Jill pulled the kitchen window curtain aside just enough to get a look at Eric mowing her lawn. She watched as he made a sharp turn at the end of the backyard before starting back in her direction. The temperature had climbed steadily during the day and now hovered near the one-hundred degree mark. She noticed he had removed his t-shirt and tied it to the handle of the mower. Clad now in only a pair of cut-off jeans, she marveled at his lean body and the way he moved with graceful athleticism.
It was hard to believe he was eighteen and would be leaving for college this fall. Even harder to believe was that she was rapidly approaching her forty-first birthday. Time seems to move faster the older I get, she thought, watching as Eric made a circle near the house and began walking away from her.
She caught herself following the rhythmical movement of his taunt buttocks as he leaned into the mower, and surprised herself by thinking about this young man in ways a forty-year-old divorcee should probably not be thinking.
"For heaven's sake, Jill," she whispered to herself." This is Joe and Linda's son. Now stop it. Do some laundry. Read a book. Anything other than what you're doing now."
However, she could not pull herself away from the window.
As Eric drew near the house again, she noticed tiny drops of sweat trickling down his well-developed chest to the flat of his stomach, and felt a strong sexual yearning.
He reminded her of a boy she had known in college. Like him, Eric was tall, with wavy dark hair, blue eyes, and the kind of long eyelashes that most women find irresistible.
She scolded herself again, imagining what her friend would think if she knew what kind of thoughts she was having about her son.
She had not had sex since her divorce more than a year ago. Admittedly, this left her feeling frustrated at times, but not enough to risk getting involved in another relationship. Sometimes late at night she would slide her fingers to the warm wet place between her legs and stroke herself to orgasm. Although this brought her temporary relief from her sexual tension, it was not a viable substitute for the real thing.
As she continued watching Eric, she wondered what he thought about her. Certainly he wouldn't look at her in the same way he did young women his own age, but did he find her attractive in an "older woman" kind of way? True, she had gained a few extra pounds during her thirties, but she was tall and carried it well with her height. Her boobs sagged a little more than they used to, and the tiny wrinkles around her eyes had grown deeper over time, but overall she was pleased with her appearance. Last year she had begun frosting her short dark hair to blend with the increasing number of gray strands, and she was pleased with this too.
A loud clap of thunder startled her from her thoughts, and she realized the kitchen had grown dark from the thick black clouds overhead. She saw Eric nearly running with the mower now, obviously trying to finish before the storm.
A sudden flash of lightning briefly illuminated the kitchen. Another burst of thunder, louder than the one before, rattled the windows. Large drops of rain began pelting the roof.
She heard the garage door open and Eric pushing the lawnmower inside. She opened the side door and saw him standing just inside the garage running his hand through his wet hair and watching the downpour.
"Hi Eric," she said.
He turned, seemingly surprised by her presence. "Hi, Mrs. Burton. I'm sorry I didn't get your yard finished before it started raining."
She smiled. "That's okay. You can always finish it later."
"Man, it's really coming down," he said.
Jill felt a gust of cool air coming through the open garage door. "I'll bet the temperature has dropped fifteen degrees in the last few minutes," she said. "You must be freezing."
Eric brushed his hair again. "Yeah, it's a little chilly."
Jill studied him for a minute. "Why don't you come inside and I'll get you a towel so you can dry off."
"I don't want to be any trouble," Eric replied.
"It's no trouble at all," Jill said. "At least come inside until the rain lets up. I'm sorry I don't have any warm clothes to offer you, but I can fix you something to drink."
"That would be nice, Mrs. Burton, thank you."
Once inside, Jill went upstairs and returned with two large towels, draping one across a kitchen chair and handing Eric the other one. He sat down and began drying himself, running the towel through his hair, over his face and arms, and finally up and down each leg. Again, Jill marveled at his lean body, and tried not to stare. Think about something else, Jill, she reminded herself.
But, oh, those eyelashes.
"Can I offer you something to drink?" she finally managed. "Some hot tea or maybe chocolate?"
"Are you having something?" he asked.
What I need is something to settle my nerves, she thought.
There was another rattling clap of thunder and the rain fell even harder.
"I might have a glass of wine," she said. "But I can get you---"
"Wine would be nice," Eric said before she could finish.
"Are you sure it's okay? I mean---"
Eric smiled. "I'm eighteen, Mrs. Burton. I have a glass of wine at home with my parents."
Jill thought about this for a moment. "I suppose it's okay. In fact, a glass of wine might even warm you up faster than a cup of hot chocolate."
Jill opened a bottle of White Zinfandel and poured them each a glass. They moved into the living room and Eric placed one of the towels across a space on the sofa and sat down. Jill took a seat in a chair across from him. They chatted easily for a while about his parents and friends, the neighborhood, and his upcoming departure for college. He asked her about her job, and she realized how much he had matured. Not only had he grown into a handsome young man, but he was also polite and kind, and had a cute sense of humor. They shared a second glass of wine and Jill could feel the nervousness she had experienced earlier dissipating.
When the conversation finally took a lull, Eric said, "Maybe I'd better call my Mom and let her know where I am."
"That's a good idea," Jill said. "Speaking of phone calls, I need to call my mother back. She called earlier this morning before I was awake and left a message. I'll make the call upstairs. I shouldn't be long. Feel free to turn on the television if you want," she said, refilling her wine glass. "Tell your mom I said hi," she said over her shoulder as she made her way toward the stairs.
She finished her third glass of wine while she talked to her mother. After hanging up, she realized she had been on the phone for more than twenty minutes. She felt bad about leaving Eric all alone downstairs for so long, but assumed he had probably found something to watch on television.
She descended the stairs slowly, feeling a little giddy from the wine, and was surprised to find the television was not on. Instead, she found Eric stretched out on the couch apparently asleep with a nearly empty second bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table in front of him. Obviously, he had helped himself to more wine while she was upstairs. She should have been upset by what he had done, but with the wine in her system, found herself chuckling at the situation.
