Sean Reynolds sat on the edge of the bed, with only a white bath towel draped across his lap to protect his modesty - a modesty that was in serious danger from the sight only a dozen or so feet away. Short of closing his eyes, it would've been impossible for the twenty-one year old redhead not to see the woman in whose name the motel room had been registered. She had, after all, left the door to the bathroom wide open, just so he could watch her.
Clad in a pair of black panties and a matching push up bra, the dark haired woman was, Sean well knew, only a few years younger than his own mother. Not that he could ever imagine his mother looking anything like the woman in the bathroom, not even back when she had been his age.
Totally enthralled, Sean continued to watch as she took a small spray bottle from a toiletry kit on the vanity and sprayed herself with the contents. First on one wrist, which she then rubbed against the other, then her forearms as well, followed by a squirt down the folds of her breasts, and finally a quick burst across the front of her panties. The thirty-eight year old turned and gave him a brief smile before stepping towards the doorway, richly exaggerating the sway of her hips and breasts as she did.
Moving into the bedroom, she paused by the bureau, giving him the chance to take a good look at her in the full light. One hand rested on her hip as the other brushed across her rounded breasts, outstretched fingers drawing attention to their fullness. Then, with an inviting smile on her face, she closed the distance between them, stopping just close enough to the bed for Sean to bring his hands around and cup the cheeks of her ass - a gesture that broadened her smile. At the same time, the brunette brought her hands to the sides of the young man's face, gently guiding it between her breasts.
Deeply inhaling the mix of her own natural scent and that which she had sprayed there, Sean marveled at the amazing turn of events that had brought him to this place and time, one that, even in his most outlandish fantasies, he could never have imagined possible.
The woman reached down and slipped her hand beneath the towel, closing her fingers around the hardness she found there. A pleased smile filled her face as she ran her hand up and down its length, gently stroking it until the motion of her hand caused to towel to drop away.
-=-=-
"Hey Sean, pass me the steak sauce again, will ya?" Mark Sullivan asked across the table as he put down the fork after tasting his entrée.
Sean picked up the small bottle and handed it to his friend, wondering how he could even taste the meat on his plate with the amount of sauce he had already drowned it in. Still, it was Mark's stomach, not his, and he was the one who would have to deal with it later. Sean had ordered the chicken, figuring that would sit better after they'd had a few drinks later on.
They, Mark, Kurt Walsh, and himself, had come to McGuire's Steakhouse after work to have some dinner before heading over to the Pavilion, a popular dance club that was frequented by both townies and students from the local college. The choice of the Pavilion was really a no-brainer, as there were few other places to really go in Oak Hills on a Saturday night - at least, none with a two to one female to male ratio, which was its main point of attraction.
"Hey guys," Kurt interrupted, "don't look now, but I think that woman at the bar is checking us
out."
Ignoring his instruction, both Mark and Sean looked up from the table and turned in the direction Kurt had indicated. As they did, the youngest of the group added that he had first noticed her looking at them a few minutes before.
This early in the evening, the restaurant was sparsely populated and the booths to their right and left were empty. So it was pretty much a certainty that she had indeed been staring at the three of them, something which she continued to do for a few long moments, even after they had begun to return the attention. Then, in a casual motion, she turned around and picked up her drink off the bar.
"What do you think that was all about?" Sean wondered out loud as he shifted his attention back to his own table.
"Isn't it obvious?" Mark said with a laugh as he followed suit. "Young or old, the ladies can't keep their eyes off the Markster."
Both of his friends laughed, although Sean's was only half-hearted. The three of them had been friends since high school, with only a few months' age difference between Sean and Kurt and an additional year and a half separating the two of them from Mark. That had been the result of the latter having to repeat two grades along the way. All of them now worked for the construction company owned by Mark's uncle.
While Mark and Kurt shifted to another subject, Sean took a second, longer look at the woman at the bar. She was wearing a short sleeved purple blouse and white slacks, along with a pair of low black loafers. Her dark hair was cut short, but in the dim light it was hard to get a good look at her face - other than to see that she was, for her age, still attractive.
"Hey, did I tell you guys that I went out with Paula Papadopulos last weekend?" Mark said, changing the conversation back to him. "Talk about a set of knockers," the crew cut blond added, making a few additional comments about the size and shape
of her nipples, the insinuation being that he was describing them from a first hand observation.
Mark tossed in a few more comments about Paula's anatomy, but as had become the norm of late, Sean had already stopped paying attention. In recent months, he'd grown tired of the way Mark always acted like they were all still back in high school. The reason Mark did so, the redhead had come to believe, was because those had been his glory days, and it had all pretty much been downhill since.
Sean himself never claimed to be an angel, and since losing his virginity in high school had enjoyed reasonable success with girls. He just found it impossible to believe that any guy scored as much as his friend claimed to, at least here in Oak Hill. It had become Sean's practice to take the number of girls Mark claimed he got to second base with, and reduce it by a third. For third base, an additional third dropped off and he never counted even half of the girls Mark professed to have hit home runs with.
Kurt, who, Sean believed, had never gotten past second base with any girl in his life, took everything Mark said at face value. In his eyes, Mark was a legendary stud with a track record that movie stars and professional athletes could only envy.
Soon enough they were done with their meals and, after Sean again reminded Mark that a fair tip was fifteen and not ten percent, they all got up from the booth and started for the door. As he had been getting up from his seat, Sean noticed that the woman at the bar was again looking in their direction. Still curious, he decided not to follow Mark and Kurt down the path between tables toward the exit, but instead took a more circular route, one that would take him past the bar, allowing him a better look at the woman sitting there.
As he did so, Sean casually glanced at the woman, giving her a friendly smile which she returned noncommittally. He found that he was correct in his initial appraisal, she was indeed attractive, but more importantly she also seemed familiar somehow. But then again, he thought that about many women, especially if they were pretty. Having gotten no reaction from her, however, he chalked it up to his imagination and went on his way.
He'd gotten about a half-dozen steps, when the woman did say something that stopped him in his tracks. She'd used a name that he hadn't gone by in nearly four years.
"Rusty?" he heard the woman say from behind him, "Rusty Reynolds?"
Sean turned around and retraced his steps, giving the woman on the stool a longer, much more intensive look as he did so. It took a few moments more than it should have, but a name finally popped into his head to go along with the now familiar face.
"Mrs. Willoughby?" he asked, the touch of hesitation in his tone reflecting the fact that the woman before him had much shorter, and perhaps darker, hair than he remembered.
