Angelic Empath

She removed her apron and sat down, putting her apron across her lap. The bib of the apron came up quite high on her chest. Now that she'd removed it, he could see she had on a white blouse with the top buttons undone. He could see the lacy top of a white bra. Her breasts were very large. The bra did a good job of supporting and enhancing them.

"Thanks for being a regular Martin."

"You're welcome. I enjoy the walk I'm doing now. Having a rest before the climbing the hill is good."

"I can see you also like people watching. So do I, not that I get much time to do it when I'm working. Will your wife join you one day?" she asked, glancing at his ring.

"I doubt it, she's not normally an early riser. She plays a lot of golf and doesn't use a buggy, so she does a lot of walking. The only time she joins me on dog walks is when we're on holiday."

Sandra leant back in her chair and stretched, her arms out to the side pushing her chest and magnificent breasts out. She saw that she'd tempted him to glance at them.

"Do you open on Sundays?" he asked, making sure he was asking her and not her blouse.

"Only from nine o'clock until two o'clock. My neighbour Mary comes in for me. I take Sundays off."

"I don't blame you, you work hard. Be careful, you can work too hard."

A van pulled up outside. She stood up and put her apron back on, "I'll bear that in mind, enjoy your coffee."

"I will."

Martin thought she'd only removed the apron to show him her breasts. Otherwise, there was no need to remove it. It wasn't a hot day, and it wasn't hot in the café. He just smiled to himself.

When he arrived back home, Jackie's car wasn't there. Friday wasn't normally a golf day. His thoughts turned to the woman flashing her legs. He took a shower, not a cold shower. He needed relief. As he stepped into the shower his cock was already turgid and swaying. He let the hot water run down his body, he started stroking.

With the image of her legs in his mind he allowed the sensations to build. He imagined her skirt moving higher, her panties just showing. His scrotum was tightening, the feeling was building. He imagined her hand rubbing her pussy mound, letting him watch.

The speed of his stroking increased. Then she pulled her knickers to one side. She was displaying her pussy to him, letting him look, she wanted him to look. He was close. She opened her legs wide for him. He groaned at that thought and sprayed the shower screen with his release.

Again his legs felt weak. This time he didn't feel quite as guilty as he did the last time this woman was his masturbation fantasy.

Jackie returned about an hour and a half later. She asked if he could help get bags of potting compost out of her car. Jackie had only been to the garden centre. They spent an enjoyable day together in the garden.

Apart from the issues surrounding sexual intimacy, their relationship was still good. They still talked and laughed. The evening was uneventful, he was again in bed before Jackie.

The next morning he set off on the dog walk much later than usual. Jackie had already left to play her Saturday golf. It was ten o'clock by the time he arrived at the café. A group of ramblers meeting up there made it quite full.

His usual window table was still free, so he sat at that table. He knew Sandra would come over with his coffee and toast, as soon as she had finished serving others. She didn't disappoint.

The blue VW Golf wasn't there, but the red BMW was.

Diane was up and about. She'd had a fitful night's sleep, probably caused by the breakup with Josh. On one hand she did feel sorry for him, thinking she'd probably been too brutal. On the other hand, better to get it over with, don't drag it out. She ended up rising early, checking her finances and the agency quarterly accounts.

They were having another good year. The first year was slow, not the housing market, but breaking into it as a new agency. They made a very slight loss that first year. Year-on-year after that, they were in profit, now a very good profit. They were gaining ground.

Every other For Sale board in the local area was one of theirs. They were good, damn good. Absolutely not the cheapest, but they went the extra mile. Their service was second to none. Diane was now confident that next year she'd be buying her own house.

She had a shower and got dressed. Light blue denims and light blue cashmere sweater. Underneath, gorgeous underwear, but no stockings today, just socks.

Going downstairs she went into the kitchen and lifted the blind. From her kitchen she could see the café and some hikers milling about outside. She could also see the black dog, not lying down but sat to attention.

Her heart skipped in her chest, "Oh, stop it, silly woman." she said to herself.

She had her weekly shopping delivered from the supermarket, it had arrived yesterday evening. She didn't get her meat and veg delivered, she preferred the local butcher and greengrocer. Rather than make a coffee, as she normally would, she decided to do the shopping before the best had gone. Then she'd go over to the café, if he was still there.

Martin saw the woman leave home with a shopping bag. No kilt today, just jeans, tweed jacket and flat cap, nice boots though, her legs still looked good. She didn't go to her car, just the butchers.

After a few minutes, she came out and went to the greengrocers. When she came out of that shop she went home, glancing up at the café before closing the door.

He felt a pang of disappointment, he waited ten, then fifteen minutes longer. He was about to finish his coffee and head home when her door opened again.

The cup he'd just lifted had not yet touched his lips. It was poised, inches away from his lips as he watched her. She stepped between two parked cars and checked for traffic. He put down his cup. She almost skipped over the road and headed for the café.

His heart was pounding, so was hers. He sat there watching her, she saw him looking.

On entering, she also saw there were no tables free. He lifted his hand to catch her attention, she went over to him.

"I was about to leave, you can sit here if you want. I'll go and pay for mine, you sit here to claim the table. I'll order yours while I'm there and Sandra will bring it over, what would you like?"

Diane noticed his cup was about half full, his plate was empty though.

"You don't have to rush on my account, if you don't mind me sitting here with you? While you finish yours?"

"Er, not at all, yes that's fine, feel free." he gestured with his hand.

She took off her jacket and hung it over the chair. From what he could detect, under the cashmere she had a flat midriff and nicely shaped breasts. Diane went to order her coffee. He admired her long legs and her bottom. She ordered and sat down at his table.

"Do you come here every day then?" Diane asked.

"I have done for the last week."

"Is the coffee that good?"

"God she's beautiful" he thought, looking into her hazel eyes, the left one having a tiny splodge of brown, interrupting the uniform hazel.

"I love his eyes." she thought, looking into his brown depths, his pupils were dilated, "He likes what he sees too."

"Yes it is good, but I come in here mainly for a rest, before the walk up that hill to home."

"And where is home?" she asked.

Before he could answer, Sandra came over with her coffee. She could see they were engaged in conversation, "Another cup Martin?"

He paused slightly, "Yes, I will, please. No more toast though." he said as he handed her the empty plate.

"So, I now have a name to put to those eyes, and the legs." thought Diane.

Diane said, "You were about to say where home was."

"No. You asked me where home was." Martin smiled as he corrected her.

"Come on, you know where I live," smiled Diane, "it's only fair."

"Well, I don't know your name, but you know my name."

"Do I?"

"Yes, I saw the cogs turn, when Sandra spoke my name."

Her lips were twitching, it looked like she was about to laugh.

"So, you can now cross Indy out and write Martin."

That did make her laugh.

"What was that all about anyway?"

"Your hat." she giggled, looking at it hung on the chair, "My friend Sarah and me, if we don't know a person's name we refer to them as someone famous that they look like."

"Why would you mention me to your friend?" he asked, looking a bit puzzled.

She blushed, "Well I couldn't decide if I was going to call you Indiana Jones or Kenny Rogers, they're both in with a shout." she answered, dodging the question.

Their conversation paused while Sandra gave Martin his coffee and took away his empty cup. Martin thanked her.

"I'm Diane, so where's home?" she asked holding out her hand, trying to further distance herself from his question.

He held her hand to shake it. At that instant the static spark finally cracked! Not literally, but at that moment he felt alive from head to toe.

As their skin touched, something from inside her crossed the boundary between their skin at the speed of light. It flashed through him, imprinting some of her on part of his being.

Just as literal lightning travels between earth and sky and back again, so something of him jumped the gap and imprinted deep within her.

He looked down at the long, impeccably manicured fingers. Her hand, though not that small, looked small in his. Her skin was relatively flawless for her age.

Without thinking, he stroked his thumb along her index finger. He never did actually shake her hand, he just caressed it!

Diane felt that initial spark and the aftershock too. It left her feeling weak, helpless.

This time, rather than drawing on the Indiana Jones movie reference, she felt like Jessica Lange in the remake of King Kong. The scene where she was in the hand of the giant gorilla.

The animal's curious finger stroking her, on the verge of disrobing her. She calmed the beast, brought out it's soft, gentle side. She made it forget the pain and saw the gorilla's tormented brown eyes soften.

Diane looked down at her hand, so small compared to his. His thumb stroking her finger. Yes, that's exactly how she felt.

"Pleased to meet you Diane, or rather know your name, since we've met before."

They both sat in silence for a moment, letting the enormity of what had just happened sink in. They were looking into each other's eyes. Neither making the other feel uncomfortable. Neither knowing the other had felt the same jolt.

Martin was first to break the silence, "The Black Watch tartan, a friend of mine wore it to his wedding. So did his dad, his dad was in that regiment."

"Ah, so it came to you?"

"Yes it did, but on the way home, so I couldn't tell you at the time."

"My dad was lovely, I miss him terribly... So, where is home?"

"Hilltop Lane,", he replied, "top of the hill, the first lane on the right."

"I know it, I'm co-owner of an estate agency, we've sold a few houses up there."

"I thought you worked there, I saw the signwriting on your car yesterday."

Diane felt like asking if that was all he saw, but thought better of it.

"I didn't know it was your business. You seem to be doing well. I see your boards all over the place, usually saying, SOLD."

"Yes, we're doing well now. It's been hard work though. How long have you lived here?"

Martin had to think, "I bought the house in 2008, so around fifteen years."

Diane made a mental note that he said "I bought" rather than "we bought". Then she asked, "How come I've never noticed you around before?"

"I changed the dog walk a week ago, I got fed up with all the mud the way I had been going. He still gets muddy this new way, but there's a small river that washes most of it off as we come out of the woods."

"I like walking," said Diane, "but I'm not familiar with the footpaths around here. I've been too busy. In fact, (she looked at her watch) I'll be going to work soon. It's my parter Sarah's turn to do the early shift this Saturday, she's doing nine until two. I'll be doing half-eleven until half-four. Next week we'll swap."

"Is it just the two of you?"

"No. We have a full-time employee, Jason. He'll be around all day today. Every day first thing, he updates the For Sale boards, brings the completed ones back, fixes any that are leaning or blown over, that sort of thing. Also helping with taking measurements and photos. He's started handling accompanied viewings. He's young, learning the ropes, he'll be good though."

"Do you work Sundays? Some estate agents do."

"No, we've thought about it, but to be honest we're doing OK without. If that ever changes we might."

"Well if you get out to explore, the woodland is amazing at the moment," he showed her the bluebell photo, "new life is bursting out everywhere. I especially like the silence in there. It's weird, it's not silent, the birds see to that, but the trees seem to absorb sound. They absorb other things as well, I think."

"Like what?"

"Bad energy." he replied, looking sad again.

She decided not to press him on bad energy, that could wait until another time, if there was another time. Diane knew he was referring to the thing troubling him.

"I think you're right." she said, cheerily, trying to lighten the mood, "Plants in a house do that as well."

He finished his coffee, "Well I'd better head back. I really enjoyed chatting to you."

She flashed her best smile, "Me too, until next time."

"I hope so, bye Diane."

"Bye Martin."

She watched him pay Sandra, then sort out the dog's lead and head off. Sandra came to clear his cup away.

"He's nice him." she said to Diane.

"Yes he is."

"You seem to hit it off well together?"

"Did we?"

"Yes, he's married though."

"All the best ones are."

From Sandra's tone Diane wondered if she was jealous. She went to pay for her coffee, Sandra held up her hand, "It's OK, Martin sorted it."

Diane smiled as she said goodbye.

Martin was out of sight when she stepped outside. She crossed over the road and went back home to get ready for work.

Martin was feeling very uneasy. He didn't feel guilty. After all, he hadn't behaved in any way inappropriately. Apart from the way he touched her hand, but there was no ulterior motive, it just happened. His unease came from knowing he was on very dangerous ground.

When he arrived home, he pottered around. He did some routine maintenance on the motorbike. Jackie arrived home close to four. He helped her take her clubs out of the car.

Jackie said, "I'm going to run a bath, I ache all over, then I'll start to get ready for tonight. Would you bring me a glass of wine through?"

He heard the bath water running, then the gentle splashes as she stepped in and immersed herself. He took a bottle of white wine from the wine cooler, opened it, poured two glasses and went into the bathroom.

Jackie was sat sideways in the bath, her legs over the side, reading a magazine. She liked her bath water hot, if it was too hot she'd sit sideways until it cooled. She held out her hand.

"Thank you." she said, taking the glass from him.

Standing over her, he could take in her naked form. She was beautiful, her landing-strip still maintained, no stubble of hair re-growth. She had a red mark on her inner thigh, it looked like a fresh bruise.

"What happened there?" asked Martin, nodding towards the bruise.

Martin missed another micro-expression of panic.

"Oh that... a stray ball, someone on another fairway hitting a flyer."

"It looks painful." said Martin as he sat on the closed toilet seat to talk to her.

"It is, partly why I'm in here."

She smiled and took a sip of wine, putting the glass on the shelf at the foot of the bath.

"Would you like me to rub some ointment on it when you get out?" asked Martin, forever hopeful.

"I'll be fine, I'll take care of it."

"There was a time when you'd have jumped at the chance of that sort of touch from me."

Martin could see by her expression there was no point pursuing that, it would ruin their evening. He just said, "The taxi will be here just before seven o'clock. I'll have a shave, shower and get changed. I'll use the en-suite." and with that he smiled, a genuine smile, and left Jackie to her bath.

He had just dressed and was about to leave the room when Jackie came upstairs from the downstairs main bathroom to get dressed herself. She let the bath-towel drop, her backside, and upper thighs were bright red from the hot water.

"You are beautiful." he said and went to kiss her.

She turned her face to his and accepted his kiss on her lips. He didn't intend it to be passionate, and it wasn't, his kiss was tender. What got to him was that he could have been kissing his mother, so perfunctory was the kiss Jackie returned.

Martin went downstairs to sort Gunther out and wait for the taxi.

At ten to seven he heard Jackie coming down the stairs. She looked stunning in a full-length, low-cut, shimmering, green ballgown decorated with sequins.

"Is this over the top for where we're going?"

"No, no, absolutely not, you look fantastic! I'll feel so proud to walk in with you. How do I look?" he held out his arms.

"You'll do." she replied.

Martin didn't know whether she was being serious or funny. He was feeling apprehensive as to how the evening would progress.

The taxi arrived, the driver tooted the horn.

They went out to meet it, Martin locking the house door behind him. It was a large saloon with the front passenger seat pushed forward giving Martin lots of leg-room in the back. He opened the door for Jackie to get in behind the driver then he went to the other side to sit next to her.

"You usually sit in the front."

"Only in small cars, there's plenty of room in this, and I'd rather sit next to you."

He confirmed with the driver that he knew where they were going.

"Oh, that's where we're going, I've heard of it, it's getting good reviews and Mike's been there and said..." she tailed off as if she'd forgotten what she wanted to say.

"Mike?" asked Martin, He only knew of one Mike known to them both, her ex.

"Yes, Mike... Samuels? You know, you met him at the golf club New Year's Eve dinner, he was on our table? One of the Old Boys".

"Oh, that Mike, yes, I remember him."

The Old Boys were the staid male members of the club. They were advanced in years and were averse to change. They probably resented the fact that women were even allowed to be members, let alone play at weekends. The women members held them in disdain, they referred to them collectively as the Old Boys. It was not a term of endearment.

Martin wondered how a conversation about the merits of fine-dining establishments came about between old Mike Samuels and Jackie.

"Well he said the food was excellent."

"I'm surprised he could taste the food. Those cigars he smokes, his taste-buds must be shot to pieces."

"Well, that was his opinion."

The rest of the drive was uneventful, with pleasant conversation about this and that. A pick-up time was agreed with the driver, and they went inside.

They sat at the bar for a pre-dinner drink while their table was made ready. From where they were sat they could see through to the dining tables. Martin recognised two familiar faces, ex-business contacts, one an ex-colleague. He pointed them out to Jackie. He wouldn't mind if they acknowledged him or spoke to him later, but he wouldn't go out of his way to make contact.

Jackie had a glass of champagne, he chose a pint of IPA.

"Do you want wine with the meal?" asked Martin, "or do you want to stay on champagne? If so I'll get a bottle."

"I prefer to have wine, but this champagne is just the ticket right now. Cheers." she held her glass to him.

"Cheers." he replied, clinking his pint glass on her champagne flute.

That seemed to break the underlying ice that Martin had felt forming, and the evening started to become enjoyable.