Winter Mix Ch. 02: Shoveler

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact," answered Roberta. "I wondered if you could come over right now and get your money... You can? Good! And can you plan on staying for a little bit? I'm having some trouble and could use a little help... Yes, of course, ask your mom." She heard a clunk as Barney laid down the phone, then after a minute or two he picked up again.

"Alright, Mrs. M.," Barney said, hoping the lump in his throat did not distort his voice too much. "Mom just said, 'OK, be good' and went back to 'Rawhide'." He chuckled, "I think she might be in love with Rowdy Yates!" Then, trying to be as cooperative and adult as possible, he added seriously, "So, I guess I'm pretty much yours to command."

Roberta thought naughtily, "Hmm, wouldn't that be just peachy." Aloud, she simply said, "Good. I'll turn the porch light on. Watch out, the snow's covered things again. I don't want you to slip and hurt yourself." Hanging up the phone, she switched off the television and muttered, "No 'Route 66' or '77 Sunset Strip' tonight, if you're lucky, Bobbie!"

Ten minutes later the Maxon doorbell chimed. When she opened the front door, Roberta saw that Barney was still booted, gloved and wearing his tufted wool cap, but had exchanged his snowsuit for a parka and Levi's jeans. Smiling, she beckoned him in, and said, "Just drop your outside gear there in the corner and come on back to the family room." Then, paying him no further attention, she retreated down the main hall.

Excited to be near his fantasy again so soon, Barney could not skin out of his storm clothes fast enough. Stocking footed, he tread carefully across the slippery parquet to the carpet and then all but ran toward the family room. When he entered, Roberta was at the bar holding a freshly mixed, but much lighter, Rob Roy. She held up her drink and said, "I was just having a little cocktail. Can I pour you a Coke, or something?"

"Yeah, sure, thanks, Mrs. M. Coke would be good, " answered Barney. He watched his hostess turn to the bar and mapped the bra lines across her back under her dress. Then, tracking his eyes south, he looked for panties or girdle evidence, but the her full skirt's pleats foiled him. His imaginative efforts did, however, increase his heart rate and prick's girth.

Turning to face her guest, Roberta handed him an Old Fashioned glass filled with his soda, ice, a heavy squirt of lime juice, and a jigger of rum. She smiled pleasantly and told him, "I added some lime juice to make it nice and special. In Havana, they call Coke with lime a 'Cuba Libre.' Have you ever had one?"

"Um, no. I've just drunk my Cokes straight from the bottle, or sometimes on ice," answered Barney. He took a tentative sip, then a longer swallow, then announced, "That's pretty tasty, Mrs. M. The lime really changes the flavor of the Coke, but you're right, it's nice!" Then he finished off the remainder and handed back the glass. Grinning, he said, "Guess I was thirstier than I thought. Could I have a refill, please?"

"Absolutely," replied Roberta, amiably. With an appraising look, she wondered, "Did he notice the booze?" Aloud, she added, "Go sit on the couch over there, and I'll bring it to you." While he walked to the sofa and settled in, she fixed another double lowball for him and said over her shoulder, "I was listening to jazz on the stereo. Do you like jazz, BeeBee?"

Barney called back to her, "I don't know. I guess so. Mom listens to Perry Como a lot, is that jazz? And we both like the Four Seasons; especially 'Big Girls Don't Cry'."

Roberta, deliberately leaving her Scotch on the bar, delivered Barney's second cocktail and sat down beside him. "Mmm," she mused quietly, "I think both Como and Frankie Valli are considered 'pop', or maybe, 'rock-n-roll'. Anyway, they aren't what I would call 'jazz'."

Reaching out her arm in a long stretch, Roberta gave the teen an eyeful of her tight busty torso as she retrieved an LP album cover, behind her and down to her right, off the coffee table. Twisting back to face him, she showed its title, 'Lonely Woman' and said, "This is a recent release by The Modern Jazz Quartet. I'll put it on and you can tell me what you think."

Leaving the couch, Roberta loaded the vinyl platter onto the Zenith's spindle and dropped it to the turntable. As the needle found the record's first track, she said, "Excuse me for a moment, BeeBee. You just sit and relax while I go get that dollar I forgot to give you before." Dazed by her commanding presence, he nodded his compliance and sucked another long draw from his drink while he watched her exit the room.

In the master bedroom, Roberta swiftly stripped nude, then hung up her dress and slip. Tossing her socks, panties and size 33D bra into the empty laundry hamper, she replaced her loafers on the closet shoe tree. At her bureau, she resurrected the Valentine nightie she had gotten herself to wear in 1961, when she and Phil had planned to park Trixie at a neighbor's house while they sojourned in Atlantic City for a romantic mid-week playcation. Unfortunately, some big deal arose which required Phil's personal participation and thus prevented their get-away entirely.

As she shook out and smoothed away the fold creases in the sheer pastel pink chiffon negligee, it occurred to Roberta that that snafu also marked the beginning of Phil's declining libido. The faint lavender scent wafting to her from the flimsy gave her pause. Pursing her lips, she inhaled deeply, then exhaled with determination and said to the open drawer, "You've never seen this, Phil, and Valentine's Day isn't on a Friday next year, either!"

Roberta picked up the scarlet see-through bikini briefs she had purposely bought to match the satin sash at the negligee's empire waist. Dancing her glossy legs while she pulled on the panties, she wiggled her bottom and snapped the decoratively stitched elastic waistband onto her slight pot with a satisfied grin. She congratulated herself on keeping her fit matronly figure stable with a healthy diet and regular squash sessions at The Club. "Yay! And now for the acid test."

Roberta pushed her arms under the negligee's hem and up past its wide shoulder straps. Gratifyingly, the chiffon flowed over her skin down to her ankles and hung, more or less, as it was supposed to do. With a few shimmy shakes, her free boobs nestled where they needed to be and the front ruffles marched over the proud promontories in a deep V to the glossy red ribbon. She walked to the mirror hanging on the bedroom door, smiled at her reflection and said to herself, "Ready for beddy!"

Once again at her closet, Roberta donned a quilted red-and-gold Chinese floral print robe. Floor-length, with a high Mandarin collar and long bell-cuffed sleeves, it completely hid her charms' details without denying their existence. Carefully, she buttoned the four lower braided gold cloth frog closures, leaving the top two frogs strategically open to show her throat and upper chest. Then, after tying the robe's similarly braided gold silk waist cord, she stepped into red suede and clear acrylic open-toed bedroom slippers.

Confident their two-inch heels would properly accentuate her posture while, at the same time, raise her functional height to five-nine, Roberta closed the closet slider and speculated out loud, "Who knows? Maybe BeeBee will like jazz enough to want to dance with me." Prepared to jump off the cliff, no matter where she might land, she dabbed a drop Chanel No. 5 behind each earlobe, grabbed a dollar from the wallet in her purse, and rejoined Barney in the family room.

Young Barnes stood by the window watching the blowing snow and feeling the rum's warmth in his stomach. He nearly choked when he saw Roberta, reflected in the small square panes before him, walk into the room. He thought frantically, "She changed her clothes! Holy smokes! That's a bathrobe!" He gulped the rest of his drink to chase the painfully cold broken ice cube which seemed stuck behind his Adam's apple.

Afraid to turn around, Barney asked, "What was the thing you wanted help with, Mrs. M.? It's still snowing pretty hard, did you want me to do your driveway again?" He gripped his Old Fashioned glass until his fingers blanched.

Roberta floated up behind the teen and said softly, "No, BeeBee. I think my damper is stuck. Do you know about chimneys? Could you take a peek at it, please?" Her slight Scotch breath and complex perfume scent exacerbated his already buzzing head.

"Sh-sure, Mrs. M.," Barney stammered. "Right away." Sliding left, he gained distance from Roberta and quickly advanced to the flagstone hearth at the room's other end. On his knees, he craned his neck and looked into the sooty darkness. For lack of anything better to say, he muttered, "Unh Hunh!" Withdrawing his head from the fireplace, he yanked hard on the brass damper dog and nodded as the mechanical shutter clanked open.

"I think I got it, Mrs. M.," Barney said proudly. "Ours did the same thing yesterday. You haven't burned anything here for a while, I bet, and snow iced up the connection to the pulley." He grinned and made an exaggerated muscle in his biceps, then commented, "You and Mom are lucky to have a big strong man around when you need one."

"When I need one is the key," Roberta silently affirmed. Smiling at the bulge in Barney's blue-black-and-green plaid flannel shirt and the equally noticeable bulge in his Levi's, she said, as she walked over to him, "You are so right. And I noticed this morning what a nice physique you had and how strong you must be. That's why I immediately thought of you when I couldn't get the pull-thingy to work!"

Having closed the distance again to stand with her bust less than an inch away from Barney's chest, Roberta took the dollar she held behind her back in her left hand and tucked it deep into his right jeans pocket. At the same time, she pushed her right hand just as deep in his left pocket. Wiggling her long fingers against his taut quadriceps, she murmured, "There! I've paid your wages for the shoveling. Now, how much do I owe for fixing my damper?"

Barney was discombobulated and near panic. Jacking off in his own room to a fantasy memory of the MILF-next-door was one thing; feeling her hands in his pockets and smelling her seductive sweet scents was something else entirely. He blurted, "Mrs. M.! Wh-what are you doing?"

Roberta rejoined, "What do you think I am doing, BeeBee?" She pushed her hands inward and pincered his package. Her index fingers see-sawed the walnuts in his briefs while her crisscrossed thumbs pressed his throbbing cock. Moving a half-step forward, she squashed her loose tits onto his hard pecs and hissed, "I mean, what do you want me to do? What do you want to do to me?"

Barney's instincts took control from his reason. Enfolding Roberta with his long strong arms, he squeezed her that much harder onto him. She moved her face to make it easy for his searching mouth to find hers. As their lips sealed upon each other, she pulled her hands from his pockets and worked them around to his buttocks.

Roberta was glad for her high heels. Rocking forward, her raking nipples plumped up against Barney's chest and her cunt rejoiced as his hard-on hardened. But, the coaster was building up speed much too quickly. She did not want it to fly off the track.

Maneuvering the teen to the center of the room, Roberta broke their long deep kiss, but kept his hips pulled flush to hers. As they swayed, like willows on a riverbank, she intoned in his ear, "Easy, BeeBee. Just hold me. We have time to enjoy ourselves."

Barney felt dizzy. He could not believe what was happening. Roberta was pinching his ass through his jeans, but he was not waking up. His mind argued, "This has to be real and yet, how can it be?"

By the time the music stopped and the stereo arm lifted from the record, Barney's fog was gone, and with it his erection, but his chest still pounded like a jackhammer. Roberta's pillowed breasts were heating pads. He glowed from the inside out with the same mellow satisfaction he got after he masturbated. Fearing he had come in his underwear, he mumbled, "Mrs. M., I should probably leave now. You don't owe me anything for the chimney. I'm glad I could fix it."

Barney tried to disengage from Roberta's bear hug, but she held him impossibly close. Bending backward at her waist and flattening her pussy against his denims, she looked into his hazel eyes and protested, "Oh, no, you don't! You're not leaving until I'm satisfied!"

Barney argued, "But, I don't know what else you want me to do! And, what about Mom? She'll be expecting me home soon."

"You let me worry about your mom," Roberta parried. "Didn't you say that she said 'be good'? Well, around here, 'be good' means 'Mind Mrs. Maxon.' You aren't going to disobey both your mom and me, are you?"

Barney shook his head and answered with a quiet tight voice, "N-no, Mrs. M. I'll be good." Sighing, he gave Roberta a plaintive look and confessed, "But, I'm hot and my throat is really dry. Can I have another Coke and lime, please?"

Roberta kissed Barney lightly on his nose tip and beamed, "Of course, you can! Take off your flannel shirt and to sit down while I pour it."