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A Walk Down Memory Lane (first few steps)


I'm going to submit a part of an erotic fiction I'm
writing here, just to get some feedback. Been working on
this off and on for 3 years, so it isn't perfect.


For most, going away to college is an experience unlike
any other. A chance to get away from home, to be on ones own
for the first time, to explore what kind of person you are
and how you interact with others. For the boys, it’s also
usually about the pursuit of the ‘fairer sex’. Me?
I got to go to a school about twenty minutes from home. I had
an apartment there, a one bedroom affair that really was
too much space for me. I’m a bit of a geek, I was used to studying
all the time. Even in High School, I didn’t have many friends
so I spent a lot of my time reading assignments and doing
homework when others were out on Friday nights running
around town and having fun. Reflecting back on it, I think
I got the better end of the deal.

College wasn’t much different. The other guys spent
as much time as they could chasing the girls and not chasing
the books. Me? While I enjoyed looking, certainly, I was
too well conditioned to the need and rigor of studying.
It was at the point that the girl chasers would ridicule
me, but when they realized they were up against a deadline
and had weren’t ready, they sought me out to “tutor”
them through their assignments. Its just like High School
only the insults were much worse.

I did have one really nice schoolmate, though, who treated
me like a regular person from the first class we had together.
His name was Eric. He had gone into the service immediately
out of High School and upon his discharge from the service
went into the private sector. He bounced from company to
company before landing with an advertising firm in their
mail room. By the time I met him he was an Exec VP for the firm,
taking classes two days a week as he angled for a college
degree. You have to respect someone with that sort of commitment.
While he was bouncing from job to job, Eric met a woman who
stole his heart. Her name was Charlotte. He met her, amusingly
enough, while working in North Carolina. His last move
after meeting her was here to join the firm. Two years later,
they were married. Now, with both of them in their mid 40’s
they were pretty comfortable. She worked as a paralegal
for a local law firm, so they weren’t hurting financially.

I’d not been really comfortable around folks more than
twice my own age, so it took me a bit to warm up to Eric’s
comfortable, friendly demeanor. One Tuesday we sat in
the Student Union with luke warm Lasagna and dry garlic
bread and just talked. From that day on we were friends,
even though we didn’t hang out together much. When we
did, it was usually me helping him with an assignment. Our
usual meeting place was a Denny’s about midway between
his house and my apartment. The one time he came over to my
apartment, he commented on the “Sparse decorating”.
His polite way of noting that the sum of my furniture was
a mattress on the floor of the bedroom, an old coffee table
that I’d pulled out in a dumpster dive and a couple of dollar
store patio chairs. I also had my ‘entertainment center’
which was my alarm clock radio.

The coffee table is usually where I would do my homework.
It also, barely, held the computer I was renting for classes.
I got money from home to pay rent, bills, gas, upkeep on the
car, food and the rental fee on the computer. It usually
left me about five bucks a week or so extra. This I usually
ended up tucking away beneath the mattress for an emergency.

I was sitting there at the coffee table with the keyboard
in my lap, typing away. I was working on a Journalism assignment,
critiquing a movie I had just watched. Lacking a TV I had
had to swallow the expense to go to the theatre to watch a
movie. I called home and asked for a float on the next payment
and was told not to worry since it was a school expense. The
theatre was a small four screen thing with stale popcorn
and one cute usherette who attended college with us. I suffered
through “Regarding Henry” and went home and had found
myself unable to sleep, so I had been up writing. Now, at
nine in the morning on a Saturday I found myself sitting
there, staring at the screen, the words all melding together
into a white blob on the old monochrome screen. Finally
I peeled myself from the carpeting and went and took a shower
and got dressed. Then I went out, thinking about going for
a soda until I got to the sidewalk and discovered it was about
twenty degrees outside. Thankfully I had dressed warmly
so the walk down to the local coffee shop wasn’t too awful.
Fifteen minutes later I was back in front of the computer
with a cup of hot chocolate. Again I tried to focus on the
words. I was just to the point of commenting on the acting
approach of Harrison Ford when my telephone rang. Grumping
I got to my knees and crawled over to where the phone sat on
the floor. Not having a Caller ID box I let the call go to my
answering machine.

*Beep!* “Hey bud, its Eric. I need some help with this
assignment I’m working on. Can you give me a call back
since you’re likely screening this call through the
answering machine? Thanks.”

Not like it was a big secret I did that. I waited a moment or
two, long enough to take a sip from the hot chocolate, before
I called him back. He needed help with his Foreign Language
homework. I’d have told him good luck with that except
he was taking Spanish. I’d had Spanish from seventh grade
until my first semester in College, when I was forced to
take their beginning class, the same one Eric has now, because
they didn’t offer a placement exam. I took that class,
got an ‘A’ with minimal effort and hadn’t taken Spanish
sense. Now, two years later, it seemed I was going back all
over again. I was still reluctant until he mentioned that
Charlotte was making pancakes and they had a fresh, hot
pot of coffee. I copied my assignment to a three-and-a-half
inch floppy diskette and almost fell down the staircase
trying to run out of the building to my parking space.

My car was an old car, even for then. A 1972 Chevy Nova. I had
heard the cars didn’t sell worth a damn in Central America
and had wondered why until I took my first Spanish class.
‘No va’ means ‘It Doesn’t Go’. Not exactly the
name you want on a car. I hopped into the okra green beast
with the white hardtop and tried four times before getting
it cranked over. The car didn’t like extreme cold. Twenty
three degrees wasn’t its idea of beach weather. It finally
started to warm up about the time I eased yet again into Eric’s
driveway. Charlotte is a bit of a gardener and I usually
stop to admire her sense of color and style that surrounded
the pathway up to their front door. It was so darn cold I must
have set a land speed record from my car to their front door.
I rang the door bell and stood there, watching ice crystals
forming on the doorframe from my exhaled breath for almost
a full minute before the door opened and there was Eric.

“Thanks for coming over. I hope you don’t mind being
bribed with breakfast. It seemed a far better solution
than me taking Tylenol and laying down.” He stepped aside
and let me crackle my way inside. With the doors closed the
warmth of their home brought me back around again. A fire
crackled in the small fireplace, visible from the front
door. Eric has said more than once that, like me, he prefers
working on a coffee table. As I shouldered out of my coat
and he took it and hung it on the coat rack near the door I asked
him what they were working on. “Verb conjugation.”
He answered. He then laughed hard and loud as I stepped over
to the coat rack, grabbed my coat, put it on and went back
through the door. He could have shut it and left me there,
but he knew my sense of humor well enough to know that I would
spin around. I did. “Then again. Pancakes.” Eric smiled.
“Made from scratch.”

A home cooked meal? Do you realize how rare something like
that was for me then? If it didn’t come precooked or in
a package where I just added water I was in trouble. Surviving
on Smack Ramen wasn’t easy, but I had done it. Now thoroughly
convinced that I was going to have to stay I went back in and
returned my coat to the rack. “What are the odds of a cuppa
joe to warm my brain up?”

The gentle voice from the right, the doorway leading into
the kitchen, took me by surprise, but didn’t make me jump.
She had that classic Scarlett O’Hara accent, though
she wasn’t from Georgia. Her brown eyes seemed out of
place beneath the light blonde hair currently swirled
up atop her head and head fast with a clip. She had on an apron
that showed several spots of flour, recently added I’d
think. She wore a pair of black jeans and a Minnie Mouse sweatshirt
in navy blue. In her hands was a tray with a coffee pot and
two mugs. She stepped up to Eric and held the tray out to him.
“I got me a cup already. You boys go work on the verbs and
I’ll get the ham slices going.”

She smiled at me before she returned to the kitchen. I always
felt a little uneasy about the way she smiled, even though
it was a natural, unforced sort of smile. Warm and disarming.
Maybe it was that part of me deep back in my brain that often
wondered if that five foot two inch frame could really keep
a man warm at night. Especially, a man of Eric’s size,
well over six feet. I fell in between them on the height scale,
so we sort of looked like a bar graph. I chuckled as I removed
my shoes, as was their custom and padded along behind Eric.
Me in my sweatshirt and sweatpants and now white socked
feet padded along behind Eric in his ‘casual’ wear,
khaki pants and a polo shirt with black socks and a pair of
‘house’ sandals. “Is she a psychic?” I asked him
in a low voice. He chuckled and responded. “I knew you
were going to ask that.” I stopped walking and just looked
at him. He paused, turned back to look quizzically at me
and then he laughed. “I suggested she might want to have
it ready when you got here, because it’s so damn cold out
there you might need to thaw out.”

I continued to look at him a moment longer before I shrugged.
“Damned logic. I feel like I’m about to help Mister
Spock with his conjugation.” Eric set the tray down and
turned to me, doing a perfect Leonard Nimoy “amused”
expression, complete with the raised eyebrows. “That
is illogical. Spock would not require such assistance.
His Vulcan blood makes him immune to the headache effect
caused by the exercise of verb conjugation.” We both
then laughed and he settled down at the coffee table. I sat
down on the edge of the couch next to him so I could see over
his shoulder what he was working on. “Right. Lets start
with the easiest one and work forward.” Breakfast came
and we munched on ham and pancakes and worked on verbs.

Eric was a bright fellow, though I discovered over time
that English was enough of a struggle for him at times, his
having found his way to such success as he had with dyslexia.
Spanish was just really being tough on him. His mind wanted
to work it faster than it could process it, so we got his brain
idled back and before long, I was simply nodding or shaking
my head. When I did the negative, he would scrunch his eyebrows
and stare at the paper and tap his finger for a minute or two.
I though at one point I heard the steam about to shoot out
of his ears. Then I realize it was from the kitchen. I was
giving Eric a nod as he got one particularly difficult conjugation
right, rotten false cognates, when Charlotte’s voice
broke our concentration.

“Anyone for some hot tea and sandwiches?” She appeared
in my vision as she knelt at the other side of the table, setting
a tray with chicken salad sandwiches, cut into quarters
for easy handling during studying, three cups and a box
of green teabags. I saw the wisps of steam flow along the
warm draft of their central heat, passing over the paper
and toward me, like the smell of food in a cartoon, going
for a characters nose to lead them, floating in the air,
to it. I kept my eyes on the verb (Tener) that Eric was working
on, smiling a little that he caught the change in the vowel
in certain tenses and didn’t look up, though I heard teabags
opening. Eric paused, a long pause, before the last tense
was written. He looked up at me and I looked at him and nodded.
“Very good. I hated that one in first year. Got used to
it after we made a song out of it, though.”

“A song?” Eric leaned his head back and eyed me. “I’ve
never heard you sing before” I laughed to that comment.
“Dude. I’m only where I am due to my voice. If I hadn’t
taken up choir in 3rd grade, I’d have had to actually have
an academic scholarship.” He laughed in return, accompanied
by Charlotte’s response. “Eric’s work is paying
for his. If he doesn’t at least get a ‘B’ in the course,
though, they won’t pay for it.”

I raised my eyes. “I guess the question is which of us has
to work…” my voice cut off, just for a second. I forced
my eyes from her for a moment to my watch. Nearly 1pm! I looked
back up as she spoke and again my eyes were glued. “Well,
you boys have been working hard all morning.” She had
been looking at me when I looked back. Her eyes were asparkle
with amusement and that disarming smile was there. Of what
I had seen her in earlier, that was all that was still there.
Her hair was now down, cascading like a honey gold waterfall
framing her face and down to her shoulders. The sweatshirt
had been replaced by a black see through shirt, showing
the black lace bra beneath and lots of skin. She held my gaze
a moment then blinked. “Be right back.” She got to her
feet and headed back toward the kitchen. The black jeans
were gone, replaced by a pair of black very form fitting,
stirrup pants. I tried very hard not to stare, not to follow
her to the kitchen, and must have turned an awful color of
red when Eric said with a chuckle. “She cleans up nicely,
doesn’t she?” I turned my head to look at him and saw
his gaze was also following her to the kitchen. With an effort,
I got my eyes back onto the closer concern of the homework.
He was right though, his wife did indeed clean up quite nicely.

I felt Eric turn his attention to me rather than saw it. He
thumped me on the back with an open palm as he took in what
must have been a very amusing sight. “Don’t worry about
it. She’s a bit of an exhibitionist. And honestly, I don’t
mind. It is nice getting affirmation now and again that
she is indeed as beautiful to other men as she is to me. So
relax. If you blush much harder all the blood in your body
will rush to your brain and start shooting from your ears
like a lawn sprinkler. I’d hate to have to repaint these
walls again. I just did them about a month ago.” Reassuring?
Not really. Surprising? Yes. Very. Eric was about to follow
up on that with something probably even worse visually,
such as my head exploding and blowing the walls out of the
house, when Charlotte returned carrying a bowl of potato
chips in one hand a plate of cookies in the other. “Well,
I figured while I was at it I could do cookies, too. Pancakes
are fun, but they don’t leave that pleasant fresh baked
smell behind.” She paused at the table again and bent
over to place the bowl on the table. Eric gathered his Spanish
books and I took the notebook and pencils and we cleared
them to the floor. From under the plate of cookies she pulled
out three smaller plates, handing one to Eric and one to
me before setting the cookies down and kneeling easily
again on her side of the table with her own plate. “So what’s
the prognosis, you think he’ll make it?”

Naturally I thought she was talking to me. I opened my mouth
to say something like ‘There is hope.’ When Eric spoke.
As he did, I reached for a sandwich and looked up, noticing
she was indeed looking at him. “If he can keep his nerves
under control and relax, I think he’ll be fine.” She
giggled and took a handful of chips and set them to her plate
before following with a sandwich. “Good. I was hoping
that changing into this wasn’t going to be too much, too
fast.” I assume he looked aside at me, I couldn’t say
for sure as I was making myself very interested in my sandwich.
“I think it took him totally off guard. Sorta embarrassed
him, but I think he’ll be okay once he gets that it’s
okay.” She responded as I took my teacup and sipped. HOT!
But I forced it anyway. “The poor dear. Maybe we should
have warned him before hand. Normally it isn’t considered
okay, but where we’re concerned, I enjoy when other men
look at me, especially when its with lust in their eyes,
or on their faces. It just reaffirms what Eric believes.
And who knows what might happen from there?”

That was it. The cup was too hot, I had to put it down. Both
of them paused and then laughed as I attempted to reach a
darker shade of red. Again Eric’s hand came down upon
me, this time on my shoulder and being placed there, not
a slap on the back. “If it makes you uncomfortable I’m
sure she’d be willing to change into something less revealing.
Would you?” I heard her starting to get up and shook my
head. “No. I’m your guest, but this is your house.”
After another moment of getting my breath, Charlotte having
stopped standing up. “It’ll take some getting used
to, but…she is quite a pretty sight.” Another awkward
moment passed as she settled back at the table. I saw her
hand come into my field of vision and settle on my own. “If
it makes you uncomfortable…I just thought, after all
you’ve done for Eric…” I looked up and forced my gaze
to lock onto her eyes. “I guess for me its like it is conjugating
verbs for him. I just have to get my mind wrapped around it
and get comfortable with it. I’d like to try, at least.”

She gave a gentle squeeze on my hand and smiled at me, settling
down now to being seated on the floor across the table from
us. “I’d like that, too.” Eric chimed in “I would,
too.” We fell into silence for a moment and my mind started
working. It took a few chews of a bite of sandwich to form
the sentence. “Tu esposa es muy, muy bonita.” Eric
looked at me. I could see the wheels turning and his effort
not to reach for the book and look them up. “Y muy, muy caliente.”
I added before popping the last bite of that piece of sandwich
into my mouth and following it with a sip of slightly cooler
tea. She looked at me, then at Eric who looked like the dog
on the old RCA record labels, his head cocked to the side
and an eyebrow up, thinking. Finally he gave up and grabbed
his dictionary and looked up a word. His eyebrows leveled
and he smiled. He then said “Caliente.” He looked that
one up and a smile spread across his face. He turned back
to me. “Si, mi amigo! Es la verdad!” She looked at him
and sighed as we both laughed aloud. “Someone better
tell me what you boys said or else.” Which made us both
laugh harder. I leaned back on the couch and let him translate,
to see if he had indeed gotten my comments right. “He said
‘Your wife is very, very pretty.’ Then he said ‘And
very, very hot.’” Her head turned to eye me as I sat up,
wiping a tear from my eye due to how hard I had been laughing.
Eric continued. “And I said, ‘Yes my friend! It’s
the truth!’ “ Her gaze turned to him and then again to
me and said. “Caliente, eh? Well, thanks.” We all three
had a laugh and settled in to finish lunch.

Not long after lunch Eric finished his Spanish homework
and we were sitting on his couch. He was listening to me babble
on about the movie I had seen and telling him the general
ideas I had for the report. Charlotte had cruised through
once or twice, both of us watching her, not breaking our
conversation. She was doing laundry it appeared as she
was carrying a laundry basket both times. Eric gave me a
nod of approval on my take on the movie, saying he himself
hadn’t seen it, but that I made it sound interesting and
he would see if Charlotte wanted to go see it later. With
the school work finished and it mid afternoon I heaved a
sigh. “Well, guess you’re good for the rest of the weekend,
then?” He nodded. “Sure. Thanks to you and your brain.”
I gave a grin. “Well, yeah. It’s amazing the sorta stuff
my mind latches onto and keeps around even if I don’t use
it.” He laughed. “Indeed. Fortunate for me. I bet you
could do well on Jeopardy or something like that where mindless
trivialities can be worth a lot of money.” A laugh from
me. “I doubt they’ll ever come to campus to do a college
week audition. I couldn’t afford to go on my own.” He
nodded as Charlotte, still in the same see through black
top and stirrup pants cruised up to the coffee table and
stopped, hands behind her back, smiling. “I see you two
are done. It has also begun to sleet outside.” I jumped
from the couch and walked quickly to the window. “Aw,
hell. There’s already a sheet of ice on the grass. The
roads are probably slick too. I might could still get back
to the apartment, though, if I’m careful.” I started
to walk toward the front when Eric got to his feet and followed,
saying “Well, if you want you could just stay here until
things thaw out enough. I mean, we have a guest room, heat,
warm food.”

I considered that. An entire night of sitting around, joking
with Eric, enjoying his wife’s presence and having another
warm, home cooked meal. Maybe even sleeping on a bed with
more than a sheet on it. The offer was plenty attractive.
And it was the weekend, no class on Sunday either. “I dunno.
I really ought to finish that report.” Charlotte chimed
in. “If you want to you can work on it on my new computer
upstairs. Just got a new printer, one of those ink jets that
prints so smoothly. I even have a couple of…reems?...of
paper. You’re welcome to work there if you want.” I
considered it, but decided to head back home. I got my shoes
on and opened the door. I nearly made it halfway to the car
before my feet went out from under me and I made a graceful
plop on my butt. I laid there for a moment, Eric quickly getting
into his boots and crunching out to where I was laying. I
looked back, or rather, up, to where he was walking toward
me and Charlotte was looking amused. I laughed. “I hope
that was at least somewhat graceful. I’d hate to have
looked like a flailing loon.” Eric reached me and extended
a hand. I took it and started getting myself adjusted around
onto my knees. “I dare say my sneakers have better traction
and tread than the tires on my car. If I’m slipping here,
just imagine what the road is like.” Back to my feet Eric
put an arm around my back and guided me back inside. I got
my shoes off and winced a little, apparently I was going
to be sore. And soaked. I felt my pants stuck to my backside
and the back of my legs. I sighed. “Just hang me up near
the fireplace, I drip dry.” That got a good laugh.

Eric headed for the stairs. “Good thing we have lots of
clean clothes. Get out of those wet pants. I’ll go get
you a robe.” I stood there watching him depart and shrugged
out of my coat. Charlotte took that and hung it up, then turned
back expectantly. I stood there, feeling very uncomfortable.
She smiled and spun on her heel slowly, eyes holding contact
with mine until her hair flowed by. “I’ll go get some
hot water on. Hot chocolate should help soothe any ego bruising.”
Her tone was playful enough that I didn’t take offense.
Carefully I shrugged out of my pants and stood there holding
them in front of me. I thought to myself how glad I was I had
put on clean, hole free boxers before heading out to get
my drink earlier. Eric came down first and walked up to me,
handing me a terrycloth robe and tacking my wet pants. “Bathroom
is right over there under the staircase. Moving quickly
I walked across the floor and turned to the bathroom. As
I stepped in I saw Charlotte turning toward Eric from facing
me and taking my pants from him. She headed toward where
she had been going back and forth with the laundry basket
as I got into the bathroom and discovered my boxers were
also wet. I slipped out of those and pulled the robe on. It
fit well, though it was obviously for Eric, the sleeves
were longer than my arms. The length brought it down below
my knees, so I felt somewhat comfortable, at least. I opened
the door and stepped out with my boxers in my hand and sighed.
“That soaked right through on me.” I offered. Eric
looked at them and grinned. He pointed to the hallway Charlotte
had disappeared down. “Hang ‘em next to your pants.
There’s a heat vent there that should get them dry fairly
quickly.” I nodded and headed to the laundry room.

Upon my return to the main room Eric was adding a small log
to the fire in the fireplace. Charlotte was setting a tray
on the table with three steaming hot cups of hot cocoa. Nervously
I sat down, tucking the robe down so that nothing showed.
“I guess I’ll take you up on the offer of shelter tonight.
And if it isn’t too much trouble, I’d also like to take
you up on the computer. The sooner that is done the better,
while its still rattling around in my brain.” Charlotte
nodded as she walked around and handed me a steaming mug.
“Finish your hot chocolate and then I’ll take you upstairs
to the computer.”

With the hot chocolate finished, I fished my diskette from
the pocket of my coat, thankfully the diskette wasn’t
hurt, and Charlotte ushered me up the stairs. They were
not wide enough for us to walk side by side so she went up ahead
of me. I still tried to keep my eyes from her shapely ass as
we ascended the stairs, but the occasional glance was unavoidable
if I didn’t want to trip on a step and hurt far more than
my pride. As we arrived at the top of the landing and turned
toward the “study” as they called it I had to comment.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, still seems
odd to say, but you have a very nice ass, Charlotte. Those
stirrup pants accentuate it and compliment it quite nicely.”

She giggled as she led me into the study and stepped aside.
There, against the far wall, stood an old cherry desk. Atop
it a fourteen inch, which was big back then, color monitor
stood on the corner, facing a wooden rolling chair. A keyboard
and mouse sat before the chair, to the left a small, for that
time, gray box of a printer with what looked to be half a ream
of paper loaded and ready to go. She walked over and bent
over, purposely exposing that complimented ass, to open
the small door on the bottom right of the desk that housed
the computer tower. Far fancier than my own third hand device
at home. She slowly stood up, rubbing her right hand up her
leg as she did so. I was afraid that my cock, getting hard
as it was, was going to pop right out of the robe, so I quickly
rammed my hands into the pockets and held it closed. She
pulled out the chair and took a couple of soft steps back.

“Here you go. Get you another cup of hot chocolate? Some
brain food to help tide you until dinner?”

I started to feel guilty, with her having fed me twice now,
treated me to a show I’d never forget and even not minded
when I complimented her ass.

“Hot chocolate would be great. I feel bad having already
eaten two meals.”

“Nonsense. You’re our guest. If you’re going to
be stuck here for the night, you might as well have hot food
cooked by your friends hot wife, right?”

She smiled a broad smile, mischief in her eyes and flipped
the hair over her left shoulder. She gave me that pin up girl
sort of pose for a moment and I could just stare appreciatively.

“I’ll get some water on and find a finger food snack
for you. Hope you haven’t forgotten what you’re writing

I sighed.

“Sadly, not even a sight as breathtaking as you will drive
that movie from my mind.”

“Which movie?”

“Regarding Henry.”

“Uh. Yeah. Maybe I’d better spike that Hot Chocolate.”

I laughed with her and watched her walk slowly, she knew
I was watching, from the room. When she turned and started
down the stairs I turned and inserted the diskette into
the drive. Once I got her Wordperfect fired up I was ready
to roll. I read through the review I had written thus far
and shuddered. My spelling had been awful at places. So
I set about cleaning that up. I was just finishing editing
the last paragraph I had written previously when Charlotte
entered with a small tray. A steaming hot cup of hot chocolate
and a couple of toasted English Muffins, topped with butter
and jam.

“Oh, thank you! This looks great!”

“Just don’t make a mess on my keyboard, hmm? Then you
won’t be able to finish your writing and we’ll have
to find a way to entertain you all night. Not that I couldn’t
think of a few things.”

I laughed, taking the cup and sipping it carefully placing
it back on the tray on the desk. I could sure think of a few
things I’d like to do, but at that time, I had more pressing
issues. The report being utmost. She walked over to a small
table near a recliner and turned on a radio there. She asked
a station preference.

“Anything playing rock is fine.”

She turned to a good station, playing Van Halen at that moment.

“This one will give regular weather updates. Eric turned
on the local weather downstairs, they’re talking potential
blizzard. You might be stuck here for a couple of days, not
just overnight.”

I sighed.

“That means I will be able to get this report done. And
it means I won’t be alone in my apartment, trapped, trying
to do this. Thanks, Charlotte. I really appreciate everything.”

She smiled and slowly sauntered past me, headed out.

“I’m your hostess. Anything you want or need, don’t
hesitate to ask. I’ll be down the hall working on my scrapbook.”

I watched her walk down the hallway, she had to know I would,
and she opened a door at the end on the right and disappeared
inside. She didn’t close the door. I turned back to the
desk and was about to read that last sentence again when
I heard my name again. Charlotte’s voice.

“I forgot to tell you. Bathroom is on the left there just
past the top of the stair.”

I waved at her as I took a sip of hot chocolate and she waved
back, I thought I saw her wink, and she stepped back into
the room. I turned, half expecting another interruption,
but none came. I got that last sentence read, corrected
two glaring misspellings, and started a new paragraph.

Time passed. Four hours. Then five. The page and a half I
had written was now four well filled out pages, carefully
scanned and corrected, edited and rewritten. The hot chocolate
and muffins were long gone. I sat back and looked at my work,
saved it to the diskette and then rubbed my eyes, bleary
despite this being a full color screen, not the green thing
I used. I lowered my hands to my lap and leaned back as far
as the chair would allow, which wasn’t much. I exhaled
a big sigh and levered myself from the chair. I took a few
minutes to get circulation flowing in both legs and glanced
at the clock on the wall. I headed out toward the bathroom.
I decided to do a very slight detour, peering into the room
where Charlotte had gone earlier. A drafting table stood,
with a lot of papers stacked on it. A small divan or something
against the far wall had a couple of rather large stuffed
dogs sitting on it. The rest of the room was a parade of shoe
boxes, most with the lids on, a few without, with every assorted
stamp and sticker known to humanity crammed in it. Apparently
her scrapbooking was pretty serious. I crossed the landing
hallway again and entered the bathroom. I closed the door
and flipped on the light switch, turned around, bending
over to lift the lid and seat. I straightened back up, got
into position to let all of the hot chocolate, coffee and
tea out. I looked to my right, there was a small cabinet,
a few candles, toilet paper, a can of aerosol spray. I turned
to the left, listening to the stream and thinking how long
this might take. That was forgotten when I got my head turned
and saw the bathtub with the shower curtain, rather simple
and plain, but hanging over it was a royal blue lace teddy
and what appeared to be matching thigh-highs. It was a fight
to finish relieving myself due to the reaction of picturing
Charlotte dressed in that. I was successful, pulled the
robe back around and tied it off and flushed. I put the seat
and lid down, stepped to the pedestal sink to wash my hands
and stepped back out into the hall. Eric was standing at
the top of the landing, an elbow on the rail.

“Feel better?”

I tried not to blush and just stammered an affirmative.
He laughed and motioned. Apparently while I had been working
away, dinner had been in preparation and was now ready downstairs.
The two of us descended the stairs and headed to the dining
room. Eric took a seat at the head of the table, I sat to his
left. Charlotte, still dressed the same as she had been
before, entered and left a few times, setting bowls of hot,
steaming food out. Green Beans, some slices of ham, some
mashed potatoes, some stuffing and a pitcher of iced tea.
She came back the last time and walked around the other side
of the table, sitting to my left, the other end of the table
from her husband. The items made their way around, I was
encouraged to load my plate, so I did. Dinner conversation
consisted of questions about my report and otherwise just
some minor commentary on the weather, school and the like.
Charlotte cleared the table and Eric and I returned to the
living room. Charlotte came in a few minutes later with
a tray on which were three slices of apple pie, a la mode,
which she distributed two of and sat down with a third. She
sat alone on the couch, pulled her ankles up under her well
formed posterior and she eyed me as she cut a bite of pie.

“So, what did you think of them?”

I cut a bite of pie, scraped some ice cream along with it and
looked over at her.

“Think of who?”

I put the bite into my mouth as she swallowed hers.

“The outfit hanging in the bathroom, silly. Eric says
that blue is my color.”

I must have blushed again from the giggle she gave. I cut
another bite of pie.

“I have to admit, I did enjoy imagining you in that outfit.
Though honestly, black suits you well, too.”

“Why, thank you.”

We continued eating dessert, until it was finished. Eric
took the dishes to the kitchen, leaving Charlotte and I

“You’ll have a chance to see me in it tonight.”

I looked at her, knowing I was blushing, the heat I felt in
my face was such that it could have cooked a slab of bacon.

“I. I would like that.”

She smiled.

“Good. So would I.”

============That's It So Far============

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Very good, I hope you tell what happens next


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Too much suspense. Get to the action already


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As I noted, this is just the part I have finished. I intend
to get to the full action, but haven't as yet.