I didn't know it, but I was about to clean up.
It's been a couple of decades now, but the memory of my first post-college-graduation year stays with me, even today.
I was indeed fresh out of college, my 'OK, life come on and beat a path of riches to my door!' freshly minted business degree under my belt, and... ZERO job offers. College had been financially easy, in comparison, with me making it through on a full swimming scholarship (butterfly my forte). Fortunately, being a plan for the worst, hope for the best kinda guy, I'd applied to a graduate school program, so defaulted to that for the autumn semester as partly an improve the resume move, partly an ego protection idea where I could pretend that the zero job offers weren't really a total societal critique of my worth as a human being. I managed to get a scholarship for part of the expense, another chunk of student debt taken on for the rest. My folks weren't in a position to help, and besides, I was an independent adult, right? On my own, right? Let the loud rumpus, and the great adventure begin!
I had to move to another state for the grad school, lucked into a former classmate's place as a temporary crash pad, and was searching for a place to live that would fit into my budget. I was pleased to find an opportunity in a house basement apartment that was downright cheap. I dressed for success just to interview for the place, arrived early to scope out the neighborhood and make sure I'd found parking, and right on time, rang the bell of an upper-middle-class looking place.
A woman of what I later learned was 45 years answered the door, accompanied by a tail-wagging Labrador retriever. She explicitly introduced herself as "Mrs." Gentry, introduced the dog as "Sadie," and I did myself as Mac Parker, then in my eagerness to make a good impression, I promptly probably babbled for a while. Catching myself, I made myself shut up as she and Sadie gave me a tour. Stairs led to the basement from the hallway of the otherwise 3 bedroom place. In the basement, she showed me around a central room with a small kitchenette built into one corner, a bathroom with shower, a bedroom with a double bed, a large walk-in closet with ample drawers for all my meager wardrobe, and a laundry room with washer, dryer, and ironing board. It was all I needed and more than I'd expected I could afford, and I hoped I hadn't been too much of an idiot in my small talk as we toured as to put her off - not to mention my gender.
I learned that Mrs. Gentry was a widow, her children gone from the nest. I managed an awkward compliment about her looking too young to have grown children, and that spurred me to finally take a look at her. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, and she was in women's business suit, low heels, and a nondescript blouse. She looked to be about 5'7", had an attractive, not gorgeous face, and seemed to have a nice figure, maybe even voluptuous, but it was hard to tell.
With the suit and the almost brusque manner, the overall impression I got was one of a pretty severe professional. She explained that she traveled for work for a large corporation headquartered in that city, and preferred to have someone in the place for the sake of security while she was gone. She also said she had hoped for a female boarder, without explanation - not a surprise, society being what it is. She also said she intentionally kept the rent low, in her estimation, since she hoped a lodger would be willing to walk and feed her dog when she was traveling out of town. I quickly agreed to that, sincerely, giving Sadie a quick rub and getting a nuzzle and tail wag in return - I love nice dogs, and labs are well known as chick magnets anyway.
The tour completed, I mentioned the price that I'd seen in the ad I found, and she confirmed that it included utilities but that food and drink and keeping the place neat and orderly were up to me. She said she didn't mind my having an occasional guest. I almost took that as a wink, wink, nudge, nudge, but she said it straight with no indication of further meaning, and I wasn't about to ask about that sort of thing. Then she added, but not more than the occasional guest - no parties, no loud noise.
She also said she'd like, if it fit with my schedule, to have me join her for Sunday noontime dinners, that she enjoyed having a boarder and that she hoped we'd get to know each other without intruding into each other's lives.
I asked if that meant I was acceptable as a boarder, and she said that she'd need to have two references, but that if they checked out, it would be fine. I had the reference letters with me - business school doesn't teach you not to be prepared - and I gave her my cell number to call when she'd finally decided.
The next day, she called, and said I'd passed muster, and could move in any time, that she'd prorate the rent daily, expect it to be paid two weeks prior to each month's start, and needed a month in advance as security deposit. All fine with me, and very business-like.
The day following that, I arrived, my entire worldly belongings in my very used compact car. Thankfully, parking was easy in the neighborhood, and within an hour, I was moved in, paid through the next month, and ready to settle. She gave me a key that fit both front and back doors. Since the stairs to the basement were near the back, I expected to use that more than the front door, and that was fine with her.
As she turned to go back upstairs from going over things with me once more as I loaded boxes of books and clothes, she said, "Oh, I don't think I mentioned that you're welcome to use the laundry washing machine and dryer, as well as the vacuum that I keep down here in that closet. I'll certainly call down to announce my presence when I come downstairs to do laundry - and if we end up trying to use the machines at the same time, we'll just work it out, ok?"
"Sounds good," I said, and made a mental note not to be wandering around naked in the main room, just in case. A lady such as she would not appreciate that sort of exhibition.
Classes for me started well, with the expected long hours studying, wanting to get a good academic start in the program. I knew virtually no one in the area, and I soon found a couple of places to grab a burger and beer on Saturday afternoons - otherwise, I was pretty monastic. I expected that a social life would develop in time, and was in not much a rush, not interested in any relationship permanence by any means. I'd pretty much had my share of one night stands in college and was willing to wait for kismet or serendipity or whatever might come my way, rather than going out on the prowl.
That first Sunday dinner with Mrs. Gentry was a welcome break in the pattern as well. She cooked up a roast, and we took our time, sharing life situations over the excellent food. Away from her business suit, she was more attractive than I'd initially assessed, with seemingly more ample breasts that even swayed a bit as she moved, still hidden in a conservative dress, but one that also brought my attention to her hips when she walked away from me. I realized that despite my focus on studies and such, I was distinctly horny. I'd relieved myself the evening before, reading some erotica on my tablet as a catalyst, but Mrs. Gentry's presence was a reminder of the attraction of a real female, regardless that her proper behavior indicated nothing of an attraction. She did tell me I could call her Eve, which did nothing to quell my hormonal situation.
Back to reality, I thanked her for a wonderful meal and went back to hit the books in my apartment an hour later. I had trouble concentrating, though, as the meal had changed my assessment of her from severe professional landlady to mature (compared to me at the time) female of considerable attraction.
Ah well, not gonna happen, I was sure, but nice to see her more relaxed, and becoming something of a friend as well. That night, I hit the erotica again, and revisited a familiar story, easily overlaying the seduced female character's image with my own of Eve, and eliciting a pretty explosive climax as a result.
Mrs. Gentry had traveled during the following week, but was back on Friday, and came downstairs to thank me for taking care of Sadie - I told her truthfully that I welcomed the study break to go for a walk and loved throwing the tennis ball as much as Sadie seemed to love chasing it.
I'd done laundry a couple times, recycling my limited wardrobe, and tossed another load in the washer the next Saturday afternoon, after a morning in the university library. Puttering around, showering and getting ready to go on my weekly pub outing, I went back to the washing machine, then opened the dryer door to transfer my load there. I immediately saw that there were clothes already in the dryer, and figured Mrs Gentry had just gotten part way done with doing her own while I was out. Well, she said we'd just deal with it, so I figured I'd just pull hers out and put it aside while I did mine. I bent over, reached in, hand-tested to confirm the load was dry, and, satisfied, pulled out a handful.
It took me a moment to digest that what I had in my hand was an assortment of very flimsy, very sheer lingerie! Staid and proper Mrs. Gentry, my, my!
