Author's Note: I apologize to all those who were waiting for Compulsions Ch. 04 and beyond. I don't have a good excuse for the time lag, so I won't give a bad one.
Anyway, thanks to everyone who read, voted and/or commented on the first three chapters. It is appreciated. Also, thanks for the emails.
-18-
SATURDAY
The next morning, Mike dropped Abby off at her house.
"I enjoyed your company last evening immensely, Abigail," Mike said. "Have dinner with me, tomorrow."
"I may be in really big trouble for last night, Mike," the redhead said. After a second, she laughed. "But alright." She kissed him and his hand went to her back, pulling her close.
"I'll call you, later," he said into her hair.
She smiled and turned.
Mike watched her walk away and returned to his car. Jim and Joy were in the passenger's seat, making out.
"Where to, kids?" Mike asked.
Joy broke away from Jim's kiss and looked at him.
Mike remembered the kiss that they had shared, the intoxicating taste of Joy's sweet mouth. He wondered what Jim would do if he knew that his best friend had fucked his new girl.
"Take me to Jim's place," she said.
"We're heading out for the weekend," Jim said and winked.
"Wanna come with us?" Joy asked coyly. "We could all have some real fun together."
It was jokingly said, but Mike believed that she was secretly serious.
Jim laughed. "Yeah, right!" he said and buried his face in her neck, kissing at her neck and chest.
Joy held Mike's eyes.
Mike stared at her for a few moments, imagining himself fucking her beautiful face. She was smiling at him, teasing him with her eyes. Mike shook his head, started the car and drove to Jim's house.
"Park out back," Jim said.
There was a back driveway on Jim's property, mostly hidden by a cluster of trees. Jim's car was parked there and Mike knew that was where he often made out with girls. Mike pulled in and parked. From here, he could barely see the back door, and was almost invisible from detection.
Jim climbed out and pulled Joy behind him.
"Come on. I got everything we need in my car. See you around, buddy." Jim and Joy hopped in and, with a roar of the engine, they were gone.
Mike's last image was Joy's sultry look back at him. Mike shook his head. That look stuck in Mike's brain and he found himself daydreaming about her and the events of the past week.
The sound of tires brought him out of his reverie. It was coming in the direction of Jim's house. Mike got out and snuck to the trees. He angled for an unobstructed view... and finally could see.
It was Jim's mom, Claire O'Neil. She was walking towards the back door. She stopped. She was on her phone. She was shaking her head and talking, obviously upset at someone or something.
Mike couldn't hear, but he watched her.
She seemed distraught. Obviously, whoever she was talking with had hung up. She snapped the phone shut and put it in her pocket. She rubbed at her face and then unlocked the door and entered.
Had she been taking to Jim? Or maybe it was Ashley, Jim's sister. They had been having problems, lately.
Mike started to walk towards the house. What was he doing? He didn't know, but Claire was having problems. He had known her his whole life and the last image of her was troubling to him. There had to be some way he could help her.
Mike moved silently. He felt like a burglar or a stalker. Maybe it was watching Claire while he was hidden in the trees, but he felt stealth was the proper course of action in this circumstance.
As he approached the house, Mike caught a flash of something in the window. He ducked to the side, on instinct.
He realized that he was right outside Claire's bedroom. Unable to resist the temptation, Mike poked his head up and peeked. Claire was in there, staring at a mirror, intently.
Mike's angle was just right. He could see her from the corner, and she could see neither him nor his reflection. Mike watched as she ran her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde tresses. Her brown roots betrayed that her hair was colored, but Claire had always taken pride in her appearance. No plain, boring brown went with her Dresden blue eyes, so she had colored it for as long as Mike could remember.
Mike watched her as she studied her face, her slender fingers trying to smooth out the faint frown lines at her mouth and eyes. She put on a dazzling and sultry smile and then lapsed into a frown again. She shook her head and started to unbutton her blouse.
Mike's heart leapt into his throat. He knew that he should look away. Claire had been a family friend since he was five. But the anticipation of seeing her large breasts naked won out. He stayed where he was.
Finally getting the last button, she doffed her blouse onto the floor. A quick snap and her bra was off, too, and Mike feasted his eyes on his best friend's mother's sumptuous orbs. They stood out prodigiously from her chest, without the least bit of sag.
Mike was stunned. He had seen firm breasts before: his mother's, Robin Walsh's and, of course, Coach Sam's. Even Cynthia Winters had a firm pair. But Claire's had a character and charm all their own.
Claire removed her skirt and panties and stood there in her glorious nudity.
Mike was impressed. She was a woman who scarcely needed clothing. He realized that he had never really thought of her in that way. Like with his mother, when it had taken him until his sixteenth birthday to really wonder what she looked like naked. Claire, to him, had always been a second mother, not a woman.
Wow! Had he been blind, or what?!
She walked into the next room and Mike cursed, silently. He thought, briefly, about leaving, but couldn't make himself.
Stealthily, he made his way to the next window. She was in her ex-husband's study, seated and reading a book. She was so at ease, as if she did this sort of thing every day.
Mike watched the rise and fall of her chest, entranced. Something caught her eye and she looked up.
Claire jumped to her feet, quickly. Mike ducked.
"Damn!" Mike thought. "She saw me! Now, what do I do?"
He desperately scooted out from under the window. "Act like nothing happened," he told himself. "It could have been a trick of the eyes."
Mike stood and walked to the front door. Nervously, he rang the doorbell. He could hear her moving behind the door, suddenly rushing.
"Um, just a minute!" she cried out.
Almost exactly a minute passed and the door opened. Claire stood there in a pair of pajamas.
"Oh, hi Mike!" she said and faked a yawn. "I just woke up. Jim's not here. He was out all night."
"I know, Mrs. O'Neil. I was with him."
"It's Miss, now, Mike. Miss Schneider. Or Claire, if you prefer. You're a grown man, now. I won't be offended of you use my first name."
"I am?" Mike thought.
"Uh, I'm sorry about your husband... uh... leaving... Miss..."
"Claire, Mike. Go ahead and say it."
"Uh, Claire..."
She smiled. "There you go, that wasn't too hard, was it? Why don't you come inside?"
Mike shook his head as he entered. It was nice to call her that. Familiarity and intimacy with her was intoxicating. He found himself staring at her pajama-covered breasts. They looked so full and round, even through the material.
"So where's Jim?" she asked, as she closed the door.
"He left with Joy for the weekend," Mike said, without thinking.
"What?" Claire exclaimed.
"Oh, shit," Mike thought. "Hypnotized by breasts."
"Who's Joy?" She gave him a dark look.
"A new girl at school, Miss... uh... Claire. We met her the other day and Jim really likes her. We took her out to the concert last night."
"You both took her out? What kind of girl is this?"
"Uh... not exactly. I took Abby Prescott out."
"Oh, well, that's good, Mike," Claire smiled at his tongue-tied embarrassment. "But I'm still upset that Jim took a girl on a trip for the weekend. And without telling me. He wasn't back last night. Did he sleep with this girl?"
"Actually... yes, Claire, he did."
"Thanks Mike. I appreciate your honesty." Her arms were crossed over her breasts and she looked down. She had such a sad look on her face.
Mike crossed to the couch and sat. "Sit down, Claire. Tell me what's bothering you."
She looked at him, a bit taken aback. Then she sat and it all came pouring out. Her problems with her husband and their divorce. Her problems with Jim and how she felt he was growing apart from her. And Ashley and how she had left school and didn't want to go back.
"What can I do, Mike? My life isn't working out. Everything is so messed up." Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears and she looked at him as if hoping that he had all the answers.
"Well, what do you want to do about your marriage?"
"Nothing. Really, I just want to move on from him, Mike. That's all."
"Okay, well... why can't you?"
"I'm... I'm old, Mike. I want to move on to someone new, but I haven't got what it takes to attract a man, anymore."
Mike nearly choked. "Um... I don't think that you are looking at it objectively, Claire."
"What do you mean?" she said, rubbing at her teary eyes.
"Well, how old are you, Claire?"
"Um, forty-three..." It was almost a whisper.
"Okay, and what it the average age of all women?"
"I don't know... about twenty-five, I guess..." Her voice was small.
"Wrong. It's more like thirty, Claire."
"It is?"
"Sure," Mike said. "People are getting older, but with medicine and technology they can seem younger than ever."
"Really?"
"Yeah!" Mike said. "Now, what's the life expectancy of a woman?"
"Maybe seventy?"
"Try eighty, Claire. Now, you're barely half that!"
She thought about it. "That doesn't sound too good, Mike..."
"Doesn't it? In the 1920's men and women were still considered inexperienced until they were thirty, when they were finally considered adults. And the life expectancy was closer to sixty years."
"What does all of this mean, Mike?"
"Well, if the life expectancy is sixty and adult is thirty, then we can safely say that at half of your life expectancy, you're not really old. Grown up? Yes. Fully matured? Yes. Maybe even experienced. But not old. That doesn't happen until at least two thirds of your lifespan has gone by and that would be eighty divided by three, times two... equals about fifty-three! You just hit your prime, baby!"
Claire laughed, deep and throatily, a huge grin spread across her face.
