The hard wrap on my door surprised me. I had been sitting in the living room of the large house I lived in by myself working on a paper when I heard the sound from the front door. To understand my situation, you have to know the circumstances. I was in my third year of college, studying economics. My family had come to own a 3 bedroom home on the outskirts of the town that I went to school in, and I was the sole occupant.
Through a series of events too lengthy to explain here, suffice it to say that my parents and I knew several of the other homeowners on the street that ran down the side of our home. There was the Cravens, an elderly couple that had spent made their money in the insurance business and lived next door. Then there were the Johnsons who lived across the street.
But the face that I found on the opposite side of the oak door, after crossing the foyer, was Ms. Miller. Beth Miller had moved into the neighborhood about the same time I had. A widower in her late 40's, my father and I had assisted her in carrying heavy furniture into her spacious home.
Over the course of the first 6 months, we had extended dinner invitations to each other on a regular basis. I never missed a chance to see Beth, as I found her middle age body to be captivating. She stood 5'11, had brown hair that fell past her shoulders and deep blue eyes, and bronze skin that stayed dark through regular trips to the tanning bed. A flat stomach from daily workouts at the gym, she had perfect curves that developed into a well-rounded ass. And to top it all off, a large pair of breasts that were surprisingly firm for her age.
She was standing on the stoop in a pair of sweatpants and baggy t-shirt that, to my dismay, hid her amazing body.
" Ms Miller. This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I was just wondering if you could help me. I've got some furniture to move around, and I was hoping that you could do some of the heavy lifting."
"I'd be glad too. I have some work to finish, but I could drop by later on this evening."
"You're doing schoolwork on a Friday evening? I would have thought that a young man like you would be off to rendezvous with a lucky young lady."
I laughed, as she knew full well that I was currently out of a relationship. "Consider it a testament to my pitiful life. Would 9 be ok?"
"That would be perfect. I'll see you this evening."
Normally I would have held the door open a bit longer, hoping to catch a glimpse of her sumptuous ass swaying as she walked across the street. Knowing that I would be hard pressed to get such a view with what she was wearing, I closed and locked the door.
After I had hastily eaten some leftover chicken salad and chased it with a pint of lager poured from a bottle, I pulled an old gray t-shirt over my jeans and headed down the street. Walking under the streetlight, I headed up the walk and reached for the familiar doorknocker. I swung it against the wood door several times, then turned and looked down the street while I waited.
I heard the door open behind me after several moments, and spoke as I turned.
"Sorry I'm a little late, I..."
I stopped as I turned, and swallowed hard. The woman I had imagined naked so many times was standing before me, wearing nothing but a men's dress shirt. I immediately recognized the shirt as my own. My washing machine had been broken several weeks before, and I had used her machine to do some laundry. My shirt must have been left behind...unless she had hidden it from me.
"I, uh...got caught up in my paper. Is this a bad time?"
"No, you didn't interrupt anything. Why don't you come inside?"
I followed her inside, and shut the door behind me. The only light in the house was coming from what I knew to be the living room. As I stepped over the threshold, I saw her pouring a glass of wine at a roll top desk that served as a bar.
"Would you like a drink? If our little dinner parties have committed themselves correctly to my memory, you prefer Jim Beam on the rocks."
She poured my drink without waiting for a response, and walked barefoot across the room to push it into my hand.
"What uh...what did you need me to move? Is it in the bedroom?"
"You could say that. Why don't you sit down, and I'll explain."
I followed her to the couch, and we both sat down. She placed her hand on my knee, and took a sip of wine before beginning.
"As I've told you before, my husband died 8 years ago. It was a hard time for me. I didn't really have anyone to fall back on. Neither of us had any family left, and he had gone before we had any children. I finally made peace with my situation, and as you know eventually moved here. Since Richard has been gone, I've become fairly good at providing for myself. He left me a rather nice bank account, so I've never had to work. But I've adapted to single life, though there's just one thing that I can't seem to be able to do for myself."
