Writer's Note: This is a story for adults over eighteen years of age about adults over eighteen years of age. While the story line is true the dialog has been compressed for the sake of time and space. Safe sex was not an issue in the early seventies, but should be a concern for everyone today.
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My last story brought a comment from another writer; she cautioned me about "keeping it real" and "it must be believable." I had to laugh because my stories are about real events that I have experienced over the last sixty years. At the time, I often couldn't believe what was happening either. Neither the mother and daughter I met at the beach, nor the graduate student in the library stacks, seemed real at the time, but waking up between them the next morning was very real and watching the graduate student toss a semen filled rubber in the trash can was also real. I have been an extremely lucky man and amazing events and women seemed to find me frequently.
I was fresh out of college and ready to begin my career as a history teacher. In less than two weeks I had gone from being a student at a teachers college in the mountains of western North Carolina to being a teacher in a small agriculture and retirement town thirty miles north of my hometown of Tampa, Florida.
It didn't take long for me to realize that my teacher salary and small Army Reserve check did not provide enough money for me to do more than just get by; having a night on the town was out of the question. Luckily I was able to slip down to Tampa on weekends to see some of the ladies who had been my lawn mowing customers during high school. Four years of college and two years of military active duty had certainly added the years to some of them, but others seemed to age better; my friend, Faye had turned seventy and was as lively and sexy as ever. (See: The Lawn Boy, Chapter 3)
I was admitted to graduate school at the university in Tampa and quickly found that my G.I. Bill just barely covered my tuition. There was nothing left for me to do; I made up some flyers for a lawn mowing service and began putting them up around town. I hired some of my students who needed money to do the mowing and I provided the equipment and kept the schedule.
I stopped by the shuffleboard court where most of the retirees hung out late on Friday afternoon. As I was pinning up my flyer on the bulletin board, I heard a woman's voice over my shoulder.
"Lawn mowing, you are just in time. I'm so tired of my husband putting off mowing until our lawn looks terrible."
I turned around to find a tall, attractive, brunette, possibly in her mid-forties, drying the sweat from her tan arms and neck with a small hand towel; she looked me over rather carefully.
I smiled, "Hi, I'm Will. I would be happy to help with your lawn care."
"Hi Will, I'm Helen." We shook hands then paused, but for some reason, we continued to hold hands for several minutes.
We chatted about the work she needed to be done as a number of people passed by and spoke to her. I looked over her slender, shapely body trying not too obvious about it.
Then, rather nervously, she asked, "Do you think you could stop by tomorrow morning and look over our lawn, maybe about nine o'clock?" Then to my surprise, she added, "My husband will be away playing golf."
I readily agreed and jotted down her address and phone number. I wasn't sure what to make of her comment about her husband being away; it could have had several perfectly innocent meanings. Of course, my mind went to the ones that a typical twenty-five years old guy would dream about after having been invited by a very attractive, married woman.
It was drizzling rain Saturday morning when I rang Helen's door bell at nine o'clock on the dot. I immediately heard the sound of heels on stone tile floors inside as they approached the door.
The door opened, "Good morning, Will. You are very punctual; I like that in a man." Helen said with a warm smile.
I decided to be bold, "I believe you should never keep a beautiful woman waiting."
"Aww, that's so nice of you. Please come in. Would you have a cup of coffee with me?"
I followed her into a nook just off the kitchen and took a seat at the end of the table while she poured the coffee. I nodded in agreement when she held up a bottle of Irish cream. She was wearing heels, stockings, and a bright yellow a-line dress that buttoned up the front and had a low cut neck that showed a hint of her very ample cleavage. She wore a single strand of pearls around her neck that hung almost to her cleavage and stood out against her very tan chest. I was certain she was dressed to go out after our discussing her lawn work.
After serving the Irish cream spiked coffee she took a seat. Even though there was plenty of room at the table she sat close to me. Our knees touched when she pulled her chair under the table. She seemed a bit distracted and fidgety as we talked about everything except her lawn; it was as if she was forcing herself to talk about other things instead of what was really on her mind. Out of the blue she, again, mentioned that her husband was away playing golf with friends for the day.
I asked, "Even with it raining?"
"Oh yes, they play rain or shine; if it gets too bad, they go to the club bar," she smiled.
She hooked her finger in the string of pearls and moved them from side to side as if to draw attention to her tanned chest. As we finished our first cup of coffee, I decided to see how she would respond to my being a bit forward.
"Those are beautiful pearls; they look especially stunning against your tan. They must be a family heirloom," I said as I leaned closer to admire them and look down the top of her dress; I didn't see a hint of a bra.
"Yes, they were my grandmother's. She was quite a lady," she said then smiled as she caught my eyes admiring more than her pearls.
"You are quite a lady too," I said as I raised my eyes.
She blushed slightly then with a coy smile said, "Thank you. I love getting compliments; I get so few from my husband."
Her breathing seemed to be faster than it should have been for someone having coffee and what I thought was a blush seemed more like she was flushed. I thought, maybe she is not dressed to go out; I decided to push a bit further.
I leaned closer and looked down the top of her dress, "It's difficult not to admire a sight so beautiful; do you want me to admire your breasts?"
She smiled another very coy smile, "I guess I wanted you to pay attention to me since my husband never does; I hoped you might be interested."
That was an invitation for more, "I am very interested; would like for me to see more of you."
