Sunday afternoon. Mildred and Holly usually get together Sunday afternoons for a chat and a drink, well usually more than one drink, when their husbands are off playing golf. They're chatting now on Mildred's deck. A frosty pitcher of margaritas and glasses are on a serving table between them.

"I had lunch with Marge Friday,” Mildred said. “Did I tell you?" She patted her hair, which was short, curly, and gray.

"No. How's Marge?" Holly said. She lit a cigarette and raised her chin and blew the smoke upward.

"Oh, she's very well. She's been busy getting things ready for her eldest boy to go to college in September, or some such thing. I can't recall what she said—her exact words—but I believe it was something like that." Mildred picked up her drink and stirred it with her finger. She took a prim little sip, swallowed, and ran her tongue over her lips.

"You know, Mildred, you're a terrible source of gossip."

"Well, I must be losing my hearing, on the other hand, maybe I'm getting a bit senile. But for goodness sake! I am getting older—why, I'm nearly old enough to be your mother!"

"Oh, nonsense," Holly said. "You're neither senile or deaf. "You just don't listen, Mildred. You don't listen!" Nearly forty now, her face had softened, and she was very pretty. She has shoulder length honey blond hair, a good figure, and very nice legs. She was sipping her third margarita; her speech slightly slurred and was louder.

"Holly! You don't have to shout. I hear you perfectly." Mildred folded her hands in her lap and looked at the table. Condensation was puddling around the pitcher. "And I was paying attention, if that's what you mean by listening."

"You know, Marge's older boy does our lawn and our pool," Holly said. She stood and wiped up the water from the pitcher. She topped off her glass and sat. She crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt on her thigh. It was short, the length of a tennis skirt, a print of creamy white with red and pink roses scattered on it. "He's a very attractive kid."

"Oh, Holly, all teenaged boys are attractive at that age. It's the peak of their attractiveness, they'll never look better in their lives." She took a drink.

"He's at the peak of his reproductive powers, too," Holly said.

"Oh goodness, Holly, whatever are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about Jack--that's Marge's older boy. He flirts with me."

"Oh, well I never," Mildred said, directing a wrinkled frown of disapproval at Holly. "He’s barely eighteen.” Her face relaxed and the question formed in her eyes. “What does he say? You probably misinterpreted it."

Holly laughed, took a drink, said, “I know when a man’s flirting with me.”

“Well then, what did he say?”

“Last week while he cut the grass I was lying by the pool—I had been swimming earlier and the sunshine was so delicious I wanted to relax and enjoy it. He finished the lawn and came to check the pool. He tests the water, you know?” She took a drag on her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.

“Yes? Go on.”

“Well, I was putting sunblock on my arms and he offered to help. He said, ‘I could do your back, Mrs. Gordon,’ quite innocently.”

“Goodness! What did you say?” Mildred said. She sat forward, leaning closer to Holly.

“Well, I thought, he’s been working for us for, what? Two years now, and he’s like one of the family, really, and I didn’t think anything of it.”

“You didn’t let him, of course.” Mildred sat back, picked up her drink, sipped it and held it.

“I did. That’s when he started saying things that were definitely flirtatious.”

Mildred drained her glass, swallowed. “Goodness. What were you thinking?”

“He said, ‘I used to do this for my mother, but she thinks I’m too old now.’” Holly paused for a drink. “Then he said, ‘Your skin is really soft and smooth.’”

“And you’re lying there letting him rub lotion on your back? What were you thinking?”

“To tell you the truth, Mildred, I was thinking how gentle his touch was. I hardly noticed when he undid my top and—”

Mildred’s eyes flew wide. “What?”

“He undid my top. He didn’t ask permission, Mildred, he just popped it open!”

“Holly!”

“What could I do? He ran his hands up and down my back, and when he reached my lower back he lingered, ever so lightly.” She shook a cigarette out of the pack, and held it with two fingers, but she didn’t light it. “He said I have a great body.”

“Hmph! For a woman old enough to be his mother. Oh, now I’m thinking about Marge. What would she think of you letting her son become familiar with you?”

“I have no idea what she would think. I don’t know her very well,” Holly said, lighting her cigarette with a red plastic lighter. She placed the lighter on the table next to the cigarette pack.

“Well, I can tell you what I would think—as a mother. If he were my son . . .” she let her thought unsaid.

Holly was remembering something now, and deciding to what extent she could share it with Mildred, who seemed unusually judgmental that afternoon. She gazed out to the woods behind the property and smoked her cigarette. She wouldn’t tell Mildred that she had unfastened her swim suit top, or that she shifted her body slightly to allow the boy to see most of a breast. That’s when he offered to do her back.

She exhaled and watch the cloud of smoke rise and dissolve. She remembered the way she had felt when Jack began putting lotion on her legs. He had rested a hand on the back of her thigh, only a finger’s width from— No, she definitely wouldn’t mention that. Or anything beyond it . . .

“The boy’s been around, Mildred, he’s obviously had some experience. I doubt he’s a virgin.” She rolled the tip of her cigarette in the ashtray, recalling the effect of the boy’s boldness on her. The consequences. Memory raised the heat and humidity between her legs.

“Children today are over stimulated! They’re hyper sexual by adolescence!” Mildred spoke crossly and looked off in the distance. “My last year of teaching, goodness, you wouldn’t believe what went on among my students.”

They didn’t speak for a few minutes. Each seemed lost in her own thoughts. Then Mildred leaned toward Holly, her face as serious as if speaking to a sick child, and said, “For your own sake, Holly, please don’t encourage that boy.”

Holly didn’t say anything; she extinguished her cigarette.

“The laws of physics are certain,” Mildred said. Holly looked at her curiously. Mildred sat back in her chair and studied the backs of her hands. “After teaching science for many years I began to see how they can be applied to our actions as well. When actions begin they continue going in that direction, just as a physical body will remain in motion until something stops it or forces it to change direction."

“I’m sure I don’t follow you,” Holly said.

“What’s the boy’s name, Jack?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Jack will continue. He’ll go further if you encourage him. Perhaps I should say, if you don’t discourage him.

“You think so?”

“Why of course. He’s hardly in control of his raging hormones. It’s his age. It’ll be up to you to exert control.”

“You’re right, Mildred. Of course you are,” Holly said. She feigned sincerity while thinking that Mildred was too old-fashioned to be expected to approve of her dallying with a teenager.

Mildred spoke as though she could read Holly’s thoughts. “I know how powerful fantasies can be, my dear, how exciting and pleasurable they can be, but we don’t have to act on them. Some are better left as fantasy.”

“I agree.”

Mildred appeared pleased. “Even a blind sow finds a truffle now and then,” she said, nodding as though she agreed with herself. “I wouldn’t want to see you hurt, Holly.”

“Oh, I know, Mildred. I know you have my interest at heart. I do appreciate it.” She reached over and patted Mildred’s hand. “I ought to be going now. Don’t worry about me.” She got up, drained the last of her margarita, which was no longer cool, and gathered her cigarettes and lighter and put them in her handbag. “The margaritas were delicious. You have to tell me how you make them.”

“Oh, I’ll be glad to, dear. I’m glad you enjoyed them.”

Mildred walked Holly to her car in the oval at the front of the house. They hugged and said goodbye.

Holly’s BMW Z3 M Roadster roared to life. With a final smile and wave to Mildred she got under way. On the road the purr of the engine seemed to turn up the volume of her thoughts about Jack. Tomorrow was Monday. He'll come to do his work in the yard.

She knew she was a little drunk and drove slowly, trying to focus on driving carefully. The one-mile drive gave her time to consider what she would do tomorrow. She put Marge out of her mind. Then she put Mildred’s caution out of it, and conjured an image of Jack in his work shoes and those baggy, long-legged swim trunks he wore, his dark curls glistening in the sun, his muscles defined in the cotton T-shirt he shed on hot days. She tried to recall the feel of his lithe young body next to her skin . . . the smell of chlorine on him after a swim.

She touched the wet of her panties with her right hand and steered with her left. She felt a buzz of reckless excitement touching herself in the open roadster. If she were on a highway she could be observed by truck drivers looking into the car. Yes, she had done it. She knew they saw; some honked as she passed.

She imagined Jack up there in the cab of a big semi, grinning down on her as she matched his speed to stay alongside his open window, rolled up her skirt, pulled her panties aside, showing him how she touched herself, letting him watch, while the roar of the diesel blended with the purr of the BMW six and the howling wind whipped her hair into a golden tangle.

The odor of her arousal floated to her nostrils in an updraft of warm air in the car as she parked in her driveway. The rear of her husband’s Audi Q7 was visible in the open garage.

He opened the front door and waved. As she approached she said, “Did you win, Albert?”

He smiled happily. “I did. Two strokes under par. I was on fire, nearly had a hole in one, a tap-in only six inches from the cup on the seventh hole.”

“That’s wonderful, dear. We can celebrate by going out to dinner. Would you like to try that new Italian restaurant in town?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay.

Give me thirty minutes to bathe and dress.”

Holly turned on the steam in the shower, hoping it would clear her head of the effects of the three margaritas she had at Mildred’s. She washed herself and rinsed with the pulse feature on the hand shower. She resisted the temptation to pleasure herself with it. She was hungry and Albert would be impatient if she dawdled.

She wore a sleeveless black cocktail dress with spaghetti straps that fit her curves like a second skin. Albert whistled when he saw her.

“Uh-huh, you look good enough to eat.”

“I’ll remind you of that when we get home,” she said sweetly.

Albert drove them to the restaurant in the roadster and Holly let the rush of warm early evening air finish drying her hair.

They had to wait fifteen minutes for a table and they sat at the bar and had drinks. With dinner they drank a bottle of Chianti and by the time they left the restaurant Holly enjoyed a warm pleasant buzz.

At home they went straight to the bedroom. Albert sat on the bed and watched her undress. When she was naked she stood in front of him. “Do I still look good enough to eat?” she said. She was light-headed, a little woozy and very horny.

Albert loved going down on her. He stood, turned her around and pushed her onto the bed. She bent her knees and spread her thighs and closed her eyes. It didn’t take long to arouse her to desperation. “Take off your clothes, Al. Come to bed.”

It was quick and satisfying and after they finished she immediately went to sleep.

Monday morning. Albert was up early, showered, dressed, and left for the office. Holly slept until 9:45. Her first thought on waking was of Jack. She put on a dressing gown and made toast and drank the coffee Albert left in the carafe. It was only warm but it tasted good. She showered, paying special attention to her private areas with the hand shower. She spread herself and let the hot water gurgle in and out.

As Jack’s expected arrival time approached, Holly’s fantasies about him rolled and cut like a music video. Her insides roiled and she felt nearly disoriented. She had to have a plan, but she couldn’t focus. Suddenly she heard the riding mower start and its clatter gripped her heart.

As she listened to the sound of the mower rise and fall she had second thoughts. Doubts. Mildred had warned her. Albert would be devastated. Marge would certainly be out for blood. She paced. Living room, dining room, family room—back to the living room. It seemed like hours until the mower finally stopped.

Holly went up to her bedroom and looked out the window at the pool. After a minute she saw Jack, shirtless, his shorts hanging low on his waist. He approached the pool with the water test kit and the long handled skimmer. As he squatted on the apron to begin testing the water his hair glittered and his skin glowed in the noon sun. The sight made her nearly crazy with desire for him.

Crazy. She knew she must be insane to go out to the pool in nothing but a T-shirt—but she did. A light blue T-shirt that snugged but barely covered her ass. Her determined barefoot steps toward the pool set her breasts to jiggling like Jello in a sack. She felt wonderfully exposed and reckless.

“Hello, Jack!” she said as she approached. The air seemed furnace-hot after the cool house. She walked across the apron and stood beside him, her crotch at his eye level. She wondered how much he could see, because he stared at the hem of the shirt a long moment before he looked up. The blue of his eyes was as clear as the water in the pool. Twice as deep.

“Is the water okay?” she said. “I’m dying to jump in.”

Jack stood. He was half a head taller than Holly. He looked down at her strangely. “It tested good,” he said. She heard a tremor in his voice. “The chlorine’s right, and the, uh, the acidity is on the button.”

“Wonderful!” She thought she sounded breathless. “I’m going in. You can join me if you want.” Jack didn’t respond. He kept looking at her strangely.

Holly strode to the deep end and jumped into the water. She felt the T-shirt float on the surface an instant before she sank. It gathered at her ribs just under her breasts. Her ass was glaring white between the tan skin of her waist and thighs. She left it exposed as she swam under water towards Jack, wanting to give him a good view.

When she came to the surface just beyond him, she found the bottom and stood. She pushed back her hair slowly, letting him ogle her breasts in the wet cotton. She tugged the T-shirt down to her thighs and said, “Do you want to come in, Jack?”

My god, she thought, the boy’s speechless. He continued to stare, mouth agape, eyes wide with wonder. His cheeks glowed like new apples and she could see his arousal. Holly felt a surge of power. She felt like a predator, a tawny cougar poised to pounce.

Jack’s mouth opened and closed dumbly before he spoke. “You want me to come in, Mrs. Gordon?” The words croaked out, as though his voice hadn’t changed.

“I want you to come in, Jack. Take off your shoes.” And your shorts, she thought, but didn’t say it.

Suddenly the boy came to life. He bent to untie his work shoes, yanked them off one after another as he danced on one foot at a time, and then he practically fell into the water.

Watching the awkward plunge into shallow water, Holly was concerned for his safety. Her heart skipped a beat before he rolled to the surface and swam towards the deep end.

She followed him. When he reached the end of the pool he steadied himself on the rim and watched her. She stopped close to him and tread water.

“Isn’t the water wonderful, Jack?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“What’s the matter? You’re looking at me funny.”

“I am?” He pushed the wet hair off his forehead. “To tell the truth, I feel funny. Not funny funny. Weird funny. Something like that.”

She drifted closer to him. “Do I make you feel weird?”

“You kind of shocked me, I guess.”

“Oh?” she said. She began to back stroke slowly away from him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s okay, Mrs. Gordon! Seriously.”

“Holly. Mrs. Gordon is too formal.”

Just as she thought he might, Jack began swimming after her. She scissor kicked, spreading her legs as wide as she could, to let him see everything. The brazen display of her pudenta inflamed her desire. Each opening of her legs made her feel unrestrained.

Holly stood in the waist-deep water at the shallow end of the pool and looked at him. The hem of the T-shirt floated on the surface, revealing her pubic hair. Jack’s eyes were locked on her breasts. Maybe he didn’t notice. He stood and walked the last few feet to her and when it broke the surface she spotted the bulge in his shorts.

“Do you like me, Jack?” Her words were soft, low, almost a whine.

“Jeez, Mrs.— Sorry, Holly! What can I say? Right now I can’t think straight. I’m not sure what we’re doing. . . ”

“I know what I’d like to he doing, what do you want to do?”

“Seriously?”

“I’m dead serious, Jack. Anything you want.” She said it flatly, again surprised at her boldness. She thought she couldn’t make it any plainer and if he didn’t do something soon, well . . .

Holly’s turn to be surprised. Jack stepped in, cupped her crotch so hard he nearly lifted her, and kissed her hard on the mouth. She felt a burst of raw energy from the rough movement of his hand and grabbed his wrist.

“Easy, Jack! Be gentle.”

“Sorry, Holly. I’m really wound up.”

“You can have it all, sweetie, just go easy. Let’s go inside.”

As they walked to the house, Jack said, “What about your husband? What time’s he come home?”

“It’s all right, Jack. Albert teaches a class at the law school. He won’t be home until ten.”

“Do you, I mean, how do you feel about—this?”

Holly stopped. She held his face in her hands and kissed his lips. “Dear Jack, please don’t stop to think now. Everything’s fine. We’re going in the house. I want you to make love to me and not to think about anything else.”

On the bed, naked, they kissed and fondled. Holly's face was as flushed as hot coals. She held his sex in her hand, kept feeling the girth and length of it. The size and rigidness seemed unreal. She kissed it, opened her lips, sucked it gently for only a moment and—he groaned and erupted. His hot thick fluid ran down her chin, oozed down her throat. A thrill like she had never felt before went through her like a shot.

“Oh, my god!” she cried, wiping her mouth, the taste of his semen assaulted her.

“Shit! I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I couldn’t help it. You got me so turned on.”

“It’s all right, Jack,” she said. She pushed him back on the pillows and straddled him. He hadn’t softened a bit and she was so wet when she lowered herself on his shaft her body seemed to pull him in with one gulp.

She rose, she settled. She lifted, she dropped. She threw back her head and closed her eyes and reached a level of sensation that engulfed her and frenzied her brain. She thought it strange that a thought of Albert crossed her mind just as she stiffened and clenched. A long, long spasm that went on and on until it reached such an intensity she wanted it to end. She whined like a puppy and couldn’t breath.

Holly fell sideways, out of breath, still spasming, speechless.

“Jeez, jeez, jeeeeeze,” Jack said.

“Oh, my, goooood god,” Holly echoed.

They lay motionless for a long time. Jack’s eyes were closed, she thought he fell asleep.

Holly couldn't think of anything to say. Her head was clear, but she had no words to describe what they had done.

They remained in the bedroom most of the afternoon. They caressed, kissed, spooned, rested, acted as lovers do. They spoke little, just enough to make their needs known. Jack’s prowess amazed her. He rose again and again and she accepted him each time, until her body ached and her hole was raw.

Four o’clock she had to pee. When she returned Jack was pulling his shorts on.

“I’m supposed to cut the Baker’s grass,” he said. “I better shove off.”

Holly embraced him and tenderness filled her heart. “Are you okay, Jack?” was all she could think to say.

“Seriously? I’m exhausted all right, you must be too, but I’m as happy as a pig in shit.” He blushed. “Oh, my bad. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“No,” she laughed. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” She tiptoed and kissed him. “It was a terrific afternoon. I hope you won’t think badly of me.”

“Seriously? No way I could think anything bad about you, Holly. I think you’re great.”

“Thank you, Jack.” She kissed him again. “I think you’re great, too.”

"I need to tell you something though," he said shyly, his gaze off to the side.

"What?"

"Well, I wasn't a virgin. This wasn't my first time. You should know."

Holly laughed. "I'm glad you told me, Jack. I'm relieved."

Jack smiled. “See you next week, Mrs. G.”