Saturday, February 27, 2016

Saturday Night part 2

It was almost 10PM.  I had been sitting in the family room watching TV, reading magazines, and wondering if Marsha was ever coming back downstairs from her nap for what seemed like four hours.

I heard her open her bedroom door and a few moments later she appeared in the room.  She had changed clothes and was now wearing light blue satin gym shorts and a matching zip-up top.  It was the latest in work-out wear for women in the disco era.  The shorts just about covered her ass and looked as tight as spandex. The top was snug too.

"I'm sorry I left you alone for so long, Wil.  That red wine just knocked me out," Marsha said.
I shrugged.
"Are we going to the gym now?" I said.
Marsha laughed.
"I need to do my exercises. I ate and drank too much.  What's on TV?"
"Kojak... in a minute," I said.
"That's usually pretty good.  Do you like it?"
"It's alright I guess.  I've seen it a few times," I said.

"Here's what I'll do.  Every time the commercials come on I'll do my exercises, OK?  That way we can watch Kojak and I'll get my workout in," Marsha said, "can I get you anything to drink?"
I told her I didn't need anything and she sat on the couch with me as the show came on.  The picture was fuzzy.  She went over to the TV and turned a dial on a box on top of the console.
"This channel comes in better if you turn the antenna a little this way."
"I didn't want to mess with it," I said.
When she came back to the couch she sat right next to me rather on the other end of the couch where she had been.
"That's better isn't it?"
"Yeah," I said.
At the first commercial break Marsha got on the floor and did some push-ups--  the type they had the girls do in gym class when I was in high school where the torso stays on the floor and you just push up from there without lifting the whole body off the floor.  I sat on the couch and watched.  Her ass looked nice in those tight, tiny shorts. Her legs looked good too-- she wasn't wearing shoes and socks.  I noticed her toenails were painted to match her fingernails. I realized that every time I had been around Marsha she was either wearing pants or a knee length skirt. Yeah, she had nice legs. She should show them off more, I thought.
Around 10:30 there was another ad break.
"Help me do sit-ups, OK?"
I got down on the family room floor with her and she got on her back but instead of putting her legs straight out she had her knees bent and her feet on the floor.
"Oh, girly sit-ups," I said.
"Well, I'm a girl, Wil, in case you didn't notice," Marsha said.
"Now hold my ankles, please, and no more smart remarks."
Marsha did about 20 sit-ups as I pinned her ankles to the floor.  She stopped as the commercials kept playing and rested.
"Twenty more, Marsha," I said.
She grimaced a little and did about a dozen more but when Telly Savalas came back on she stopped and we got back on the couch.
This time she put her head on my shoulder and I put my right hand on her bare left thigh as Kojak moved into the third act.
"OK, this time I'll do 15 boy sit-ups, just to make you happy," Marsha said as we got back on the floor in front of the couch.  She put her legs straight out.  I took hold of her ankles and looked at her as she sat up and said, "One."
Marsha had unzipped her work-out top more than half way down.  She wasn't wearing a t-shirt, bra or anything at all under that little satin top.  She was a girl who benefited a good bit from modern bra technology.  She had large, full breasts-- but they weren't firm. So, as she lunged forward on each sit-up her breasts surged towards me and pushed together.  My guess was that she had tried this move out in front of a mirror to determine the exact point where the zipper should be to achieve the maximum effect.  Or, maybe, she just got lucky the first time.  Either way, it was spectacular. 

I watched closely as she counted all the way to 15 sit-ups.  I helped her up and we went back to the couch.  This time we faced each other as we sat down and immediately began to kiss.  I put my right arm behind her shoulders as the passion rose and the kissing got more intense.  With my left hand I unzipped her top the rest of the way and took her right breast in my hand.  It was soft and heavy and my fingers quickly found the erect nipple.  I bounced her tit in my hand a few times and then tugged on that nipple and pinched it firmly.  As I did Marsha's tongue darted deep into my mouth.  I got my right hand into her hair at the back of her neck and pushed my tongue into her mouth in response.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Saturday Night Pt I

Before we got out on the main highway we pulled off into a grocery store parking lot to put the convertible top up.  Then we powered onto the road going south. It was easier to talk and hear the radio with the top up. We traveled about twenty minutes due south, across the state line, before heading east on a smaller county road.  The terrain was rolling farmland, mostly pastures separated by lots of woodlots.

After a couple more turns we pulled onto what I thought was a gravel road but was actually the driveway to their house.  The home sat on top of a hill in the middle of about 20 acres of land they owned.  The house was only a few years old and was a modern version of a brick plantation house-- red brick with four white columns in front.  The garage was a separate structure that looked like a miniature of the house but held four cars with room to spare.  As we pulled through the circular drive in front of the house I could see several buildings down the hill behind the home.  Marsha told me that was where her father's construction company was based.  I could see there was a separate entrance off a different road and there were a half dozen pick-up trucks parked in a gravel lot next to one of the buildings.  There was a long path from the garage at the top of the hill down to the buildings but not a driveable road.

Marsha parked the Cadillac in the garage and we walked up to the front door of the big house.  Once inside she locked the door behind us and took me on a tour of the home.  It was spectacular.  Being a builder Marsha's father had spared little in detail.  The furnishings were excellent and tasteful.  Marsha was an only child and, clearly, used to luxury. I guess I had always noticed that she had nice clothes and her grooming was impeccable but I never really thought of her as being wealthy especially. However, unless everything I saw was mortgaged up to the moon, she was a rich kid.

"I'm going to make dinner for us, Wil.  I hope you like steak, green beans, and potatoes."
"Sure.  Sounds great Marsha," I said.
We were playing music, talking, drinking wine, just hanging out.  There was a nagging thought buzzing in my brain: How would I play things later in the evening?  I decided I would just ask her for pillows and a blanket so I could stretch out on the couch.  If she wanted something different, I was certainly up for it, but I wouldn't presume anything.  That seemed like the best plan.

Dinner was great.  We opened a second bottle of red wine and, between the wine and the big meal, Marsha was getting a little sleepy by 8 o'clock. She asked me if it was OK if she took a nap.  I said sure and she disappeared to her room upstairs.  I sat in the huge downstairs family room watching TV.  Bob Newhart was on at 8 and then some stuff I half paid attention to followed.  It was twilight when I heard a vehicle coming up the drive.  I stood off to the side at a front window and looked through the blinds as a pick-up truck roll onto the circle drive.  The white pick-up went clockwise around the circle so that, without leaving the truck, the driver was only a few steps from the porch.  He never looked towards me but I studied him as he stared at the front door and then the upstairs windows.  The name of Marsha's father's construction company was painted on the door of the truck.  The outside lights must have been on a timer or sensor and, while he was looking at the house, the porch light switched on.  He rolled up the window immediately and headed back down the drive.

I didn't know what to make of it.  Was this why Marsha didn't want to stay by herself?  It dawned on me that all of the guys who worked for her father probably were aware that her parents were out of town-- at least they would know that her father was out of town.  I thought the guy in the truck looked like a rugged, handsome, decent working man.  Probably mid-30s.  Did he have a thing for Marsha?  For Marsha's mother even?  Or, maybe, he'd had a fling with one of them and got dumped.   I was beginning to think that Marsha had not invited me over for a night of passion.  I was feeling pretty disappointed actually despite the fact I didn't know anything for certain.  For all I knew he was the guy who installed the light system and wanted to see if they were working properly.

Saturday, February 6, 2016

Friday, February 5, 2016

Nice Ride

At 3PM Saturday Marsha called me from a phone booth at a shopping center ten minutes from my apartment.  She said she was on her way over so I picked up the gym bag that I had packed, locked up the apartment, and went down to the parking lot where I had told her to meet me.

One of my neighbors, Peter, was goofing around with his black BMW 320, parked next to my van, when I got to the lot.  Peter was a good guy.  A couple years older than me he was on an executive track at a local bank.  He was married to a seemingly sweet girl.  They had a cute little terrier but no kids.  He and his wife would from time to time have me over for dinner and drinks.  His wife was kind of plain looking in the face but when she showed up at the complex swimming pool in a tiny bikini the first time jaws dropped. Peter always hinted that Patty was sexually adventurous.  I usually changed the subject.  For her part, Patty tried several times to set me up with one of her friends so we could double date.  I resisted.

Peter nodded at the gym bag. "Goin' somewhere radio boy?"
"Yep," I said.

"That's it?  Nothin' more to tell your pal?"
"Just helpin' a buddy out.  Gotta house sit overnight," I said.
"Sounds boring," Peter said.
"Anything wrong with the Bimmer?"
"Nah, just cleaning it,"
"The fuckin' thing's always spotless, Peter.  Clean my van if you have so much energy."
He eyeballed my vehicle.
"That's it? Just 'nope'?" I said.
"No fucking way.  Is that better?"
"Much," I said.

Just then a gigantic, blue Cadillac Eldorado convertible came rolling into the parking lot. The white top was down and the white leather interior was shining in the sunshine.  Behind the wheel was Marsha.
"Well, here's my buddy now. Later Peteski," I said.
Peter grabbed my arm as I picked up the gym bag.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa Willie boy!  You didn't say anything about a plush ride... or a big-ass Caddy either, for that matter."
Marsha stopped the car and twisted to the right to face the two of us.  She looked absolutely radiant in the sun. There she was, perched in an ocean of soft white leather, big sunglasses on, a tight pale yellow top that showed off her spectacular, curvy body. Lipstick, a little bit of make-up, earrings and that short, sexy hairdo. She was a stunning sight to see.

"Marsha, this is my neighbor, Peter.  Peter, this is my friend Marsha __________."
"Nice to meet you," Marsha said.
"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.  Is this your car, Marsha?"
She laughed.
"No.  It's my mother's.  Daddy bought it for her for her birthday this year.  They made it up for her just the way she wanted it at _________ Cadillac."
I realized again what a great voice Marsha had.
"I'm just driving it while they're out of town," she said.
"Oh! They're out of town... I see---"

"Hey Peter, if you're having a problem with your car maybe we could put it in the trunk and drop it off at a repair place for you---" I said as I got in the Eldorado.
"Cute, Wil. Very cute. Well, you kids have fun.  I don't want to keep you from whatever it is you're up to."
I nodded, Marsha gave him a little wave and we roared off in the Caddy.

At the first stop sign Marsha said, "He seemed nice."
"Peter?  Yeah, he's a good guy."
"What? Oh, yeah, he's married. No kids. Just a little dog."
We were moving down the street-- it was like sitting in a comfy living room chair just floating along.

"Is she nice?" Marsha asked at the next stop sign.
"His wife? Yeah, Patty's nice.  They're a good match."
Marsha smiled.  She was looking straight ahead down the road.  I was about a quarter of a mile away from her on the passenger side looking at her. I couldn't look at anything else.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Was There A Catch?

Marsha was standing near the door of the school when I pulled into the parking lot.  She walked across the lot to meet me as I headed towards the entrance.

"Meg told me you were going to be here this afternoon," she said.
"Are you just getting off? I thought you were done at noon."
"I was-- I went over to the drug store for lunch... shopped a bit... just been killin' time 'cause I needed to talk to you," Marsha said.
"Wow, must be important."
"Yeah, it kinda is, I need to ask a favor. Promise me you'll think about it before you say no!"

"OK. But you haven't been paying attention in your sales classes if you assume I'll say 'no' and go all wishy-washy before you even ask me for this big favor," I said.
"You're right.  OK, here's what I would like for you to do.  I dropped my parents off at the airport this morning.  They're going to Las Vegas for a trade show that daddy attends.  He goes to a few every year but when it's Vegas mom goes along. I can't tell if she likes going to Vegas or she just doesn't want him to like Vegas too much but, anyway, they both went.  So tonight and tomorrow night I'm staying here in the city with a girlfriend from college, which will be fun.  And Sunday night, late, I have to pick them up at the airport on the last flight in from Atlanta."
"So, OK, what's the favor you need, Marsh?"
"Well, I can't stay at my friend's on Saturday and--"
"Sure, you can stay at my apartment. No problem," I said.
"That's not the favor!"
I adopted a shocked and hurt look.
"But it's close!"
I adopted a hopeful look.

"I want you to stay out at our house with me."
"That's the big favor?"
"Yeah, that's it.  See we live way out in the country near ________, ___.  You literally can't see another house from our place.  And, well, I get scared staying there alone at night. It sounds silly, but it really is scary. I thought maybe you'd help me out by just, you know, being there," Marsha said.
"Hmmmm..." I acted as if it was a difficult request I was pondering.
"You have Saturday off, right? And you don't have to work Sunday, right?  I could pick you up at your place Saturday when I get off here at noon and drop you back off at your place Sunday night when I'm on my way to the airport. It'll work out perfectly!"
She was past the asking stage and into the pushing stage now.
"Well," I said, acting reluctant, "I could do that for you I guess.  But don't pick me up until 3 o'clock Saturday afternoon.  I won't get home from work until about 7AM and I need my beauty sleep."
She gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"We'll have so much fun, Wil! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"
"OK, Marsha. I need to get inside and do some work. Glad to help. See you Saturday afternoon."

I went inside the school wondering what had just happened.  A very desirable young lady just thanked me for promising her the big favor of staying with her overnight-- alone together-- in her parent's isolated house in the country. 

What was the catch?  There had to be a catch.