Moments of Uncommon Companionship

Connie vowed that she would not go through times like these again. She was too old and set in her ways to move house and settle into a new place and feel comfortable with her new surroundings and neighbours. Some had already made themselves known to her as the removal people carted her belongings and furniture into the refurbished house that had been close to becoming a tumble-down wreck. And yet it had charm, and she had seen possibilities for it that Tom, the son of her closest friend, had made possible. His building and technical skills were the difference between a simple makeover and doing the place justice, making it a real home for her.

The first thing she had organised was the creation of her home office, a conversion of the dining room, with its ornate tile surround to its cast-iron fireplace, into an area where she could work and create her closed-off world. That place of activity was very distinct from the rest of the house and had been transformed into a bright and open-plan ground floor that had views of the garden and the fields beyond the hedge.

Tom had been the motivator in bringing the house and its electrical services right up to date. He had designed the ring mains that those with the technical certificates installed for her, and that he simply cast an inquisitive eye over and assured her it had been done as was required. Tom was gifted, a student in technical matters, and soon to complete his final year at university. Sarah Nolan had been a friend for years and Tom had been easily persuaded to be of help to her when she had announced to Sarah that she was intent on moving, a bitterly fought divorce finally brought to a conclusion.

"I have my work and business to run," Sarah had been told when she had asked how life was after the divorce finally came through and she set out on a new life's path. What she had not told Sarah was that an unlikely, but noticeable, bond was forming with Tom; one that could not be readily explained save that he had become infatuated with her, and she was a little taken by his attentive ways after everything that she had been through.

It was just what she needed; no formal ties or weighty expectations of someone else, but company. Tom was twenty-two and hardly a child to become besotted over, but his attentiveness was disconcerting. She knew what lay behind his appraising eyes, in what she believed she could hear when he sighed and would look away and resume his work of installing light fittings as well as a sound system that would play music in the house, wherever she was, and activated by her happy and lilting voice that would often sound as if she was about to break into song.

She was happy by nature and having Tom around during his summer vacation, and knowing how prodigiously hard he worked, compensated for so much. Of this, she did not speak to Sarah, or she would get to wondering if she had not become a little smitten with the young man whom she now heard knocking on her office door.

"Come in!" she called out, "come in, you're not disturbing me. I need a break!"

"Hi, Connie," she saw him smile, a fleeting pout of his lips soon suggesting to her what was again on his mind on seeing her. She was at work, in her home, and had dressed accordingly, no one to see her but Tom who was clearing up after all the electrical tradesmen had left a day or so ago. Their work was finally done and she would no longer be disturbed, and her working days hindered, by their presence. "I think I'm all through with the last of the fitting out, but perhaps you could come and have a look? I just want to be sure it's all as you want it to be."

"Of course, I can, Tom." She smiled and moved away from behind her workstation, her swivel chair creaking and the skirt of her dress slipping up, over her thighs. It was soon smoothed out and she stepped towards him.

"I'll miss being here, you know. I'll wonder how to fill the time, but I have my uni work to deal with," he confessed.

"Concentrate on that, then."

"Yeah, sure," Tom was heard to laugh softly as if in dismay at what had been said. "I'm going to have to try."

How direct and honest he was in giving voice to his feelings, she thought.

For her working day, she had chosen to wear a faux crossover dress with a ruched cloth belt, its hem finishing just above the knee, and a black bandeau worn underneath. The mute patterns on her deep green dress flattered her waist and the swell of her large breasts, and she loved the feel of the soft fabric on the skin of her thighs. It flattered her long, fleshier legs, and with the sleeves pulled up to her elbows, her slender arms. On her wrists and long-fingered hands were to be seen a variety of tinkling bracelets and glittering jewelled rings, and even if she was a professional woman she allowed her hair to be a riot of long sandy red tresses that fell below her shoulders.

She believed that it made her look younger, enchanting, and as she would have appeared when she had first been married. The toll of those days, and lonelier times since, were to be seen on her face, on her softly lined forehead, and in the wistful look of her blue-grey eyes.

Tom would have seen all of that, for she often caught him glancing her way and she felt flattered that she had that effect upon him. What he did not know, for nothing so far had ever been said by either of them, was that she took more than a passing interest in the young man that she now saw before her.

"You're looking at me again in that way of yours, Tom," she smiled, her look on him wondering. It was meant to provoke a response that might explain how he behaved when she was close and they could talk.

"Mum said that I should just get on with the work that I'm doing for you and not be a nuisance. But, I've sorted out the downlighters and will tidy everything up once you've seen what I've done, and that it all works as you wanted."

"As we agreed on, don't forget that, Tom."

He smiled wonderfully at her and nodded. "Yes, I won't forget that. The customer's always right, or nearly, unless I suggest a better idea for the work that's needed. I'm learning that in the business a friend and I have already started..."

"Have you?" she asked in some amazement. It was news to her.

Tom drew closer as they stood in her living room, open-planned and airy, now, after the work she had instructed others to do and that he had suggested. He had worked around other trades and installed a wiring loop that would give her the lighting effects she wanted and might need in the future.

"Yes, I have an electronics business that's already getting some attention from investors. So, it's all study work, projects, and my own projects work...work that leaves little time for other distractions."

"Girlfriends you mean?" she suggested, looking over her shoulder as she went to the light switches by the door and tried all the settings he had installed. "Tom?"

She looked at him now through different eyes as his look upon her was met. It was the unmistakable, desiring, look of a broad-shouldered young man who moved with a purposeful and athletic grace, the confidence that he showed in dealing with the tasks she had set, and agreed with him, and that had soon made her ideas a reality. He would push the fingers of one hand through his short and wiry brown hair that had a ragged parting on the left side of his head, his actions having little effect upon it and she took it to be out of nerviness to be with her.

She felt her heart flutter. Was the young man coming onto her and how could she begin to deny that the idea of it affected her?

She looked at him coyly, fluttered her eyelids, and seemed to doubt what she should say to her friend's son, a young man so gifted in his knowledge of technical matters and adept in finding practical solutions to a problem of which there had been many in her new home. She gazed at a good-looking young man dressed in an open-necked, short-sleeved, denim shirt and black jeans cinched at his slender waist by a rebellious-looking studded biker's belt.

"I think about you, Tom, and wonder why it is that I can catch you looking at me in the ways that you do...there must be someone that you can look at in the way that you did again just now?"

He knew that she had been interrupted in her work, but the look she had given him in response was one more out of hope than irritation.

"There's no one that gets under my skin like you do, Connie, and working for you here, whenever I can, just gets to me even more."

"And what do you suppose we should do about that?"

Tom was startled by her directness and was relieved to have confessed to what was at work in him because of her. He now looked at Connie as she grabbed his arm and made him turn to face her.

"That we should take a break from work before I have to go and get back to prepping for my finals. Everything's just full on right now, so..." he hesitated and she felt that the look of his eyes now seemed to drill into her, "so I'd like you to take a break and be with me some more."

She sensed that he could not utter the words, or just one, that summed up what they should do. She reached out and offered a fingertip caress to his cheek, a touch that provoked him to look back at her with those wonderful eyes.

"You want me, don't you?"

"Yeah, it's simply said but the feelings I have aren't so simple as far as you are concerned. I've been coming onto you for what seems like ages."

She felt that way too, and here was a young man in pursuit of her and where living in the hope that she would notice his interest in her was not going to be enough.

"Do a special favour for me will you, Tom, please, and do that now. I've had moments of feeling just the way that you do and I haven't been able to get that out of my mind, although I should. We both should do that."

"But we can't. Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"Yes, now take care of me, and you know what I'm asking of you, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do, and I want to do that as never before." Tom hesitated, however, and she was prompted to reach out to him and take hold of one hand and put it to her breast before she encouraged his caress and squeeze on firm flesh. "I'm getting there, don't rush me!"

Connie was no old biddy whom he wanted to fuck, but a buxom and neatly dressed woman who wound his clock until it got him feeling that his spring would break if he didn't do something about it. Playing with himself was not the answer. She was.

"Just kiss and touch me, Tom," she soothed as the silence that had fallen between them was again broken. "I'm in a new place too, remember."

An older and ragingly voluptuous woman, his mother's friend, wanted him to fuck her. She had read the signs of how he felt from the way that he often looked at her, from how he behaved whenever there was a pause in the work that he did so willingly for her.

"I'll be with you, as we both want," he now said and stared into her wondering eyes, then glanced down at the myriad of freckles on her skin, on the curve of those wonderful breasts shaped so beautifully by her dress.

The wonderful sight of her flesh, what it aroused in him, would now be fully exposed to his sight and touch, her mature body claimed in the best, and only, ways that he knew and that past girlfriends could not fully prepare him for. Those times with them were but rites of passage to tamping an older woman whom he seemed to have known for so long and who would now take him to places that he had scarcely believed would be possible and that he ached to visit. He wanted to feel her skin against his, to caress and clamp her body and share the heat that he sensed was in her and that Connie had just given voice to. It was now to be seen in her wondering eyes and felt in her touch upon him. He felt the surge of longing in his belly, the irrepressible ache of desire for her take hold and made him hard. His lust for her, for it was the best word to describe what he felt and that needed no leaps of his imagination, had to be consummated by whatever means that she chose.

They had arrived in the same place at the same time in their lives.

He stared into her lovely wondering eyes, her look gently provocative and urgent. Connie maintained the grip of her hand on his arm as he moved to press against her and leaned in to offer a slow kiss, a touch of their lips that she soon prolonged. Her free hand went to pull on his head and she pursued a deepening kiss, pushed her tongue past his lips, and sought hungering passionate kisses, her hands clawing at his body and drawing him against her. She shuddered as his hands moved up between them and closed over her breasts and she responded by groping for him as a flurry of hungering, passionate, and possessive kisses were exchanged.

"You know how it is for me now," he exclaimed, embracing her fiercely to him. "I want to feel your skin on mine, taste, and love with you, and get lost in you. Let that happen, please!"

Connie shivered on hearing the words that matched his caresses, the feel of him against her, the tingle of unrequited longing that was to be felt in her breasts, the rush of expectant moisture in her pussy. His mother's friend was acting like a newly married woman with her only man, instincts overwhelming any sense of restraint. She wanted him and wanted her body to be possessed by Tom and in his evident and hungering ways. She wanted homage to be paid to her and she would tell him when it had been enough.

"Yes, oh yes! So, let's be bad and waste ourselves in the moment!" she gasped, clinging to him as his hands palmed her buttocks through the thin fabric of her dress, and one swept down over her mound and pressed in, her kisses to his throat warm and possessive as he pursued her.

"I wondered how it could begin," he kissed and met her look as he did so before he lifted her, just enough, to be able to press his lips to her breasts, to nuzzle them.

"In the only way that matters to me now, Tom!" she groaned, looking up at the ceiling, her eyelids fluttering and conceding to him and his ways. He was not clumsy but assured, and she wanted him in her; wanted Tom to claim her fleshy but tended body and lose himself in her.

She rose on tiptoes, embraced him, and pursued gentler and lingering kisses, to have their tongues explore the other's mouth, to share breaths as every caress and claim brought them closer to the moment of submission to the other's needs. She tugged free his shirt and slipped her hands onto his back, felt warm skin as she pressed her lips to his throat, swirled her tongue-tip slowly against it, and thought she could just feel his heartbeat. Was it racing as fast as hers seemed to be and in time with her raging need to let go and really be with him?

"Come upstairs...take me to bed and I will be yours," she kissed then slipped out of his embrace and gave him a lingering backward glance.

There it was again, his admiring and now lustful stare that made her feel weak with longing. The signs of his infatuation, his evident lust for her, had been there for her to see and yet it had taken some time for him to fully concede to them and for her to allow him to be with her in the only ways that would satisfy their shared hunger; he for the fleshy woman that she was; she for the strong and clever young man, so attentive and restrained as the dam of longing was slowly fractured.

A flurry of kisses, gasps for breath, and words of acknowledgment, soon followed as they reached the top of the stairs.

"Tell me that this is what you want from me, Connie," he kissed, their tongues exploring again as their mouths crashed and moist lips slid over them, clamping hands groped and caressed and their hips bucked in mimicking the act of loving.

"Yes...yes, but in my bed and not here!"

♥

They took slow shuffling steps into her bedroom, weak sunshine bathing the bed in its warming glow.

"In here, are you sure?" he asked.

She nodded and rested her head against his chest as Tom stood behind her, then turned so that she could meet his stilled gaze as he looked down and took in what her dress and bandeau top failed to fully conceal. His eyes had drifted over her, and she knew that his gaze would linger at the scarcely hidden swell of her breasts, how her dress also shaped her firm thighs. She shifted and felt the press of his penis against her back and reached for his hand that rested on her shoulder. She gripped it fiercely.

'I excite you, don't I, or do thoughts of us together do that to you?' she asked, her thoughts tumbling over in response to his closeness and Tom's state of arousal.

He sighed. 'Yes, you know that you do and that I can't keep my eyes off you now.'

Tom felt Connie shake. He knew only too well what was at work in her, his presence a reminder of how their relationship had changed. They had tumbled out of control and crossed every known boundary. She kept his embrace to her, wrapped her fingers with his, and kept their hands on her body.

He loved to feel her warmth, to breathe in Connie's preferred scent, to see the woman that she was in his eyes. The knot of longing for her grew tighter with every moment that passed and he could touch her; with every moment that he could take in what she would bring to his touch, the sight of her inflaming his senses once more.

'I...I can feel how it is for you, Tom, darling,' she said looking up at him. 'You have no shame and that bothers me.'

'I am with a woman that I think of so much...'

'And those feelings remain?'

'Yes, I feel that way and I have to ask...ask if you want to find a way through what I know is a busy but lonely life, and do that with me while I'm still here and can be with you whenever you want?' He spoke as he pressed his lips to her hair and felt her nod, slowly, Connie moving to meet his caresses upon her. 'I am possessed by thoughts of you...of anyone else touching you...crazy as that may sound. Tell me to stop, tell me that it's crazy what I am doing...what I feel about you.'

She heard the plea in his voice but had become ensnared by her feelings, and responses to what his touches upon her aroused. The pursuit of distraction and lustful engagement with her friend's son would have to be set against what the alternative would now be if she refused him.

Connie reached back and gripped his neck to draw him to her and meet her kiss to silence him. "Go on...don't stop! Is that clear?"

She had snapped out the words, but Tom was not deterred and made her turn. He stood between her parted thighs, the skirt of her dress tightening and shaping her legs. Connie did not resist as he drew the skirt up until he could caress the warm skin of her fleshy legs and knead the hollows of her buttocks as they tensed under his light touches to them. He felt her hands move under his shirt, then under the rim of his trousers before she found him. She could not help but shiver on feeling his state of arousal and wrapped one hand around his throbbing cock. It twitched in her caressing grip.

"Go on!" he groaned and pushed against her.

"Darling...my darling, Tom. You think of me in such destructive ways. You're obsessed again with me, aren't you, or is it all about what you can soon see of me...of my body?"

Her sighs of dismay were met by his look upon her, the slow rhythmic movement of his body as she caressed him, her touch warm and soft, almost soothing. The bond that had formed between them, over the years, had never suggested that this could happen; the pursuit of a physical relationship to set alongside all that had gone before whenever they met.

"I'm involved with you as never before, Connie. I've heard about what you've been through and yet you hide it so well...how you dress keeps hooking me, your voice...and your...and your figure. And then, I love your scent, your perfume, or whatever it is. I've thought about it all, my obsession with you as you call it, and, still, I want to be here and with you."