Chapter 4

The weekend finally arrived, but only after I had spent all of Saturday morning at the office. When I finally got back to the townhouse around 1 p.m., I felt weary and a little resentful that my remaining weekend was only 36 hours long.

I kicked off my shoes and grabbed an Extra Stout from the fridge, and then -- as promised to Sarah -- I walked over to the living room window and stood tall, looking into the neighboring yard.

Sarah was out there -- alone -- and (no surprises here) she was not naked. I guess Naked Sarah was strictly going to be Memory-Book material.

She was lookin' good in a one-piece black suit. It was high in the hips and body-caressing, and I appreciated that body almost as much as if I were caressing it myself.

But it wasn't the stuff that dreams are made of.

Damn!

And no sign of Molly.

I made lunch and took a shower to wash the Office off my body, and went over to check the window again an hour later.

Sarah was still in place, reading a magazine and lookin' good -- except for the bathing suit covering all the Tasty Treats.

But now, Molly had joined her.

Molly was in her two-piece again -- the purple one from last week. Yummy. And she was on her tummy again, with the top unfastened. Nice back. She tanned nicely, too, for a redhead. There were freckles, though.

I wanted to kiss each freckle, individually.

Slowly. Back first.

Then the ones in front. Top first. Then lower.

Sarah looked up and saw me standing there like a Wooden Indian, and she said something to Molly that I couldn't hear.

Molly did a little half-turn from her prone position, and saw me standing there at the window.

I gave her a little wave.

She gave a little wave back. Sarah frowned and said something else to Molly. She was probably telling her not to encourage me.

I decided I'd stand there and annoy Sarah for a little while longer. Just until October or so.

Sarah pretended not to notice me there, and went back to her magazine.

Molly rolled over onto her back.

Without re-fastening her bikini top.

It was all Molly, all the time. The lovely red thatch was covered, but at least those two gorgeous, round, soft, freckled titties were in full display. Oh, she had really nice titties -- or is that redundant?

I got an instant boner that was trying to spring free from my Levis, but without success.

Molly couldn't see my erection. I'm not John Holmes, and this isn't a fairy tale. But I'm pretty sure she knew that I at least had a positive attitude about what I was seeing.

When Sarah noticed what Molly was doing, she was shocked and appalled. Her disapproval was evident in her expression. I don't know what she said to Molly, but I could make a pretty decent educated guess.

But I could read Molly's lips when she replied. I think she said, "You're not my mother!"

Bless her heart! I had taught her well!

I drank in Molly's half-nakedness for a goodly amount of time (but not all the way through until October) and finally, I turned away and let the poor girl relax.

After a decent interval I returned (once again standing tall and being as obvious about it as I could manage), trying to convey the fact that, while I didn't intend to stand and stare continuously for hours on end, I was interested enough to renew my acquaintance with Molly's left and right breasts at decent intervals, for as long as they remained on display.

Later, when I returned to the window for a third viewing, Sarah saw me there, got up quickly, and disappeared into their apartment.

Molly was still on her back, still naked from the waist up, and still proudly showing me the goodies. I waved.

She waved back. And smiled.

I opened the window. It was the first time I'd ever opened the window. It was already hot in Washington, and the air conditioning was going full-blast. But I opened the window and leaned out. "Hi, Molly!" I said, trying to sound as much as I could like Mickey Rooney, talking to Judy Garland. ("I know! Let's put on a show!)

"Hi, Greg. Nice day, huh?"

"Glorious!" I said. "Wonderful for sunbathing."

"You ought to try it yourself, Greg," Molly teased.

I pointed down at my little postage-stamp yard below. "If I were down there," I said, "I couldn't see you, over there!"