Fluffy Fiona

"Would you like a cold drink? I have some in the fridge."

She looked around again, "Do you have a gingerale? Where is the oak chest you mentioned yesterday?"

I slipped off the bench headed to the fridge, I happened to have what she wanted, I had bought it a few months back when my stomach was acting up. Putting the pop in her left hand I extended my other to take her right hand pulling her up.

"It's over here by the bandsaw. Come with me, there's better light. Do you mind if I call you Fiona? That is your name, isn't it? Don't touch it though, that coat is still drying."

After looking it over from every angle without opening the top she looked at me, "I'll take it. When will it be dry? Yes, you may call me Fiona and unless you were pulling my leg yesterday, I should call you John. Is that correct?"

"Yes ma'am, that's correct. The chest will be ready by Monday evening, shall I deliver it? You aren't very far away."

"You can if you want, or I can pick it up. And stop calling me ma'am, I'm not an old lady."

I smirked, "I see we're off to as good a start as the last time we met. Do you recall? In the grocery store."

"How could I forget, you eaves dropped on my phone call. That was just rude."

It was my turn to bring the conversation back into my realm, "I seem to recall you were talking loud enough for people four seats away to hear you. I hardly eaves dropped."

Shifting her gaze to my face I noticed she focused on the eye that looks straight ahead.

"Speaking of the bus. Why don't I see you there anymore?"

"I ride my bike or drive. People think I'm insane to ride to work when I could drive, but it keeps me in shape, and I love fresh air on my face. I can get there almost as fast as when I drive without all the hassles of traffic."

She scoffed, "You're right, that is weird. Traffic is the reason I take the bus, I hate that drive. I still take care of mom, but at 78 with breast cancer I don't anticipate she'll be with me much longer. I was an oops baby late in life, my dad died before I was out of high school. This is her second go round with it, she's not doing chemo or radiation, all she wants is pain management and to go in her sleep."

I knew all too well what that was all about. I had watched my parents suffer through cancer treatments only to die in agony a short time later. Feeling bold I pushed the issue.

"Am I delivering or helping you load tomorrow evening?"

"Deliver, I'll give you my address."

While she was bent over the table writing I was able to glance down the front of her dress far enough to see a hefty amount of breast, the bra she was wearing was open toward the middle revealing a healthy amount of cleavage. By the time she straightened up I was looking elsewhere. The ride to work the next morning was chilly and invigorating, the temperature was only 42 but once I got going my body warmed to a comfortable level it was fine. It was after I arrived that the chills began, not because of the cold, because I'd be working late. I usually knew ahead of time when I'd have to work late and drove to work. It wasn't that I didn't have a flashing red light on the back of my bike and a strong LED for the front, it was more about drivers not paying attention at night. More than once I'd nearly been run over.

I was also supposed to deliver the chest to Fiona. Not knowing her phone number I had no way of contacting her and hoped she wouldn't be to pissed if I got there after the seven o'clock arranged time for delivery. It was already ten minutes past seven when I jumped off the bike, threw my backpack into the hallway, grabbed the keys to dad's old pickup, loaded the chest and took off. I backed into her driveway at 7:40. She was walking toward the truck with a look of disgust on her face. I thought great, just effing great, here comes another nasty exchange. At this rate I'll never get on her good side.

Expecting an ass chewing I was pleasantly surprised when she spoke. "I assume you have a good excuse for being so late."

"I don't have an excuse, but I have a reason. I was told when I walked in this morning that I would be working late. Had I known I'd have driven, it took longer than usual to get home with all the rush hour traffic. Riding a bike that time of day is tempting fate. My apologies. Where am I taking this?"

She scoffed as she looked my way, "You don't believe in using your phone?"

Deciding I was going to stand my ground I countered, "Hard to do that when I don't have your number."

The claws retracted and she smirked, "Oh that. Hmm, guess I owe you an apology. I want it in mom's room so she can see it every day, follow me."

Walking down the hall I glanced into a room with an open door on my right, on the bed was a pile of bras, panties, stockings, socks, and other underwear. An empty basket sat set next to it, I figured she'd dumped the clothes on her bed to fold and put away about the time I showed up. Being a red-blooded boy I slowed to absorb as much as possible optically, thinking it might be nice to see some of that on her. Or better yet, on the floor next to my bed and her naked waiting for me. I noticed her glance back and picked up the pace in accordance with her stride.

Her mother's room smelled of anti-bacterial soap and looked like a hospital room complete with a commode and oxygen machine. The smile on her mom's face didn't fade as I carried the chest across the room, she pointed to a spot on the wall along the foot of her bed and motioned for me to set it there. In a weak voice she kept saying "oh my" as the tears flowed. As she regained composure she pointed at me.

"Who's your friend Fiona? Did he make this?"

"His name is John grandma, and yes, he made the chest."

I walked toward the bed to shake her hand when Fiona quickly intercepted.

"It's better not to touch, her immune system is so deteriorated, any little germ or infection could be fatal. Your smile says hello, she's happy with that. Aren't you grandma?"

"Yes honey I am. So nice to meet you John and thank you for the chest."

As I walked toward the door I heard her grandma whisper, "What's wrong with his eye?"

Fiona whispered, "Later."

She walked a few steps behind me closing the bedroom door as we left the room. In the living room she asked.

"Have you eaten yet?" I shook my head. "I'll buy if you'll fly. I can order Chinese or pizza or subs from Manny's place. What are your druthers?"

"I'm feeling like Chinese." I answered.

She smiled, "Me to. I'll order and if you take off now it'll be ready by the time you arrive."

I was helping her clean up and put away leftovers, when she bent over the table to wipe it, I quickly stole another look down her blouse. Standing upright a foot away she halfheartedly scowled as she spoke.

"You like looking down my blouse don't you. Don't play dumb, I saw you looking that day on the bus and you were perving my undies when you walked down the hall. Do you have anything to say for such behavior?"

I was grinning ear to ear.

"What's so damned funny?" She burst out.

"Well, I need to keep my man card up to date and observing young ladies exhibit their goodies or looking at unmentionables on the bed are ways I can do that. Guilty as charged."

Scowling again she spat out, "Well you made me feel cheap, like I'm a commodity for you to inspect."

Now I was in defense mode, "Did I touch you?" She shook her head. "Make any suggestive off-color remarks?" Another shake of the head. "Did I push you for sex of any kind?"

She spoke up, "No, you didn't do any of that stuff, but I felt violated."

I laughed as I pushed past, "Get over yourself Fiona. If I'd wanted to put the make on you there would have been no doubt. I was beginning to like your company, but not if you're gonna be like this."

"Like what?" She blurted.

"Accusatory, looking for something to bitch about, complain about, or accuse me of."

I was at the door when she called out.

"John, wait. I need to apologize. I'm so used to being the butt of peoples jokes and the only guys who seem interested want me to be their personal slut. One guy wanted to be my pimp, telling me that's what fat girls have to do to be accepted. You're one of a few men who have been kind to me, I'm simply not used to it."

"Fiona, I don't care if you don't wear a size ten dress, or have, what are they called now? Oh yeah, perky tits, or a quote, unquote, "fit and toned" body. Shit, I aint any of that stuff either, I'm just a guy looking for someone to fill my days with."

She patted my chest, "I'm so glad you don't have perky tits and wear a size ten dress. That would be weird."

Her comment was enough to lighten the mood. I was politely saying goodbye when her grandma called out.

"I'd better go. Let me have your phone, I'll put my number in. Call me tomorrow, please."

As I lay in the dark waiting for sleep to ascend my mind wandered, I couldn't stop thinking about her comments. Why would someone purposely want to belittle and demean her just to get in her pants? It made no sense. In my mind being polite and paying attention would get you in her drawers an awful lot sooner than making fun of her. I laughed to myself. Who knows, maybe she's a closet vixon waiting for the right guy to broaden her horizon's. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that I'd like to be that guy.

I dozed off with images in my head of cradling her warm, soft, tender breasts in my hands as her very wet cunt slid up and down on my pole. Of kissing and sucking her nipples, of feeling her body quake and tremble as I shot my load inside her, taking both of us over the edge and into orgasmic bliss. The last image was her lying on my chest, my cock still inside, both out of breath and her kissing me followed by,

"Thank you lover. Can I have your cock again in the morning?"

My waking dream was where it had left off the night before. My cock was so hard that I barely touched it in the shower and was spewing semen across the wall. My back was arched, my pelvis pushed out, my hand furiously working the last little bit out. I now knew I needed that fluffy minx more than ever. I had always wanted more than a simple , "hi, let's fuck" encounter if you got the girl drunk enough, perhaps Fiona was that girl. One who would love and accept me for the weirdo I am and who was as interested in trying new things in bed as I was. Someone who wouldn't be afraid to meet me at the door in nothing but her birthday suit and ask me to fuck her silly.

Those were normally the basis of my sexual dreams, a girl who wasn't afraid to initiate from time to time, or haul my cock out to suck or ride when she was horny, to be a sex kitten without being a slut. To walk from her chair to the couch where I would be seated, lift her skirt above the waist and whisper.

"Take these panties off and eat me. After that you're gonna pound my ass into the cushions."

It always seemed outlandish, foolish and completely off the charts, but inside it was what I wanted. I just knew there had to be a girl like that somewhere. Somebody I could love, covet and adore, someone to lavish, to be my equal. One who had a desire to meet my every need sexually as much as I would meet hers. I didn't want a woman to look like a slut in public, or have other men slobber over her, and god forbid, want to have another man fuck her. Whether I knew about it or not. No, I wanted all of that for myself, every bit of passion she had within, I wanted to claim it, to possess it, to make her know I adored what she did for me in every way.

The ride to work was exhilarating, the air was cool for that time of year, feeling the wind in my face combined the smell of autumn in the air made me feel invigorated. Work was non-stop mayhem the entire morning, it was well after two o'clock before I texted Fiona.

Me: Hi, how has your day gone?"

There was no response within a few minutes so I chalked it up to another adventure gone wrong. Just before I was about to go home my cell phone rang. I noticed it was Fiona and answered.

"Hi, what's up?"

"Hi John. Sorry about before. I was in a strategy meeting and couldn't break away. My day has been okay for the most part. And yours?"

"It was mayhem most of the morning. We have two new pickers and they had everything screwed up. The guy who was supposed to train them did a lousy job. Anyway, it took until after lunch to get it straightened out. What are we doing for supper?"

She chuckled, "Supper? I didn't know we were supposed to be doing anything for supper. I can't leave grandma alone, her care giver leaves at six and I need to be there by then. I have pork chops thawed, why don't you come over, we could have them here instead of going out or ordering."

"Well I have to admit that sounds a lot better than what I would have been eating alone. What time should I be at your house? Six fifteen? Okay, see you there."

When I arrived she was in a sweatshirt and baggy shorts. Knowing she wouldn't have gone to work like that I figured she had quickly changed before I got there. Her breasts seemed to move more freely in the sweatshirt, I wondered if she was wearing a bra. Following supper I brought dishes as she loaded the dishwasher, with a crew neck on the shirt there was no perving at all. I did like the way the shorts hugged he ass as she bent over. Yep, I could see myself grasping those soft hips, digging in my fingers and slamming my cock into her sweet cunny.

Sitting sideways on the couch we talked about numerous things, mostly the simple things of life itself. Nothing heavy or controversial. When she stopped and sat forward staring at me I sensed I was about to be asked something.

"Has your eye always been like that, or was it caused by an accident?"

"It's been this way since birth. I had surgery to straighten it, but it didn't last a year. I accepted my lot in life and told my folks to stop worrying about it. Ironically, out of six kids I'm the only one with what is usually referred to as "lazy eye", so it isn't hereditary. I can see like everybody else, the only thing affected is the peripheral vision on my left eye."

Just then her grandma called out, Fiona went to her and came back a minute later.

"I need to tend to her John. Sorry, I wanted our evening together to last awhile longer. I don't think gram will live very much longer, she goes downhill a little more each day. I wonder if you could do one more thing for me before you go home?"

I nodded, "Sure, if I'm able to."

She smiled, "Oh, you're able, of that I'm sure. Will you hold and kiss me goodnight?"

I didn't need a second invitation, I slid my arms around her, drawing her body to mine. Her large warm breasts pushed into my chest before our lips met, with my hand on her back I felt nothing beneath the shirt.

Pulling back to break the kiss she sighed, "Oh my. You're a good kisser." Then she giggled.

"I see you noticed I'm not wearing bra. I did it for you. I really like you John, don't break my heart. Now go home."

The work week went along as usual with a new twist, we were texting or talking on the phone daily. I could sense that something wasn't right, something in her voice seemed very sad and removed. I chose to stop by one evening after I'd made the delivery of an end table. She was surprised to see me at the front door.

"Oh hi John. I didn't know you were coming over. Come in, please."

"I hadn't planned to, my truck sort of had a mind of its own and here I am. I was making a delivery and wanted to see you."

She smiled, "Did you get the end table finished? Did they like it?"

"I did, and they did. I stopped to see how you were doing, you sound so sad on the phone."

Tears began to well in her eyes, I'm not sure why but I instinctively reached for and hugged her as she cried. A minute or so later she pulled back, with her hands flat on my chest she took a deep breath and sighed.

"It's grandma, she's reaching the end. I have hospice coming in every day, they don't think she'll last another week. She's lived a long full life, she has no regrets. She's leaving a small inheritance to my mom and the other two siblings but since I've been her caregiver for almost five years everything else is going to me. When I protested she got cranky with me, something she'd never done before."

She let go of me, grabbed a box of Kleenex, sat on the loveseat and patted the cushion next to her. After drying her eyes and blowing her nose she continued.

"When grandma got sick none of her kids wanted to care for her, including my mom. I was just out of college and needed somewhere to live. I've been here since then, and I'm not complaining. I could have left anytime I wanted to, I just never wanted to. These years with her have been wonderful, she's full of wisdom and wasn't afraid to share it with me. I may be a bit weepy for a while, but I appreciate you stopping by John. Come, she knows someone is here, she'll want to say hello."

The moment I entered the room I recognized the last stages of death. I'd watched both parents go through the same thing and could sympathize. Sitting next to her with her hand gently holding mine she beckoned me to come closer, with my ear a feathers thickness away from her mouth she barely whispered.

"Take good care of my Fiona when I'm gone. She likes you."

I glanced at Fiona who had a perplexed look on her face, I smiled and turned my focus back to grandma. When you're as sick as she was a ten-minute visit feels like an hour, I could see she was tiring quickly. When I stood she squeezed my hand, I bent, kissed her on the forehead and spoke softly.

"I will."

That's all I had to say to bring a smile to her face. AI we were saying goodnight we hugged and kissed but no more, it wasn't the right time or place. She asked that I not be upset if I didn't hear from her every day. We'd spoken twice over five days since my unannounced visit when my phone rang in the middle of the night.

"John. Can you come over? Grandma is gone now, the coroner is on the way. I don't want to be alone."

I dressed and made my way to her house. Once all the commotion was over with, the clock showed 6:23. I called into her work explaining the situation, they told her to take the remaining two days of the week off. I then called and spoke with my supervisor, she was understanding and told me to not come in that day. The rest of the day was basically uneventful. I remembered all that needed to be done from my parents' deaths, helping her with phone calls and the like. I felt badly for her when her mother and siblings only wanted to know one thing. When would the will be read and how soon could they get their money? As the day wore on we fixed a light supper and sat. The conversation became serious early in the evening.

"John, why are you interested in me? I'm overweight and have nothing to offer in comparison to most girls. Would you be embarrassed if we were in public?"

I knew I needed to be delicate and at the same time assure her. "Let me answer your question with a question. Would you be embarrassed to be in public with me? I'm nerdy, I have an eye that doesn't look straight ahead, and I have never been accepted for who and what I am, instead of how I look."

"I wouldn't be the least embarrassed."

"Neither would I." I responded.

"Yes, but people can't see your eyes from across the street, but they can surely see my fat ass."

I jumped on that, "Your ass isn't fat. Why do you talk like that?"

Scooting a little closer so her face was inches from mine she half spoke, half snarled, "I wear size 20 jeans asshole. That's fat. I don't have flab hanging off my body and I'm still solid, but according to my doctor I'm forty pounds overweight. So, mister, my ass is fat."

I wasn't sure what to do and left it alone. An hour later I made my way to the door with her right behind. As I spun to say goodnight she moved into my arms and planted a kiss on my lips that made my knees weak. Pulling back from me she said goodnight and to call if I wanted to.