Lori's Lust

It was an unusually warm day at my parents' summer garden party last year. I bought a lovely new frock for the occasion. It looked good on me - well-fitted to my attractive figure, if I do say so myself. I anticipated lots of interested glances and compliments.

Mum bought a new frock, too. And it was suited to her figure, if you fancy large-breasted older matrons going bra-less with a plunging neckline. But I'm getting ahead of myself. That party was more than a year ago! Best begin with today, this day, when chickens came home to roost.

My weekend appointment ended hours earlier than expected on Saturday. I'm the executive director of a regional museum. Our walk-through tour for a charitable grant reviewer had gone very well, and quickly. Bruce (that was his name) had another appointment unexpectedly added to his schedule and had to hurry things along.

He was older than me, not particularly handsome or anything, but nice enough. At the end of our meeting, when we were alone in my office, I made sure he got a good look down my blouse. When he stood to shake hands, I remained seated as he stepped around my desk to find my hand. I had my legs spread just enough to be suggestive, then I stood and walked around my desk the other way, away from Bruce, and opened my office door.

We walked through the museum towards the exit. We shook hands as we parted, and I held his hand a second longer than necessary or appropriate. I paused in the front hallway of the museum to check myself out in the mirror. I like mirrors. Plenty in my house. It makes the place seem bigger and brighter somehow. I flipped my hair and smoothed it into place, and I could see Bruce looking back, checking me out. I gave my backside a little twitch and saw Bruce's eyes drop. His glance came up again, and I caught his eyes with mine, in reflection. I smiled. He smiled. I turned back towards my office.

I know I'm attractive. Men notice me. Women notice me! I'm used to being checked out. I don't mind. I like being looked at. I encourage it. And I like to look. I love to flirt. But it hadn't gone beyond that.

I sometimes show a bit more leg up-skirt, or cleavage down-shirt, if I think a man is really interested. Vanity, narcissism, whatever. It's my naughty indulgence. I find it arousing, being looked at.

Jacqueline, the pretty, dark-haired young woman at the front desk of the museum, was smiling at me. I smiled back. I like Jacqueline.

"Everything good?" I asked.

"That man was interested in you," said Jacqueline.

"Was he?" I asked.

"You know he was, Lori," laughed Jacqueline.

"Well, I guess I do know that," I laughed, too.

"Are you going to do anything about it?" she asked.

"Nah. I have other interests," I grinned.

"Oh, your mother called. While you were in the meeting. She sounded pretty upset. I suggested she call your mobile. She said she had, and left you a voice mail message," said Jacqueline.

"Oh, dear. I left my mobile at home, silly me. I thought I might go home early, check my messages, spend some time with Joe," I said.

"I told your mother when you'd likely be home. If you leave soon, you'll beat that time by at least a couple of hours," said Jacqueline.

"I can surprise Joe!" I said.

"Maybe you and Joe can catch a little personal time. It is Saturday, after all," said Jacqueline.

"If he's home. And if Mum isn't a problem. Fingers crossed!" I said.

I nipped back to my office to shut down my laptop and pick up my purse, then I headed back out. As I passed Jacqueline's station, she said:

"That was curious, what you said about having other interests."

"Hidden depths!" I said, slowing down.

"I'm not surprised that men check you out. You're a very attractive woman, Lori," said Jacqueline.

"Why, thank you, Jacqueline. You're quite pretty yourself," I said, pausing to smile at her, flipping my hair back.

"I like that you have time for me, even though you're the boss," said Jacqueline. She flipped her hair back, too.

I leaned forward putting my elbows on the countertop. Thinking of myself as an equal opportunity flirter, I gave Jacqueline the opportunity to look down my blouse, just to see if she would. She did. Then Jacqueline leaned forward herself, offering me a look down her blouse. I looked. Her breasts were larger than mine, held in by a lacy bra. I felt a little warm, looking down her blouse. I looked up and our eyes met.

"I'll always have time for you, Jacqueline," I smiled, still feeling warm.

She blushed. "I wonder ... Lori, would you like to go out for a drink with me?"

"You and your boyfriend, or work pals?" I asked.

"Just you and me. Nobody else." Jacqueline was still blushing, with eyes downcast for a second, then up to meet mine again.

"That might be fun, mightn't it?" I replied. I pointedly looked down Jacqueline's blouse again. Jacqueline leaned forward, giving me a deeper look down her cleavage, then leaned back, stretching her shoulders back and rolling her neck from side to side.

"Sometimes I get so stiff," she said, still holding her shoulders back, blouse stretched tight across her chest, so that I could see how her nipples, stiff and hard, pressed out through her bra and blouse.

"I like the way you look in that blouse, Jacqueline," I said, staring at her chest.

"I'm glad you like it. I appreciate that you actually look at me, Lori. That feels ... encouraging," she said.

"It presents you ... to good advantage," I said.

"I'm so happy you notice, and appreciate," said Jacqueline. "I like that this blouse has an open neck and unbuttons so easily." She unfastened a button to reveal more chest. "So convenient and comfortable."

"I can see that," I said. "I don't think I'd have any difficulty unbuttoning a blouse like that."

"I prefer a front-hook bra for the same reason ... easy access," said Jacqueline.

"Interesting," I said. "That's not something I'd have noticed."

"You'd notice if my blouse was unbuttoned, I'm sure," said Jacqueline.

"I think noticing, personal connection, human contact, is important. Especially when things get hard," I smiled.

"I'll bet you're the sort of woman who knows what to do when things get hard, when personal contact would be well-received," said Jacqueline.

"It's especially nice when I'm given that opportunity," I said. My God! I was coming on hot and heavy with this young woman, and I was straight!

"I think it might ... I think we might ... have fun, together, Lori. I like you, I'm ... interested in you. Particularly interested. And I think you like me," said Jacqueline, making eye contact.

"I do like you, Jacqueline, but, since I'm the boss, it's probably not a good idea for me to show favoritism," I said. "Not in the workplace, anyway."

"I wasn't thinking we'd tell anybody," said Jacqueline. "That we were having fun, together. It could be just us, you and me, doing whatever. Not at work."

"You're sweet, Jacqueline. I can certainly imagine doing things together," I said. Oddly, I could.

"Me, too, Lori. I hope you'll consider the possibilities," said Jacqueline.

"It's an appealing offer! We'll see; I'll think about it. Have a nice weekend!" I said, turning and heading out.

"I'll think about it, too. A lot. Have a nice weekend, Lori!" called Jacqueline.

I've never had any sexual relationship with a woman. But I do like to flirt. And I hadn't known that Jacqueline had that sort of inclination. And I didn't think I'd ever find flirting with a woman so ... interesting. It was rather titillating!

I drove home smiling at my early return. Maybe I'd surprise Joe. I was feeling quite sexy, after teasing Bruce, and encouraging Jacqueline to hit on me. And she was hitting on me, I was sure of it. Maybe Joe and I could enjoy an "intimate interlude." Things were quieter around the house, and adult opportunities easier, since our only child, our daughter Liz, was off to college, freshman year for her.

As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed my mother's car parked across the street. It was rare for Mum to stop by for a visit if I wasn't home. My Mum, Greta, and my husband, Joe, didn't usually seem comfortable spending one-on-one time together. A visit from Mum, when I was ready for my own one-on-one time with Joe, was deflating.

As I got out of the car, I could hear voices. They sounded a little guarded, so I closed my car door softly, and walked quietly around the side of the house until I reached the open kitchen window.

"I called Lori, on her mobile and at work, but didn't get her," said Mum.

"I think she forgot her mobile. I heard it ring. And I know she had meetings today," said Joe.

"Well, I'm going to vent, if that's OK," said Mum.

"OK, I guess," said Joe.

"So, here it is, Joe, what would you do if you found out Lori was cheating on you?" asked my Mum.

"You're saying Lori is cheating on me?" asked Joe.

"No, no, no. Well, I suppose I don't really know if she is or not," said Mum.

"What are you trying to say, Greta?" asked Joe.

"I'm saying that Phil is cheating on me," said Mum.

Phil is my Dad. I guess Mum finally found out about his serial adultery. It had been obvious to the rest of the family, including Joe, and Mum must have worked hard not to notice. I've always felt sad that there didn't seem anything I could do to help her get away or get even.

"I imagine he's had lots of women, but the one that gets under my skin is our friend Mary Timothy! That flat-chested, fat-bottomed cow! How could he want her when he has me!" cried Mum.

Mary and her husband, Robert Timothy, were good friends of Mum and Dad. I'd always liked Mary. She was certainly plain, but she had a nice smile, and I always enjoyed her big, long hugs. I did wonder, though, why Dad might seek her out.

"Can you imagine going after Mary when you could have me? Can you imagine that, Joe? Wanting someone like that when you could have me, anytime you wanted?" asked Mum.

"I ... I can't imagine, Greta," said Joe.

"I have a better figure than Mary. Her backside is bigger ... honestly, it's huge ... is that her appeal?" asked Mum.

I found myself imagining Mary's backside. Was that her appeal? It was very large. And now here I was imagining Mary Timothy's big bottom. Wow.

"I don't know, Greta. I expect a big bottom is appealing to some men," said Joe, calmly.

"Why are you so calm! I'm a good wife, a good mother, a good lover ... I am! What are we going to do about this?" cried Mum.

"We?" asked Joe, startled.

"You and me, Joe!" cried Mum.

"I'm sorry, Greta. I don't know what I can do. Wouldn't you be happier talking about this with Lori?"

Mum often confided in me. I'm a good listener, and I try to stay reasonable about most everything. I'm 43, and met my husband-to-be during my third year of college, after I'd had a few other boyfriends ... actually, two in high school, two in college, each lasting about a year, all intimate. Those boys all liked Lori. My husband, Joe, works for the local newspaper, and usually has weekends free. I often work on the weekend, for special events at the museum, like today. Greta, my Mum, is 68.

A bit more on us: I'm slim and fit, and like to keep myself that way. Short blonde hair, blue eyes, trim. Joe is always telling me how pretty I look. Everyone thinks I'm pretty! And I like that. It makes me feel pretty, and sexy, to be noticed. So, I work to be noticed.

Joe's a nice looking, beefy man who's put on some weight since we met in college. He's nice to everyone ... except he's often odd around Mum. Brown hair, brown eyes, no facial hair. Mum, Greta, is like my antithesis: Salt and pepper hair, which she keeps too long, in my opinion, but ties back in a ponytail or bun; deep green eyes, and she's quite large all over, without being outrageously obese. I guess I'd call her fleshy ... and that flesh jiggles around when she moves.

"When is Lori getting home?" asked Mum.

"Not for another couple of hours," said Joe, clearly recalling when I told him I'd be home.

"Are you busy? Am I interrupting anything important?" asked Greta. "God! I can't stop thinking about Phil with Mary!"

Mum had me thinking about them, too. The idea was surprisingly titillating, even if Dad was cheating on Mum. I imagined Dad enjoying Mary's big backside. Interesting.

"Nothing urgent. I'd ... be happy ... I guess ... to spend some time with you," said Joe.

"Do you have anything to drink?" asked Mum.

"With alcohol?" asked Joe.

"Yes, please," said Mum.

"Well, sure, I guess. You really want a drink?" asked Joe.

"Only if you'll drink with me," said Mum.

"So ... OK. I can get some wine. I'll be right back," said Joe.

It was quiet in the kitchen as Joe went to the wine closet. I don't know why I didn't just go on in, but it was sort of exciting to spy on my husband and mother this way. Naughty, I expect, but it pleased me, somehow. I sat down on a little stool we kept by the gate, for changing into and out of garden shoes. I waited, listening.

A few moments later, Joe was back. I heard him pull the cork on a bottle - pop! Then the glug-glug of pouring into glasses.

"Cheers!" said Joe.

"To better days," said my Mum, sounding grumpy.

"Whoa! You drank that glass off in one go!" said Joe.

"Pour me another," said Mum, not normally much of a drinker.

Glug-glug again, then Mum sighed loudly.

"It's hours until Lori gets home?" she asked.

"Yes, two hours. Sorry. You needn't wait. I can tell her you were here, and want a chat," said Joe.

"Trying to get rid of me? So soon?" asked Mum.

"No! No. Just ... you know ... letting you know," said Joe.

"I think I'd like the time with you, Joe, if that's OK. We never talk much, and there are things we could talk about," said Mum.

"We're just so busy with others when we're together, I expect. Family stuff," said Joe.

"Phil has certainly been busy with others, damn him, and they weren't even family!" grumbled Mum.

"I meant talking, not ... you know." said Joe.

"Sex?" asked Mum.

"Well, yeah," said Joe.

"Not exactly family stuff," said Mum.

"I'm not following you, Mum," said Joe.

"Sex. Not exactly family stuff. Well, you and Lori, me and Phil, when he isn't with Mary or some other floozy," said Mum.

"I guess sex isn't exactly a family activity. Sorry," said Joe. "You and I haven't ever engaged ... talked about ... sex.

"Well, but it could be, right? A family activity? I've probably had too much to drink, already. Top me up again, Joe," said Mum.

Joe laughed and poured more wine. Glug-glug-glug.

"This bottle's already almost empty," said Joe.

"Do you have more?" asked Mum.

"Well, yes ... " said Joe.

"Good. So, Joe, be honest - I do trust your judgement - I'm more attractive than Mary, don't you think?" asked Mum.

"Oh, dear, of course you are, Greta. I'm sure Phil thinks so, too. Sometimes, well, we get interested in ... oh, other things ... I suppose we all know these things happen, not that awareness makes it any easier," said Joe.

"These things haven't happened for me. Phil's been my only partner, ever! We married so young," said Mum.

"That's hard," said Joe. "You never? With someone else?"

"Never," said Mum.

"I'm surprised. A woman with your ... appealing features," said Joe.

"Appealing features, Joe?" asked Mum.

"Features like yours, Greta. Very ... appealing," said Joe.

Thinking about features, I thought about Mum's. And Jacqueline's. Weird.

"Well, thank you, Joe," said Mum.

"It's not a compliment, it's the truth," said Joe.

"I understand," said Mum, sounding smug.

"Just saying," said Joe.

"Well, I feel like I've been cheated, not just cheated on. I've been attracted to other men, as you can imagine, and I think ... I know ... they've been attracted to me," said Mum. "I've missed out while Phil's put himself out and about! But I had opportunities! Maybe I still could."

She sounded interested in my husband. Well, Mum was getting on in years, and her full, sagging, matronly figure couldn't help. I'm sure Joe seemed like a good prospect. Was he? No, I didn't think so, but maybe ... that was a curious notion. And it would be nice if Mum could get a little action. It might make her feel better.

"You're an attractive woman, Greta," said Joe.

So gallant, my husband. Maybe he was a good prospect? Stop it, Lori!

"You think so?" asked Mum.

"I do," said Joe.

He'd never told me he thought Mum was attractive.

"You think I'm attractive, Joe?" asked Mum.

"I think you're attractive, Greta. I always have," said Joe.

"Always? Oh, you know, Joe? I've always been attracted to you, too," said Mum.

They've always found one another attractive? Their cool relationship over the years didn't support that.

"I'm rather a different sort of woman from my pretty Lori, though," said Mum.

"You're both lovely, both you and Lori," said Joe.

"You're still attracted to my Lori?" asked Mum.

"Oh, yes. Of course," said Joe.

"And ... as a man, maybe, you could be attracted to me? Even if I'm different from Lori? I'd like to think so," said Mum.

"Well, sure. I'm lucky to have such a lovely mother-in-law," said Joe.

"You and Lori are still OK, Joe? As a couple, and in the bedroom, and so on?" asked Mum.

I was surprised hearing my mother have this kind of conversation with Joe.

"We're fine, Greta. In the bedroom and in every way. Don't worry," said Joe.

"I like thinking about you and Lori being happy, in the bedroom," said Mum.

"You think about us? In the bedroom?" asked Joe.

"Oh, yes! Often!" said Mum.

"I think about you, in the bedroom, too, Greta," said Joe.

What? Joe thought about my Mum in the bedroom? Whose bedroom?

"Oh, that makes me happy, Joe," said Mum.

"I'd like to make you happy, Greta," said Joe.

Sounding a little suggestive, in my opinion. But I liked it, somehow.

"Are you ever attracted to other women? I expect so. We're all attracted to others at times, aren't we? Lori's certainly always been a bit of a flirt," said Mum.

"Yes, that's just part of who Lori is. She likes to show off and flirt," said Joe.

That was true, I thought, with Mary on my mind, thinking about how she was attractive to my Dad. Did she flirt with him, and it just kept going?

"There are a lot of attractive women in the world, Greta!" laughed Joe.

"Like who? Other than Lori, of course," said Mum.

"Oh, I don't know," said Joe.

"Too many to name? Can you imagine having sex with any of them?" asked Mum.

Wait a minute, I thought. How could he reasonably answer that question?

"I don't know how to answer that question, Greta," said Joe.

"Have you ever cheated on Lori?" asked Mum.

Hello! I thought. Where was thing going to go?

"What? No, Greta. No. I've not cheated on Lori," said Joe.

"No opportunities?" asked Greta, with a little laugh.

"I suppose there are always opportunities. We choose how to deal with them," laughed Joe.

"Would you ever cheat on Lori?" asked Mum.

"I don't think so," said Joe.

"But you might? Given the right circumstances?" asked Mum.

"That's a loaded question, Greta. I'd need more context," said Joe.

Why didn't he just say 'no' I wondered?

"Like who, what, when, where?" asked Mum.

"Sure, like that, the details. That's where the devil is," said Joe, laughing again.

"You'd have to start by having an attractive woman, a woman who was interested in you," said Mum.

"That's true," said Joe.

"If you were to cheat on Lori, what kind of woman do you fancy? Just imagining." said Mum.

"This is dangerous territory, Greta. Are you sure you want to talk about this?" asked Joe.

"I don't mind," said Mum. "Do you?"

"It's a funny sort of conversation for us to have, is all," said Joe.

"Well, I'm not going to share anything you say with Lori. I'm just interested in what kind of woman you might like to ... know better," said Mum.