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Right on cue, I spot the old lady appearing at the end of the street, carrying her four bags of heavy shopping, like always. Beats me how an old woman like this has enough money to afford a mansion but still carries her shopping herself — she doesn’t pay for one of those fancy, new-fangled grocery delivery services to deliver it right to her doorstop. I guess some folks get rich by being thrifty like that. Holding on to every damn dime unless she absolutely has to part with it out of necessity.
Well, today old lady, it’s a necessity. My necessity.
I cross the street and walk up to her, making sure my expression’s as soft as possible, my smile is wide and genuine.
‘Morning, Ma’am,’ I say. ‘Need a hand with those bags?’
The old lady looks up at me as if I’ve startled her from a distant reverie, and then she smiles. ‘Oh, thank you, young man,’ she says. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
She hands me her groceries, and we walk right up to her front door together. In broad daylight.
‘Want me to carry them inside for you? Feels like you’ve got half a ton of bricks in here,’ I say, laughing.
She laughs too. ‘That must be me stockpiling the canned food again,’ she says with a chuckle.
We go inside, and I carry the bags to her kitchen table.
It was a bit of a gamble, hoping that she’d let me inside like this. I didn’t want to have to rob her on her doorstop, to force my way into her house, just in case there were any witnesses, but it’s worked out perfectly.
‘Can I get you a glass of lemonade, young man?’ asks the old lady. ‘It’s a warm day.’
My mother died when I was a teenager. My grandmother outlived her, but she’s dead now too. Both good women.
I look down at the lady, a good few inches shorter than me. I can see the top of her head, the delicate wisps of white hair covering her scalp. It’d be so easy to crack her skull with my bare fist, if I wanted to.
‘No thanks,’ I say, drawing my tongue across my lips. My palms are sweating. My mouth is dry.
‘Okey-dokey,’ says the lady, looking up at me. Her smile is starting to fade now. I’m beginning to outstay my welcome. It’s time I made my move.
I’ve been rehearsing this line for days.There’s no need to make this trickier than it needs to be, I’ll say.Just hand over your jewelry and whatever’s in your safe and I’ll go quietly. You don’t need to be acquainted with my gun. As long as you cooperate, no-one needs to get hurt.
Seeing her now, though, like this… so small, so frail, soreal… I can’t do it.
What the hell was I thinking? Robbing some poor, defenseless old woman? My grandmother would be turning in her grave.
‘Well, have a good day, Ma’am,’ I say, giving her a brief nod.
‘Wait,’ says the woman, reaching into her purse. ‘Here’s a dollar. For your help. Don’t spend it all at once!’ She chuckles again, and I take the dollar and thank her.
I walk out of her mansion into the sunshine, thrusting the dollar deep into my pocket.
There’s a lesson to be learned here, there really is, but fuck if I’m ready to learn it just yet.
Present
I’ve been thinking about Addison for hours now, and I just can’t stop.
I’ve worked up such a thirst, that I creep down my ladder, fully naked, my dickstillhard from yet another round of thinking which I haven’t quite brought to conclusion yet.
Got to drink something, though. I’m parched. At least I know Addison can’t walk in here with her ankle the way it is. I’m safe down here like this, for tonight at least.
I open the fridge and find a cold carton of orange juice. I drink it straight out the carton, great big gulps of it, and then I look down at my hard-on.
Fuck. I need to sleep. I really do. But this thing is stillbeggingfor attention.
I slam the juice down on the counter, and, with the fridge still open, casting a pale, otherworldly white light onto me, I grab hold of my cock and give it what it wants. I think about wrapping that pink lacy bra around my shaft, kissing that generous chest of hers. It’s been so long since I’ve had a woman, and even the ones I’ve had have never, ever, stirred anything this powerful within me.
There’s something about this girl. It’s more than just her perfect, goddess-like body. It’s the sparkle in her eyes, too. The way she seems to depend on me. The way she so bravely fights to do what she thinks is right, every step of the way. Don’t know much about horoscopes, but I’d bet money on the fact she’s a fire sign. Not that I’m a betting man. Not anymore.
