I’d been trying to convince myself to take it
slowly, I couldn’t. The attraction was there. I knew it. I could feel it. All
the signs pointed to it being something real. If she needed time, she could
have some.
Sitting on the rug below her, I
opened my sketchbook. “What do you think?” I said, holding it out.
After a moment of study, she
finally spoke. “What’s this?” she asked, pointing to the structure at the side
of the pool.
“The pergola we discussed. If you
flip the page, I’ve done a more detailed close-up.”
She turned to the next sheet. “I
don’t remember it being much of a discussion.”
“Suggestion then. Don’t you like
it? Because I can always change it, if you want.”
Still studying the picture, she
asked, “Can you really do that?”
“What? Change it?”
“Build it.”
“I wouldn’t have put it there if
I couldn’t.”
“It seems like a lot of work.”
Cora drained her glass without looking at it, and before she could set it down,
I refilled it.
“Nothing’s too much trouble for
you.”
A small smile played across her
lips. “The space would be useful, but I can’t see how it’s going to fit.”
I leaned back on the plush pile,
resting on my elbows. “Don’t worry about that. As soon as I get rid of that old
maple tree, there’ll be plenty of room.”
“Really? You want to get rid of
the maple tree? Don’t you like it?”
“I’m sure it was great, in its
day, but not now. I can always plant a new one somewhere, if it was a favourite
of yours.”
Finally, she looked down at me. “Is
that what you do, get rid of things that are past their prime and replace them
with younger models?”
“Ah, I see where you’re going
with this. Our age difference really is a big thing for you, isn’t it?”
Cora glanced at her glass, and
noticing it was empty again, she placed it on the carpet at her feet, and
sighed.
Despite asking the question, I
didn’t want to hear the answer, so I changed the subject. “What do you think of
the steel waterfall?”
“Huh? Oh.” She turned the
sketchpad, considering it from different angles. “Is that what that is?”
“If it’s not your style, I could
always raise the side border and run a rocky waterfall into the swimming pool.”
“My home is not a cheap beachside
hotel.” Her eyes held a glint of distaste.
“I know. That’s why I went for
the steel. It’s modern and beautiful, just like the house’s owner.”
Cora’s attention shifted from the
sketch to me. “If that hadn’t sounded so cheesy, I might be flattered. It’s
been a long time since anyone has called me beautiful.”
My eyes roved from her red
painted toenails up the smooth line of her legs, briefly halted at the enticing
shadow cast by the hem of her skirt stretched over her thighs, and stopped at
her unusually coloured eyes. Every inch of her was stunning. “Get used to it,
because you’re going to be hearing it a lot more.”
Cora held my gaze, as if daring
me to come to my senses, and without looking, she placed the sketchbook on the
sofa and pushed off the cushion to kneel next to me. Her hands found the rug at
either side of my hips, and her head lowered until our faces were almost
touching. “Look at me, Johnny.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m looking.” I
broke her stare, for a second, to scan down her cleavage, before meeting her eyes
again.
“No. I mean really look at me.
Closely. I have lines around my eyes. They’re not going to disappear, and
they’re getting bigger every day.”
She had to be kidding. You’d need
a magnifying glass to see her flaws. “You’re beautiful.”
“And stretch marks, I have those
too.” She lifted one hand to smooth the side of her breast. “Here.” Her hand
dropped slowly and stroked across her lower abdomen. “And here.”
She must have known what effect
it was having. It was as if she were giving me my own personal lap dance. I
found her touching herself to be highly erotic, and I
slowly, I couldn’t. The attraction was there. I knew it. I could feel it. All
the signs pointed to it being something real. If she needed time, she could
have some.
Sitting on the rug below her, I
opened my sketchbook. “What do you think?” I said, holding it out.
After a moment of study, she
finally spoke. “What’s this?” she asked, pointing to the structure at the side
of the pool.
“The pergola we discussed. If you
flip the page, I’ve done a more detailed close-up.”
She turned to the next sheet. “I
don’t remember it being much of a discussion.”
“Suggestion then. Don’t you like
it? Because I can always change it, if you want.”
Still studying the picture, she
asked, “Can you really do that?”
“What? Change it?”
“Build it.”
“I wouldn’t have put it there if
I couldn’t.”
“It seems like a lot of work.”
Cora drained her glass without looking at it, and before she could set it down,
I refilled it.
“Nothing’s too much trouble for
you.”
A small smile played across her
lips. “The space would be useful, but I can’t see how it’s going to fit.”
I leaned back on the plush pile,
resting on my elbows. “Don’t worry about that. As soon as I get rid of that old
maple tree, there’ll be plenty of room.”
“Really? You want to get rid of
the maple tree? Don’t you like it?”
“I’m sure it was great, in its
day, but not now. I can always plant a new one somewhere, if it was a favourite
of yours.”
Finally, she looked down at me. “Is
that what you do, get rid of things that are past their prime and replace them
with younger models?”
“Ah, I see where you’re going
with this. Our age difference really is a big thing for you, isn’t it?”
Cora glanced at her glass, and
noticing it was empty again, she placed it on the carpet at her feet, and
sighed.
Despite asking the question, I
didn’t want to hear the answer, so I changed the subject. “What do you think of
the steel waterfall?”
“Huh? Oh.” She turned the
sketchpad, considering it from different angles. “Is that what that is?”
“If it’s not your style, I could
always raise the side border and run a rocky waterfall into the swimming pool.”
“My home is not a cheap beachside
hotel.” Her eyes held a glint of distaste.
“I know. That’s why I went for
the steel. It’s modern and beautiful, just like the house’s owner.”
Cora’s attention shifted from the
sketch to me. “If that hadn’t sounded so cheesy, I might be flattered. It’s
been a long time since anyone has called me beautiful.”
My eyes roved from her red
painted toenails up the smooth line of her legs, briefly halted at the enticing
shadow cast by the hem of her skirt stretched over her thighs, and stopped at
her unusually coloured eyes. Every inch of her was stunning. “Get used to it,
because you’re going to be hearing it a lot more.”
Cora held my gaze, as if daring
me to come to my senses, and without looking, she placed the sketchbook on the
sofa and pushed off the cushion to kneel next to me. Her hands found the rug at
either side of my hips, and her head lowered until our faces were almost
touching. “Look at me, Johnny.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m looking.” I
broke her stare, for a second, to scan down her cleavage, before meeting her eyes
again.
“No. I mean really look at me.
Closely. I have lines around my eyes. They’re not going to disappear, and
they’re getting bigger every day.”
She had to be kidding. You’d need
a magnifying glass to see her flaws. “You’re beautiful.”
“And stretch marks, I have those
too.” She lifted one hand to smooth the side of her breast. “Here.” Her hand
dropped slowly and stroked across her lower abdomen. “And here.”
She must have known what effect
it was having. It was as if she were giving me my own personal lap dance. I
found her touching herself to be highly erotic, and I
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