"Tim and his father come back tomorrow," Mrs. Tyler said with a gentle sigh as we lay by the pool. It was still early. The sun hadn't reached its zenith yet.
"I know," I said, my disappointment obvious in my tone.
"It's probably a good thing," she added with a smile. "We could probably both use the rest."
"We rested yesterday!" I protested.
"You had to spend the day at home. Your parents were starting to notice how much time you've been spending here."
"I know, I know," I nodded, not really agreeing, but understanding her rational.
"Besides," she said, smiling once more. "Some of us aren't as young as we used to be. We need more than twenty-four hours to recoup from the week we've shared."
"Bull!" I laughed. "If anyone needs a rest, it's me. I've barely been able to keep up with you!"
"Well then," she shrugged. "Be happy. You'll be getting a break soon enough."
"I said 'if anyone needs a rest', but neither of us does."
"But after tomorrow..." Marisa began.
"...we'll just have to be more circumspect," I finished.
"I know we thought we could keep this up, but it's not realistic," she said sadly.
"Sure it is," I insisted. "I'm leaving for college soon and my school is only an hour away. I'll be coming home often enough. Besides, there's a nice hotel in town. You'll have to come visit."
"You'll have coeds to play with by then," she argued. "You won't need me."
"I don't need you now," I said surprising her. "But I sure as hell want you! And I will until you chase me away."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Marisa asked.
"Please!" I snorted. "Word of your pending divorce is already starting to get around. Last night I overheard my father and Mr. Owens talking about the fact that you'd be back on the market soon."
"Frank Owens?" Marisa asked with a frown. He was a nice guy whose wife left him a couple of years before. "He's interested in me?"
"Of course he is! I keep trying to tell you, they're going to flock to your door."
"You're crazy!" she laughed.
"Maybe," I shrugged. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong. Pop and Mr. Owens decided that it would be smart to wait a respectable month after Mr. Tyler leaves before calling on you, but I'm betting Mr. Owens will be over before Mr. Tyler's car gets off the block!"
"Frank's not really my type," Marisa said thoughtfully.
"Sure he is," I insisted. "But even if he's not there will be others. My mother has been on the phone planning blind dates for you for almost week. She and her friends have every eligible bachelor lined up."
"The women of this neighborhood really need to learn to mind their business," Marisa said, sounding annoyed, but then she sighed and added, "I guess they're well meaning."
"You think so?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I think what they're doing is in part out of kindness," I replied. "But I also think the married woman around here don't want a divorcee that looks like you in the neighborhood. It's too tempting to their 'happily' married husbands!"
"You are so bad!" Marisa laughed.
"Of course, none of them realize it's their sons they should worry about!" I joked.
"That's not really funny," she said with a frown. I shrugged. I knew she was sensitive about what happened, but that wasn't going to stop me from teasing her a little.
"Actually, what they really should be doing is lining up their sons to take lessons from you!" I laughed. "In fact, maybe their husbands too!"
"You bastard!" Mrs. Tyler cried, but a moment later she burst out in laughter. "You are going straight to hell!"
"Save me a spot," I retorted.
"If you keep this up, I'm going to send you home!" she threatened, but Marisa was still laughing.
"Wouldn't you rather see if I've learned what you spend the week diligently teaching me?" I asked, smiling knowingly. Mrs. Tyler looked into my eyes and hesitated before shaking her head.
"That's one thing I didn't teach you, but you picked it up anyway," she said.
"What?"
"The 'fuck me' look," she said, and then nearly giggled as she added, "Or in your case should I call it the "I going to fuck you' look?"
"Well?" I asked.
"Why don't we go inside?" she replied.
"I thought you'd never ask!" I cried, making my way to the ladder.
I got out of the pool and helped Marisa up the ladder. We took a moment to dry before going inside.
"Where to?" I asked.
"Your choice," she smiled. "We've done it in just about every room of the house this past week. Which was your favorite?"
"Hmm," I said rubbing my chin and trying hard not to laugh. "Let me think."
"Hard decision?" she asked.
"Well, the kitchen table was fun, but I don't think it will survive another go," I answered. "Tim's bedroom was a bit much."
"You didn't seem to mind at the time," Marisa grinned. I shrugged. She was right. I hadn't minded it at the time, but as hot as the idea of fucking Tim's mother in his bed was, I felt really guilty later.
"The garage and basement were enjoyable, but not really worth repeating," I said.
"How about the attic?" Marisa jokingly asked.
"I'm still itchy from the last time!" I laughed. A piece of the insulation fell on me during our session up there and made my sweaty back itchy as hell. It led to a quick shower. That was an idea! "How about the shower?"
"We just spent an hour in the pool. I'm not really in the mood," Mrs. Tyler replied. She saw me holding my towel and suddenly smiled seductively and grabbed it. "I'll throw these in the dryer while you decide."
It seemed odd to me, but I shrugged as she disappeared down the hall. I was still waffling on my decision when I realized that Mrs. Tyler was gone a lot longer than was necessary to throw two towels in the dryer. I frowned and made my way down the hall to the laundry room. I could hear the dryer going, but I could also hear Marisa moaning.
"Of course!" I said to myself, slapping my forehead. "We never did it in the laundry room!"
