looking comfortable on the light blue cushions.
"Thanks," she said.
The late afternoon sun on the deck was lovely. It was warm enough to sit out but not stifling.
"Your garden is beautiful," she remarked, looking through the glass onto the landscape below. "So much colour." She sipped her drink and asked about the various plants, how much work it took, the watering schedule, the weeding. I sipped my drink, and answered her questions. I did not notice that her drink was gone.
"Would you like another?"
"Maybe just one on ice, like you have."
I put my glass down on the fire table and went back in to pour her a double. I gave her a new glass and brought out some snacks.
"You must have a green thumb," she said, continuing our chat.
"I guess so. I find it relaxing and a distraction from my work."
"I'm sending Mike over for some lessons," she said, as she adjusted her position.
There was something sexy about her. She was well-spoken and obviously intelligent. I did not know much about her work. I saw her mostly as a neighbourhood mother, someone who I was friendly with but only in a casual way. In the afternoon light, with her feet tucked under her, she suddenly looked very attractive.
"Cards on the table," she suddenly said, as she knocked back her second drink. "I was thinking about what you said the other day. In fact, I could not stop thinking about it."
"The other day?"
"Medic. G-spot?" she laughed.
"Oh, I was just trying to be funny. I didn't mean anything."
"But it is the same, isn't it? I mean, you could do that right?"
"Erica, what are you asking?"
"Look, cards on the table," she said again. "I'm going through something. I am always horny. Something is going on with my body, and I want to be fucked all the time. Mike cannot, or will not, keep up. I thought you could help."
"Does Mike know you are here?" I asked.
"No. I don't know what he would think. But I trust you to be discrete. The neighbours know we hang out, so it will not raise any alarms if I venture over to your place every now and then. Or every day you are home," she laughed heartily.
"It's a lot to take in, Erica."
"Let's go in and you can make me another drink. The one with cranberry juice again."
She got up and took me by the hand, leading me back into the kitchen. I began her drink when I felt her hands around me. She kissed the back of my neck. She pressed her body into mine, forcing me against the counter. A little tequila spilled on my hand. I moved toward the sink but she grabbed my wrist and licked the tequila off my hand, moving her tongue in and through my fingers. I felt my cock stir.
"It does not have to be complicated, Patrick" she said. "I have needs and you can fulfill them. So what do you say?"
She sipped her drink and I took a minute and poured myself a quick shot. I looked at her and my desire grew. Although I did not say anything, she knew what the answer was. She grabbed my wrist with her hand and began to walk out of the kitchen. We ascended the stairs to the front bedroom.
She sat on the edge of the bed, and began to undress. She picked up her drink, and downed about half of it. "Need some confidence," she said.
"No need. You look great," I replied. And I meant it. There was something about the way she carried herself. Her confidence. The way she moved. She slipped out of her clothes, and pulled down the bedding. It was too hot for covers, so she laid there, propping herself up ever-so-slightly.
I was still fully clothed, so she reached over to finish her drink. As she did, I noticed the various folds in her skin, the slight sag of her breasts, the way that her ass was a little looser. But she was beautiful.
