The Photo

I have known Eleanor for decades, she lives in the same small town as I do, plus her kids go to the same school as my two. She works as a receptionist at our local doctors and so its hard to avoid her really. She is a single mother but any negative illusions that phrase may spin up in your mind, I can assure you would be quite wrong. She has always been deeply involved in the community, much respected, friendly and well loved by everyone in town.

The one thing I never really saw her as was 'sexy'. She was always a practical sort, always wrapped up in the school life, she wore baggy, functional clothes and sported a kind but motherly complexion. So I never really thought of her in 'that' way and, though we talked and giggled and got on well she remained kind of sexless in my mind. All that changed, however, on a fateful day back in the spring of 2015.

Her parent's house was on my street and I would often open my own front door to find her standing outside. On this occasion she was struggling to take pictures with her camera. 'The thing is chock-a-block', she said, 'I need to clear them off, but I cant work out how to get them onto my computer'. This was my thing, I promised to give her a hand and come over after work. It was honestly no bother for me I knew exactly what was needed.

I was happy to these sorts of jobs for people, I was known as 'the technology guy' in the town and I saw these sorts of tasks as my own currency in the unspoken market of favours that happen in any community.

That evening I knocked on the door, she opened it with the strained look of a mother at dinner time but still with the energy to smile and welcome me in. It was the first time I had been inside her house although I had passed by countless times. It was a big place, left for her by her clearly wealthy ex-husband, a story I know little about and never wanted to ask. She led me to an office, where her laptop computer sat a the desk, I waited politely as she explained the problem again, it was a common thing and I already knew how to fix it. Open the browser, download the right software, connect up the phone to a usb port and click download - simple as pie.

And this was the moment my entire perspective of Elenor imploded. As the first pictures began to download, suddenly it appeared. Large as life on the screen - an image of pure pornography. A lady, splayed on a bed completely nude other than a pair of rather skimpy underwear, and even those pulled to one side willfully, and her face - my god. An expression of pure, brilliant filth, a combination of brazenness, shyness, lust and self-assurance all at once.

It was one fucking sexy picture and one which leapt into my existence, so out of the blue It felt so out of place and it took a second for me to realize that this lady was Eleanor herself. Shocked, my first, slightly incoherent, words were 'oh - hold on - is that you', before the lid of the laptop was slammed down in front of me.

'Shit - you didn't see that ok, christ, shit, fucking forgot those photos were still on there'. She was spinning, genuinely mortified, literally reeling across the room with her hand on her face, spitting expletives. The stream of bad language would have been endearing if it weren't for the genuine anguish in her tone. I tried to reassure her, I promised her it was as if I hadn't seen the photo at all, I would keep it to myself, and honesty not to worry. I hated gossip and small town shit, I was on her side.

She wasn't really listening, needless to say I was out of the house pretty quickly, in order to let her breath again.

It did not take too long to see Eleanor out and about again and, in the months that followed, we slipped quickly back into our old neighborly relationship. Small talk about the weather, school, kids and events around the town. Everything was pretty much as it was before.

I say 'pretty much' because although, ostensibly, everything was the same under the surface, from my side at least, my view of this woman had entirely turned on its head. Eleanor had pretty much rocketed herself to fame in my fantasy life, taking a starring role in all my erotic dreams.

All in all, I must have looked at that image for all of about three full seconds. Three whole seconds before shock gave way to a jolted reaction and the laptop lid snapped shut but three full seconds that had seared itself into my imagination. It was like a velvet curtain had been lifted to see the wizard of oz and it turns out he was a massive slut.

When we talked in the street now, for sure she looked the same on the surface, but it was, to me, like she was wearing red hot lingerie under her dungarees. When I talked to her, I tried to keep my face straight but I constantly tried to fight a knowing smile from setting in.

Any time our eyes met, I felt like I could see her thoughts. You know... I know.. you know that I know...I know what you are thinking you cheeky mare. And far from feeling embarrassed any more, I almost suspected she was enjoying it. When I spoke to her, everything felt like flirtation although the content of our conversations never changed. Just the look in her eyes and perhaps an almost imperceptible sense she was also trying to hold back a knowing little smile.

So time went on, years in fact, events happened as they always do, I got divorced. my kids left for high school. And my interactions with Eleanor remained largely the same. This is just how it is in local communities, behind parent-teacher groups and scout hall meetings and all the duty-bound interactions of parenting life. Behind the fairy cakes and polite smiles, people have all kinds of illicit thoughts. Sure, we were always pleased to see each other, I think we did flirt a little but neither of us ever took it too far. We happily shared a little secret together and never felt the need to mention it, although it was fun to keep it.

It could of carried on that way forever I feel, but then one night something changed to bring about an unexpected denouement to this story - that something was alcohol.

Eleanor was never a drinker, in fact I had never seen her out at the pub or at parties even once before. So on New Years eve, I was surprised to see at a party, sitting on a neighbors couch, glass of wine in hand, in the early hours of the morning.

'Hey - you alright, you're never out. How you doing'.

'I've got an empty house for once, thought I'd make the most of it'.

She looked great, out of the 'mum uniform' for once and wearing a dress, something unheard of really. I could sense the change-up had been enough make some of the other Dads perhaps look at her in a different way, but not me, she already had my firm attention way back on that fateful early evening back in 2015.

We chatted for a while in our usual manner, how are the kids, the trails of single parenthood, disdain for the various institutions we were both involved with. Mild flirtation of course, but then it occurred to me, there is a chance here, for once, for this to go further.

She was also well aware of her own lack of experience at parties, as she shuffled on the couch her dress rode up a little.

'Gawd, I am going to make a spectacle of myself here, to much wine for me' - then she passed me a knowing glance - 'still nothing you've not seen already huh'

I felt my heart skip a beat, this was new, we had never talked about the photo once in all these years. The unspoken pact had been broken. I leaned in close, I didn't want anyone to overhear us.

'I had never told a single soul about that' - I said - 'honestly trust me'

'I know' - she said - 'If you had, I would have heard about it, believe me'

The conversation had taken on a sudden conspiratorial tone as we started to whisper.

'You know I think about that picture, all the time' - I said.

'Really' - she smiled

'All the time, every time I see you, or when someone mentions you. Lots of times really. I can't get it out my head'.

'At night time?' - she tested.

'Uh huh - all the time'

It occurred to me that I was tacitly admitting here to this lady, that she had become the main source of my masturbatory fantasies. Sure this was solid fact, but also perhaps a little creepy. A dangerous gambit perhaps - still I was drunk and so I doubled up on it.

'Its just, you looked so god damned hot' - I said.

'Um, thanks I think'

'Sorry too much information'

'Well to be honest I think about it quite a lot too' - she seemed kind of coy but then leaned in real close and spoke a deeply hushed whisper into my ear. 'it was not so much the photo but I remember your face when you saw it - I kind of liked you looking at it. I have often thought about what would have happened if the kids were not there that day you know'

'You looked mortified about it, I had to leave'

'yeah, that was just my first reaction, it took me by surprise but then, especially as you were such a gentleman, and especially as you hadn't later gone about mouthing off to everyone around town, I started to to think about it a lot, the way you looked at the picture and the way you looked at me afterwards, it was pretty sexy'

I started to understand the complete story now. Over the last few years, we had both been suppressing a similar but equally intense infatuation with each other. A single dirty photo had ignited a fiery little passion between two polite friends who had been, until then, too reserved to even think about each other sexually. And then all these years since we had done nothing about it but make suggestive eye contact. What the hell was I thinking!

'I'd love to see it again' - I whispered.

'Really' - her eyes lit up.

'Really, do you still have it'

'Of course I do, its a sexy fucking picture, even I can see that'

'Can I see it?'

As she leaned away to consider my offer, I noticed an instinctive moment of reluctance quickly pass before she gave me the biggest most suggestive smile I had seen, well, since I seen that photo. I felt, at last, that our thoughts and feelings were in harmony.

'Tongues are going to wag you know' - she said before leaning in to whisper once more - 'I am going to leave here right now. In five minutes time, you make your excuses and leave too - then when you pass my door, knock quietly three times'.