The Old House

The house had been built when families were large, and had been part of a farmstead in the early 1900's. The farm passed through two more generations of boys raised with the black soil of the fields under their fingernails and the smell of fresh cut hay, corn and soybeans as scents they lived for. Their women loved the life too, from feeding the hens and gathering their eggs to hoeing their gardens and then putting up enough vegetables for the winter and then some just in case.

The third generation was college educated to become a doctor and two school teachers. They had neither the time nor the inclination to follow Nature's cycle of the seasons to tell them when to plant, when to cultivate, and when to harvest. Their meals were purchased in cans or boxes or from the meat case at the big-box grocery instead of from the large garden behind the house or the livestock and chicken pens. When their father passed away, they met to discuss their inheritance.

Paying the inheritance tax would mean taking out loans using the land as collateral. None of them wanted that. Renting the farm to another farmer for a share of the crop would have helped pay the loan, but there was always the possibility of a bad year and little income. The mutual decision was to sell the farm, and use part of the proceeds to pay the required taxes. The rest would go into their retirement accounts.

The community bordering the farm was growing and the farm was quickly snatched up by a developer. He cut and paved blacktop roads through the fields that had once been dressed in the spring greens and fall browns of corn, oats, and soybeans, then began building houses.

The old house didn't sell with the farm. The developer didn't want it, so the family listed it with a local realtor. It was purchased by a couple with four children. The children slept in the four bedrooms on the second floor. The couple used one of the two bedrooms on the first floor. The other became a studio where the wife painted pictures she sold at the local art fair every year. The family ate their meals in the dining room, watched television in the living room, and the children practiced their piano lessons in the parlor.

As life always goes, the children too quickly became young adults, and then moved away from home. The big house that had echoed the excited shouts of small children and quiet sobs of teen girls who'd broken up with their boyfriends became too large for the couple. After consulting with a local contractor, the couple converted the house into a duplex of sorts.

The original kitchen, living room, dining room and parlor were left as they were, as was the stair to the second floor. After the contractor added a bathroom there, the wife moved her studio to one of the upstairs bedrooms above that half of the house. The couple used the other upstairs bedroom as their own.

The front bedroom in the other half of the house became a living/dining room with an entry door. The second bedroom, the one that had been a studio, became a kitchen with a bath. A new stair narrowed the living room somewhat, but allowed access to the upper floor and two bedrooms, one with its own bath.

They rented the remodeled half to another couple but that didn't work out very well. The couple fought continuously, or so it seemed, and the owning couple finally made them leave. They didn't rent to anyone after that. As they grew older and climbing stairs became more difficult, they cut a door between the two sides of the duplex and moved their bedroom and the studio back down to the first floor. So the old house remained until the husband passed away and his widow decided to move to an assisted living facility. She put the house up for sale. It was on the market for months, and with each passing month the price decreased. No one wanted such a large house, and no one wanted such an old house when there were new houses in the former fields behind it.

Marion signed the divorce decree on the twenty fifth of June. Her lawyer had done well for her. In lieu of alimony she'd gotten the house and her car, and her ex-husband paid all the legal expenses. She agreed to that settlement for a couple of reasons.

Alimony would have reminded her of Rich every month, and she didn't want to be reminded of what caused her to file for divorce. She'd come home from a business trip to visit several customers a day early, and found Rich in their bed with a girl barely out of college. It had been a blow that he'd cheated. It was a bigger blow that he'd cheated with a girl almost young enough to be their daughter Sharon.

Old is how she'd felt after she'd caught Rich. Her logic told her forty wasn't all that old, but her breasts had increased in size over the years and her tummy wasn't flat and her hips weren't tight and narrow like that girl's had been either.

Carrying her daughter for nine months had caused most of that. Eating with clients hadn't helped although she did try to order small and eat smaller. Gravity had also played its cruel trick on her breasts. As they increased in size and weight, they began to hang lower and her nipples pointed more down than forward. A good bra and careful selection of clothing hid that when she was dressed, but that was the woman Marion saw in her bathroom mirror every morning.

There were other things as well that she interpreted as aging past being desirable.

She had been coloring her hair for years to cover the silver strands that began showing so early in her life. The beautician said many women had that happen and not to worry, but Marion only saw age creeping up on her.

Then there was her loss of interest in sex. She'd never had a strong drive for sex, but over the years she'd thought less and less about sex with Rich until she felt nothing. When her female co-workers made comments about how hot this or that guy was, Marion felt nothing. It was like someone had toggled a switch in her mind and erased all the instincts that made women want men to touch them and want to touch them back.

She and Rich hadn't been intimate for two years before the divorce. She couldn't stand to have him touch her. Marion knew that was at least one of the things that caused Rich to find another woman. She thought her lack of libido was normal for some women, or at least, that's what the magazine article she'd read at the salon said.

Yes, it was normal for, as the writer had put it, "women who are approaching the end of their fertile years". Though she wasn't there yet, to Marion, approaching that time meant she was getting old. Her daughter thought she was old as well. Sharon had told her as much one day when they went shopping together.

"Mom, I don't think those shorts are right for you. They're pretty short and...well, remember when you said if you ever looked bad in something I should tell you?"

"What's bad about them? I think they're cute and they'll be cool when I'm working around the house or shopping."

Sharon had frowned.

"Mom, your thighs are kinda heavy. That happens when a woman's as old as you are. You'd look better in jeans."

Marion knew Sharon was trying to help, but that statement, "as old as you are" still hurt. Maybe that was why she hadn't wanted Rich to touch her -- she was just too old. She didn't want to be reminded of that every month when she got Rich's alimony check.

The other reason was by keeping the house and car, she had a familiar place to live while thinking about the rest of her life and she needed the car for work. Neither was paid for, but she figured she'd cross that bridge when she got her mind around what had happened and where she was going.

Marion took a week off work to think. She reviewed her financial situation and realized her salary wouldn't allow her to eat and keep both the house and the car. She had to eat, and she needed her car to get to and from her job. She'd have to sell the house, but then where would she live? The realtor who listed her house had a solution.

"You'll come out of the sale with about twenty thousand over the mortgage amount. You'll have to buy another house or pay capital gains taxes on that money, and I have a house that might interest you.

"It's been on the market for a long time, but it's a nice house. The problem is it's a really big house and at sometime in the past, it was remodeled into a duplex. There is a door between the two sides, so you could use the whole house if you want, but if it was me, I'd lock that door and rent out the other side. You can probably rent it for almost as much as your house payment. It'll be like getting a house for free."

Marion looked at the house and was charmed by the inside. The original trim was real, varnished wood, not man-made like in her old house, and the high ceilings gave each room an open feeling she really liked. She wasn't thrilled with the rental side, but if she rented it, it would bring in some money. She asked about the price.

"It started out at a hundred, but it's down to fifty now. I think if you offered forty five, the owner would accept."

Marion's house sold a week after it was listed, and she closed two weeks later. As soon as her house sold, Marion offered forty for the old house and settled for forty two. Getting the mortgage took a week, and after signing all the paperwork, she moved in on the last day of July. After another week to get things put away, she asked the same realtor to advertise the rental half of the house.

The first applicant was a single guy twenty years younger than Marion. She didn't want the parties and young women he'd probably have on the other side of the separating wall. She politely told him no, just as she did the next three. Two were also young men and she turned them down for the same reasons.

The third was a younger couple who just looked weird to her. The man had tattoos all over his arms, and from what she could see under the shirt with no sleeves he wore, likely all over his chest. The woman was worse. She didn't have on a bra and the tight tank top showed her nipples as well as the bumps on each side from what had to be piercings. She also had one eyebrow pierced as well as a stud in her tongue that she clicked against her teeth.

The fifth applicant was a woman more Marion's age, and Marion instantly liked her. Sandy seemed to be intelligent, and her smile was contagious. Marion found herself smiling at the woman's every word.

Sandy liked the rooms, and she said the rent wasn't a problem. Marion knew the realtor would have already run the credit check, so she told Sandy she could move in as soon as she paid the first and last month's rent. Sandy dug through her purse and finally produced a checkbook. She wrote out the check, handed it to Marion and smiled that smile again.

"I can't move in for another week, but that'll give the check time to clear."

Sandy handed Marion a business card.

"If there's any problem, you can call me at this number."

Marion looked at the business card. Sandy was a buyer for a well-known chain of department stores with their main office in the city. She looked at Sandy and smiled.

I work in sales so I guess we're usually on opposite sides of the conference table. I think buying would be more fun. What do you buy for your company?"

Sandy smiled back.

"Lingerie, but it's not all fun. Seeing what the sellers have to offer is pretty neat. Negotiating quantities and prices isn't."

"Yes, I know what you mean. I have the same trouble in reverse. I get paid partly based on how much I sell, but it has to be sales with a profit margin. It is tough."

Sandy grinned.

"We'll have to talk sometime. Maybe you can give me some pointers about how to get a supplier to lower his price, and I'll tell you how to get a buyer on your side. Well, I need to be going. I took the morning off but I have a meeting this afternoon I have to attend."

Once Sandy moved in, they did talk. The front porch had an old-fashioned swing with a seat wide enough for three people. Marion had started sitting in the swing after dinner. It was quiet then and the evenings were cool enough to be comfortable. Sandy usually joined her.

One evening, Sandy walked out on the porch and grinned as Marion scooted to one side of the swing and patted the other. Sandy sat down and sighed.

"This is like I hoped it would be -- quiet. No car horns, no people yelling. That's what I had with my apartment in the city. It was nice being able to walk down the block to a restaurant if I didn't feel like cooking, but the noise was awful."

Marion chuckled.

"I know what you mean. Last week I stayed in this hotel in Atlanta. All night long there was loud music and people on the street yelling at each other."

"Why were you in Atlanta?"

"A customer. They'd been buying our stuff for years and then hired a new buyer who decided to change vendors. I went down there to find out why and see if I could do anything about it."

Sandy frowned.

"That sounds odd. I don't like changing vendors. You never know what you're going to get, especially now. I looked at some bras the other day made by a new company in Vietnam. They looked nice and the price was great, but they weren't put together very well. I could just see one of our customers having hers come apart when she was at something important."

Marion laughed.

"Yes, that would make me pretty hot, and you'd be sure to hear about it."

"Well, it won't happen with any of our bras. I didn't buy any. I did tell them what then need to change though. How 'bout you. Did you get your order back?"

"No, I wouldn't agree to the buyer's terms. He didn't come right out and say it, but basically, if I slept with him, he'd give us the order at the price we wanted. If I didn't, his order would go to someone else."

"I take it you weren't interested."

"God no. He was short and fat and had greasy hair, and he kept looking at my boobs instead of my face."

Sandy chuckled.

"Well, you do have a pretty nice pair, you know."

"It's all my bra. When I'm naked...well, they're not so nice."

"I don't get that so much. Most of the men in the lingerie industry are gay so they aren't really interested in me."

Marion sighed.

"That would be a nice change. Most of the buyers I meet with are men and they are interested -- too interested."

"I'd think you'd take that as a compliment, men liking to look at you."

"Twenty years ago maybe, not today. I don't...I shouldn't be telling you this, but you're a woman so maybe you'll understand. Men don't do anything for me, not anymore. Even back then, I never was the type to get all ga-ga over a guy. I liked some of them, but I wasn't just itching to find out what sex was all about."

Sandy touched Marion's hand.

"A lot of women feel the same way, or didn't you know that?"

"Well, I read about it and it's supposed to be normal for a woman my age. I don't know if I believe that or not. I mean, I was always taught that girls grow up to be women, get married, have kids, and then have a nice life afterward. I grew up, got married and had a daughter. I was happy I had her. When she left home, it didn't seem like there was anything left."

"You were married?"

"Yes, up until a couple of months ago. It was partly my fault, I guess. When I say there wasn't anything left for me, there wasn't any of me left for him either. I didn't like him touching me and I didn't want to touch him. He found someone else who liked both."

Marion's voice cracked a little.

"She was about twenty five I think. Sharon's twenty one, and this girl looked only a little older. I walked in on them one night."

Sandy squeezed Marion's hand.

"You poor thing. I don't know what I'd have done. Probably gone some where and cried my eyes out for a while."

"I didn't do that. I knew why he did it. I just didn't know why he did it with a woman so young. That made me sad, but it also made me mad at myself. If I'd just let him --"

Sandy cut her off.

"Marion, when you say 'let him' you mean let him use you. You would have felt worse and he wouldn't have liked it. It probably wouldn't have changed anything."

"Yes, you're right, but it still hurts to know that he slept with a young girl."

"So, you've been talking like this to yourself since then? Not a healthy thing to do, girl. You need to get over that and start living again."

"I suppose I have been. I just don't know how to put it behind me."

Sandy patted Marion's hand again.

"I can tell you what I did."

"You were in the same situation?"

"Yes. I wasn't married, but the same thing happened. The girl was young with perky breasts and a body straight out of a fashion magazine. Actually, she was a model."

"So what did you do?"

"I went to the next fashion show looking for someone else. Hey, there's one in New York in three weeks. I can get a couple of tickets. Why don't you come along."

Sandy grinned wickedly.

"You'll get to see the down and dirty of lingerie fashion."

"I thought you said all the men are gay?"

Sandy smiled.

"There are some who aren't. Maybe you'll get lucky, and even if you don't, I can get us a free sample or two. Ever worn a designer bra before? You wouldn't believe how one makes you feel."

The fashion show was amazing to Marion. She'd never seen so many women in just bras and panties before. She's also never seen so many slender women in one place before. She touched Sandy on the arm.

"None of them have any boobs or butts."

Sandy laughed.

"I know. That's part of the sales pitch. We'll do the same on the mannequins in our stores -- no boobs and no butt. When you go shopping, you'll look at the mannequin and fantasize if you buy that, you'll look just as young and tight."

Marion laughed.

"My imagination isn't that good. Nothing's going to make my butt as narrow as that blonde's, and my boobs...well, I suppose there's surgery, but that's about it."

"Nah, you look great just like you are. These are just girls. You look like a woman, and believe me, you'll get some offers because you do."

When the last model strutted down the runway and then back, Sandy whispered to Marion.

"All this was just for the fashion magazine writers. Now I'll show you what this whole thing is really about."

Sandy led Marion through a door and into the dressing area. The models were in various stages of getting out of the bras and panties and into street clothes. Off to the side were tables with chairs.

"This is where I meet the designers and manufacturer's. I'll tell them I'm training you to be a buyer. You don't need to do anything. Just watch and enjoy."

Marion had to admit that Sandy knew her job. She sat quietly while Sandy inquired about product availability and prices. If she wasn't satisfied, she'd start to stand up, and suddenly the price got lower. It was a lot like what happened to her when she made sales calls.

At one table, Sandy seemed almost ready to sign an order. She kept nodding when told about how many bra and panty sets the manufacturer could deliver and when, and she smiled when they agreed on a price. Then she looked up at the woman on the other side of the table.

"There is one more thing. A lot of our customers are bigger than your models. Are you sure your size range is wide enough they can find something that fits?"

The woman smiled.

"Why don't I fit you both? Then you can decide, but I know you won't be disappointed. You're about a thirty four and probably a B, right?"

"Thirty two and usually a C cup."

"Ah, yes I could see that."

The woman turned to Marion.

"How about you, Sweetie? I think maybe thirty six and a D?"

Marion blushed.

"Well, I usually buy a thirty eight C."

The woman smiled.

"I don't think that's the right size for you, but most women buy the wrong size. You two come with me and I'll fix you right up."