Strange Relationship

"I said I'd left my football boots at your house and would-"

"Would it be okay to call round and pick them up before you went-" she cut off as she realised what that meant. Ben had his own key. He had been in the house this morning while she had been...

"When I came in the house, I realised you were still in bed because the curtains were closed and the paper was still on the doormat. I thought, I know, I'll surprise her and take a cup of tea up before I go to football." She cringed, closed her eyes. She knew what that meant. "Your bedroom door was not shut. I pushed it open and saw you." There was another pause, in which she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. Ice ages came and went, civilisations rose and fell, but she still could not think of anything to say for a long time. When he reply came, it was in a cracked voice, barely audible.

"Saw me?"

"You were masturbating."

She wanted to die. She'd never even let her husband see her playing with herself, and now here she was, sat in her bedclothes with her son-in-law, who she was desperately attracted to, trying to find some explanation for what she'd been doing, anything no matter how improbable it sounded. Just something, so she could convince this gorgeous young man that she had not been fantasising about him, about having sex with him, about feeling his warm sperm as it dripped slowly into her mouth. There was nothing she could say. She decided to brazen it out. The worst was done, he'd seen her playing with herself. If he didn't like it, it was tough luck. This was a part of who she was.

"Yes, I was. I miss Jodie's Dad, and I miss sex. I can't help that." She found herself wanting to take the plunge now that she'd opened up, to confess everything to him. She paused for a second to gauge his reaction, but none was forthcoming. "I... I shouldn't even be telling you this, I know, but since the accident I don't really have anyone to talk to. Everyone's on eggshells around me, like they don't want to say anything that might upset me."

"I know that feeling. They keep giving me easy cases at work, when what I want is something that will take my mind off coming home to an empty house." Ben worked with young offenders, aged roughly 15-21, helping them with their rehabilitation. It was his knowledge of the pressures on young people that had stopped him and Jodie having children.

"Ben, I never... that is, Jodie's father and me, we... we were always good out of bed, but in it we were never great. Especially after Jodie was born. I thought I was the one that was supposed to lose interest in sex, but it was him. I thought I'd put weight on, so I made an effort and I was thinner and in better shape than ever in my life. I wanted, you know, to try things, new things, anything by the end. I can't even remember the last time I had an orgasm with him. I guess I just have a high sex drive, and he didn't." He paused, thinking she was going to continue, but she didn't. She choked back a sob, thinking she'd gone too far and revealed herself as some sad old housewife desperate to get laid.

"What do you want to do then?" He asked quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you said you wanted to try things. Anything, you said. If you had your wish - say you found some sort of nymphomaniac genie in a bottle (she giggled slightly) - and he offered you anything you wanted, what would you ask for?" She thought about it for a long time, not sure what her answer should be.

"I think I'd want to be young again, the age I was when I got married. I want to feel alive, and desired, and attractive to someone, and it's a heck of a long time since I felt any of those things."

"Why do you need to be young? I mean, what's stopping you now?"

"Oh Ben, no-one wants a forty-something widow. No, seriously, I don't even know where I would start. I think I'm a little old for going on the pull!" She laughed in spite of the way she felt inside, a girlish laugh that amused Ben.

"What if someone could... arrange... something for you?"

"Like a blind date? I'm not sure..."

"No, not quite. A blind date would be a lottery, when what you want is a cert, a banker. Someone that can be discreet, someone who knows what you want, who can arrange things just as you want them. Someone who can get you what you want, whatever that may be."

"A-ha, back to your nympho genie in the bottle! And how, exactly, am I supposed to find someone like that?"

"I'm right here, aren't I?" She knew he was going to say that, somehow. Just knew. So he was putting a move on her. Almost imperceptibly, she loosened the cord on her housecoat to make it easier to remove, then turned to face him.

"Obviously we can't sleep together, Caitlin, that wouldn't be right. But if you tell me what you want, I know I can arrange it for you." She was crushed, she didn't know what to say. He continued. "So if I asked you what you would like to try first, what would it be? Think about it before you answer, I'm absolutely, 100% deadly serious." She didn't have to think. If she couldn't have him, then she knew what her second favourite fantasy was on those long, lonely nights in bed.

"Sex with a stranger. A nameless, faceless nobody, who never tells me his name, who never even speaks. He comes in the room, and we do it, and he leaves. End of story."

"Caitlin, do you want me to arrange it for you?" She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. She knew the answer and suspected he did, but she still had to vocalise it.

"Yes, please."

"For tomorrow night?" She nodded, three short nods, barely there.

"Stand up, please." He said with quiet authority. Nothing if not an utterly obedient housewife, or at least former housewife, she did as she was told.

"Would you undo your housecoat for me?" She could not look up at him, but meekly untied the cord. It fell open at the front, revealing a white silk nightdress that was so long he could not even see her feet.

"Well, don't be shy, let's have a look at you then." She shrugged her shoulders and the thick woollen housecoat fell to the floor. The nightdress revealed almost no cleavage, and the straps looked thick enough to support boulders the same size as her.

"Hmm... that's not going to do at all. A man sees you in that, he's going to think you're some sort of arctic explorer, not a hot blooded Irish vixen!" She giggled again despite her embarrassment. "Let's see what else you've got. Would you go into your room please, and put on whatever you think your sexiest underwear is. Go on, now please." She went.

It took her ten minutes to select something to wear, and another five minutes to summon up the courage to put it on. It was black, a bra and panties, lacy and sexy in a middle aged way. Jodie had selected it for her, to wear under a long black dress she wore at one of Matthew's Christmas work's meals. She stood and inspected herself in the mirror. She was slim, having never bought anything bigger than a size eight since Jodie was a toddler, with slightly wavy brown hair. A few laughter lines, she supposed, but nothing she couldn't minimise with make-up. If she were forced to, she would admit that she had a figure that girls half her age would be pleased to have, but it was a long time since anyone had told her that, or eve looked at her like that. And yet here she was, in black lacy lingerie, about to parade herself in front of her son-in-law. She shook her head.

It was several more minutes before she had the courage to go in, and even then she'd put her housecoat back on. He merely raised his eyebrows at her, as if to say, well, what are you waiting for? She opened her coat and slowly removed it to stand there in front of him, almost naked. She could feel herself start to get wet, despite the massive trepidation she felt. He looked her up and down, and she felt almost used, like a hooker in an Amsterdam sex shop window. She thought she could see movement beneath the sheets, but quickly averted her eyes, lest she blush. Was he getting an erection?

"Well, that's much better," he said, "but still room for improvement. Shall I tell you what we're going to do tomorrow?" She nodded, still not looking at him. "We're going shopping. We'll check out all the big department stores, and find you something sexy to wear in bed, and we'll throw that white thing away. After that, we'll find you something sexier to wear out of bed, because there's little chance of you being able to show off your slinky new look in bed if you still dress like a Sunday school teacher out of it." She smiled, her embarrassment lessening by the second. "Then, we'll find something to wear underneath all the foxy new outfits, something that will turn men red hot with desire. How does that sound?"

She thought it sounded fantastic, but she was desperately worried at the thought of going underwear shopping with Ben. She could feel herself soaking wet already. Just the sound of his voice, the authoritative way that he decided what she should be doing... she was a wreck inside. Her stomach was filled with butterflies and she had no idea if she would be able to walk out of the room.

"Well, that's the plan for tomorrow then." The cheekiness returned to his voice as he continued. "And in the morning, I'll have tea and toast, orange juice, and the Sunday papers in bed please!" She laughed, and was about to raise an admonishing finger when the authority was restored to his voice and he continued. "And I think I'll have it served like that, please," he said, indicating the black lingerie.

She returned to her room on fire. She carefully laid the lingerie out for the next morning and slipped between the sheets naked, grateful for their cooling touch. Despite the knowledge that he was next door and almost certainly still awake, she could not help herself but to use two fingers on her swollen clitoris, bringing herself to a crashing orgasm. A short time later, she rolled over and withdrew an anonymous red volume from the top drawer of the bedside cabinet.

Excerpt from Caitlin Young's diary:

I can't believe that all just happened. I can't believe that he saw me, and I can't believe that he asked me about it. Most of all I can't believe that I told him all that stuff! What was I thinking of! What must Ben be thinking of me? I can't go through with it, I know I can't. Maybe it was just the wine talking. Must be. We'll have forgotten all about it in the morning.

The sun woke her up the next morning, just as it had the day before. She began her usual elaborate stretching ritual until suddenly she stopped, mid-stretch. Her eyes had fallen on the black underwear, arranged exactly as she had left it the night before. She shrank back under the covers. Everything hinged on the choice she had to make right now. If she ignored the underwear and brought him breakfast dressed normally, it would send him the unequivocal message that his offer had been turned down, and she knew she would never have the nerve to bring it up again. Her sex life would, in effect, end this morning. On the other hand, if she put it on and it had been the wine talking the night before, what sort of message would that sound to him?

But if his offer had been earnest... then finally she would get the attention she was craving, and of the particular sort that she craved. And if their strange relationship continued, and they became more intimate, then just maybe there was a chance that they might end up together some time. That tenuous hope decided her. She showered quickly, as normal, and stood briefly listening at Ben's bedroom door. She detected only the sound of his breathing and presumed he was still asleep.

She thought that making some sort of effort was in order; so, removing the scrunchy that she customarily held her hair in while showering, she shook it loose and examined it in the mirror. She heated up her curling tongs and curled the ends of her hair under, paying attention to the front, curling that so that it curled under her chin, framing it nicely. She applied just a hint of eye make-up and some mascara. She glossed her lips to perfection, before selecting her favourite perfume and dabbing it on her neck lightly.

Finally, she dressed carefully in the black lingerie. Looking herself up and down in the bedroom mirror, she was again happy with what she saw. She was excited just at the thought of getting dressed up and making an effort for a man again. A wicked grin curled her lips as a thought occurred and seconds later she was rummaging around in the walk-in closet, and the grin became a smile as she emerged triumphant, clutching a piece of folded white material.

Fifteen minutes later Ben was awoken by the sound of the curtains being drawn back. With an effort he peered through half-closed eyes, which soon widened with surprise at the sight that greeted him. A cooked breakfast, a full toast rack, coffee and orange juice, and the Sunday papers, served by Caitlin who, as promised was wearing her black underwear topped off with a tiny white apron. She had a broad smiled on her face as she bustled about in business-like fashion, greeting him with a cheery 'good morning' as though serving men in her lingerie was normal behaviour for her. He beamed back at her, announcing that everything was indeed in order when prompted.

He could not take his eyes off her as she fussed un-necessarily around the bedroom, making a big show of picking things up and putting them down again so as to give him the maximum number of views of her ass and cleavage. He loved the show, and he had someone in mind who would similarly appreciate it. When she'd left the room he fished in his jacket pocket and produced a small silver mobile phone which he snapped open. He tapped out a message to a friend asking if he fancied a beer later that night. Five minutes later a familiar tone rang out to say that a message agreeing to said plans had been received, and with that the enactment of Caitlin's first fantasy was confirmed.

Later that day they set off on the discussed shopping trip, the destination a local shopping complex of over 200 stores. She was nervous and it showed, but Ben had been at pains to put her at ease and bolster her confidence and she readily smiled at his compliments. Their first destination was a huge department store where he said he had shopped at with Jodie.

He took her first to the clothing department because, he reasoned, it would make her feel more at ease before they went on to the more risqué stuff. They selected a denim skirt, faded and finishing just above the knee. Stylish and smart, but not especially sexy. Part of the easing in process. Then, a couple of blouses, cut so as to emphasise her slim waist and appealing cleavage. He insisted that she undo a couple more buttons when she tried them on, so that the delicate lace between the cups of her bra could be seen. It was the most daring thing she'd done, dress-wise, in years, and she felt emboldened just from doing that.

He then took her round the footwear department, where against her better judgement they selected some knee high black boots and some very flimsy high heels, which had straps which wrapped around her legs many times. It took her several minutes to fasten them up, and she had the distinct impression that he was looking down her top, and when she was parading up and down to see if she could walk in them, he definitely appeared to be staring at her body rather than the shoes. His looks left her excited. Maybe he was coming to appreciate her more?

After a coffee he decided that they should go and look for underwear. She was slightly more hesitant, but knowing that that was the real reason for the visit she could hardly refuse. They visited a shop rather than mill around the busier department stores, as he said the shops would be quieter and more discreet. They browsed the racks and she found herself surprised and aroused by the goods on offer. She felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to find that Ben had selected several products. "Time to try some on!" he grinned. He leaned in close as he handed them to her.

She took the goods and approached a disinterested shop assistant, who gave her a blue plastic tag and motioned over her shoulder without a word. Assuming that she was indicating the location of the changing rooms, Caitlin explored the back of the shop before finding a row of curtained booths that served as changing rooms. Seeing that they were all empty, she entered the closest one, drawing the curtain shut behind her.

She looked at the underwear that Ben had given her. There was a black set, shiny and seemingly quiet plain compared to some of the others that she'd looked at. She read the label and discovered it was designed to enhance the cleavage. The second set was white, intricate lace patterns with cute white bows between the cups, and on the waistband of the knickers, which were tiny. The last item was black, a boned lace basque with underwired cups and detachable suspenders. She looked at it in wonder, having never worn anything even remotely like it before. She decided she would try that on first.

She started to unbutton her blouse, but was interrupted by Ben's voice from somewhere in the shop saying, "I've found the stockings you want, hold on!" and before she could say anything else, the curtain slid open and Ben was there, in the cubicle with her. He grinned.

"Pretty sly, huh? Pretending you'd shouted me to fetch you some stockings. Although to be honest, I think if I'd stripped off out there and walked in the shop assistants wouldn't have said anything!"

The cubicle seemed to have become a whole lot smaller since there were two of them in it. She was aware of the scent of his aftershave, and her own breathing. Everything seemed intensified in that dizzying small space with him.

"Come on then now we're here, let's have a look at you in them! Are you going to stand there all day, or do I have to undress you myself?"

She stood there for a moment looking at him, wondering whether he was serious about both getting undressed in front of him, and doing it himself. Fortunately for her, she didn't have to wait long for an answer as he carried on unfastening the remaining buttons on her blouse. He'd only done a couple when she took hold of his hands and stopped him.

"It's okay, thank you, I can manage!" she said flirtatiously. She took over the process of undoing her buttons before he put his hands gently on her waist. She looked up, wondering if this would be the moment that he kissed her, but to her dismay he whispered to her, "turn around, I want you to watch yourself in the mirror."

She did as bidden, turning round slowly. She looked herself up and down, then looked at Ben's reflection over her shoulder. He seemed to dwarf her. He smiled patiently, appreciating that this was all new to her. She seemed transfixed, looking at their reflections, her arms hanging limp by her side. Before she knew what was happening, Ben was undoing the buttons on her blouse. Watching in the mirror, it was as though someone else was being undressed, so she watched contentedly. One by one the buttons popped undone until her blouse hung open and the lacy material of her bra was clear to see.

He slid the blouse over her shoulders and down her arms, allowing it to fall to the floor. They both watched the mirror intently. He ran the tip of his finger down her arm from shoulder to wrist, and she smiled at the pleasant sensation. Next, he popped the button on the side of her skirt and drew the zip down excruciatingly slowly, the monotonous clicks of the zipper like the ticking of a clock. With the slightest touch from his fingers, the skirt slid over her slim hips and came to rest on the floor with her blouse.

For the second time that day she stood in front of him in her underwear. This set was white and lacy, pretty but not overly sexy. She was also wearing a smart but serious pair of shoes, not too high. He leaned in close, so that his lips were practically touching her earlobes, and yet he seemed to speak so quietly she still had to strain to her him.