“I thought I was the one drinking tonight,” she laughed as she indeed lifted her wine glass from the coffee table and took a sip, eyeing me almost suspiciously over the rim. She placed the glass back down and concentrated on her shoes. “I don’t know how I’ll wear these all day,” she stated. “Might have to pay you to give me a foot rub each night,” she proposed as she turned and left the room.
I wasn’t afforded the opportunity to respond to that morsel and probably better that I didn’t. Who knows what trouble my mouth may’ve gotten me into. She wasn’t serious was she? No. Of course she wasn’t.
*
She was late again. History repeating itself as her heels tapped along the hallway and entered the kitchen just as I was finishing cooking dinner.
“Ooh, fish. Yum,” she acknowledged as she placed a shopping bag upon one of the chairs and approached the sink to wash her hands.
“So how’d you go?” I enquired as I handed her the tea towel over my shoulder to dry her hands. She wore the leggings and tank top, a tight denim jacket on top.
“Good,” she headed back to her shopping bag and I let my eyes drift down to her ass. “Five new pairs of panties and three new bras!” She proudly proclaimed.
“What!?” I replied, mystified. “I meant how’d you go at work?”
It was finally her turn to blush, cheeks turning crimson as she was in the process of removing her jacket.
“Oh! Oh it was horrible,” she placed her jacket over the back of a chair before stretching her arms behind herself. It was then I noticed she wasn’t wearing the black bra. Not only that, she wasn’t wearing any bra. Her action accentuated her bust, breasts straining against the tight white polyester. Her nipples stood out clearly, even their darker shadow amid the paler skin. I knew I should drag my eyes away but some magnetic force kept me focussed for the longest duration possible, taking in their unfettered majesty lest the opportunity should never once more arise.
The sizzling fish saved me and I directed my gaze to it as I felt her eyes fall upon me. “Oh yeah, how bad?” I asked and she came across the kitchen to beside me as if purposely providing me the ability to maintain vision of her.
“The new owners, they just don’t know what they’re doing. And we’re right, they’re trying to force out Monica and I.”
“Yeah, how so?” I asked as I flipped the fish.
“Monica was forced to do just pedicures all day!” Mom elaborated. “Do you know how taxing that can be?”
I shook my head. “What about you?”
“Facials.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Facials all day,” she added.
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Oh no? Have you ever given a middle aged woman a facial?” Mom asked and we both immediately realized what she said, a few seconds of silence following as I debated my answer.
‘No, but I’d love to.’ Was what I wanted to say but Mom prevented my mouth from selling me down the river.
“Actually don’t answer that,” she stopped herself from laughing as she touched my forearm before heading back to the table. “Trust me, it gets boring,” she concluded.
I had preheated plates in the oven and as I began to plate up, Mom set the table.
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