I smiled back and watched him fasten up the shirt.
“That looks right to me.” I said to him and he nodded.
“I better get back down to the tills then.” He sounded almost upset to be leaving but maybe I was fantasizing that bit.
“Have a good day.” I smiled and instinctively stood up to go and hold the door open.
“You’ll be fine,” I reassured him, gently laying my hand on his shoulder and squeezing.
“Thanks, Susan,” he replied, his cheeks still flushed. “See ya.”
The common sense me really told myself off for that episode. Staring at his naked chest and then touching him as he left were definitely big no-nos and I knew it. The newly resurrected sexual me didn’t give a damn, she just wanted a good fuck. I hadn’t felt so sexual for many years, probably since university. I met many young men then, but one stole my heart and then stole my credit card and valuables. Since then, I had thrown myself into my work, not wanting to risk losing everything, not again.
I think I felt liberated from that because he was so young and nothing was going to happen between us. He was totally unobtainable and therefore perfect crush fodder. I fantasized about him often, I didn’t see him around much but whenever I walked past the tills and he was on, he would give me one of those winning smiles. I was right about him; he always had a long queue for his till. Women loved him.
I wonder how many of them imagined lying down upon the conveyor belt naked. I often did. I imagined him scanning my whole body from top to toe with his fingers, then picking me up and carrying me away to the back of his little student car to fuck the living daylights out of me. I had a healthy imagination and an insatiable itch in my pussy that ended up with me masturbating daily and often more than once in a day.
* * * *
One morning I was driving to work, my mind filled with plans for the day. My body was driving the car on autopilot when out of the corner of my eye I saw James. He was bundled up in a big, heavy fleece with a heavy scarf wrapped around his neck. (It was autumn and James had been working with us for three months.) I honked my horn and watched him jump as if startled. When he saw me frantically waving, he waved back. I pulled up to the curb a little further on and reached over to open the passenger side door.
“Morning, James,” I smiled, “jump in I’ll give you a lift.”
“Thanks, Susan.” He sniffed sliding into the front seat of my untidy car.
“Sorry about the mess.” I apologised, smiling at him. I noticed his nose was red and his eyes were runny.
“Are you okay?”
“Not wearly doh.” He said, “I fink I h...h....h... ACHOO! have a cold.”
“Well, you’re not going into work then, my lad.” I answered, going into mothering mode. “I’m going to take you right back home now. Let me just ring the office and explain things.”
“But...but....” he tried to protest.
“Don’t. You can’t serve customers in that state. I won’t let you. Now sit there and hush up whilst I speak to Annie.”
His mouth snapped shut and I concentrated on the phone call. I explained what was going on and that I would be a little late. As I had no interviews to take that day, I wouldn’t be missed for an hour or so. I could always stay late to make it up if need be.
“Right, where do you live again? I’m going to drive you home.”
James told me where he lived and I set to finding my way there.
“Have you got any paracetamol in at home?” I asked him.
“No, nothing, I don’t think anyway.”
“Okay, well, we’ll take a detour past my place. I’ve got some cold relief odds and ends from when I had the flu last month. We’ll pick those up then get you home.”
“Oh, you really don’t have to...” He snuffled.
“Yes I do. We can’t have our top checkout assistant off work for too long now can we?”
“Well, tanks, Susan. Tanks a lot. I fink I would have collapsed if I would have had to walk any further.”
James barely uttered another word for the rest of the journey. I left him in the car as I went into my house to find the lemsips and other cold remedies I had in a cupboard in my kitchen. When I got back to the car, James was slumped against the window fast asleep. Poor lamb. My maternal instincts were upper most in my mind, but below it, all there was still a stirring in my nether regions that I just couldn’t get rid of.
I got back into my tired little car as quietly as I could, I even tried to start her quietly but she didn’t like the cold so she coughed and spluttered and woke James up.
“I’ll have you back home in a jiffy now,” I said soothingly. “Then you can have a good rest.”
The journey to James’s student home was relatively short and very quiet. When we pulled up outside the neat-looking terraced house, I jumped out of the car and retrieved my bag of goodies from the boot. James was already at the door when I got there. “Do you want me to come in? I can make up a drink for you if you like.”
I think I sounded over eager, but James just nodded his head. “Pwease.” He said and that was all the accent I needed.
I found my way to the kitchen pretty easily. For a house shared by four university boys, I was impressed by its cleanliness. I boiled the kettle and then went to find James. He was lying upon a flowery couch looking forlorn, still wrapped in his coat and scarf.
“Take off that coat, love,” I said. “I’ll go and find you a blanket.”
“Fanks, Susan, get my duvet from my woom for me pwease.”
His room was spotless. The ShopingSmart ties hanging on the door let me know it was definitely his room, but I could have told that from its scent alone. I walked in and took a good look. Not only was it clean on the surface, it looked like James was an organised individual. He’d have a fit if he saw the state of my bedroom. I shook myself from my little daydream, this would be the only time I’d be in his room and he’d never see mine. I noticed some pyjamas strewn at the side of his unmade double bed. Obviously he hadn’t had the energy to tidy up after himself this morning. I picked up the duvet and carried it back downstairs to James. Then I went and made up the hot lemon drink for him.
“There you go.” I say, passing the drink to his shaking hands. “There’s some vapour rub in the box and some soothers for your throat and a few more hot lemons. They should see you through for a few days.”
“Dank you.” He smiled and took a sip of the drink.
“Take care of yourself,” I added, “oh and if you want, I can give you a lift into work on days we’re in at the same time. We’ll talk about it when you’re well.”
“Susan?” He said.
“Yes, love?”
“Would do put some wub on my back for be.”
I flushed bright red at the thought of touching his flesh.
“Well, sure I can.” I smiled, trying desperately to compose myself.
“Danks. I’d ask one of der lads but der all in work doday all day.”
“No problem.” I grinned nervously as he slowly unbuttoned his work shirt and pulled it off.
I busied myself rummaging in the box for the menthol rub. I found it and looked up to see James lying face down on the sofa, his back calling me. I tried to stay focused, to keep hold of that very motherly mothering instinct I had but to no avail. The moment my hands touched his flesh, Sexual Susan came to life. I wanted to run my hands down over his trouser clad buttocks, to work my fingers down under the waist band and grope his delectable bottom. It took all my strength to keep to his back, rubbing gently in circles. I had myself under some kind of control until he moaned in stuffy-nosed pleasure.
“Can you do my chest, doo?”
“Flip over then, handsome, let Nurse Susan do her job!”
I chuckled, then gasped as James moved quicker than I anticipated, brushing past my pendulous br
easts and probably noticing the erectness of my nipples.
In my mind’s eye, I was dressed in one of those kinky nurses outfits (you know the type you see in carry on movies, where they show lots of bottom and tons of cleavage) rubbing scented oil all over his young body.
Young, I berated myself internally. I’m old enough to be his mother. He’s probably completely freaked out by my breasts.
I took a finger full of the thick, unctuous menthol goo and began to smooth it in to his mostly hairless chest. Again, he moaned his appreciation as I rubbed in more of this potent menthol preparation and moved up to his throat and back down to his chest.
“There you go,” I said as I shakily tried to put the lid back on the pot. “That should clear those sinuses a bit.”
“Danks.” He smiled. As I stood up from my kneeling position beside the sofa, I glanced down his body, taking a good long gaze at what I longed to handle some more. I saw something from the corner of my eye, I glanced again and yes, there was a prominent bump in James’s pants.
I gulped and stood up quickly; looking away and hoping he’d not noticed me staring.
As soon as I moved, he pulled the duvet back over him and I could see his cheeks flushed with what might have been embarrassment, arousal or exertion.
“Take care,” I smiled. “I’ll see myself out.”
“Danks, Susan!” He snuffled and I left him to recuperate.
Our relationship changed from that point on. We were colleagues who chatted before the cold episode but after that we became colleagues, friends, and mutual flirters, too. I started to drive James to or back from work whenever our timetables permitted it. I had even gone so far as to hang around for two hours making up things to do just so I could take James home and spend time talking to him. We flirted and teased each other and I was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, there was a mutual attraction forming between the two of us.
After one particularly sexually witty joke he told, I said to him, “I bet your girlfriend is a happy lady.”
“Oh, I’m single.” He smiled cheekily. “So I’m on the market if you’re interested.”
I reacted as if he were joking; he couldn’t be serious...could he?
“I’d eat you alive, young man,” I protested, my cheeks flushing and my heart pounding.
“Oh, I’d love that.” He grinned with this honest blaze to his deep dark eyes.
“I love dating oldies.” He winked and ducked as my hand flapped out to slap him on the arm. “Only kidding,” he added.
Was he really attracted to older ladies (because there is no way I can deny I am older than he is) or was that what he was joking about? This crush was getting complicated. I couldn’t possibly make a move on him though, not only because I was ancient compared to him, I was also his superior.
I began to think about James more and more each day and in more sexual ways, too. I wondered how well endowed he was, how well he kissed and if he enjoyed oral sex. I wondered what his kinks and fetishes might have been. I wanted to know him intimately and that feeling was not getting any weaker; it was growing at a breath-takingly quick pace.
* * * *
Soon Christmas arrived and the work party was planned, which I always hated. Everyone got stinking drunk and got into trouble. I would have to drive some poor drunken sod home because I don’t drink, well not anything alcoholic, anyway. I found out whilst at university that I had a very low tolerance for the stuff and after one particularly awful experience with alcoholic punch, I vowed never to drink a drop of booze again and I never had.
I was talking to James about this on the way to the Christmas do, he admitted he wasn’t good with drinking either but that sometimes he liked the odd beer just to loosen his inhibitions a bit. Of course he did, he was a student.
“I’ll not drink much tonight, though.” He tagged on to the end of his part of the conversation, “I don’t want to end up doing something daft.”
“That’ll break some of those girls’ hearts then,” I quipped back, “they’re all hoping to bed you, you know.”
He blushed then and said nothing for a minute, then commented, somewhat randomly:
“I don’t like girls. I love women.”
My heart leapt at these words, but then common sense dragged it back into place.
Thank God this year they’d decided to just go for a normal, formal buffet and disco type party, so I hadn’t had to find a fancy dress costume. Last year I ended up as a turkey, not sexy in the slightest, and the last costume anywhere that I could afford.
I had spent hours shopping for the perfect outfit this year: a long, deep-purple velvet dress with a discreet split up the back and a low décolletage, which showed off my best assets. I saw it, fell in love and tried it on. It fitted me like it had been made just for me. I had to have it, sod the fact it cost me more than a week’s wages. I had to wear something suitably impressive for James. I wanted to show him what I had under the frumpy work uniform, I wanted him to look at me and see a sexual woman not an old lady.
He was in a suit, a beautifully tailored suit. It fit him snugly, showing off all his assets to the full, the dark midnight black against the crisp, bright white of his shirt dazzled me optically and then sexually. In this suit, he dripped sex and I told him so.
“You’re bound to pull tonight, love, you look gorgeous.” I exclaimed as we shed our coats at the cloakroom of the posh hotel.
“And you look totally ravishing Susan, you’ll outshine the rest tonight by far!”
He smiled cheekily and I grinned back before James was swamped by a gaggle of giggling checkout girls, all ready to pull, push, and grab to get a piece of the sexiest man at the party. I let out a sigh and walked into the main function room alone.
After a couple of hours, I was bored. People were well on their way to being totally plastered and senior management could be seen pelvic thrusting on the dance floor with a young lass from fruit and veg.
Many green faces had dashed to the toilets already, but as yet, my taxi service had not been called upon. I spent my time sat in a corner nursing a glass of lemonade and watching James and his gaggle of girly admirers. I must admit he was gentlemanly, showing each and every one a fair amount of attention. He was so sweet, he kept looking up at me and smiling or winking, once even mouthing: “Are you okay?” to which I smiled broadly and hoped he didn’t notice how plastic and fake that smile actually was. As I gazed into space, wondering whether I could slip out without being missed, James suddenly came into my line of sight.
“I think I am a bit drunk, Susan.” He said. He did not slur but I noted the long pauses between each word and the deep look of concentration that weighed down his brow.
“Do you want a lift home then? I was about to go anyway.” I smiled.
“That would be great! Thanks.” He replied, a big grin on his face.
“Just don’t puke up in my car, okay?”
He grabbed my hand as I stood up and held it tightly as we walked towards the cloakroom. Obviously, he felt he needed something to keep him balanced, although he didn’t seem awfully wobbly on his legs. We collected our coats and made our way over to the car.
* * * *
“Thank God I’m out of there,” he sighed as he eased his tall, slim frame into my tiny compact car. “Those girls we’re driving me crazy!”
“I was bored to tears,” I added as I switched on the engine, “and the buffet wasn’t up to much either.”
We chit-chatted all the way back to his. He didn’t seem particularly drunk to be honest, but maybe he was just good at hiding it.
“Shit.” He exclaimed as he got to his front door, I leaned over and wound down the passenger side window.
“What’s the matter?” I shouted.
“I’ve not got my keys on me. All the guys are out tonight, they’ll not be back till the small hours.”
“Well, you can come back to mine for a bit if you like.” I offered, my heart pounded, my mind reeled as my mouth dried.
“Really? That’d be great.” He grinned his relief and walked back to the car in a surprisingly straight line for a drunken fella. “Thanks a lot, Susan.”
“No problem,” I added, “I can’t leave you waiting outside your house in the cold, can I?”
It took only a few minutes to get back to my house. I was trying desperately to remember the state it was in. I was pretty convinced it wasn’t too bad, well as long as he didn’t go into my bedroom. Make up all over the dresser, wet towels on the floor, shoes scattered around the mirrored wardrobe door because I had taken a long time getting dressed this evening and consequently had no time to tidy up the mess I had created.
Stop it, woman. He’s not going to be going anywhere near your bedroom, he just wants to get in from the cold. As we walked up to my house, I apologised for the possible messy state of the house.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” He smiled and I felt him squeeze my shoulder. He was being very friendly so maybe he really was drunk after all.
“Do you want a drink?” I called as I took our coats and threw them over a chair in the hall.
“Oh, a hot drink would be lovely,” He called back from my living room. “Coffee, if you’ve got it, please.”
I clattered around my kitchen, pulling out mugs and filling the kettle. As I waited for it to boil, I washed the few pots lazing in the plastic tub and wiped around the worktops.
“I thought I’d come and wait in here with you.” James’s voice startled me by its nearness.
“That’s fine.” I smiled, clutching my chest, “You scared me though, I didn’t hear you coming!”
“Sorry,” he smiled as he lounged back on the top near the kettle. “I was getting lonely in the living room on my own.”
I had to stand really close to him to pour the hot water from the kettle onto the instant granules resting in the bottom of the mugs.
The Victoria Blisse Collection Page 14