Samantha Dalton ran her fingers lightly over her hairless mons. Satisfied with the smoothness she dropped her razor onto the shower shelf and turned off the water. Catching a glance in the mirror she posed, eyeing herself critically. Nearly forty, with two daughters, she could still call herself an attractive woman. Samantha was tall, nearly nine inches over the five foot mark, and a good diet and regular exercise kept her toned. While her breasts were small, sadly even two pregnancies had not changed that fact for her, she compensated with targeted butt exercises to keep her ass full and well shaped. She towelled herself dry, or near enough, and ran a brush through her shoulder length blonde hair.
It had been almost two years since a car accident robbed her of her husband, her daughters' father. Despite interest from men of her acquaintance Samantha had remained faithful to his memory, at least until the grief had become bearable. She and her daughters had shared many tears, but they had reached the point where they were ready to live their lives without David.
A knock on the door to her bedroom had her wrap a robe around herself before the expected, "come in". Alice, her elder daughter, poked her blonde head around the door.
"We're ready to go Mom." A school camping trip would take the two girls away for a full week. "Mister Brisco is here with Frank to pick us up." Mister Brisco's proper name was Jeremy Black, but the girls had dubbed him Mister Brisco after his resemblance to Bruce Campbell's titular character in the series The Adventures of Brisco County Jr. His son, Frank, was a well mannered young man, at least in Samantha's opinion, and both the girls were fond of him. More likely than not to be found with his nose in a book, he was a walking encyclopaedia of facts that he would expound at the slightest provocation, to the point where the girls had developed an "enough already" signal to tell him when to stop talking.
"Okay dear, I'll be right out." Tying the robe securely, slipping her feet into comfortable slippers, Samantha left her bedroom and followed Alice to the front door. Two backpacks, a tent, and sleeping bags, were waiting for them. Mary, the younger daughter, was attempting to persuade Frank to carry her bag for her, but her efforts were not particularly successful. The young man, still in the gangly stage, had a wry wit and his dark head shook as he refused her wiles. The two girls took after their mother in looks, both blonde, tending towards height, and neither particularly busty, but there were times when would one would move or turn their head in such a way as to bring David to mind and pluck Samantha's heartstrings.
"...are you going to expect someone to carry your pack on a long hike?" He asked. "I mean, if it's too heavy we can just leave it behind."
"You're mean." Mary pointed her finger at him. "Meanie." Frank looked unabashed.
"Yes, yes I am." Frank's father stepped inside, dark haired and quite handsome, his wife Deborah was unstinting in her praise of him as a husband and father. Samantha could admit to having a small crush on him herself while acknowledging that other than flirtation it would never go anywhere.
"Sam, you dressed up for me?" His grin was infectious and Samantha smiled too.
"What, this old thing? It was just something I had lying around." She turned her eyes to her girls. "Come on girls, get your stuff out to the car." Mary was a little sulky, but she cheered up when Frank took the tent. Seeing it as a small victory she followed him to the car, more accurately a truck, a Ford F150. Frank lifted the tent easily into the tray and tossed up the bags the two girls handed to him, pulling down the cover to keep everything safe.
Jeremy shook his head, still grinning. "Kids." He raised an eyebrow. "Any plans while we're away?"
"Nothing yet." Actually Samantha did have plans, but they weren't the kind that one shared with an acquaintance, even one she did regard as a friend. The man nodded.
"Deborah said that if you were feeling lonely you could go and visit her. She has the twins of course, but I'm sure she could use some adult company." Samantha gave a non-committal response. She did like Jeremy's bubbly brunette wife, but the twins, a boy and a girl, were still young enough to be a handful.
"If I'm not doing anything else."
"Alrighty then." With a wave Jeremy climbed into the driver's seat and they were off. Samantha matched the girls wave for wave as they backed out of the driveway, then turned back inside as they drove away.
With the girls gone Samantha dropped her robe over the nearest chair. Given a clear area of floor she threw herself into a cartwheel, just for the exhilaration of motion. She landed back on her feet giggling, wondering how her daughters would have reacted to seeing their mother performing cartwheels in the nude. Probably with the excessive seriousness of the young, she decided after a moment's contemplation.
She poured herself a glass of wine, and wandered about the house as she sipped. It was not a huge house, but with two bedrooms for the girls and a master bedroom with ensuite for herself it was all they needed. The garage held her pride and joy, a 1976 Pontiac Trans Am 455 HO, bright red, and with its emissions choked engine freed from restrictions. It had been David's project, and they had their first drive in it three weeks before the accident. She leaned against the interior garage door, smiling over her glass at the memories.
A second glass was poured and Samantha returned to her contemplations. Jeremy had asked her about her plans, but she couldn't tell him of the seduction that she had in mind. Her wandering took her to the doors that led out to the wooden porch that surrounded her pool. Framed by tall hedges she could both sunbath and swim naked without concern of prying eyes, although she always wore a demure one piece when her daughters were home.
Making a decision she picked up her phone and dialled. Almost immediately, from beyond her eastern fence line she could hear the trill of a telephone ringing. The ring cut off and a woman's voice answered.
"Good afternoon. Prester's residence. Bernice speaking." Samantha could picture the auburn haired teen, so like her mother in looks, although toned by her father's darker palette.
"Hi Bernie, Samantha here." Samantha tried to remain casual. "Is your brother around?"
"Stephen? Don't you have his cell?" The girl laughed, "sorry, silly question. If you had it you wouldn't be calling this line."
