A Turn for the Better

To say that Sally was furious when he finally got her on the phone would've been quite the understatement. She spent the better part of ten minutes yelling at him, not realizing that he had the phone on speaker and was getting dressed while she ranted. Finally, she told him he could go fuck himself, a physical impossibility even though he was agreeably endowed, and hung up.

Hitting the disconnect button, Brian actually felt a little guilty about it all. Then he realized that there was no way that a girl like Sally Quinn was going to be sitting at home on a Saturday night unless she was gravely ill. Undoubtedly, she was already on the phone with one of her other admirers, telling him that her plans for the evening had unexpectedly changed and if he were free, she'd love to go out with him.

The odds were that Sally being Sally, and if the guy on the other end of the phone was anything short of engaged, he was saying yes and already trying to come up with a really good excuse to give when he broke his preexisting date. That he already had a date would be a given because if she wasn't popular, she wouldn't be looking to go out with him. No mercy dates for Sally Quinn.

Putting Sally out of his mind, Brian rummaged through his closet for a minute until he found his long gym bag. If Saturday nights were for partying, Saturday mornings were for getting together with the guys to play baseball. The former All-City might no longer be scholarship material, but he still loved to play the game. Of course the game didn't start until noon since the Little League had the field until then. Which suited the guys that played just fine since a majority of them probably only got home a few hours ago themselves.

The Little League game had run late, as had the one between the older players, so it wasn't until after three-thirty that Brian got back home. The long list of chores his parents expected him to take care of, which would've been a lot shorter if he wasn't constantly putting them off until the weekend, took another two hours and it was all he could do to jump in the shower and change into a clean shirt and slacks before heading back out.

Standing on the small porch of the single story house, he rang the doorbell and waited for a response, thinking it funny that he'd sat in his truck out in front over the last month and a half and never thought to just come up and ring the bell rather than simply wait for Harriet to come out. Okay, she was usually very punctual and he was never waiting for more than a minute or two, but still it now seemed funny for some reason.

The door opened and there stood Harriet in a casual summer dress, a simple blue and white floral print with short sleeves and a hemline that stopped just below her knees. All in all, a lot more comfortable look than the outfits she wore to work every day.

"My don't you look dashing," Harriet said as she invited him in, having used the few moments that Brian had been looking at her attire to do the same to his.

Brian glanced down at the light blue polo shirt he'd tossed on and the tan slacks that went with it. It was his normal weekend attire and he didn't see anything special about it. Then he realized that just as he was used to Harriet in the plain conservative outfits she wore in the office, all she had ever seen him in was t-shirts and jeans.

"I brought this," he said, handing her the paper bag he suddenly remembered he had in his hand.

Taking the package, Harriet lifted a bottle of wine out of it, pausing to read the label.

"This was very nice of you," she said, "but you really didn't have to spend this much money. Any table wine would've been fine."

The look on his face told her he had no idea how expensive a bottle he had brought.

"You did buy this, didn't you?" she asked, worrying for a moment that he might've gotten it another way.

"Well," he replied, his response a little hesitant, "I sort of took it from home. I can't go into a liquor store to buy anything yet, at least not legally."

That answer surprised Harriet, prompting her to ask him how old he was. The look on her face said that his answer wasn't what she had expected.

"Really, I was sure that you were at least three or four years older than that," she said, then again glancing at the bottle added, "Well, I won't tell anyone if you don't."

Brian wasn't sure if she was talking about his still being a teenager or his theft of the bottle of wine.

Leading Brian into the living room, Harriet told him to make himself comfortable while she put the wine on ice. Taking a seat on the couch, Brian glanced around the room; taking in its simple but comfortable décor. On a small end table sat a double frame, in each side of which rested photographs of a younger Harriet and a man. It didn't take lot of thought to realize that the men in each were the former husbands that she had mentioned.

"I see you've found my rogue's gallery," Harriet said as she stepped back into the room, holding a small tray of sliced meat snacks and cubes of cheese.

"Your husbands?" he asked, just to confirm his assumption.

"That's them all right," she said, setting the tray down on the coffee table and herself next to Brian.

"The one on the right is Rick," she explained as she popped a piece of cheese in her mouth. "We dated our last three years of high school and back then we thought we would be together forever. So much so that we got married before graduation year was over. People assumed that I was pregnant because of the rush, but the simple truth was that neither of us really thought it out. We just foolishly assumed that being married would be just like one never ending date."

Also sampling the treats on the table, Brian listened in rapt fascination to her story.

"But real life is never like that we soon learned," she continued, "especially when you have to come up with things like the rent, the utility bills and so on. Both of us were working, but with the jobs that we could get with only a high school diploma, there never seemed to be anything left over. We spent more time arguing over money than anything else."

Brian nodded his head. Even living at home, with few bills of his own, he always seemed to be short of cash come the end of the week.

"And then," she went on, "about five months into it, it looked like I might actually be pregnant. Back then of course, you couldn't just walk into a drug store and buy a home pregnancy kit. The week while we waited to see a doctor at the local clinic was the longest of my life. Faced with the prospect of losing half our income, on top of the expense of having a baby, we finally realized what a mistake we'd made. When the test came back negative, we couldn't get the divorce papers drawn up quick enough."

As she had been telling her story, Brian couldn't get over the thought that the Harriet in the photograph was actually a year younger than he was now. She definitely had been a hottie. Then again, shifting his attention to the second photo, taken about a decade later, he decided that if anything, Harriet had only gotten better with age.

"By the time I met and married Robert Lewiston, I obviously had grown a lot, both physically and emotionally, and we were of an age where we were also a lot better suited financially for setting up house together. And for the first ten years we did pretty well, with the normal bumps in the road that every married couple has to expect. Yet, after that, things began to change and to this day, I really couldn't tell you exactly why. To say that we just fell out of love seems too simple an explanation. There wasn't anyone else involved for either of us, it was like we woke up one morning and discovered that we were two people living together for no reason other than we'd been doing it for so long."

That, Brian thought, could describe a lot of people he knew.

"Oh we gave it a go for another year or so," she added, "but finally we decided what was the point? We never had any kids so it seemed better to just admit we were at an end and take it from there."

"Wait a second, your last name is Lowell, right?" asked Brian.

"Yes, after the second divorce I went back to using my maiden name," she explained. "A whole new beginning so to speak."

"Did you ever hear from him after that?" a curious Brian asked.

"Actually yes," Harriet smiled, as if recalling a pleasant memory. "He moved out west to start over and married a woman he met there. I still get a Christmas card from them every year."

"But you never..."

"Married again?" Harriet said, completing the question. "No, twice seemed quite enough. Oh it's not like I've been living a cloistered life, but I think I'm a little too set in my ways now to try it a third time."

A timer going off in the kitchen brought the story to a close and Brian followed Harriet back into it. Living alone, she saw no need for a dining room so the plates were set out on the kitchen table, which was actually the sort of breakfast nook that you might find in a restaurant. The service was Correlle dinnerware, set out for two.

"Well, what do you think?" Harriet asked ten minutes later after Brian had a chance to sample her Chicken Marsala.

"This is incredible," he managed to say between bites.

"Would you like some more?" she asked, seeing that he had already finished most of the portion.

"Yes, please," Brian answered.

"It's been a while since I've really had the chance to cook for someone, I'm glad you're enjoying it so."

In the end, Brian enjoyed it so much that there were only scraps left on the stove by the time he was finished. The garlic potatoes and sweet corn that had accompanied the chicken also disappeared just as quickly, as did the bottle of wine that he'd brought.

"I hope your parents don't miss that bottle too soon," Harriet commented as she drained the last of her glass, "but it was delicious."

"It was a gift from my Dad's boss last Christmas," Brian replied as he soaked up the last of the gravy and mushrooms with a slice of bread. "He'd never even taken the wrapping paper off so I doubt he'll even notice it was gone."

"He doesn't like wine?"

"Nah, he's pretty much just a beer drinker."

"I see."

The meal over, Brian helped Harriet clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. She commented that this was the first time in a while that she'd had enough dirty dishes to actually use the machine. Usually she just washed her plates by hand and left them to dry in the rack.

"I made dessert too," she said as she turned and the closed the washer and set it for delayed start. "Do you want to have it now or would you like to wait a while?"

"Could we wait until I digest what I've already eaten?" Brian asked.

"Of course," she replied, leading him back into the living room.

They talked for a while, covering a range of topic, which just reminded Brian just how much he was going to miss their conversations on the road. Few of his friends seemed interested in anything other than sports or the latest music. Dwelling on that fact, he didn't notice when the topic of discussion changed.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"I asked how your game went this morning," Harriet repeated. "You did play this morning, didn't you?"

"Yes I did," he finally answered, remembering telling her that he played every week. "I got a few hits but I had to drop out of the game after the fifth when I hurt my shoulder. I think I pulled something when I slid into third."

"Oh you poor thing, does it still hurt?"

"A little," he replied, trying to make light of it.

"Which shoulder?"

"My left one."

Standing up from the couch, Harriet walked around it and came up behind Brian. She put her hands on his shoulders and applied a gentle touch to his left one.

"This one?" she asked as her fingers pressed against his muscles.

"Yes."

"Hmmm, it is a little tight," she noted, applying a little more pressure.

Before Brian could say anything, Harriet brought both hands to bear on his sore spot and began to work her fingers around it. Quicker than he would've thought possible, it actually began to feel better.

"I guess I should've mentioned that Robert was a physical therapist," Harriet smiled as her hands continued to massage Brian's shoulders and back, moving outward from the area he had hurt. "He taught me a lot about it while we were married."

"I think you're wasting your time doing payroll," Brian said as, with eyes closed, he leaned forward just enough for Harriet to reach his lower back, "your fingers are magic. This has got to be the best massage I've ever had."

"Robert used to tell me I was a natural," Harriet laughed as she worked her fingers along his spine. "He even used to say that he'd rather have one of my massages than a blow..."

She stopped herself just in mid-word but even though she'd substituted something more innocuous, her original meaning was clear. Brian felt himself becoming more and more relaxed, thinking that her ex-husband had certainly known what he was talking about.

"It seems like you're really enjoying this," Harriet said, bringing her head close to Brian's.

"Oh yeah," he practically purred. "This is really great."

"Better than being with whatever girl you broke a date with to have dinner with me tonight?" she asked unexpectedly. "And don't tell me you didn't already have a date for tonight because I know better."

"Okay, yes I did have a date," he admitted.

"And you broke it to have dinner with me?" she repeated, pointing out the obvious.

"Yes," he practically moaned, enjoying the massage too much to detract from it by talking too much.

"Was she cute?"

"What?"

"I asked was she cute," Harriet said, "although if she was going out with you I'm going to assume she was."

A lack of response confirmed that as well.

"Well then," Harriet whispered into his ear as she moved even closer, "anyone who made a sacrifice like that should definitely get the full treatment."

"Full treatment?" he asked, his eyes opening at the words.

Rather than respond verbally, Harriet leaned forward and pressed her breasts against the back of his neck, her hands moving down his chest at the same time. That felt even better and never one to turn down a good thing; Brian just closed his eyes again and let his head rest against her soft flesh as if it were a pillow.

Pleased with Brian's acquiescence, Harriet brought her hands all the way down to his waist, then skirted just below his belt for a moment, curious to gauge his response as she broached forbidden territory. Pleased when not a word was raised, she took hold of the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up out of his pants and then high enough to expose his lightly haired chest. Slender fingers worked their way across his skin, caressing the flesh and rubbing against his nipples.

"Mmmmm," Brian moaned softly, enjoying the press of her fingers.

Harriet gently nudged him forward, just enough so that she could ease off his shirt. Then she began to work on his bare shoulders, moving down his back, then coming around to his chest once more.

"Oh man, that feels really good," Brian said as she again let the tips of her fingers drop below his belt.

"You know, I could make it feel really better," she whispered into his ear, her face practically pressed against his.

Brian had a good idea what she was suggesting, but hesitated in responding. On the chance he was wrong, the last thing he wanted to get out was that he'd made a fool of himself hitting on a woman old enough to be his mother.

Harriet, however, was totally sure of herself as she once more ran an outstretched hand down across his chest and stomach, again crossing the line of his belt. This time, her fingers closed around the now quite visible bulge in his pants, massaging it gently for a few seconds while she used her other hand to tilt Brian's head just far enough to allow a kiss.

Much to Brian's surprise, Harriet's kiss was just as sweet, if not more so than any he'd gotten from girls his age. Then again, he realized as he felt her tongue brushing against his own, she'd been doing this before any of them had been born. What else, he wondered, was the white-haired woman better at?

-=-=-=-

It didn't take long for him to start to find out as Harriet stood up from behind the couch and told him to follow her. Brian assumed that she was leading him into the bedroom. A prospect that excited him more than he could've imagined only a short time before. Instead, to his momentary confusion, Harriet guided him toward the bathroom.

The bathroom was on a scale with the rest of the house, with a commode, a pedestal sink and a phone booth sized shower. Standing alongside the metal enclosure, she instructed Brian to remove his shoes and socks, which he quickly did, placing them just outside the door.

As he turned back into the room, Harriet took hold of his belt and pulled him to her. She kissed him again, this time more deeply then before. The thought that she was more than twice his age no longer came to mind, only that she was a sexy and exciting woman. One that was making no secret of the fact that she wanted him.

Undoing his belt, she let his pants fall to the floor. After Brian stepped out of them, she picked them up and carefully folded them before putting them out by his shoes and socks. Now Brian stood only in his boxer shorts as Harriet stepped back for a second to admire his near naked form.

Then, with a broad smile on her face, she bent down and, with a quick jerk on his underpants, pulled them all the way down to his ankles. Abruptly free of restraint, Brian's cock, already quite erect, bounced upward with surprising force.

"Oh my," Harriet laughed as his cock bobbled only inches from her face. "You are feeling good aren't you?"

Sliding her right hand up from beneath, Harriet carefully cupped his erection, running her fingers up and down its length. With her other hand, she picked up a clear plastic bottle filled with green body wash and poured a small amount over Brian's sex.

It didn't take much effort to produce an enveloping lather and Brian's manhood was quickly covered with suds. Harriet continued to slowly work her fingers back and forth, causing the young man to softly sigh.

Still holding him in her hand, she guided Brian into the shower, then used a wet towel to clean off her hands. She took a long step backward and, after undoing the zipper on the back of her dress, carefully slid out of it.

Brian had his eyes locked on her as, now clad in a simple white bra and panties, she placed her dress with the rest of their clothes. It could hardly be expected, he knew, for her body to have been as tight and compact as other women he'd seen in similar situations, but still she was captivating. Real women have curves was an expression he'd often heard, and to use another expression his father often used when referring to women his age, Harriet's body had character.

With a casual ease, Harriet reached behind her back and undid the clasp of her bra, sliding it down the length of her arms. Not as concerned about it as she was her dress, she simply tossed it over into the corner. Her panties followed just a moment later, giving Brian an anxiously awaited view of her in the all together. Idle curiosity had made him wonder if the rest of the hair on the older woman's body had also turned white. That turned out to be a question left unanswered because when he looked between her legs, there wasn't a hair to be found.

Picking up the bottle of body wash and a small cloth, Harriet climbed into the shower with Brian, pulling the curtain closed behind her. It was a tight fit; the shower really hadn't been built for two, but neither seemed about to complain. Reaching behind Brian, Harriet turned on the water, keeping it almost to a trickle, just enough to wet the cloth in her hand.