Hi, this story is a continuation of my "That Saturday Morning" story. So many people contacted me asking what happened with Phil next, that I thought the least I could do was write something. If you want to understand a little more about Carole, please read that story first.
Either way, I hope you enjoy it.
Carole managed to avoid her neighbor for a few days. She kept an eye out for him and only went outside when he wasn't around. She wasn't working today and was home alone. The heatwave was mostly over and though it was still warm, it wasn't uncomfortable like it had been. Fresh from the shower Carole stood in her bedroom wearing a pair of gray sweat pants and pulling a white T shirt on over her head. She bent forward, throwing her dark red wavy hair forward and blowing it dry with the hairdryer. Somewhere off in the distance she heard a sound, it didn't register. She carried on drying and the sound got louder, at last something clicked.
"Shit..." she swore to herself, switching off the hairdryer and throwing it on the bed, "I haven't put the bins out. Carole rushed downstairs, through the kitchen and out the back door, grabbing the wheelie bin as she went and dragging it down the narrow ally between her house and and the neighbors, and out onto the street.
"haha, come on love, hurry up..." the bin men jeered and laughed at her as she rushed to catch them. The late morning sun shone down the length of the street, and onto her back and left hand side "That's alright love, I got it." one of them said, approaching her with a grin, she thought she noticed him glance at her chest as he took the bin from her.
"Thank you." she replied and feeling it would be rude to just walk away, she waited as he took her bin, to the lorry, attached it to the mechanism and emptied it. She watched as her bin rose into the air, then looked at the bin men, they were both watching her, and looked away when she noticed them. Carole recognized that look and was reminded of what had happened at the weekend. She looked down at her own chest. The sun shone through side of her T shirt making a clear silhouette of her large breasts. Her first instinct was to wrap her arms around her chest to hide them. But as her arms moved, she felt the tingle of nervous excitement in her tummy at the thought of the men watching her, and instead, she raised her hands to her head. As the refuse collector walked toward her with her bin in tow, she pushed her fingers into her damp dark auburn locks and pulled her hair back off her face, shaking her head to loosen the waves.
The stranger watched intently as her soft breasts moved, silhouetted and unhindered beneath the thin cotton T shirt. The short hem lifting to expose the low cut waistband of her jog pants, her little round potbelly and her deep dark bellybutton. "Thank you so much," Carole said as the man returned her bin.
"Your welcome love..." he grinned "anytime." Carole turned to head back to her house, feeling naughty and excited, but stopped suddenly. Stood by her gate, waiting for her, was Phil, the old man from next door. He was a tall slender old man, with thin white hair and long, suntanned, sinewy limbs. Carole didn't know exactly how old he was, but knew he was nearly seventy, she thought. He wore shorts, sandals, socks and a polo shirt, all of which were, of course, immaculate. As was his house and garden, there wasn't a blade of grass out of place. He kept himself fit and active by never stopping doing stuff. He watched Carole as she turned and the grin on his face told her he knew exactly what she had just been doing, it was the same grin he had last time she saw him.
"Hello Carole," he greeted her as her face flushed bright red with embarrassment. Not just because of what he had just caught her doing, but also because of what she was doing the last time he saw her. In fact, that was the main reason he knew what was really going on with the bin men just then.
"Hi." she answered in a timid whisper.
"Here, let me help you with that," he insisted as she approached her front gate, and he took the bin handle from her with one hand while holding the gate open for her with the other. She led the way down the narrow ally beside her house. Her embarrassment growing as she looked up at his window and remembered the grin he had worn as he watched her from there. She glanced back at him and immediately wished she hadn't, he was watching her round bottom in the tight jog pants and looked up when she looked back, with no hint that he had been doing anything he shouldn't. "Any chance of a brew?" he asked as he followed her into the back garden.
"Um, yeah sure." Carole answered, longing to say no fuck off, but she just didn't have it in her, she was really a bit of a push over. They went into the small dining kitchen, Phil sat at the table and watched as Carole made him a cup of tea, and a coffee for herself.
"How have you been?" he asked, "I haven't seen you for a few days."
"I'm okay..." she answered, finding it hard to concentrate. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out what was going on. Phil had popped round for a brew plenty of times before of course. Especially since her divorce. But this time it felt different, strained somehow, there was a long awkward silence. "How have you been?" Carole asked, stirring milk into her coffee.
"Oh fine, fine," he answered "are the boys out?" he asked.
