She knew that she needed to decide about her day but wasn't in a hurry at all. She'd stayed up late the night before watching some kind of foreign mystery movie, actually in Italian with subtitles and had slept a little later that morning. There was no pressure on her to get her day in gear. As a matter of fact, the thing that crossed her mind was that it seemed like the same kind of day that the day before had and the day before that, running all the way back to Eddie's death three years ago.
Lois M___________ wasn't sure that she was still mourning, but she was sure that she hadn't gotten herself on an even keel yet. She knew that her kids, off and away with lives of their own by now, were a bit concerned but she kept assuring them that she was doing okay.
She'd put on a tee shirt and a pair of those knew workout pants this morning, although at the time she'd spoken to herself with typical candor:
"Oh, Lois, are you finally going to use any of those workout machines in the basement that are gathering dust?"
She had a giggle at the severity of the inner voice talking to her and said: "No, probably not!"
"Then why the tight running pants and workout duds, girl?" the voice persisted.
"Oh," she said, out loud this time to herself, "Just to make me feel good."
"Lois, Lois," the voice came back, "You're over 50 now; you've put on a little weight since Eddie's gone, but you look okay, bosomy and plump in the butt. You really need to do something to keep your shape, girl or nothing is going to happen. It'll be fat and old at 60 for you."
"I'm ignoring you!" she said to the inner voice and made coffee.
Wilson Walls had seen Lois any number of times; he'd watched her from a bit of a distance and liked what he'd seen, liked it very much.
"Lovely, lovely woman!" he'd said to himself.
Wilson was a big, big man, did some work for a detective agency, and thought about going back to the police department, now that his leg was better.He also did a number of other things but mostly lived on what his father had provided for him. He had one really important goal in life, to make love to Lois M.
He was pursuing that goal this morning. He thought that he might try his hand and see what might come of it. The thought of that woman, that Lois M giving in to him with a bit of fight, simply made it for him. The alternate thought of her just giving in without the fight was an even better idea.
He wasn't trying to be a romantic about this. He really wasn't sure that this slightly older, lovely white woman would enjoy attention from a black private eye like him. That's why he'd developed an alternate plan. Today, for Wilson, was plan day.
Lois was having her morning dialogue with herself in the kitchen, when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned in that direction and saw Wilson standing there.
"Ohhhhhh!" she said.
There was silence as they regarded each other, and at first Lois was lost for words.
She felt a thrill of fear course through her but one of the traits that Lois had, that friends knew about and sometimes commented on, was her lack of panic in almost any situation.
In this case, she stared at Wilson and said, fairly calmly: "Who are you?"
He smiled at her.
"Lovely smile," the inner voice said, before Lois shut it down totally.
"I'm Wilson," he said.
"I've seen you; kind of seen you around," she said.
"Right," he said to her.
"What ... what do you want?" she asked.
The answer came to her unbidden, and she said another: "Ohhhh!"
He shook his head. She didn't understand.
"Are you going to ... Um, hurt me?" she asked.
"Not planin' to hurt!" he said.
She nodded her head.
"You want, um..." she left it unsaid but they both understood.
"Thinkin' about it, pretty Lois!" he said.
"How do you know my name?" she asked.
"Found it out," he said.
"I don't know what to do here!" she said.
"I know," he answered.
"You see," she said, pushing her fear down, down inside herself, "I haven't done anything, um, romantic since my Eddie died three years ago."
"Probably still remember how," he said to her.
She smiled at what he said; he returned her smile.
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" she asked, that inner voice prompting her to try to keep this situation from the inevitable conclusion.
He was surprised but said: "That'd be a treat."
She walked to the cupboard and got out a coffee cup, aware that he was watching her.
"Bewitching walk, Lois," he said.
She looked over her shoulder and said: "I maybe shouldn't have put on these running pants; I was half way thinking of working out. Never seem to force myself to do that though."
There was a sense of surealness in the atmosphere of the kitchen. The two of them regarded each other. She calming her nerves, and he, simply taking in the way that she looked.
"Good lookin' woman!" he proclaimed.
"Hmmpf," she said, "Old broad over 50!"
"No," he contradicted her, "A real beauty."
"Ohh," she said, for the third time, "Thank you."
She screwed up her courage and said: "Are you really intending to... ?"
"Don't just know," he said. "Thought was on my mind, when I came; not so sure now."
"Why?" she asked, before she knew what she was saying.
He laughed and she waved her hand at him: "No, no, I didn't mean it that way; I'm not trying to act like the coy victim who's shouting 'no, no, yes, yes, yes!'"
"I know that," he said.
"I'm going to make toast," she said, changing the subject, "Want some?"
He chuckled: "You keep tryin' to domesticate me."
"Domesticate?" she said.
"Yes," he laughed, "Like tryin' to turn me into your brother or something, so I won't do what's on my mind."
"I see," she said, "Not sure that was intentional."
"Might work," he said, softly.
"Really?" she asked.
"Might," was his statement again.
"Gonna do one thing though," he said, getting up from his chair.
She spun around, nervous and moving toward fearful now. She saw that he had a large knife in his hand and tears started to roll down her cheek.
"Calm now," he said, "I'm not going to hurt you."
"You're not?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"No," he said, "Never do that; you can trust that word, promise."
"Trust!" she said, still watching him carefully.
She squeaked a little as he reached inside her tee shirt.
"What?" she said.
"Quiet, pretty Lois," he said and she was quiet.
He snipped her one bra strap with the knife and then snipped the other. Then he turned her around and, again with the knife, cut through the back band of her bra and pulled it down and off of her.
"Ohhh," she said.
"You say that a lot, Lois, pretty Lois!" he said.
"I know," she answered.
He stepped back then and stared at her. She kept her hands down at her sides, though her instinct was to cover her breasts with her arms.
"Gorgeous," he said.
She was discomfited by the fact that her nipples, pushing against the material of her tee shirt were now extended, puffy and hard.
The thought raced across her mind: " This hasn't happened for years!" She pushed the thought away.
He sat again and simply looked at her.
"I don't know what to do," she said.
He chuckled: "Make your toast."
"Toast, yes," she said, and turned to do it.
"Love the way that they sway, when you move!" he said.
She turned again, this time not knowing if it was intentional to make her breasts sway or not. She pushed that thought away also.
"Busty," she said, "Always have been."
"Yes," he answered watching her.
She tried to not be self conscious.
He got up and went to the sink.
"One more thing," he said. "To make it perfect."
"One more thing?" she echoed.
He had the dish cloth in his hand and had soaked it in warm water. He got another squeak from her, as he applied the wet, wet dish cloth first to one breast and then to the other.
"Love that sound, Lois," he said.
When he was finished, it was as though she were in a wet tee shirt contest. Her large breasts, with their puffy nipples were plainly in sight.
He smiled and sat down.
She made a decision and served him his toast.
She had hers also, and sat across the table from him with her coffee and toast.
When he was finished with his toast and had a second cup of coffee, he rose:
"It's time," he said.
"Oh, time?" she said. "I don't know what to do; what you, um, want me to do!"
"Don't be frightened, Pretty Lois," he said, "I have to go. Have things to do."
"You're leaving?" she asked astonished.
"Yep," he said, "Thanks for the coffee, Lois and for letting me play."
"But..." she began but he put a finger on her lips to silence her.
The relief from the pent up tension was simply like an invasion to her. Her thoughts were jumbled then and there. She wasn't sure if she felt a wave of only relief or if there was also some disappointment there. She pushed the latter thought down and away, as she watched him walk to the door.
Before she knew what she was even doing, she put her hand on his shoulder and turned him around, launching herself against him for a hug. She was trembling, shaking and didn't know what else to do.
.... There is more of this story ...