UNEXPECTED BECAME JUST ANOTHER WORD
Léna heard the boys arguing but she chose not to intervene. They had come in late and she had spent the evening finishing the last of the packing in readiness for the family's summer property being closed up. The stone-walled ex-farmhouse with its exposed beams and flagged floors had become eerily quiet now that her husband and two daughters had left for Paris and their work. Her sister and husband had gone at the same time, and so here she was with two argumentative teenage boys, her son Claude the rebellious one.
His friend Michel, the precocious young man with his closely cropped black hair and square chin, captivating blue-green eyes, and soft smile could be relied upon to keep her boy under some control. Or so she'd thought until she had heard him say that Claude had drunk more than was necessary to make a good last night of it. Her bedroom door had been left open, by the smallest crack, and it enabled her to hear everything that the boys said.
"Go to bed and sleep it off. We leave tomorrow so I don't want you puking up all the way home. It's five hundred klicks or five hours in the car, so it's way too long to have to put up with this."
"Oh really?" she heard Claude say, slurring his words.
"Yes, really, and your Mother won't thank me for bringing you home pissed. But, I had nothing to do with it..."
"Okay...okay! Enough! I'll just go and say goodnight to Maman."
"Not in that state you won't. If I see her I'll explain." He wasn't sure how he would do that, but at least he would have some time to talk to Léna and feast his eyes on her.
He'd fantasized about the woman whom he often saw lazing by the swimming pool. His friend, Claude, was unaware of his interest. He strayed and was into their friends, of both sexes, whereas he had horny thoughts only of here, of Léna, even if she was nothing like the slim, full-breasted women he and Claude often watched on the porn sites that they sometimes logged onto. Watching people acting out various scenarios had set him wondering if, at eighteen, he would ever get to discover such action.
But then, he had already discovered the opening moves with some of the girls in college, at parties, and that he had seen the studs perform on the porn babes. Seeing them, it all looked too rehearsed and emotionless.
His pal's mother, Léna, would show him, he was sure, after seeing how Luc, her husband, had groped her and thinking no one noticed as the party frolicked by, and in, the swimming pool that was set in the grounds of the property. But he had seen them, and his frustrations had continued to go unrequited. He'd been provoked into easing them away during the quieter hours of the night and as he'd worked his length, 'impressive' by all accounts and as the girls in college told him.
And still, none had let him in.
Working on himself had eased away the frustration he had become aware of as he saw Léna in her skimpy bikini and that Claude's sisters failed to distract him from, and that flirty banter in the nightclubs they went to only sharpened to a nagging ache in his groin.
Claude stripped off and flopped down on his bed, tugging the sheet over his naked and rather skinny body before turning on his side.
"Turn the light off, will you?"
"In a moment," Michel replied curtly, hearing his friend's slurred speech. "I'll go to the kitchen and get you a jug of water. It may help flush out what you drank tonight...."
"I drank some water before we came up here, remember?" Claude said on a yawn. "But please yourself."
"No, I'll please you and your mother. She'll only wonder why I didn't look after you properly."
Michel wondered if his pal had also taken something when they were out and he had not noticed him doing so. Taking such risks was never a part of his plans for a good night out, but Claude would never admit to it and so be accused of being a fool.
A loud snore soon informed him that his friend was already asleep. Michel kicked off his beach shoes and stripped off his slacks. Barefoot and wearing a T-shirt that was taut on his body, he pulled the door until it was almost closed on Claude and stepped quietly along the corridor, hoping that Léna was also making ready for bed and would not hear him.
They all had a long day ahead of them and a drive back on busy roads, even if the route from Vannes to Paris was relatively straight and bypassed the larger towns and cities along the way.
If Claude was still a wreck he would have a chance to sit next to her, to engage in conversation with Léna. It would then feel that he had her all to himself, besotted fool that he was. But then, Léna had something about her personality, and looks, that made it difficult for him to ignore her or to act indifferently to her outward charms.
♥
"Léna?" he called out, softly, as he stood by the door but did not peer in, immediately. He heard a rustle of clothes before he did so. "Aiee...sorry!"
There the woman of his wayward dreams stood, clutching the thin floral print blouse that he'd seen her wearing throughout the day. Her denim shorts were gone and only Léna's blouse covered her breasts and scarcely hid her tummy from his gaze. She looked so darned good, fleshy but better than he imagined even after seeing her in a skimpy bikini. He was close to her and it now felt only too personal, both of them scantily clothed.
"Quiet, and don't be sorry," she murmured as the space between was closed. Brazenly and shamelessly, Léna dropped the blouse she had been clutching and it fell onto the terrazzo floor at her feet. She then smiled provocatively at him. "Well?"
"Wonderful...you look marvellous!"
The woman that he had watched by the pool, and had fantasized about, stood before him completely naked. She had made no immediate attempt to fully cover up and, instead, seemed to be provoking him into pursuing what she must have sensed was his infatuation and obvious hunger for her. As if to prove it, he fingered the bulge in his briefs.
"I...I did notice the interest that you've shown in me, chéri."
"And now it's so real."
He said it as he remained rooted to the spot, each of them looking at each other and wondering where the moment would take them. He was a horny guy and all but a virgin, in these ways of it, and certainly where it concerned a woman of forty-five or so.
