Connecting With Neighbours Ch 01

During his school years, he was regarded as being a skinny kid. Added to this, he had a rather pointed nose and large ears, which certainly made for some challenging times amongst his high school cohort. It was not bullying necessarily; there were others far more targeted than he, but challenging times nonetheless. Names like Concord (as in the supersonic aircraft), Big Ears (from the Noddy books) and Mr Squiggle (a puppet with a pencil for a nose from a children's show on National TV) were used to try and deride him. There were other unimaginative names and insults, most far less flattering and even crude, which ultimately reflected more upon the person commenting than the intended victim. Still, he managed to laugh them off regardless and, therefore, none of them ever stuck. He did have a sharp sense of humour and a good wit, which aided him to avoid irreparable stigmatisation but still fed his lack of self-confidence. He was an average student and an average kind of guy trying to make his way in the world and make some sense of it.
 
Once out in the wide world, away from all the schoolyard nonsense, he gradually found his feet. He continued to be somewhat shy and self-conscious. Still, he realised he was growing, both mentally and physically, the former more so, as did his left-of-field wit and sense of wordplay. His continued participation in sporting activities kept his fitness high and went a long way in helping his physical development. Not one for the gym but rather through sports training, he gradually formed a nicely toned physique. His one inward disappointment was he stopped growing vertically at about 18. He would have loved to have followed his fathers' side; they were all six-footers and above. But alas, 5'7" (172 cm) was the end of his vertical progression. Yet, following on his mothers' side with a light bone structure (but in no way brittle), high metabolism and a full head of hair were small mercy's, he had decided, and a fair trade-off. 

Fast forward some thirty-five years, and at the ripe age of fifty-five, he still had questions of 'who am I' and 'why am I' and so on, but he was happy, or so he tried to convince himself. Unlike his acquaintances, his weight remained unchanged for years, who tended toward overindulgence in the amber fluid and sedentary lifestyles, which resulted in lateral expansion. That is not to say that he did not drink. Some said he drank like a fish, but fortunately, he did not stack on the kilos.

He was moderately successful in the corporate world. Darcy was a highly organised type with a logical, methodical, even mechanical mind, making cost and management accounting an excellent professional fit. However, a shrinking manufacturing landscape meant numerous redundancies, the psychological toll of which was never considered by friends and family alike. "One door closes another opens" was the mantra used and lived by. Yet, a gnawing sense of discontent gradually built deep within and yet was not considered in any conscious manner. There was also another, deeper turmoil that was also a slow burn. His married life had become more of despair than marital bliss. A partial driver of his martial anxiety was his wife, that much he knew. However, the nitty-gritty elements underpinning those thoughts and feelings always eluded his mental capabilities and understanding; alcohol became his weapon of choice to ease the burden.

After the last redundancy, Darcy had passed the fifty age, and a return to the corporate world had proved all but impossible: agism was alive and well. Out of necessity, yet quite by chance, he indulged his photographic passion. Darcy started his own business as a freelance real estate photographer, which kept him busy and gradually financially independent. It also meant he got to live a long-held desire; to work outdoors, well away from an office environment. As a result, his more exposed body parts retained a tan almost all year round. An olive complexion helped, plus he, by now, had "grown" into his body more so. He could nowadays look in the mirror and convince himself he was somewhat handsome. He was in no way a selfish nor conceited person. The reality was he had found some self-confidence, and an acceptance of himself had brought out a middle finger attitude to the world that the wisdom of age seemed to engender. A fortunate coincidence of working from home and being self-employed to boot had many benefits far beyond even his reckoning.


*


Margot had been the object of his lustful mind ever since she and her family had moved in next door over a decade earlier. He could still remember being in their home, the lounge/family room area to be precise, during an open house inspection. It was the last open house before the off-site auction on the following Monday. He was slightly disappointed with the owner. She had the place rented out for years and was selling to take the profit; had they known, they would have made her an offer. A week earlier would have made all the difference, but, as it was, he was out of luck. He recalled looking out of the large bay windows overlooking the expansive sun-drenched lawn and pool when she walked in from the hallway, which proceeded to the front entrance. He had his back to the new arrivals as he scanned the pool area on the right-hand side of the yard, but something made him turn around. Some sixth sense alerted his inner awareness and turned him around toward the interior of the house.
 
It was a bright, hot summers afternoon. The sunlight cascaded down through the leafy tree immediately beyond the deck, throwing dappled light playfully into the room. Yet, in his eyes, at least, the whole room seemed to have brightened when he saw her blonde hair and tanned face. The other people in the room, quietly going about their property inspection, paid no heed to her arrival. Still, to him, there seemed an aura. Somehow, he knew the blonde-haired woman and her husband (who he scarily noticed) would be the buyers. 

The years had moved on, and whilst they had been neighbours for all that time, they did not socialise regularly as some neighbours do. He had a sneaking suspicion it had a lot to do with some sort of petty jealously on his wife's part. As far as he could gather, there was no basis for her jealously. Still, his wife had taken an instant dislike toward Margot, which precluded any social activity full stop. He admired Margot from afar and thought her quite lovely and secretly desirable. She was attractive, without a doubt. Margot was petite with a curvy build of about 5' 4" (164 cm). She had a cute little nose, narrow rather than thin lips that neither curved up nor down, which often broke into a smile that could shed light into the deepest reaches of Hades. Her pale blue eyes were of average size. They had a happy and joyfully cast in them surrounded by eyelashes that mirrored the colour of her hair. Her pale skin tone was lightly freckled in places and seemed to take a few shades of tanning quite easily. Her features and figure could make you look twice, if not a third time. Her youthful sun-bleached blonde hair had become mousy-blonde with age, and she had taken to wearing it at shoulder length.
 
Despite her soft, feminine exterior, she certainly knew what she wanted and could speak her mind quite readily. Yet this assertiveness was tempered with a bountiful amount of good humour and a very distinctive laugh. Darcy felt certain Margot used to disarm and counter any hostility she encountered. Her laugh was undoubtedly one of her more unique features. He often heard peals of laughter that arose when they were entertaining on their deck area. It was a sort of crackle, maybe more a guffaw but with the higher vocal registers of the female voice, like a kookaburra call for want of a better description. His wife would roll her eyes whenever she heard Margot's ringing laughter. He inwardly chuckled to himself because he secretly enjoyed her gaiety and wished he could be there to be part of the humous discussion.
 
During the weeks leading up to Christmas and just after New Year, Darcy had noticed that one of the brake lights on her car was not working. However, every time he thought of saying she was not at home or he forgot, or both. As the days slipped into weeks that turned into February, Darcy dropped the notion of mentioning it to her, thinking that her husband would have probably fixed it by then. However, to his surprise, one sultry, humid morning (it still being the height of summer in Sydney), he saw that it was still out. By good fortune, not planning, Darcy was in his front yard retrieving the garbage bins from the gutter when she drove off. He watched after her car as it disappeared up the quiet street. As she braked at the roundabout, he delightfully noticed only one of the three stoplights activated.

Around noon that same day, as he was labouring away in his upstairs office, the windows opened wide to try to catch what breeze there was, if any. With his concentration waning due to the humidity, he suddenly heard the sound of a car door closing. Expectantly he assumed it was Margot and the memory of the broken brake light sparked him into action. Typically he would have just resumed work, but the opportunity seemed to be knocking, so he decided to be proactive for a change. He quickly swilled some mouthwash to quell any garlic breath from lunch, straightened his dishevelled hair and raced downstairs.
 
"What a prat I'm being!" The voice in his head scoffed, not that he was crazy or anything. Don't you, dear reader, talk to yourself from time to time?

With a deep breath to ground himself and regain composure, he opened the door and casually walked toward the front gate as if going to check the mail.

"Oh, hi Margot," he called as he stepped off the veranda and took a few small steps more to clear his field of vision from the head-high hedge that fronted his verandah. She turned and smiled at the sound of his voice.
 
"Hi Darcy, how's it going? Please, excuse me a sec." Turning, she hastily moved away from him toward her front door and deposited the carry bags she had in each hand with a sigh. He thought for a moment she was going to go straight inside, but to his delighted relief, she returned to the boot of her white hatchback. "Sorry, they were heavier than I expected." She said with a wan smile.
 
She reached into the hatch and, as she withdrew herself, added, "Isn't it hot? I don't mind the heat but this humidity," she blew a stream of air upward to try to remove an errant hair strand from her eye. "I hate it!"
 
Nonchalantly he moved along the paved pathway toward the low, three brick high border fence that ran along the boundary line. "Me too," he said in agreement. "It certainly makes any chore that much harder." It was sweltering, standing there in the direct sun. It arched down between their respective homes from the deep blue heavens dotted with fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily in the high gentle breeze. Margot was squinting as a result, despite being in the shadow of her carport. The sun's glare reflected off some windows on his house directly into her face, which also gave her a slight golden glow. He noticed a tiny droplet of perspiration run down her lightly freckled neck, across her upper chest and disappear inside her pale lemon yellow blouse. His eyes followed the droplet as it coursed down. He realised he was staring, so he looked away, feeling a little embarrassed and hoped she had not noticed the way his eyes had glued themselves upon her chest. She must have felt the trickle or was made aware of it by his gaze (or both) because she lightly brushed her throat with her slim fingered hand.

"How's the house cleaning going?" Darcy asked, knowing she was in the process of clearing her recently deceased mother's house. "Oh, you know," she laughed dismissively. "Some days good, some days bad, others extremely hard, the usual rollercoaster. You know what it's like?" He did, as a result of his mothers passing the previous year. She looked on the verge of tears, so he quickly tried to change the subject.
 
"Oh, before I forget, I have some magazines for you."
 
"Magazines?" He heard her ask as he quickly turned and stepped up onto the verandah. He had left the bundle of magazines on the small, white round cane table flanked by two white cane chairs after the previous weekends' domestics. "They are a bit on the heavy side being full glossy productions. You could even use them as work out material if you like, as an alternative". Margot laughed her distinctive, if somewhat loud, laugh. "Oh Darcy! These are fabulous." She said, reaching out her lithe, lightly tanned arms to receive them. Her blouse gaped slightly, and his ever-observant eye did not miss noticing the upper reaches of her cleavage.

"Wow, they are heavy... but gratefully appreciated. Thank you." She moved forward and indicated with a bit of wave of her free hand that she wanted me (us) to move closer so she could thank me appropriately. Taking the hint, he edged closer, careful not to trip on the rocks that edged the garden bed, and they both lent across the low fence, and she gave him a quick peck on each cheek. As she leaned back, still slightly bent over before regaining her balance, he noticed her top had gapped a little further. They chattered on, and he could tell from how she spoke that she was touched and genuinely pleased with his little gift. "Oh, these will certainly come in useful," she exclaimed. She opened the top cover and flicked through a few pages. Margot found the weight of the four magazines was getting a little too heavy and challenging to view and hold simultaneously. She bent forward to place the bundle on top of the low fence, and consequently, her top gapped, which this time provided him with a perfect view deep inside. His eyes zoned in. He admired the slightly tanned coloured skin of her upper breasts and noted the frequency of freckles on her chest. Their frequency seemed to diminish the further into her blouse he looked and how her breasts filled the flesh coloured padded bra she wore. He pondered just how far from the edge of her bra were her nipples might be and if her freckles continued to the underside of those luscious orbs.

"The engaged ones, oh sorry, that's my pet term for my son and his fiancée," she said straightening.

"As you can assume, they are in the process of choosing dates and venues etc., so these will give them additional food for thought."

"Nothing like looking at things that provide food for thought," he added, as she looked him straight in the eye. Darcy got the impression she was trying to determine if his comment was just a comment or if there was more to it. She smiled warmly and pushed her hair back behind her ear. His eye line dropped so he could pay attention to the outlined curve of her breasts through the lightweight material of her top. She had picked up one of the thicker magazines and weighed it in her hands. Darcy was desperately hoping she would bend over again and pick another up.
 
Noticing how she held the magazine, he commented, "As soon as I found them I, I immediately thought of you. We used them during the run-up to our daughters' wedding only six months ago." He was babbling, he realised and mentally kicked himself.


"That is very kind of you," Margot said, looking through the tops of her eyes without lifting her head as she looked at another cover.
 
"I'm glad they're going to a good home." They both laughed. "Otherwise, they'd only end up in there." He indicated the paper recycling bin a short distance off to his left.

"Don't worry," she replied, "these will be dealt with similarly soon enough, but for now, they will be very beneficial, I feel." Margot leaned forward again to pick up another thick glossy tome. Her top gapped wonderfully. This time he noticed as Margot glanced in his direction surreptitiously, which gave him the distinct impression that she was making sure it gapped for his hungry eyes. She shuffled the magazines a little, another seemingly deliberate move to prolong his viewing pleasure inside her top. The skin of her breasts curved into the valley created by the cupping of her bra. He marvelled at her glorious mounds, the way they slightly swayed, concaving a little at her chest and then spilt curvaceously into the cups. He knew he could only enjoy the sight. He wondered if there would ever be the remotest chance of an opportunity to delve into her deep cleavage, up close and personal. He could only dream.

"They certainly look great," she stated just before straightening. Darcy was not sure if it was a deliberate double entendre, but it certainly seemed that way. "Seems she's playing the same game," he thought to himself.

"They certainly do," he agreed and smiled, his eyes riveted to her body. His mouth had gone dry as he replayed her display, over and over in his racing mind.
 
"I had best be getting on," she said quickly, picking the bundle from the fence. Despite the quickness of her movement, Darcy still got another short glimpse of her breasts. It was beautiful titillation; pardon the pun. "Oh, before I forget again. I noticed that your brake light on the passenger side is out. I have meant to mention it to you, but ..." He exclaimed, realising she was about to conclude their chat and his desired to prolong it. "Oh really? I had better get my husband to see to it on the weekend. He is away at the moment; otherwise, I would call him at work and tell him." Again, her tone inferred that she was touched and genuinely pleased with his thoughtfulness. "I can give them a look over if you like?" Darcy blushed slightly at his unintended double meaning. "I have to go to the service station myself," he lied, "and I can get the new bulbs while there and replace them for you. It's no trouble."
 
"Would you?" She smiled. Her beaming, little girlish smile always seemed to make the world a happier place. "I still have some bags to take in," she indicated by pointing to the heavy ones already on the front doorstep. Darcy offered to help. "No, I am fine. The heavy bags are over there, as you can see, but the rest are lighter, but thanks again. I will need a long cold drink after this, though," she said, sighing heavily. He was not exactly sure if that was a statement or an offer.

He ventured to make a bold suggestion on impulse, which was a little out of character for shy Darcy. "Given it is such muggy day, how about we share some white wine after I finish with the brake light, I mean? I have a bottle on the fridge that I would like to try, and I would like to get your opinion?" He went to hop over the fence, but Margot stopped him by raising her hand. She stepped forward and handed him the keys. "Consider yourself hired," she laughed, her pale blue eyes sparkling. "While I busy myself putting my shopping away, how about you fix the brake light, and then we can have that drink. I want to tidy up a bit before you come in as well." She smiled delightfully, a playfulness in her face added to her radiance.
 
"Oh, and Darcy, no need to bring your bottle, I am sure I have more than enough here, but thanks for the sweet offer and I will not hear of any objections. You can let yourself in after you're finished if you don't mind. I'll leave the front door open."
 
He smiled to himself; she had to get things on her terms. Getting the old globe out was not difficult. Getting a new one was. The servo just up the road had sold out, as had the one up on the main road a kilometre away. Raking his mind for where next was challenging to say the least, but thank goodness for mobile phones. A quick maps search, and he realised that he was not far from a Japanese spares outlet. Annoyingly, it was on the other side of the road, which meant he had to drive around the world to get to it as there were no right-hand turn areas for another two kilometres.

Given the circumstances under which he was working, his anxiety levels were increasing with every passing minute. Overall, by the time he got back and replaced the globes, an hour had elapsed. He was feeling a bit annoyed about that as it was time alone with Margot being consumed. But, with the task now completed and a quick bathroom visit to get himself more presentable, it was time to enjoy a bit of close neighbourly interaction.
 
Tentatively Darcy knocked upon the frame of the wooden flyscreen door. The principal, white painted timber front door with its two frosted glass panels, was wide open, just as Margot had said it would be. He did not think it appropriate, however, to walk in unannounced.
 
"Come in," Margot called out from somewhere within the interior of her comfortable home. "Don't stand on ceremony."
 
Darcy quietly, and for no apparent reason, closed the main door behind him and quickly looked about. He enjoyed the cosy, relaxed feeling that enveloped him as soon as he entered. The soft carpeted floor was a light smoky grey, the walls eggshell white as was the ceiling. A very contemporary colour scheme, he thought, but it was utilitarian. Immediately to his left were the stairs that led up to the bedrooms above, he guessed. The colour scheme was replicated on the stairs, and probably upstairs as well, he surmised. The hallway was short and took a slight turn to the right and then left to get to the rear of the house. Off to the hallway's left was the downstairs bathroom with a similar muted wall colouring. The floor was black tile. He moved toward where Margot's voice had emanated with a bit of apprehension. However, given the earlier magazine encounter, he pushed those feelings aside: Que Sera, Sera.
 
The lounge room, come family room, and the adjoining kitchen was spacious and welcoming. The open plan design made the area feel vast yet functional. The same mute colouring followed into the family/lounge room area but had a brighter feel it, probably because of the sunshine coming in through the kitchen windows off to the left. The bay window brought back a flood of memories of the inspection day years earlier. From his faint recollection of the furnishings, the only change was that there was now a window seat of white timber with oversized white cushions on either side. A large 'L' shaped black covered lounge ran along the wall to the left. A large Sony LED TV was in the back corner on the left and two large, comfy-looking black covered armchairs opposite the lounge.
  
"I had nearly given up on you," she said, turning around with a platter of cheeses and dips in hand as he entered. "Didn't I say that you needn't knock?" She chided him with one raised eyebrow and a mock look of scolding on her face. Her gaze was easy to read with the addition of her gleaming smile. He apologised profusely and explained what had happened as he unconsciously helped her by taking possession of the platter. "You certainly are well house trained!" She exclaimed approvingly. "What…?" He fumbled for words. "Oh! You mean this?" He blushed and nodded to indicate the platter he now held. "Habit, I guess." He shrugged, still feeling self-conscious.
 
"An excellent habit in my book, and thank you for being the gentleman I thought you always were."
 
"My pleasure, dear lady," Darcy replied and bowed at the waist slightly.

"Oh, stop that." She laughed, the peals of her laughter filling the room, making it seem more joyous and bright. With a nod of her head toward the outside deck area, she added, "Shall we?"

Being the good hostess he had always guessed her to be, Margot thanked him for his labours as they clinked glasses. The chilled white wine was soothing to his dry throat. He sipped it approvingly, and it immediately made him feel more comfortable, and he admired the newly renovated deck. He looked around, marvelling at the changes to the deck area compared to how it used to look. The area seemed huge with a new fixed metal roof above, which also held the pool's solar heating. Previously it has been open louvres with a large tree at the outer edge of the deck area; the tree had since been removed, opening the western side to the yard beyond. The lounge was a dark woven bamboo frame with plush, beige coloured cushions. It now felt like an outdoor extension of the interior lounge room, with heating for the winter months. From the rear of her house, the deck area was open on two sides. On the left were the stairs to the backyard. Directly in front, the unobstructed view overlooked the backyard and pool. The deck timbers were hardwood and stained a dark brown. The cedar timber table was long and narrow so as not to consume too much floor area. Margot had laid a bright yellow table cloth out and was busy placing plates and a water jug.

"How many are you expecting?" Darcy asked laughingly.
 
"I got carried away." She replied, smiling, a slight waver in her voice. It appeared she, too, was feeling a bit nervous.

Margot disappeared again but soon emerged with the bottle of wine in one hand and a bowl of corn chips in the other. While he had been busy, she had showered and changed. Margot now wore a white lacy sleeveless top, which had a plunging V-neckline and fitted to the curves of her body in a relaxed, stylish and demurely sexy manner. She also wore navy three-quarter length activewear leggings that snuggly embraced her lower womanly curves.
 
"Oh my lord," he thought to himself, trying to keep his eyes away from staring licentiously.
 
"I hope you like Sav Blanc?" she asked, moving the corn chips to within his reach. "But Darcy, if I remember correctly, I thought I told you not to bring anything?" She rebuked him in a gentle tone and an appreciatively smile.

"I couldn't come empty-handed," he replied warmly, smiling and spreading his hands wide. "It wouldn't have seemed right, to me at least, anyway."

"Always the gentleman, just as I had assumed you'd be."

"I am but a simple man," He replied with a slightly sarcastic tone, "but I try." They both laughed.

There remained a slight tension or maybe nervousness in the air. This was the first time Margot and Darcy had been alone together, one on one (for want of a better phrase) in such an intimate yet innocent setting. Margot gently pushed her chair aside with her hip as she had to manoeuvre around it to sit, only to start rearranging the table to her satisfaction.
 
"Margot, there is no need to fuss," Darcy remarked in an attempt to temper the tension.
"I like things to be just right," Margot said a little indignantly. "Sorry," she corrected, realising she might have sounded a bit too blunt with that last remark.

"Oh, they are. Believe me, they are." Darcy said as he reclined in his chair, tried to give an air of relaxed comfort. 
"You are very kind." She replied with a chuckle and followed his lead and posture. They sipped wine and chatted, both slowly easing into the climate of a newly found friendship.
 
To his surprise, Margot suddenly decided that something on the table was not to her liking and felt a need to fix it immediately. She had to reach across the table, and as such, had to bend further than he thought was needed. Her top gapped, and not only could he see her upper chest and cleavage, but he could also see the fullness of her now braless bosom. He gazed at the dark pink rim of her aureoles and the nubs of her rose-pink nipples.
 
"I like them," Darcy blurted without thinking in response to her wine-related question. "Sav Blanc, I mean. From New Zealand, is it?" His embarrassment rose, and he could feel his cheeks and ears burn. 

"I thought you might," she smiled somewhat knowingly.
 
"Yes, um, the wine is from the Marlborough region?" He continued trying to cover his discomfort.

Privately he had moved away from the Sauvignon Blanc wine style a long while ago. It always seemed to be a bit "soapy" on his palate, but that disclosure could wait for another time and place. Margot was still busy arranging the table as she leaned over profoundly again.
 
"See if you like these?"
 
She offered him a small bowl of black olives, but they both knew his eyes were focused directly on and down (more accurately) her neckline. He marvelled at the gentle sway of her breasts, their slight concave shape as they came away from her chest, and the sweet rounded pear shape they took on as the freckled flesh spread toward those cute looking nipples. He realised he was not just staring but ogling her like a schoolboy. He shook his attention away from her lush upper body reluctantly and reached for an olive.

"Beautiful," he said as he placed a large black olive in his mouth and looked her straight in the eye. Margot beamed and pulled her chair around as she sat. He was seated adjacent as she pulled her chair in and reclined, a relaxed, playful look on her face. Darcy felt the soft sensation of her knee against his, and he trembled slightly at her touch. Here he was sitting next to a beautiful married woman, his neighbour for years, with whom he had previously only exchanged brief, casual conversation over the fence. Somehow he was now seated next to her, not to mention having seen more of her, literally, in the last couple of hours than Darcy could have ever dreamt. He closed his eyes and quickly opened them again to make sure he was not dreaming. Nope, there she was, with her knee against his. They clinked glasses and toasted the afternoon, and she expressed her thanks and appreciation yet again and his kindness. Darcy drank deeply and looked at her over the rim of his glass. Margot was in her late forties, he guessed, but he could not stop admiring all the curves that she possessed. With a start, he realised that he was finding her more and more attractive with every passing minute. It was not because of the wine.
 
"Where does your name come from?" Margot inquired conversationally; her hand brushed some crumbs off her leg and accidentally touched his knee in the process. She smiled flirtatiously over her glass.
"The family name?" He asked.

"No," she chuckled. "The name Darcy I mean?"
 
He laughed boyishly. "My mum had a love of reading, especially Jane Austin. Pride and Prejudice was one her favourites, hence the name." They drank, ate, laughed and chatted about all sorts of things and nothing in particular. All the while, her knee was pressed firmly against his leaving him in a state of quandary, not knowing whether to place a hand on her knee or not. It had always been a failing of his, not acting on impulse or taking the initiative in these types of situations but, if the truth be known, he was scared to make any sudden advance, he did not want to break the magic that seemed to be engulfing them at that time. He did not want to offend either by being too forward. It had always been that way for him; he even had a girlfriend, if you could call her that, back in his early high school days, he just admired her closely yet did not dare to be bold enough even hold her hand.
 
He told himself to go for it, follow her lead, but just as he was about to, he got cold feet and hesitated. His thoughts were racing, as they usually did, overthinking everything… thought clutter and self-doubt; he felt confused and anxious, he needed a bit of think time to drop anchor (to use therapist speak) and get a clear head to better process what was happening. He just hoped she did not notice his erection.
 
"If you can excuse me for a moment, I need to use the bathroom."
 
"I take it you know where it is?" she asked.
 
"Yes," Darcy answered, and he found himself explaining that he had noticed it when he came in.
 
"What a fucking idiot you are!" He mumbled to himself, once behind the closed door, together with numerous other colourful terms. "Hmmm, you have come this far, and she has been just as obvious as you have," he sucked in a deep breath. He forced his will to relax his tense muscles. "She asked you to come into her home; she has been more than good company and," he assumed, "was every bit as anxious and nervous as you." He looked in the mirror as he washed his hands. "Stop beating yourself up like this. Go back and enjoy whatever it is that comes from the situation." He straightened, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then added quietly, "I give you permission to follow the fates." He said it in an audible whispered voice. With renewed positive reinforcement, he had resolved to follow her lead: to 'pounce' as Sally Bowles had recommended in the movie Cabaret.
 
While he was away, Margot had opened a second bottle and topped up their glasses.
 
"Nice!" She commented as he sat down. Her knee made contact yet again the instant he resumed his seat. He was unsure exactly what she meant. "Your six-pack," she added and leaned forward and patted his stomach. Darcy had been in such a state of anxiety before the bathroom visit that he had sweated and his T-shirt had stuck to his ribs and exposed an outline of his tummy. He covered her hand with his and gently raised it to his lips, and kissed the back of her hand. "Thank you for the compliment, but I would still like to lose about five kilos." He placed her hand back on his knee and raised the T-shirt as he spoke. "See, still a bit wobbly," he laughed.
 
"What?" She was astonished at such a comment. "You? Lose five kilos? If you lost 3 kilos, there would be nothing left of you." They both laughed.
 
"Well, I know one thing for sure," Margot spoke in a hushed voice, "this would still be there?" Her hand moved. It now rested squarely on his crotch. "This is a nice package too." He tried to swallow, but his throat had become parched again.
 
His cock twitched under her gentle fingers, at which she smiled even more. It was throbbing, as were his temples. His whole being seemed to have a pulse and pounded like a drum. The outside world disappeared; there was only Margot and himself. Intently he looked at her and leaned forward to caress her breast.
 
"Not now, Darcy, my children will be arriving home all too soon, yours too I guess, and as much as I would welcome your, um," she paused briefly for effect "touch ..." Her comment remained unfinished as a slight look of sadness passed over her face, and her hand released its hold on his crotch.
 
"I am sorry, Margot. If you want me to go, I will?" The sadness had passed as quickly as it had arrived, and she beamed at him again.
 
"Sorry for what?" The cherub-like look of her face belied the mischievousness in her eyes.

"Oh, I don't know," he said casually, laughing. "It just seemed the right thing to say."
 
She leant back in her chair to stretch. The sun backlit her hair and was like an aura about her, such a gorgeous image, he thought, using his photographer's eye. He boldly told her so, and she laughed heartily, and he noticed a slight blush rise in her cheeks. As she straightened and reached for her glass, he felt her hand return to his knee and rise to reacquaint itself. "Let's just keep this moment in my hands, literally," she whispered and massaged the length of his throbbing penis through his shorts. "Just relax and enjoy." He moved to undo the button at the waist, but she asked him not to, just in case her son came in sooner than expected, and added that at least this way, nothing would be too out of place. He leaned back, and her hand snaked and probed the bulge from his aching balls to the ever-increasing sensitive head. He groaned aloud, and she urged him not to make too much noise for the sake of the neighbours. They both laughed. They both took another sip of wine as she moved her hand back down to his knee, then lightly trailed her nails along his thigh and back to his bulge. She wrapped the half-fist of her hand, thumb up, around the shaft, and began a very basic, almost primitive, up and downstroke. With her thumb pointing straight up, she applied extra pressure to the ultra-sensitive spot below the head. As she slowly, gently, and exquisitely massaged her soft, beautiful fingers up and down the shaft, the soft pad of her thumb stroked back and forth on the sensitive spot, which caused him to groan in response to each caress. The more she stroked, the tighter her fist squeezed, and the more intense her strumming on the sensitive of spots became.

Darcy locked his gaze on her dreamy pale blue eyes and then on her slender fingers and her bright red fingernails as she stroked and played him like an orchestral instrument; each movement produced an exquisite feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. She stroked, slowly, deliberately, but gradually faster and faster. Pre-cum oozed out, and he could feel the growing dampness on his skin. His breathing became quicker and shallower, Darcy's legs began to twitch, and her breathing echoed his. He was sweating profusely while his heart pounded out a desperate beat, a rhythm that grew with the need to come. He glanced at the beautiful woman before him, the one stroking him ever closer to the edge. He marvelled at the way her breasts jiggled in time with her strokes and the pointed nipples showing through the material of her blouse.
 
A low groan and the obvious clench of his muscles told her he was close. Her face took on an even sterner look of profound enjoyment and concentration as she drove him closer and closer to a beautiful ending. His hands tightened around the chair arms, he looked directly into her loving, smouldering eyes and he steeled himself as he passed the threshold of holding back the flood. She returned his gaze with warmth and passion, a look of heightened sexual fascination upon her glowing, beautiful face. She worked methodically and rhythmically, coaxing him to a high he had not reached for ages. He felt his balls tightened, and his shaft swelled with the steady rapidity of her strokes. He gritted his teeth and moaned, "Oh my god… Margot…" 
His head lolled back for an instant, and then, with an effort worthy of a premier athlete, he locked his eyes to hers again. For some inexplicable reason, he knew that maintaining eye contact was extremely important to her; besides, he wanted to watch his beautiful neighbour as she brought him to a fabulous climax. He grunted aloud as the first gush of semen erupted from his cock. It blasted along the crease of his left hip and pooled there. She kept pumping him as a second eruption and then a third followed and increased the massing wetness in his shorts. He was pulsing like a cut vein, and the pounding of his heart resounded in his ears as the waves of bliss subsided and the final remnants flowed for him.
 
His diminished cock and lower torso were covered with warm liquid, and the wetness was evident through his shorts. He felt as if he were melting as the tide slowly receded. With a slight degree of shyness, he looked to her and softened his grip on the chair. She smiled broadly, a sense of satisfaction of a job well done showing in her pale, sparkling eyes.
 
"That is a lot of fluid you have down there," she murmured and tentatively snaked out her slender hand. Margot fingered the wet patch and made little circles with her fingertips, causing him to flinch.
 
"I'm a bit sensitive," he apologised self-consciously and squirmed under her playful touch. She smiled warmly at his reaction. "I understand."
 
Margot looked longingly into his eyes and dragged her finger slowly across the dampness. She slowly raised it and sucked it into her mouth. "I'm sorry this was so, um, ah, one-sided," she paused, lowered her face slightly to look at him through the top of her eyes, as if in thought. With a cute, girlish, even cheeky grin, she continued, "I guess you could call that payment for services rendered?" Her question hung in the air around them; he was unsure how to answer. Taking a drink of wine, he quickly mustered his thoughts, "Possibly…," He said in a flat tone and deliberately did not finish his sentence, the intention being to leave some doubt about what exactly meant.

"Oh, dear Darcy, please rest assured I always pay my debts." She counted, taking his meaning and adding her twist, and they both laughed, clinked glasses and drank deeply.

"I'm am sorry it was one-sided, though." She continued. There seemed an urgency in her voice as if she needed to get something off her chest that was important. She took another deep draught, cleared her throat and looked him directly in the eye.
 
"We don't have a lot of time right now, unfortunately," she raised her hand to prevent him from saying anything. "My one disappointment is that I could not see you, I mean…" she hesitated, "I want you…"

He was puzzled by her unsure demeanour but decided to remain silent and let her speak. He took her hand in an attempt to give her some reassurance.

"May I speak plainly?"

"Of course.”
"Thank you." She quickly moved on. "I wanted to fuck you this afternoon, but time did not allow. I did what I did," she indicated the wet patch, "as a…" she faulted. "Oh fuck! I can't think straight. About the masturbation thing, I wish I could have watched you as you came; I mean, I wanted to watch your cock as well as you."

There was the muffled sound of a car door being closed.

"Oh shit, my son is home. You had better go." She was instantly panicked and flustered. "Oh, and Darcy, thank you for today. Can I text you later?"

"Sure," he replied as he stood to leave. "I have my phone on silent, so no problem."

"Great, thank you. Can you please go out via the side? Up past the garbage bins. That way, you can cross the front yard and not be seen by my son. I can explain this," she indicated the table, "but I would prefer it if you…"

He kissed her on the lips quickly and disappeared down the stairs off the deck.

"Are you ok?" He said as he looked up to get a glimpse of her before he departed.

"I'm fine. Far better than I was a few hours ago, all thanks to you. Sorry that I'm shooing you off this way. I'll make it up to you." She blew him a kiss, and he was gone.