Confused is putting it mildly.
My night with Trish and Bob had more of an effect on me than I realized. I couldn't get it off my mind. I couldn't concentrate on work or on helping my daughter get ready for her senior year in high school or much of anything else for the next week or so.
I saw Trish in passing, and she waved at me from her porch one morning as I was headed out of the neighborhood. Normally, I would've rolled the window down and asked if she needed anything while I was out. But I just waved back.
It was almost two weeks before we spoke.
"Nate!" I heard my name from the back yard. "Nate! Come out here!"
Trish was standing at her back fence with a shovel.
"What in the world?" I asked, running down to her.
"Look," she said.
It was a black snake, five feet long and shedding its skin on her fence.
"Leave him alone," I said.
"Kill him!" she shrieked. "That's disgusting. Here."
She handed me the shovel, and I just smiled.
"We're not killing him," I said. "He's the reason we don't have mice. Or rats. Or people hanging around our back yards."
She looked at me like I was crazy.
"I'll come get the skin when he finishes," I said. "You'll never see him again."
I pointed to the woods behind our house.
"He's lives in there," I said. "He's only borrowing your fence."
We walked back up to her house, Trish walking backward most of the way, leery of the slithering creature taking its clothes off in her back yard. She was barefoot, wearing white short shorts and a skimpy red top that barely covered her tits and exposed her belly button.
"Love your snake-killer outfit," I said.
"This is my outfit to attract my snake killer," she said, still looking back.
We put the shovel away in Bob's shed behind the house. The shovel was brand new, as were all the tools in the shed.
"I bet Bob would've killed it for me," Trish said.
I laughed.
"No, he wouldn't want to get his shovel dirty," I said.
She was smiling as we walked up her stairs. I stared at her ass. She gave it a little wiggle on the last step. She knew I was watching.
"Have a seat," she said. "We need to talk."
I tensed when I heard the words. She walked into the house and stayed for several minutes. When she came out, she had a pitcher of ice tea. She'd also taken her bra off.
Vixen.
She collapsed into a cushioned seat, which made her tits juggle a little. I had my sunglasses on, but she knew damn well I was looking at her nipples. She was still watching the fence.
"Bob and I are getting a divorce," she said matter-of-factly. "I told him last week. He's flying this week and I want him out when he gets back. I might need your help."
