The likelihood of me becoming involved with a woman half my age seemed impossible. More chance of winning big on the National Lottery. But fate and good fortune conspired to bring about a series of events that led to such a thing happening.
For convenience sake I choose to live in town. My house is one of a terraced row tucked away in a cul-de-sac. My next-door neighbours are a young married couple in their twenties. The husband is a real anti-social arsehole but his wife, Lena, is the complete opposite -- outgoing, amiable and always speaks.
Lena has an ample body best described as voluptuous. Some might say curvaceous or buxom, or possibly all three. But she is most definitely provocative in all the right places, with breasts impossible to ignore. The perfect female in my book.
I fantasise about her on a regular basis, inventing scenarios and imagining myself making love to her. I also know she likes to wear sexy underwear because I've seen it hanging on her linen line.
Not that I'm a dirty old perv voyeur, you understand, but you can't fail to see her silky frillies blowing in the breeze. And on one occasion I had to retrieve a collection of her bras and panties that had blown into my garden, as a result of strong winds.
So this was the hand fate had dealt me -- to live next door to an unattainable woman of my dreams. Only to acknowledge one another with a greeting. Or hand back her errant washing. How I prayed for gale force winds!
I was at home one day awaiting my heating engineer to arrive and carry out annual maintenance on the gas boiler, when the doorbell chimed. I opened the door expecting a man in overalls, but to my surprise it was a policewoman, her panda car in the road.
"Sorry to trouble you, sir" She said. "But the young lady next door has had some very distressing news regarding her husband and is most upset, naturally. She has asked me to ask you if you wouldn't mind sitting with her for a while. To offer a little comfort. Mrs Stewart has no close relatives living near."
I was taken aback by the policewoman's request, but did as she requested and followed her back to Lena's house, where I found Lena on the sofa sobbing her eyes out. When she saw me, she stretched out her arms in welcome. It seemed a natural thing to do, so I embraced her.
"What on earth has happened, Lena?" I asked running my hands over the smooth material of her blouse and sensing her bra straps beneath; it felt nice.
"It's Michael. He's been killed in a road accident!"
"Christ! I'm sorry, Lena." I replied "My condolences."
I continued holding Lena in my arms, stroking her back in sympathy, when the policewoman said she'd make some tea for us all -- the English panacea for combatting grief! I made Lena sit down and I sat beside her holding her hands.
"Do you want to tell me what has happened."
Lena gave a few more sobs then wiped her nose and eyes on a tissue. I gave her time to gather her thoughts.
"The police said he was drunk! Way over the limit. He'd been away on a stag do with his mates. He was driving down the M1 and apparently fell asleep at the wheel. All four men were killed."
"Christ, Lena." I repeated.
"Thank you for coming round. I have no one else to turn to."I squeezed her hands. "Really, I have no one else. You are so kind." I put an arm around her and drew her closer. The tears started again just as the tea arrived.
"Shush, shush. I'm here for you now." I said quietly putting both arms around her voluptuousness. The nerve ends in my fingers registered the smooth material of her blouse and the extrusion of bra straps. And down below my manhood tingled with the pleasure of being so close to her substantial bosom!
In a calm sympathetic voice the policewoman explained what procedures would take place now and gave out some literature. Then, following a decent interval, she left leaving me alone with Lena. It was then my uselessness really struck home, as I held Lena in my arms and spoke in friendly terms of not knowing Michael at all.
Somehow, my words had an effect on Lena. She wiped her eyes and spoke. All visible grief extinct.
"Don't concern yourself about that, Peter." It was the first time she'd used my name.
Lena straightened herself, put space between us and in complete contrast to the previous two hours, began to speak dispassionately about her dead husband. She vented her anger.
"Peter, he was a pig! A bully! And he drank too much! He hit me regularly. Used me as a punch bag! So, don't concern yourself that you didn't get to know him. You haven't wasted a second of your life!"
Lena's outburst took me by surprise.
"My tears were only for effect. I'm glad he's dead!" She snapped.
It was a strange situation I found myself in. Not to mention a confused one, especially when Lena flung her arms around me once more and told me to hold her. Lena's body was tight against mine, my hands roaming over the smoothness of her blouse. But when I sensed myself reacting more physically to Lena's large, firm bosom, I thought it best to put some distance between us.
We broke apart with Lena knowing full well why. Without doubt she'd sensed my erection, but the incident didn't prove discomfiting or disturbing for her. I kept her company for the remainder of the day going through the procedures for dealing with death. And when daylight faded into evening, I offered to cook a meal for us both.
During the coming weeks and months a strong bond developed. A friendship grew and deepened. Lena accepted my help and guidance regarding her new found widow status, making it plain I was indispensable. I loved spending time with her.
Lena eventually returned to her job as a make-up consultant in a large department store and came home in the evening to a meal I'd prepared. Thankfully, I was a good cook. We developed a familiar routine that saw her put more trust in me.
I wanted to advance our relationship. But the age difference nagged at my brain constantly, denying me the opportunity of revealing my emotion. Every night I was ready to explain how I felt, but somehow didn't possess the courage to express it.
It was a habit of Lena's to take a long soak in the tub while I cleared away the evening meal and did the dishes. And when I'd finished I would watch TV until she joined me on the settee, smelling sweetly of all things feminine. We would continue watching until it was time for me to go home.
But tonight was different.
After her soak in the tub, Lena usually appeared wearing a sexless towelling dressing gown. But not tonight. This evening she had chosen something much more interesting to lounge in. Something that blew me away.
Tonight, Lena was wearing a cream satin, knee-length wrap belted at the waist with 3/4 lacy sleeves. Her full, lusty breasts were defined magnificently and there was no mistaking her protruding nipples. I stared slack-jawed at the tantalising transformation. The lust coursing trough my body.
