Although we had been neighbours for a couple of years I only ever saw her occasionally, usually when she was driving. Was she was married? Was there a partner? I didn't know.
Then one Saturday May morning, as I happened to be walking past her driveway, I spotted her attempting to start a motor mower.
Judging by her appearance and agitated state I concluded she wasn't having much luck, So, thinking it would be the right time to be neighbourly and introduce myself I stopped, and called out. "Hi there, I'm your next-door neighbour, can I help at all?"
She straightened up and looked at me, her smile indicating that my assistance would be welcome.
"Yes please, I'm useless with anything like this." Her cheery voice matched her smile. I opened the gate.
As I approached I noticed the oily smears on her hands and face, clear evidence of her frustrated efforts. And then my eyes were assaulted by the sight her shapely breasts, whose beauty even a sloppy t-shirt couldn't hide.
They were a perfect looking size, big, but not over large and beautifully round. It had been along time since I'd fondled a female form, an unfortunate fact that this lovely woman was reminding me of! A thought occurred to me
"Your husband won't mind me helping, will he?" I asked, not wanting an irate spouse to arrive on the scene and think I was coming on to his wife.
"I don't think so, I'm not married. My divorce was final a few months ago and I've decided to sell up and get an apartment, where there's no gardening to do." She replied waving her arm at the overgrown lawn and borders. "I've got an estate agent coming next week to value the place."
I felt an immediate sense of regret. Regret that I hadn't troubled to introduce myself earlier to this very attractive female who was having quite an impact on my equilibrium.
"I'm sorry to hear that." I meant it. I looked into her soft green eyes and proffered my hand " I'm Peter, by the way."
"Kirsty." she replied taking it, transferring oil and grease at the same time. "Sorry about that." I told her it wasn't a problem and set-to diagnosing the fault with the mower.
Kirsty knelt down to watch what I was doing, the sudden closeness causing the scent of her perfume to mingle with the petrol fumes coming from the flooded carburettor, the combination made for an intoxicating mix.
I speculated on Kirsty's age and decided she was in her late thirties, and although she was a little overweight, it didn't detract from her sexual appeal.
She exuded an erotic allure and although she wore very little make-up her exquisitely smooth skin and short blonde hair screamed of expensive care and maintenance. Kirsty was a very desirable lady.
I found the problem, cleared the blocked fuel line, and when the engine roared into life I guided the machine onto the grass, Kirsty couldn't have been more pleased. I killed the engine so she could make herself heard.
"Oh, thank you, Peter. You've been a great help. Now come and clean your hands while I make some coffee. I take it you'd like some?" How could I refuse?
Over the ensuing weeks a wonderful friendship evolved and we enjoyed each others company greatly. But being several years older than Kirsty I didn't hold out much hope for romance.
However, that didn't stop me harbouring delicious carnal thoughts about her.
She recruited my assistance to tidy up the garden and tackle some decorating - always rewarding me with excellent cooking. Her house never went up for sale, which I took to be a clear indication that there could be something more to enjoy, if I was prepared to wait.
We often went out to restaurants or the cinema, even shopping together. In short, we became very good friends, trusting friends, with an appreciation of each others finer feelings.
She respected my situation of being widowed for the past three years and I respected the fact that she been through a messy divorce. Patience, was a sustaining virtue that bound us
Now, I am lucky in respect of not having to hold down a regular 9-5 job since my business was swallowed up β quite lucratively, I might add β so all I content myself with is a little consultation work, just to keep in touch with the world of business. And so, on this grey Friday morning, which turned out to be a watershed in our relationship, I was sitting at my computer when the phone rang. It was Kirsty.
"Hi, Peter, can you do me a favour please?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"Can you pop round and take my washing off the line if it starts to rain, I forgot all about it before leaving this morning."
I looked at the rain already spattering against the window.
"I'll do it now," I replied. "it's started."
"You're a sweetheart, Peter. If it is wet, can you put it in the tumble drier and give it a few minutes, please."
"Sure thing, Bye."
"Bye."
I grabbed the key to Kirsty's house off the hook in the kitchen - we even trusted one another with keys - and in the few seconds it took to get to Kirsty's back garden I got soaked, so did the washing on the whirligig. I started snatching at blouses, t-shirts and a couple of skirts but suddenly, the materials felt different, and the wonderful realisation that I was handling Kirsty's lingerie struck me!
I looked at the sensual items passing through my hands in greater detail, a sense of lust and a desire to see Kirsty wearing them searing into my thoughts.
Panties, thongs and bra's all held my gaze, while the wet, silken material of a waist-slip wrapped itself invidiously around my hands like a snake.
But, at the centre of the whirligig, was a sight that really set my pulses racing β a couple of suspender belts and various pairs of stockings with lacy tops, it was a wonderful, heart warming sight! Gathering everything together I made for the utility room and transferred the wet garments to the tumble-dryer one by one, slowly savouring the feel of each item against my skin and picturing Kirsty wearing it β I would certainly look at her in a different light now,
My reverie was broken at the realisation of my hand clutching an erection! Somewhat embarrassed, but not shocked, I took a deep breath and stood up, leaving Kirsty's lingerie spinning around in the dryer.
I spent the rest of the day trying to ignore the arousal that pounded and pestered within me,
Then, just as I was weakening to the point where I decided relief was required, Kirsty phoned inviting me to dinner that evening.
As usual, Kirsty was dressed impeccably and I couldn't help wondering if she was wearing lingerie similar to that I had taken off the line.
We enjoyed a lovely meal and it was while opening our second bottle of wine that she uttered the immortal words that changed our relationship forever.
"Pete, thanks again for getting the washing in, I hope I didn't embarrass you. I'd completely forgotten what I'd hung out." She spoke softly, teasing, her eyes flirting with me.
I paused to take a sip of wine, sensing it was going to be a seminal moment.
"No problem at all. It's been a long time since my fingers have felt such frippery." I stopped there, leaving my words hanging. Would she encourage the repartee, or think I was a pervert of some sort?