The Vistor

The Visitor

Julie's mother, Margaret, woke up in a good mood. She made breakfast and kissed her husband, Jake, goodbye with a bounce in her step. She was going to see Rodney today! She did two loads of laundry, and took a late shower. She would be fresh and desirable for her liaison.

11:30 was interminably slow in coming, but the time (that would later fly fugitive,) eventually ground down in its own inexorable way. Rodney met her at the park 'n ride, and she gladly joined him in his Camry. He was an EMT by training, and not wealthy by her standards. "I've been looking forward to this," he greeted her. They made small talk as he drove them back to his house.

He had prepared a small lunch, but there were no blatantly romantic garnishes. He tuned the TV to CMT, and soon strains of Lee Ann Womack adjured them to "dance," with the incongruous digital perfection of our time. The moment was perfect, in a counterfeit way.

Her bubble burst with an insistent knock at the door. She looked to her host, and he motioned her to the bedroom, out of sight. It was a small abode, and she could hear the conversation at the front door.

"I've only got a few minutes for lunch," a youthful female was saying.

"I don't have much time either," was his surprising reply.

She heard the door close, but the visitor had come inside rather than being turned away.

"Give me a second to straighten up," he continued, and a moment later he joined Margaret in his bedroom. His finger to his lips, urging silence, he opened the accordion doors of his closet. Without thinking too critically about it, she concluded that the visitor could easily embarrass one or both of them, and took his direction. The closet was shallow, but the doors had slats in them, so it wasn't too stuffy. The room itself was ready in preparation for her own arrival, so he didn't have to do a thing before he returned to the living area.

"I only have three to choose from," the visitor continued, "but I brought some underwear as well." It was his next door neighbor's daughter, Laurel. Margaret knew her, but more importantly, Laurel knew Jake. If she discovered that Margaret was here, it would be harder to explain than she cared to contemplate.

Her thoughts returned to the conversation at hand. Underwear AS WELL? That did NOT sound innocent. She felt her ire rising, and adrenaline flushed through her as her face warmed in passion. The girl was the next person to enter the bedroom, and Margaret expected Rodney hard on her heels. Instead the interloper shut the bedroom door.

Well, this was an unexpected development! Maybe there WAS some explanation. She was unconsciously aware that her own visit had “no innocent explanation," and it galled her.

Since her view was obstructed very little, Margaret could tell that the invader had emptied a shopping bag out on the bed. Laurel soon proceeded to disrobe. Within a minute, she had donned a bathing suit, tags still attached, and opened the door, returning to the living room.

"This is my best choice. Do you think he'll like this one?" Her voice didn't seem to be attempting to seduce him.

"Turn around," Rodney directed. "OK... this one won't do the trick. Your boyfriend is going to be looking at your ass, right here, where the cheek folds to meet the thigh, but the cut of this one runs directly in that groove, like granny panties. Let's see what else you brought."

Margaret pondered this development. It appeared that this foxy Godiva was getting Rodney to help her choose a bathing suit... with which to seduce her boyfriend. Margaret was in quite a state. It wasn't as if nothing had happened, but she was not angry. Rodney had clearly chosen to let her in on the secret, so it was hardly a betrayal. No, she wasn't angry, but her mood was anything but even.

The girl returned, and donned another suit, which appeared to be lime green. Again she met him in the living room.

"Do you see how the sides are spaghetti string?" Rodney explained. "That's very alluring. It makes him feel like you're a parcel tied with a twine: all he has to do is release the bow, to open his present!"

Margaret was cooling down. A part of her was wishing that she herself had obtained just such assistance in her youth.

"...draws your breasts slightly together, enhancing the valley in between," Rodney was saying. "...which, by the way, don't need to be as huge as melons." A moment later he added, "See there, I can tell your nipples are hardening a little. That will absolutely slay Alan!"

Soon Laurel revisited the boudoir. Margaret counted that this would be the third demonstration, and mentally expected the visitor to depart soon. She was going to KILL Rodney!

"That's not such a good color," was his assessment. "The camel will clash with your tan, and it looks slightly like a nude stocking. Oh; you've got pubes peeking out... here, let me... there."

OMG! thought Margaret. He's touching her right THERE, right next to... Gawd!

"Now I DO like the ass part. It will make him want to touch you here.” Presumably he was showing as well as telling. “...and that color scheme WOULD work with a creamy winter skin tone; sort of an inverse tan line."

She nearly burst out of the closet to attack him. Jealousy over a lover was paradoxical, but no less real.

Giggling from the next room made it worse. "I think you'll like the underwear better," Margaret heard Laurel say.

This time the door wasn't closed, merely pushed to. This vixen was clearly at ease with him. She left again, and Margaret took the opportunity to part the clothing hanging from the rod more fully, cooling herself a little.

"That's a great color," he was saying. "It will go very well with a 'little black dress.' The fabric is sheer, so no panty line, and the pink lace edging ...well, you're getting ME aroused."

"Damn! I'm keeping these, then," Laurel exclaimed. There was a pause, and then she continued, "So which 'suit was best?"

"Actually Laurel, I picked up another one for you to try on, just to compare."

WTF. How did he know her size? And why did her name have to start with "L?" thought the furious Margaret.  "L" comes before "M."  Laurel was a perfect specimen, and her mind would seize upon anything.

This time HE was the one to come in, but Laurel followed hard on his heels. He produced a package from his bureau, and when he shook it out, it was a leafy gray camouflage pattern. Laurel was either in a hurry, or her thoughts had turned to mischief. Without a blush, she took the two piece in one hand, and went into the bathroom. She took up a position in front of the mirror, but without closing the door. Rodney, for his part, had moved around to the side of the bed, so that his own view of that same mirror might be unobstructed.

Margaret felt her face hot with... rage? She was angry, but also slightly aroused. The pink and black panties came off, and the gray pattern swimsuit went on, all just outside her line of sight. Since she could not see Laurel, her eyes studied her lover in default. She knew him, and she felt charged as his face betrayed his own arousal.

"I bet you can't seduce Alan," he teased. "Give me a pose; show me how you’d get his attention."

Laurel exited the bathroom, and Margaret could once more evaluate her ...rival? The 'suit had a faint green background pattern, and she flushed to notice a pink, echoing nature's modesty beneath. There was pink and green in the top too. The top fit surprisingly well for Laurel's barely nubile frame. Her breasts had not yet filled out as they eventually would, and as a result, they pointed like a well trained bird dog, obediently signifying a quarry.

Margaret was beginning to be torn. Part of her wanted to burst out and call the whole thing off. But a warring faction wanted to teach this little hussy a lesson. Let him take her, Margaret thought. Let her get a taste for it, only to have it taken away, and dangled like a “carrot” to her “ass.” She would soon learn that life rarely accommodates libido!

These thoughts went through her mind in seconds. For Laurel's part, she was standing awkwardly, trying to be sexy on cue. Rodney knew what he was about. He watched her coyly, his eyes lingering over her just enough to catch her notice. She finally yielded. "How?" she queried. "You don't know... you're not even a girl!"

"Ah, but I DO." he commiserated. "First off, don't just drop your top and act like your tits are a freakin' sunset. Turn a little to one side, and let the strap fall off your shoulder."

"Like this?" she asked. She wasn't practiced, but she did fairly well.

"Excellent. Now turn and face away from me, and let it fall away slowly. There. Do you see me in the mirror? Act like I didn't see you yet, and catch my eye. Now then; that's very good. Don't stop... stroke your neck, as if you want me to touch you. Now bite your lip a little, and turn your face down so you have to look at me through your top eyelashes. Now see there? You're a vision. That's how the sirens lured sailors onto the rocks!" He was laughing a little.

Margaret's bosom was rising and falling with her breathing. It's going to happen, she thought. He's stalking her. And she was right. Rodney was slowly creeping up on Laurel, keeping her distracted with a steady banter of instruction. Momentarily, Margaret wondered if he had missed his calling as a professional photographer, but her gaze was riveted by the slow dance of seduction unfolding before her.

"...and stroke your nipples a little, so that they harden again." He was standing right behind her, and he gently placed his hands at her waist. She straightened slightly at first contact, but softened, as her eyes half closed in desire. He let her feel his breath on her neck as he nuzzled her. His hands soon replaced hers, and within a minute she was kissing him in an intimate embrace.

Margaret had seen this scene portrayed in the less refined cinema, but it did not stop her... she was mirroring his instructions first in her mind, then on her body. Rodney caressed Laurel's torso, sliding one hand down her abdomen into her groin, pushing the sheer fabric aside. He was careful not to rip it, but she was soon naked face up on the bed. He guided Laurel's hand to his erection, and her enthusiasm grew. And soon he took her.

Margaret didn't know how long it went on. She was stimulating her own arousal, and watching through hooded lids. When he used his skill, she knew what it must feel like; he had done it all to her. When Laurel made him thrill, Margaret's body echoed Rodney's pleasure with her own. It was like a chewy caramel candy. It didn't matter who was feeling it, her involvement only escalated. She tore herself away to lean against the wall and finish.

She was almost grateful when Laurel gave a few cries of desperation, and he finished, spurred by her helpless climax. He even took a few moments to cuddle with her, cooing encouragement in her ear.

"Alan's going to be your slave," he whispered. "He'll never know what hit him. Bad sex is better than no sex at all, and baby you're are NOT. bad. sex! He'll remember you for the rest of his life - no one can ever take that away from you."

Margaret was struck by the realization that Laurel hadn't been fucking Rodney at all. In Laurel's mind, he was merely a skilled cut-out for her real lover - the inexperienced Alan.

Laurel packed the swimsuit up without a word, and put the underwear he had praised away with it. He no longer stalked her, but busied himself with random housekeeping, giving her her space.

"Laurel," Rodney broke the silence just as she was ready to go. "Don't neglect birth control. A prescription for a Nuva ring is simple, and Alan never has to know. Your secret dies with me."

"Thank you," she managed. He closed the door behind her, and the house fell silent for a moment, until Margaret emerged.

She stayed only moments longer than Laurel. "You'll be taking me back to my car now?" she gritted out, "and you had better not have too much to say ...about ANYTHING."

And then she was home again. She showered, and turned the TV on. At the top of the hour, Oprah came on, and she finished the laundry. She couldn't believe how brief the whole dalliance had been. Then Jake was home, with empty comments about his day.

Thankfully he wasn't horny. She was strangely moderate that night, but in the days to come, Jake would benefit many times over from Laurel's education. And as for Rodney? She'd fuck the PLUMBER before she threw that dog another bone!