Originally written for Marlon
With special thanks to David for his loving support
© 2001 by Parris
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Bastard.
Kate Brockton slouched in an overstuffed armchair and squinted at the pendulum clock on the wall of her den. Eddie, her good-for-nothing husband –– no –– her good-for-nothing ex-husband was suppose to drop off a pile of legal papers for her to review before going to the lawyer's in the morning. The appointed hour was seven o'clock and it was now eight-thirty.
Fucking bastard.
Worse than that, she felt stupid sitting in the dark, wearing a tight, black cocktail dress and full makeup, six-inch stilettos pinching her toes and long, red ringlets drooping into her eyes. She puffed out an exasperated breath, blowing her hair aside as she shook the curls out of her face. The plan had been to meet Eddie at the door in a flurry of hairpins. She was just about to go out. Good thing he got here in time to catch her. Thanks for the papers. She'd try to look at them in the morning. Bye, and slam the door in his face.
Asshole.
It was so unfair. Just three years ago, Kate discovered the truth behind the veiled saying that women hit their sexual prime as they near middle age. Television and print ads discretely referred to it as being "pre-menopausal" but the fact was, as her hormones began to shift, Kate developed the sex drive of a teenage boy. Twelve years her senior, Eddie couldn't keep up with her aggressive desires and in the ultimate irony, left her for a twenty-year-old piece of muff who was more into money than sex.
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
Picking up the television remote, Kate stabbed it toward the set, pressing the channel changer until the images blurred together, nothing more than flashes of bright red, blue and white light interrupted by fractional moments of darkness. Hiking up the short dress, she draped one knee over the arm of the chair and watched the hypnotic strobe of the television, chewing on the inside of her lower lip; planning the demise of Eddie and all men like him. She didn't stir when she heard the front door open and close. It had to be Marlon, the university student boarding with her this semester. Eddie didn't have a key since she had the locks changed.
Dropping his backpack and dirty cleats next to the front door, Marlon pocketed his door key as he flipped off the switch for the porch light. By the dim light of a tiny brass Tiffany lamp, he sifted through the mail Ms. Brockton left sitting for him on the entry way table. Flashes of light from the darkened den caught his eye and he glanced down the hall with a slightly puzzled look. Suddenly, he realized the house was unusually dark and quiet tonight. Why would Ms. Brockton be sitting in the dark, watching television with the sound off?
Slipping out of his trainers to keep from tracking soil over the carpet runner, Marlon walked barefoot toward the den but stopped deep in the shadows outside the door as he saw Ms. Brockton sprawled in the armchair, staring blankly at the television screen while she clicked past channels. At nineteen, Ms. Brockton's 38 years made her an older woman to Marlon. She was tall for a woman and had lots of warm, round curves that Marlon never tired of watching as she worked in the yard or around the kitchen. Tonight, her deep mahogany hair was piled in frothy ringlets on top of her head. Her skin was clear and pale, like fine porcelain with just a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and along her cheek bones. Though she rarely wore makeup, Marlon could see by the pulsing light of the television screen she looked almost glamourous tonight. Dark eye shadow and mascara deepened and widened her green eyes, her cheek bones were accentuated, and dark, coppery lipstick drew attention to her full lips.
Scanning down her body, Marlon could see she was sheathed in a tight, short, black cocktail dress. Sheathed was the only word he could think of to describe how the dress hugged her full breasts, slim waist and round hips. Shiny beads around the plunging neckline and high hem reflected the light and caught the eye. Then there were her legs. Long and shapely, Ms. Brockton's legs where spread open. One foot resting on the floor while the other was hooked over the arm of the chair bouncing in time to some inner rhythm. Dangling from her swaying toe was one of a pair of patent leather mankillers.
Suddenly the throbbing light of switching channels stopped and the room filled with a pale, blue-white light. A look of mild interest crossed Ms. Brockton's face and she shifted in the chair spreading her legs a bit wider, affording Marlon an uninterrupted view up her skirt. His breath caught and his heart beat a little harder in his chest as his cock began to stir in his shorts. He knew he shouldn't be looking but couldn't help himself. Between her thighs, he could see Ms. Brockton's bare pussy. Taking a step backward, he bumped into a hall table and cringed as a book end slid along the polished surface and a collection of leather-bound volumes tumbled like dominoes.
Kate heard Marlon come in. He was a sweet, good-natured young man with an infectious laugh and ready smile. She never had to remind him to remove his shoes or pick up after himself. She liked that. She also liked the way his tight t-shirts stretched across his broad shoulders as he helped her weed her flower gardens in preparation for winter or mow the lawn one final time before the fall frost hit. She couldn't help but feel old every time she lamented the current fashion for baggy pants, remembering how hot young studs use to look in well-fit button fly jeans. She often wondered if Marlon's ass was as firm and tight as she thought it had to be. There were mornings her fingers ached to cup his ass through his baggy shorts as he scuffed into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee before flashing her a lop-sided grin. Those were the mornings she felt like pinning him to the refrigerator and shoving her tongue down his throat.
Kate continued scanning channels as Marlon walked down the hall. She knew she should drop her leg and close her knees but Marlon didn't come in to the den. He stopped just outside the door. She could feel him staring at her. Kate continued swinging her foot over the arm of the chair. She thought about his eyes roaming her body and could feel her pussy start to get damp. She spread her legs a little further apart so Marlon would be sure to see her naked puss. Hearing a stumble and the collapse of books on the hall table, Kate knew she'd struck a cord.
"Hi, Marlon. You okay?"
"Umm – yeah. I just sort of banged the table"
'Right,' Kate thought. 'Now if you'll just sort of bang me.' Out loud she asked, "No computer tonight?"