The Landlord 12

Ten seconds after I rang her doorbell, Carolyn opened the front door and leaned her body fully against the jamb. As I tried to contain a wry smile about how she looked, only one thought emerged: I knew it; I knew she had lied.

"Welcome back," she said. She turned around and walked slowly towards her kitchen, knowing that her shape in the sun dress would get my attention. "Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?"

Carolyn was the owner of the condo that my ex-wife and I had lived in during our 3--year marriage. The divorce had been finalized only last week, and my ex would continue to live in the condo until the lease was up at the end of next month. When we separated several months ago I moved out, and I had agreed to continue to pay half the lease. I had paid my half in advance but had miscalculated the number of months remaining, missing the last month. So I had stopped by Carolyn's house earlier that morning to deliver the last check.

"A coke is fine, thanks, or diet coke if you have it," I replied. When I had stopped by earlier, Carolyn had worn loose-fitting jeans and a sweatshirt. Now, she wore something quite a bit clingier. Although she was an older woman, she had a very pretty face and was in great shape -- from just her body, you might guess she was in her late 20s and not in her late 40s. The dress went to her knees, showing very shapely calves accentuated by the nice 2-inch heels she was wearing.

"Well you're no fun. I meant a drink drink. Join me? Wine?"

In the years since I had met her I had the opinion that Carolyn gave little thought to me or people like me. She was never outright rude, but I always had the feeling that she felt that she was above most people, and kind of a bitch. She was a successful business owner, having inherited it from her late -- and elderly -- husband a few years earlier. She drove expensive cars and was always dressed to the nines; she knew she was attractive and dressed to let everyone see. It seemed to me that people like me -- young, just starting out -- were just nothing much for her to concern herself about. Like lords and their peasants.

I pondered having a drink. It was after 7pm on a Saturday night; why not? Let's see where this all goes. "I am not much of a wine drinker, it always gives me a headache," I replied. "How about a beer?"

This morning I had thought she was more brusque than usual. She took the check, made some very brief small talk -- asking casually if the divorce was final -- and then pretty much stopped talking. I took the hint: I was dismissed, and so I left. Again -- polite more or less, but indifferent. Maybe on top of her usual approach to lesser people she was simply annoyed at having to find new tenants for the condo. In any event, with the lease coming to an end, I figured I would have no reason to see her again.

Carolyn came back from the kitchen with a large glass of red wine in one hand and a Corona in the other; she steered me to an oversized couch in her living room and invited me to sit down. Handing me the beer, she sat at the other end of the couch.

She pulled her legs up under her on the couch and raised her glass briefly. "I'm a little bit ahead of you already, but cheers. I'm glad you decided to come back."

That was a curious thing for her to say. A couple hours after I left her house the first time, she had called me at my new apartment. When my ex and I first told Carolyn about our divorce and that I was moving out, she had insisted on getting a new phone number for me -- "since your name is still on the lease," she said. I thought it a little odd at the time, but this was back in the age before cell phones so the apartment was pretty much the only place she could reach me. I gave her the number for the new place and then forgot about it until I heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"You must have been in a rush to get away from me this morning," she told me over the phone. "You forgot to sign the check."

"Really?" To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I don't do things like that; I write dozens of checks every month and have never done that. What is she up to? Is she coming on to me?? That's ridiculous -- something like that happening to me was even less likely than my forgetting to sign a check. So did I really forget to sign it?? But I remember her looking right at the check when I handed it to her! Maybe she just looked at the amount....

"I have to be out of town tomorrow, and Monday is the first of the month already. Maybe you could come back here later today and sign the check for me? I would really like to have everything taken care of quickly so there are no problems for your ex."

Dismissing the thought that I really didn't care anymore if my ex had any problems with the lease, I suggested that I could come back right away. But she told me that she had some business to attend to; perhaps I could come back around 7pm or so?

"Well, since I somehow forgot to sign the check for you, I kind of figured I didn't really have a choice but to come back. And thanks for the beer," I said, raising the bottle at her briefly before taking a deep swig.

We talked for a while about nothing. I complimented her on her house, which really was very nice -- an open and spacious single floor plan, lots of big windows, and very nicely decorated; money sure could buy some pretty nice things. She talked about what she still wanted to do with the house, and about some other stuff -- her beach house in Florida, her sister and her nephew, her company. I had to admit that she was surprisingly easier to talk to than I would have expected, given what I assumed was her attitude towards lesser beings like me. Not having an empty beer bottle in my hands for more than a minute probably helped, too; she was nothing if not a good hostess.

With the adventures of her school-age nephew fully discussed, Carolyn twisted her body towards me on the couch, which pulled her dress quite a bit higher above her knee. A good amount of the wine was already gone from her third glass. She changed the subject: "I think it's good of you to have kept paying half the rent for your ex these last few months. Though I do have to say, I was really surprised when you told me you were splitting up. You guys seemed like a nice couple."

"Yes, well," I replied, as she hopped off the couch and went back to the kitchen, her dress swishing against my legs as she passed. She was wearing a very subtle but nice perfume, too. "Everyone knows things can be a lot different in private than they appear in public. I probably should have listened to all those people who told me that 23 was a ridiculously early age to get married."

Carolyn handed me another beer over my shoulder, brushing her hand across the top of my back before sitting back on the couch, her wine glass refilled. She was sitting a little closer this time.

I decided to test where this was really going a little bit. "So... where's that check?" I said, shaking my head. "I really can't believe I was so distracted that I forgot to sign the stupid thing this morning."

She curled up again on the couch, tucking her legs under herself, facing me. There was just a hint of cleavage as she bunched herself up. A few seconds passed before she said, "Oh, it's over there on the desk somewhere. What's the rush?" She absent-mindedly ran her finger from her ankle to her thigh, knowing I was watching the whole way. Mimicking the way I asked my last question, she asked, "So... why did you get married so young?"

Now that was a good question. My ex and I had met when I was a freshman in college; she was two years older. She was my first girlfriend, and while she had dated a little bit before me I was the first guy she considered a real boyfriend -- I was the first guy she brought home to meet her parents. I could tell myself that we got married because we loved each other and because after several years together, after she waited for me to graduate, it seemed that getting married was simply the right and next thing for us to do to start our "real" life together. And while all of that was true, I always knew the rest of the answer -- really, the main answer -- which was always unspoken. After a long pause I surprised myself by telling Carolyn.

"Sex."

Carolyn's eyes lit up, surprised by my answer. She took another drink from her glass. "Well, marriage is a pretty good place to get that!" she said, flashing a teasing smile at me. "But not the only place, of course." Her smile got bigger.

I hadn't really eaten much that day, and the Coronas were doing their work. I found myself telling the story of my marriage to Carolyn. My ex was a good girl; she had told me up front early in our dating that she intended to wear white at her wedding and have it mean what it was supposed to mean. Her family history was dotted with people who had done things the wrong way, like knocking up someone in high school or being the one knocked up, and she was not going to follow in those footsteps. I really did like this girl -- and soon fell in love with her -- so of course I supported her intentions. During college our physical relationship involved lots of kissing and heavy petting, eventually progressing to a little bit of oral after we both got buzzed at a family wedding reception. I was a hormone-ravaged 20-year old, and it was hard -- literally! -- but I waited, both patiently and impatiently, eventually counting the days to our wedding.

Carolyn had interrupted the story to ask lots of questions along the way, and kept both of our drinks in full flow. How many beers had I had by now? Was it six? Eight? And does it seems like she's sitting closer and closer with each one she brings? This couch seemed a lot bigger before, didn't it? Her face is looking a little flushed now, too, I think.

The wedding, however, did not bring the change in our relationship that I had been hoping for and expecting. We did not make love on our wedding night, when she said she was exhausted from the long day. I guess that happens. But we didn't finally lay together until the third night of our honeymoon, when I finally more or less insisted; she didn't object, but she wasn't really into it, either. She always said that she was just really tired. We might have had sex one more time that week, I don't remember anymore. I was disappointed and hurt, and frustrated -- that I do remember.

The "real" life we had planned did not go much better. I tried giving her space, I tried making sure she knew that I loved and desired her, I tried very hard to make sure that I was not an inconsiderate jerk always trying to shove a hard dick at her. In bed, neither of us really knew what we were doing but I thought that I always tried to be aware of her needs first. But regardless, I wasn't going to force myself on her, and during the course of our marriage if we slept together twice in a month then it was a good month indeed. I never cheated on her, but eventually I just stopped trying, and the marriage died.

By this time Carolyn had been sitting pretty close to me on the couch, but now she looked at me with an expression that I could not decipher. I couldn't believe I had told her all this. Normally you would have to torture me to talk about such private things. I hadn't even told this stuff to my closest friends, who had all been my groomsmen at the wedding. They had been surprised by the divorce and probably all thought I had the same wild college sex life they all did and that marriage was even better. Talk about breaking the mood. After what seemed like hours passed in silence, Carolyn leaned away from me a bit and tilted her head.

"Huh. So I guess it's fair to say that you got divorced for the same reason that you got married, right?" she asked. "Sex?" She got up from the couch, grabbed her wine glass and a couple lingering empty beer bottles from the coffee table, and went into the kitchen.

My marriage had some of the other difficulties that come with the territory, too -- money, different priorities, in-law troubles from both sides, whatever. But yes, Carolyn was right. I gave a sarcastic and bitter laugh. "Yeah, I guess you can say that."

She was standing at a counter, still in the kitchen. Until now, Carolyn had fairly well sprinted back to the couch from the kitchen with more wine and beer, but now she seemed rooted in place. After a long pause she said, "And so you are a 26-year old man, one who has been married for a few years, and you have had sex a total of, what, less than fifty times in your life? Forty?"

Well, when you put it like that it sounds pretty pathetic, doesn't it? The mood in the room, already waning, seemed to me to deflate completely. Whatever I thought might happen here -- which I thought I was pretty sure of about an hour ago -- was not going to happen. I could imagine the ruined idea in Carolyn's mind: sexy older woman seduces virile, experienced man in his sexual prime to fuck her brains out. Instead, he has less experience than some high school seniors. Well, thanks for coming over -- make sure you sign that check on your way out.

I was lost in my own thoughts for a minute or so when I decided that I probably should wind things down and begin to get ready to leave. But just as I was about to stand up, Carolyn crossed in front of me and put her hand out to my chest, keeping me sitting down. She sat next to me on the couch, facing me, and slowly leaned her body across my waist. She reached her hand out to my face, gently pulled her face to mine, and started to kiss me.

Well, I guess I misread that. It took a second for the surprise to work its way through my mind before I responded in kind and kissed her back, our tongues gently but eagerly exploring each other's mouths. I ran my hand up along her side to her waist, along her ass, and then up her back, noticing excitedly that Carolyn wore nothing underneath her dress. I pulled her closer to me and kissed her more deeply.

She was a great kisser. After a few minutes her lips left mine and moved to my ear, which she began to tease with light flicks of her tongue; nothing turns me on faster -- and my sighs must have told her so. "I've always thought you were hot, even when we first met," she breathed into my ear. I shivered with pleasure and shifted slightly underneath her, trying to adjust the uncomfortable hardness that she must have noticed by now pressing against her body.

"I thought you were hot too," I whispered back awkwardly -- which wasn't really true, but what the hell -- "in that sexy power suit you were wearing." That detail was true, and her delight at my remembering it seemed to turn her on even more. She moved a hand down my chest and stomach, reaching her fingers just under the waistband of my shorts. While she avoided the head of my cock, I felt a little embarrassed for some reason when she found some of the slick pre-cum that was already oozing out of it. She rubbed her fingertips through it.

"I was so excited when you told me you were getting divorced. I couldn't wait to fuck you," she whispered into my other ear as she licked it lightly -- the bluntness causing a thrill to surge through me. Hooray for red wine, I thought. By now my hand had moved across her body to her breast, and I gave her nipple a light, playful squeeze. She moaned happily, looked into my eyes, and gave me a beautiful smile.

Carolyn got up and stood in front of me. I tried to rise to stand with her, but again she put her hand in front of my chest to keep me sitting. She took one step back, turned around, and slowly lifted off her dress. She was indeed completely naked underneath.

I have always been an ass man, and her shape was exactly what I had always thought was incredibly sexy. She even had lower back dimples, which completed the perfect picture. She turned around to face me, and there was nothing to complain about there, either. Her breasts were not large but they were full and a great shape, and her stomach was flat. The curve of her hips was sexy as hell from the front too, and her pubic hair was shaved into just a small strip. "God, you are a beautiful woman," I said, more turned on than I had ever been before in my life.

"Body by Soloflex," Carolyn said with a smile, obviously happy with my reaction to her fantastic body. She took off her shoes, came back to the couch, and straddled me, pressing her breasts into my chest and kissing me harder and more passionately than before. I could not keep my hands off her ass, caressing and squeezing it and pressing her into the throbbing ache in my shorts. She gasped when I ran my fingers down along the crack of her ass, exploring, and she began to press her weight down, grinding energetically against me.

She leaned back and pretty much ripped my shirt off of me; I barely got my arms in the air before I saw the shirt flying across the room. She leaned forward again and began to nibble from my ear to my neck, sending another shooting thrill across my body. Her mouth wound down to my chest, where she began to kiss, lick, and gently bite at my nipple. She raised her hips off me slightly, and her hand shot down between her legs. She moaned slightly as she rubbed it against the outside of my shorts, feeling the shape of my straining cock. She lowered herself back down, I could feel her begin to grind against the back of her hand.

After a while like this Carolyn pulled back from me again, stood up quickly, leaned over and tugged at the sides of my shorts. "Get these off!" she demanded. Fast as lightning, I kicked my own shoes off and lifted my ass off the couch. I pushed my shorts and briefs off, my cock springing free, but I guess lightning wasn't fast enough -- Carolyn grabbed my shorts as soon as they cleared my knees and ripped them the rest of the way off; in a flash they were tossed across the room to join my shirt.

She stood there in front of me as if deciding what to do next. She checked me out and smiled, her tongue lightly wetting her lips. I wasn't an Adonis by any means, but I was in decent shape; she seemed pleased with the present she had unwrapped for herself. After another moment, Carolyn stepped back to the couch and straddled me again, giving me the slowest, deepest, and hottest kiss I had ever had in my life.

She slowly began to move her hips back and forth, rubbing the lips of her soaking pussy against the underside of my cock and teasing the head against her tight opening. It took all of my willpower, but I stopped myself from pulling her hips down on me or pushing myself up inside her; I decided to try to let her control everything. Suddenly I didn't have to think about, though: as her mouth moved around to tease my ear again, she raised herself up, pushed her hips towards me, and began to lower herself slowly, inch by inch, on to me.

I could not contain a gurgled moan from escaping, as her incredibly warm and wet pussy enveloped my granite cock. By the time she had me all the way inside her, I was afraid I was going to cum already so I lightly lifted her off of me so that I could kiss her fantastic breasts. Avoiding touching myself at all costs, I reached my hand between her legs and gently played with her, my slick fingers easily entering and caressing her. Her sighs were heavenly.

Eventually I calmed down enough that I repositioned Carolyn's body above me, and this time she plunged down with a fierce cry as I pushed all the way into her. She rose and fell on me eagerly, sometimes taking just the tip of my cock and other times the whole thing. As her excitement rose she repeatedly pushed me all the way in, writhing and grinding on me. I told her that she was an incredible lover and that I had never felt anything like this before. Her face glowed in ecstasy at how I was responding to her.

I felt myself building once again to orgasm so I again decided to change things up. I leaned over on the couch and pulled Carolyn up, so that I was on my back and she could ride me. However, when she was astride me I grabbed her ass with my hands and began to pull myself under her, moving my greedy mouth from her lips to her throat to her breasts and slowly down her stomach. When I licked around her belly button she quivered and moaned in anticipation.