Part I
Making Friends
She wrestled with the large pots and thorny rose bushes to get them to the open tailgate of the pickup, squatting and duck walking under the low cap that covered the truck bed. Once she got them to the tailgate, though, she realized she was stuck. She could not possibly lift them from the truck, let alone carry them into the yard. She pondered her options. The wheel barrow? Ask one of the neighbors?
When he saw her plight, the young man hurried to help her. "May I help you, please?" he said, stepping up to the first pot and lifting it with strong, youthful arms, not waiting for an answer. She recognized him as one of the kids who lived across the alley—the eldest, she thought. He had appeared out of nowhere, it seemed, but she suspected, given the way he was looking at her, that he had been watching her for awhile. In fact, he had been doing just that, peering out of his bedroom window at first, then over his backyard fence. He'd been admiring the way her womanly form revealed itself beneath her clothing as she strained against the heavy pots. Mature women could be so very interesting somehow. He sprung at the opportunity to lend a hand once he saw his opening.
She was a little flattered at the idea that such a handsome—and young—man should pay attention to her. She smiled at him, shrugged her shoulders, and nodded toward the side door of the garage which emptied into the back yard. He carried the load without effort, it seemed to her. She watched his sinewy arms bulge in the short sleeves of his tight, stretchy tee shirt. She allowed herself to admire his taught buns in the silky, baggy sport-shorts so popular among young guys these days. His legs were slender and muscular, she noted.
She followed him into the yard and indicated the place he should put his load. She watched his rippling muscles as he squatted toward the ground and set the pot down. He had not broken a sweat and was already headed back for the next rose bush. He smiled at her as he passed by, his white teeth flashing in the noonday sun. She smiled in return and then followed him back into the garage, her eyes practically ogling his firm, young butt. She was mildly ashamed of herself, but saw no harm in looking.
As he turned to grasp the next bush, she observed the way his stretched tee shirt revealed his pecs and abs. Oh, my, he was fit. He caught her staring at him and smiled vaguely to himself before lifting the burden and proceeding back into the yard. She followed once more and again showed him where to put the heavy, potted plant. She reprised her observation of his muscles as he carried and unloaded his burden. He turned back toward the garage and she followed him again, this time pausing to pluck a spade from its nail in the wall, forcing herself not to gaze at him further. She simply turned and went back into the yard and then waited at the spot where she would have him place the last plant.
To her surprise, he hit the switch to lower the garage door as he passed by it with his load. She heard it humming its way closed. He put the plant where she indicted and then smiled at her some more. He waited.
"Thank you," she said. She didn't know whether to try to pay him. She thought he was just being a good neighbor and didn't want to offend him. She wasn't sure how to dismiss him, so she simply donned her gloves, picked up her spade, and prepared to dig a hole for the first bush.
"No, please... Uh, please let me," he insisted, meeting her grateful, if somewhat dubious, gaze with his brilliant black eyes. He gently, but firmly, grasped the spade from her hand, brushing her fingers with his own in the process. (Was that deliberate?!) They stood there awhile looking into each other's eyes, each trying to figure the other out. She studied his handsome face, and he studied hers. Both of them liked what they were seeing. After a few provocative moments, though, she broke their shared gaze with her cutest, demurest smile and stepped back to let him work.
She wasn't sure she should allow it, but knew that she would have a hard time getting the hole deep enough by herself. She usually left these things to her husband, but she did not want to wait hours for his late-afternoon return. She wanted to get this job done. Besides, he would be tired from travelling, so it was definitely in his interest that she should take advantage of the offer of help. "OK," she said, cheerfully. "Thanks!" She was truly grateful, and, frankly, she was enjoying the little flirtation they seemed to have going. Why not? There's no harm flirting. It's not like her husband would object. He finds it strangely titillating when she flirts, so long as he doesn't feel threatened, and this kid was no threat, cute as he was.
The young man proceeded to dig with vigor. She watched him and gave some direction. She wanted the hole big enough for the pot to fit down in it. He readily understood her intent and worked on, carefully shaping just the right size hole in the ground. She stood there admiring his youthful body. She began to have questionable thoughts and was again mildly ashamed, if somewhat titillated as well. She reminded herself that there was no harm in looking, or even in a little fantasy.
In awhile the hole looked about right and she grasped his arm to stop him. She could simply have said "that's enough," but she chose to touch him, allowing herself to give those biceps of his a little feel. The muscle was hard and powerful. "That looks about right," she said, as she bent down to inspect the hole, reluctantly releasing his arm. As she leaned over, the loose neckline of her silky blouse fell away from her chest, and she knew it exposed a lot of her bra-clad left breast to his gaze. Feeling playful, she kept that position entirely too long just allow him a good look, then she glanced up unexpectedly to confirm whether he had in fact been looking. She was pleased to catch him gaping at her with a gleam in his eye. He averted his eyes just a bit too late, looking mildly embarrassed. She was somewhat surprised that such a young man (what was he, 18?) would be interested in an older woman's curves. She was somewhat gratified nevertheless. She liked being noticed by attractive men, and he was definitely good looking.
She stood erect now and moved over to the rosebush, her eyes fixed on his which seemed to sparkle at her. She gave him another quick smile, then bent down to the rosebush and attempted to shove it toward the hole. She deliberately revealed her chest to him as much as possible in the process. He gawked at her for a few moments, then dropped into a squat beside her and helped her push. They both hunched over the plant, side by side, and pushed it toward the hole. Working so closely together was exhilarating for both of them. As they labored side by side, he savored the pretty floral smell of her blonde-colored hair. She, in turn, noted the muskiness of a young man on a warm summer day. Or was there more? Could she be sensing pheromones? She knew men (boys?) his age were easily excited, and that thought piqued her interest. (Could I? Should I?) She shrugged these thoughts off and focused on the task at hand, guiding the pot as he lowered it into the hole. It fit perfectly. "Perfect!" she smiled up into his face. "Now we have to get it back out and remove the plastic pot," she declared, now simply assuming that he was hers to use until she was done with him.
He did not hesitate, but grasped the pot and lugged it out of the hole. He appeared to be eager to please. She had him lay the pot on its side and then slowly turn it on the ground while she tapped the sides with her gloved hands to loosen the soil. He could hardly keep his eyes off her chest as they worked, and she was amused, and possibly a bit gratified, to let him look. Once the soil was sufficiently loosened, she grasped the base of the plant stem with both hands. "See if you can pull the pot off," she told him, then she pulled one way and he the other until the plant came free. She loosened the soil around the roots, put some small stones and a little fertilizer into the soil at the bottom of the hole, then began to push the base of the plant back in. He assisted her again, and again their heads came close together. She thought she heard him inhale deeply, as if savoring the scent of her hair. It was an animalistic gesture from a young bull. She was not sure exactly what feelings she was now experiencing. She did know that she felt pretty good. Emboldened by the acceptance she demonstrated for his interest in her, he turned his face toward her deliberately now and audibly sniffed her hair. This forward act sent a pleasing chill down her neck and spine. She sensed that a few more close encounters and that giddy feeling in her spine would reach all the way to her womanhood! She definitely liked this unexpected flirtation they had going.
Once the plant was in the hole, they both stood up, side by side. She allowed herself to lean a little toward him and their hands touched briefly at their sides. She got a sophomoric little thrill from touching him and began to consider how else she might indulge this little dalliance. She would keep working and just seize the moments as they came, she decided.
She turned to him and said, "Well, if you are going to keep helping me, then you can dig another hole over there while I finish planting this one." She then squatted down and proceeded to put soil around the plant and fill the hole while he dug another hole about four feet away. She deliberately faced him as she worked, though she carefully kept her eyes on the ground. She made a point of exposing her chest to him and he found it difficult to dig without watching what he was doing. She could feel his eyes on her and struggled not to look up and bust him. She liked her exhibition as much as he, it seemed.
They proceeded in this way until all three plants were in the ground. When they were finished planting, she was suddenly afraid that it would now all end abruptly. She searched her mind for some idea of how to prolong the fun. She observed that his hands and arms were covered in soil. Her forearms were pretty dirty as well. That gave her an opening.
"Come on," she ordered him, as she unlocked the basement door and entered. He happily followed her into the basement and over to the sink where he watched her as she removed her gloves and proceeded to wash her arms. When she finished, she gestured for him to take his turn while she rummaged in the laundry cabinet for a towel. In doing so, she bent over at the waste and stretched her shorts tightly across her lovely bottom which was carefully pointed directly toward her helper. Gratefully, she could sense him looking at her. She rummaged a bit longer than was actually required, then she turned around rather abruptly, just in time to catch him averting his eyes. He had indeed been ogling her bottom! She smiled. He was so cute! And she was now thinking of escalating the situation, of testing to see how far it might go. She vaguely assumed that there would be safe limits, but she had no clear idea what those actually were. She did not want to think too much just then. She wanted to feel, to have fun.
She watched him wash as she dried her own hands, studying his musculature and his graceful movements. He finished washing and turned to face her, and she stepped toward him with the towel. He raised his now clean hands to grasp the towel from her, but she did not simply hand it over. Rather, she proceeded to dry his arms for him, slowly, gently, sensually. It thrilled her to touch him, to minister to him so intimately. He felt much the same as he stared at her face in wonder, but she kept her eyes on his arms and hands. She studied them, the youthful elasticity of the skin, the highly toned muscles, the long, elegant fingers—like a surgeon or a piano player. Now she was definitely fantasizing about him, making up good qualities, justifying her girlish interest in this kid!
When she had finally finished toweling him off, she set the towel aside and went to the nearby fridge. She opened it, bent over, and peered inside. She again deliberately showed her shapely butt to him. He studied her bottom and began to wonder quite explicitly what it would look like naked. He had never really seen a woman naked, only photographs. He wanted to experience the real thing. "Coke?" she asked without looking back at him. "Uh, sure," he replied, still gazing at her bottom and wondering. He longed to see what that very intriguing bottom looked like in the flesh and he desperately wanted to know the answer now. What was he going to do? He sensed that she was interested in him and she was clearly flirting with him, but was she just toying with him, or might she actually play around with him?
