John Anderson hired his teenage neighbour to cut his lawn not because he had a hard time doing it himself--even at 67. He hired her to cut his grass because he enjoyed giving young people summer jobs, because he had enough money, and because she was a pretty hot little number.

Molly French was nineteen. Graduated from high school, and staying home for the summer. John would often see her, across the street, in her family’s front room, or out mowing their grass. She was always wearing shorts and a tank top, exposing tanned, smooth arms and legs, a modest but firm bust, and a nice juicy backside.

Gladys had been dead almost six years. The grandkids came once or twice a month, with their mother and sometimes father, but John still missed the company--and the intimacy. He craned his neck to watch Molly mow around one of the trees in the front yard. The back never needed it, since there wasn’t really any lawn, just patio and garden. There she was, strutting around in he curvaceous nubile teenage glory, her chestnut curls secured with a pin. He watched her bum sashay away. God ... a man never got too old to feel the urge to squeeze a juicy bit of ass.

He always waited until Molly was almost done the lawn to come out with his money. John would stand by the car and wait until she noticed him, which would take a minute or two, and then she’d turn off the mower and come over. Today, though, he waited until he knew Molly had already finished cutting the grass before making his appearance.

‘John.’ Molly smiled, friendly as ever, as she pushed the quiet lawn mower off to the side. ‘How are you today?’

‘Good. Nice job on the lawn. Thank you.’ He handed her a twenty with a smile, asking, as always: ‘You’re sure it’s enough?’

And as Molly always replied: ‘Yes, definitely!’

But today they didn’t part ways, as usual. Today John had a plan.

‘Would you like to come see the garden? I told you last time my grandkids always give me garden statuettes for every birthday and Christmas. Come see the collection.’

‘Sure,’ Molly agreed easily, following her neighbour into his backyard. She’d always like kind Mr Anderson. He’d been a widower when her family had moved in several years back, but she wasn’t sure why a silver fox like him couldn’t marry again if he liked. He was still quite tall and stood upright, and seemed healthy enough, not ailed in body or mind. But perhaps he hadn’t found the opportunity, or maybe his first marriage was horrible, and he didn’t want to chance it again.

‘Wow!’ Molly said when faced with the yard. There were gnomes, large frogs, lady bugs, children, angels, and birds of all kinds set in curious ways everywhere around the yard--tea parties, hidden statuettes, little conversation groups. Besides the large koi pond and a patio set, they were the main decoration.

‘You have so many,’ Molly said, for even she admired the clever way in which the sometimes tacky lawn ornaments were set up.

‘I’ll get more soon,’ he said. ‘My birthday’s coming up soon. A seven- and nine-year-old will stick with something that’s reliably been a good present before.’ He winked, and chuckled.

‘I did too,’ Molly agreed.

‘What are you up to this year?’ John said conversationally. ‘Still working at that restaurant?’

Molly nodded. ‘Yep, I like it there.’

‘You look mighty fine in that uniform.’

‘Thank you,’ she said politely.

‘But what you’re wearing now is fine too,’ he added.

Molly’s friendly smile widened, one eyebrow going up ever so slightly. ‘John--are you ... flirting ... with me?’

‘You need the practise,’ he joked, and she laughed. Oh, she did have a lovely laugh.

‘You could be my grandfather,’ she said, although without any judgement in her voice. It was a simple statement of fact.

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’m unavailable.’ He gave a slow wink, which made her titter.

‘How risqué!’ Molly pretended to gasp, but covered another giggle. She was looking at him differently now, at the white hair neatly combed, parted on the side, and the neatly trimmed white mustache ... at the clear blue eyes behind square glasses, and her neighbour’s smile which was now ... more charming than kind, but it suited him. He was looking back at her, and for just a second, his gaze flicked to her mouth, then back up. When Molly realized what that meant, she felt like her lips were tingling. I want him to kiss me! She realized, with some shock. I DO think he’s attractive!

When John leaned in, she didn’t stop him from kissing her. His mustache tickled, but only a little, and lips were soft but firm on her own as his hands rested on her shoulders.

It was a nice kiss. It’d been a while since Molly had had a boyfriend, and she’d forgotten just how nice a good kiss could feel. When he began to pull away she grabbed his shirt-collar and pulled him back, so he took her up in his arms, pressing her closer to his body.