"Are you sure it's a good idea?" Lina asked, solemnly smoking a cigarette.
"Why not, love?" Pericles shrugged, his gaze wandering to the small kitchen window looking at the inner courtyard (and consequently at various neighbors' hanging laundry).
"I don't know," she sighed resignedly. "It just feels..."
"Look, Takis and Dimitra already did it. That's where I got the idea from. They've had no problems so far."
"Exactly," she snapped her fingers, suddenly her expression altering. "
So far
; that's the key word here."
"Look, Lina," he said in a heavier voice. "Whether we like it or not, we could use the extra cash, okay? Besides, it'll only be for a few days at a time; and hell, they'll be here for tourism, to see the city, what not.
"They'll only be around to sleep, maybe to eat something. They won't bother us."
"I still don't know..." she sighed and crushed her cigarette in the ashtray.
She got up and did the dishes, rather absentmindedly, as her thoughts automatically wandered to next week, to the lodger they were expecting, to the implications and consequences it could have on their everyday life, as well as the burden he could potentially end up as.
"Lina," he sighed, "it's only for a few days;
and
we'll be making some much needed extra cash. Besides, the man's coming here for vacation. He won't be around the apartment much; hell, he only wants an affordable bed and a roof over his head for his stay.
"Let's try to be hospitable and make him feel welcome, alright?"
"Fine," she groaned, without moving her gaze away from the pile of dishes under the soapy water.
* * * *
Renting John's (their son) old room was a good idea; or so, at least, Lina tried to convince herself, despite her persistent hesitations. A lot of people were doing it, so much she knew with certainty, and there've only been a few problems reported; why should the young American archaeology student cause any serious trouble?
He only wants to visit Athens, go to the museums, Acropolis, what not—Lina thought gravely, as her mind refused to follow the TV-show playing on the screen in front of her. I'm just being narrow-minded, convincing myself he'll be a pestilence, a...what?
She didn't know and her inner dialogue did not prove at all useful; all she accomplished was further to agitate herself. She had no legitimate reasons to worry; it was all in her mind, her refusal to accept they'd be letting a stranger—whom they knew solely via his online profile—live with them for five days, share a bathroom with them, use their kitchen and their son's room.
It was, after all,
her
schedule the stranger would interfere with the most; Pericles worked all day long, coming home late in the evening. Gone for most of the day, often nodding off on the couch while watching TV, he'd hardly notice the presence of a stranger in the house.
It was she that stayed home during the day—three years unemployed and slowly coming to terms with never finding a job again—and, subsequently, it'd be her that would have to be around the stranger. However, she knew Pericles was right; the man would have no interest in staying inside. He'd want to explore the city, he'd be wandering in the streets all day long; why should he be an inconvenience?
Nevertheless, nothing could soothe her worrying mind; maybe, it was simply her wiring that did not let her accept new ideas easily. She couldn't tell, nor did she really care to figure out the true reasons for her uneasiness.
She got up, got dressed, and headed to the gym; she had finally trimmed down to a nearly flat stomach and toned legs and arms after two years of working out, trying to shred off all the extra weight she had gained in the first year of unemployment, during which she indulged in a thought-numbing binge of cheap TV-shows and junk food.
* * * *
"Jesus!" Pericles exclaimed, when he walked in the apartment, after a hard day's work, and found it pristine and shiny. "Have you been cleaning all day?"
"Pretty much," Lina nodded with a pant, her shirt still covered in wet spots.
"Why?" He scratched his growing bald spot, afraid to step into the lavender-smelling living room.
"Our guest's coming tomorrow, remember?" Lina arched her eyebrow. "Do come in, don't just stand there!"
"Sorry," he took off his shoes and jacket carefully and tiptoed his way to the couch, next to Lina. "Why in God's name did you exhaust yourself like this?"
"Do you want our guest to think we're slobs? To have him go back home and tell his parents and friends that our home was a pigsty?"
"He's twenty years old, Lina!" He chuckled. "He probably thinks a vacuum cleaner is something astronauts use!"
"Talking from experience?" She asked with a smile.
"You never saw my apartment, during my college days...if you had," his lips curled, "I doubt you'd have married me."
"Uh-huh," she tried to maintain a solemn face. "And you never thought to mention your slob past before?"
"It's the past, it was not important, it..." he stopped and they both burst into laughter.
"So, how was your day?"
"Same old, same old," he replied sullenly. "Things keep getting worse, but...so far so good."
"And I'm sure you'll be getting that coveted promotion anytime now," she winked, then climbed on his lap, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
"Sure hope so," he moaned, thrusting his hands inside her tight shorts.
She bit his lower lip gently, while staring directly into his eyes lustfully, caressing his chest and shoulders. She felt his relaxed muscles, the fat slowly amassing around his gut...sometimes, she felt disappointed he had failed to maintan his former shape, yet, she knew it was selfish of her to demand he stayed fit with a desk job that often detained him at the office for more than ten hours daily.
Their lips interlocked in a fiery kiss, their tongues fighting one another in a wet, passionate battle; she was breathing heavily, grinding on his crotch, pushing her body hard down against his hardening member.
"I need you," she moaned in his ear heavily, before going back to kissing and sucking his neck; he helped her out of her t-shirt.
He took her breasts in his hands, her erect nipples in his mouth; she arched her back, moaning loudly into the living room.
She pulled his shirt off, planting wet kisses all over his chest, ignoring the increasing number of grey hair...he laid her down on her back on the couch and yanked her shorts down around her ankles. He kissed her lower stomach, breathing deeply, teasing her over her black panties.
She unbuttoned his pants and rubbed him over his tight boxers, squeezing gently. He pulled both pants and boxers down hurriedly, then lay atop of her once more, both now naked. Her legs crossed around his waist, her arms around his neck; they kissed passionately once more, her tongue in his throat, teasing him.
He went in with one swift move, her wetness overwhelming him; she was warm and tight, like always, and the low humming sounds she produced after every deep thrust turned the heat up even more in his body and mind.
It felt exactly the same as it did for nearly twenty-one years; she pushed him deep in her with her legs, kissing him while he penetrated her slow and deep. Their moans synchronized, their lips remained locked in a stale kiss; they stared into each other's eyes lovingly.
He increased his pace slightly and a silent sigh escaped her lips; her head banged on the couch's arm.
"Slower," she encouraged him, "go slow."
But, he wouldn't heed her advice; never had in occasions like this. Suddenly, he exploded inside her; he unloaded deep in her—they've both had reached an age where pregnancy was not a fear—and for a few moments remained lying on her, his softened cock slipped out of her pussy, and they shared one last, shortlived kiss.
He went to take a shower, leaving her naked on the couch, unsatisfied. She sat up, put her clothes back on, and patiently waited for her turn to hit the shower.
When she came out, wrapped in a towel, her long, light-brown hair wet and reaching down to her waist, Pericles was too engrossed in the first Eurobasket match even to notice her dropping the towel and sitting naked and dripping wet next to him.
With a sigh she put her nightie on and sat in the kitchen with fresh coffee, a cigarette, and
Fanny Hill.
* * * *
The fateful day had finally arrived; Pericles had taken the day off in order to pick up their lodger from the airport. Lina had dressed up, albeit trying to make it seem as if she hadn't; in high-heel black pumps, skinny-tight jeans, and a dark-green tank top—and wearing her hair in a high ponytail—she was confident she looked both casual and good.
It was all about first impressions—about the everlasting impression she'd leave on their lodger, which he'd take back home and share with his family, friends, and acquaintances. In her mind, she was representing her country, her countrymen, her fellow Greeks and Athenians, and she adamantly refused to slip up and allow the guest any bad memories—his name was Sebastian, she read on his profile and mumbled it to herself a few times.
The key hit the lock and there they both were; first, it was Pericles that walked in and who held the door open welcoming Sebastian to their humble home.
Lina smiled widely; "welcome," she said in a high-pitched voice, then immediately cleared her throat.
"Hello," the clearly weary from the flight Sebastian mumbled dropping his bag as soon as Pericles shut the door.
Sebastian glanced about in marvel, appearing reluctant to take any further steps, unless so instructed—it became quite clear to Lina that it was his first time renting someone's spare bedroom, which quickly let her breathe more easily.
However, she could not help but examine the guest closer; he was the same babyfaced man she had seen in the profile, with his medium-long dark hair, bright green eyes, and a single, simple earring. It was his lean, fit physique she hadn't seen in the profile picture, as well as his tattoo-covered arms and shoulders, the sleeves reaching up to his neck.
She struggled against all her innate prejudices and thus retained her wide, warm smile, while convincing herself to keep any and all comments flooding her mind for after Sebastian was gone.
"Come, let me show you to your room," Pericles tapped the man on the shoulder and guided him through the narrow hallway.
Lina remained still, scratching her upper arm nervously; she had not expected a tattooed guest, but, she once more made a genuine effort to convince herself not to judge a book by its cover. It was too hard a task, however, and therefore she hurried in the kitchen and began chopping up an onion, hoping that cooking would prove to be a good enough distraction.
"So, what do you think?" Pericles asked, when he walked into the kitchen and shut the door behind him.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "You spent time with him in the car."
