Misha becomes part of her elderly neighbour's life.
Part 5
Misha, having regained her composure as she sat on the sofa looking over at Bob as he sat watching the TV in his usual pose, imagined his late wife fussing over him. She imagined Bob's wife bringing him cups of tea (His favourite, white with one sugar) with a sandwich and a treat; the treat being a loving blowjob from her.
Two things struck her; first was a mixed sense of jealousy and fear. Jealousy that another woman belonged to him, and fear that she needed to live up to an already proven standard. The second was that in the years she had known him and his wife before her passing, she never seemed to be overly attentive towards him. She never sensed a loving relation between the two, but she did admit she never knew them that well, intending always to keep her distance from them.
It had always been a status thing with Misha. She had always wanted the handsome, rich husband, the successful career of her own, nice belongings. She used to measure happiness this way. That was then; and now, well now she didn't need anything other than Bob. If she was with Bob and he was happy, then so was she.
She could have sat there all day gazing at him, serving his every need.
"Remember, I need you to run errands today." He never looked away from the TV.
"What, right now? I thought we could spend some time together!"
"I have a horse I want to bet on that's off at 10:45. You need to get a move on." He looked at her this time.
She glanced at her watch. "We have an hour and a half, and I don't know anything about betting."
"It's easy; I'll tell you what you need to know. It'll be good for you to learn since I like to bet the horses and you have the privilege of taking that cute little ass down to that shop and placing it for me. I can't be arsed going out."
She remembered that Bob's wife Linda had once commented that he lost so much money on the betting years ago that she refused to place a bet for him, anymore. She recalled the conversation held one day, over the fence, many years ago.
"Morning, Misha!"
Misha had tried not to make conversation with the woman.
"Oh,... Hi, Linda. Didn't see you there."
"I know, you're a busy woman; always working. You off to the gym?" Linda nodded to the sports bag slung over Misha's shoulder.
The woman's voice irritated her. "Tennis. In a rush. Sorry."
"No problem, I'm not going to hold you back, then. I would probably only start moaning about him that's inside anyway, lazy slob." She nodded to her house.
Even the woman's actions displayed a real lack of class, Misha thought.
As Misha played it over in her mind, she became angry that Linda would talk about Bob that way; a man that looked after her for so long. And so well, if he treated her to orgasms like the one Misha had just received.
Bob does give that impression. "You need a medal, Linda."
Misha gasped as she remembered Linda's comments. How could she have said that about Bob?
"Tell me about it. You know he lost the Holiday money on those damn horses, again. I could kill him, you know that?" Linda complained.
She remembered muttering to herself in the car, "Why stay with an old guy like that? He's obviously lazy, chauvinistic, and honestly, quite revolting." She recoiled at the thought she had caught him looking over the fence one day, when she was sunbathing in the garden alone.
Misha grew confused as to why she had felt that way, back then. She sat still on the sofa, just looking at the most amazing man ever. Why ever had she said and done those things?
"He's a good-for-nothing, worthless turd! He sits pottering with that garden or in that hut with his gizmos... he can never get anything to work right, anyway."
"Sorry, Linda. I'm late."
That had been a lie. Misha was always early; it was in her top five rules for success. She was happy to get away from Linda and remembered muttering under her breath through clenched teeth as she waved over to her. "Well have some pride, woman, and dump his perverted old ass."
Misha tried to reason about what had changed in order for her to be where she was now: on this tired old sofa, freshly recovered from a mind-melting orgasm, at the hands of this man she had been so repulsed by.
Masha's brain started to create, and soon the image was replayed in her mind. But it was as if a new edit of that day had been re-written, one that she now remembered differently, the original being saved deep in her consciousness.
"Morning, Linda," Misha called after Bob's wife; she was a fine woman.
"Oh, ...Hi, Misha. Didn't see you there," Linda said, as she turned her back to her.
Linda's elegance intimidated Misha, but she tried to continue on with the exchange.
"I know you're a busy woman; always running around after Bob and keeping that house in perfect order..." Misha nodded to the house.
"Yes, Bob's bets need placing. Anything for my Teddy Bear."
"No problem, I'm not going to hold you back, then. I would probably only start moaning about him in the house, anyway. All he wants to do is work and buy pretentious stuff." Misha nodded to the house she shared with her husband -- the unappealing Ken.
She conjured another memory; this one of Ken and her having a row. He had caught her perving on the old man next door, doing the garden with his shirt off when they had first moved in. Ken had always been so insecure about Bob; and Misha had done little to change that, flirting with Bob every chance she had.
"Anyway, Misha, I gotta run. Bob's bets need placing, even though he hardly wins."
"Must be quite the chore, running after him all day."
The new memory of her wishing it was her running after Bob, instead of Linda, saved in her memory bank.
"Sometimes. -- You know how it is."
"Actually, I don't; Ken doesn't let me do anything like that for him."