[These stand-alone stories are more enjoyable when read in order]
Audrey is a widow in her sixties. She interrupted a burglar during our crime spree in Upper Cockton and suffered a nasty bruise on her face and arm when she got pushed over during their escape. She looked frail and traumatised at our resident action meeting. Audrey's was the first place I looked at improving security. I fitted new locks on her windows and back door and wired a motion detection security light, looking into the garden. She was grateful, but not quite with it. The memories of her encounter were still fresh. I was worried how she'd cope on her own, but she refused all offers of help.
A couple of weeks after the burglary a young man on a motorcycle came to visit her. He became a regular visitor, every other Wednesday. On one of his visits, he stopped and introduced himself as her grandson Justin, a student at Reading University. His family was worried about Audrey after the break in, so he agreed to look in on her regularly. I thought he was a nice lad. I even helped fix his misfiring bike one day.
I'd given Audrey my phone number for reassurance, but she never used it. One day I got a text from Justin.
I hope you don't mind me contacting you, Tom. It's Audrey's birthday soon, and I was hoping you'd deliver a present for me as I won't be able to see her. Please ring me for details.
When I called, he asked me if I'd indulge a family tradition. Audrey and her husband were professional dancers and always danced on her birthday. Since his death, Justin had been entrusted with the task and he didn't want to disappoint her this year because he was in the middle of his finals. He wondered if I would stand in for him. Justin allayed my fears about not being able to dance. `Nor could I Tom, but Audrey is a professional. She taught thousands of men, even me. Wear a proper shirt and trousers and leather-soled shoes, Tom. Audrey insists her partners are properly attired.'
So there I was on her doorstep, nervously clutching a small package, a gift from Justin. I remembered how sad she looked after the break in and hoped I could cheer the old lady up. When the door opened, I could not believe she was the same woman. Audrey looked stunning. She was tall and standing a step above me; we were eye-to-eye. A novel experience for me. Her hair was a funky grey colour; short and swept back in a punkish style. I'd seen it on women of different ages, and the one thing they all had in common was confidence. Her cool grey eyes appraised me and I blushed and looked down. A pair of yoga tights emphasised her long legs and her sleeveless ribbed top held firm breasts that would be the envy of a woman half her age. She was beautiful.
Audrey laughed. "You'll wear your eyes out Thomas. Not the frail bashed up old lady you remember me as, am I? Close the door and follow me." She had to know my eyes were on her perfect arse all the way down the hall. She halted and turned. I almost bumped into her.
"It was sweet of Justin to send me a birthday present. And so kind of you to deliver it. I see you followed instructions. Well done, Thomas." I handed over the package.
No one had called me Thomas since my mother. Audrey was a decade younger than her at least, but the contrast between her parental tone and the carnal images in my mind had me flustered. Audrey seemed to enjoy my discomfort.
"I suspect you are terrified at the prospect of dancing with me, but also a little intrigued. You have the courage of a fighting man."
There was no point talking when she could read my mind, so I just swallowed and nodded. She led me into her living room where the rug was rolled up to expose a parquet wooden floor that bore the marks of heavy use. Pictures of Audrey's life as a dancer covered the walls.
"Here Thomas. Steady your nerves while I change."
She left me with a large photo album, and I browsed the highlights of her life. Audrey had been at the top of her game. A dancer at the Moulin Rouge in her twenties. Her lithe body encased in titillating outfits of feathers, sequins and rhinestones, which exposed her high breasts, and the shape of her pussy in skimpy knickers. A stint as a Vegas showgirl in outfits that made the others look tame. Then in her middle years, ballroom dancing in evening wear and other outfits. The variety of partners reduced until in later pictures they were all the same man, who I assumed was her husband. I was so engrossed in the pictures I didn't hear Andrey return. She looked over my shoulder.
"Roger was a lovely man. We had a wonderful life together, competing in ballroom and giving exhibition dances on cruise ships. We set up a dance studio in Reading. One day in the middle of a class Roger dropped dead. Brain haemorrhage."
I looked up. "I'm so sorry Audrey."
She'd put on make-up. Dark eye shadow and red lipstick. She walked round so I could see her properly. "This is a tango dress Thomas". She did a twirl, exposing her thigh through the slit in the skirt. The black dress was of a clingy material with the arms and back in what laymen would call see-through, but is actually tuille. She looked so sexy. "The tango is a dance from the brothels of Buenos Aires, hence the slutty fishnets and shoes. Are you ready to dance Thomas?"
