You Looked at Me Pt. 02

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(I advise reading Maisie Part One before you get into this — it’s long with zero sex in it but sets out the context for this and other parts that may arise else we are literally two people having drinks at the beginning…and beware that this chapter contains no sex — that starts in Part 3!)

“Maisie!” I replied, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, “So nice to meet you” and like a fool I held out my hand, which she took and kind of held it rather than shook like we would in a business meeting.

“You too Richard, I’m glad you could come as I was so nervous you wouldn’t” she replied, “Get a drink and come and sit down”.

“Another?”, I asked as I saw her coffee cup was empty.

“A fizzy water”.

I walk over to the servery, looking at the lunch offering of pies, something meat based in a sauce, chips, something under covers that I presumed to be vegetables, and bypassed that, getting a self-serve coffee and grabbing two bottles of fizzy water and straws then paid the cashier, duly walking back with my tray.

Do I also offer to buy her lunch, served until 2pm according to the signs or not?

“Here you go”, I passed her the bottle of fizzy water, my eyes already darting all over the place as my mind shot back to the party where, yes I admit I had looked, but not for long but long enough.

Right, now for the awkward part. Is this just a casual chat or something else I wonder, shuffling my seat around as I sit opposite the most stunning young lady in the place.

Oh my we’ve gone silent already. Do I offer to leave? Is she about to go?

Maisie starts by opening her water, unscrewing the cap and pops the little straw into the bottle, raises it to her lips and gently sucks on the straw.

My eyes are fixed on her lips that are slight crimsoned with a slight touch of lip gloss and liner, the straw, her face, made up with foundation that blends nicely with her tanned skin, the tip of her nose, her eyes — nicely enhanced with the current trend of fake lashes and her irises that are a kind of grey/blue.

Her hair, a rich brown colour and as I’m no stylist, I can’t explain apart it from fell around her face — not quite a bob cut — but tidy and really enhanced her face while a selection of discrete piercings decorate her ears.

She stops drinking and we both burst out laughing as she looks over to me.

“You’re staring at me”, she says, as I nod, caught in the act, covering my eyes with one hand in a mock fashion as my other hand is reaching for my coffee cup handle.

“Guilty as charged your honour”, I respond, hoping I hadn’t freaked her out already.

“Most men do, especially when I’m showing a little more flesh”. I smile back in agreement.

Is this girl a tease or is this girl a tease?

I decide there and then, there is most certainly something and whatever it is, it’s pressing my buttons and I feel like I’m 18 all over again. Actually am I 18 or 19, the same age as Maisie?

So the chat starts to flow.

Maisie is 18, the girlfriend of Tom, the Lynx covered footballer friend of Stefan who was at the party.

She’s just finished college and is going to take the year out working at her mother’s accountant business and then go onto University now she’s finished her business studies course at Rainford College if her grades are good enough after getting some work experience and cash.

Spare time is spent, like most 18 year olds, shopping, having her nails done and watching Netflix or anything online, which saved me the awkward conversation about television and films, though Tom takes her to see Marvel movies and she admitted that, yes she cried when Tony Stark died too.

We establish that she’s also seen me a few times here and there as we both live in Forton which isn’t the largest of towns but on opposite sides and after she caught me looking at her at the party, she turned detective, trying to find out who I was while being discrete.

“So how did you find out who the stranger staring at you was?”

I probed after we’d established that we are neither fans of R’n’B and actually both like Ed Sheeran and more acoustic music along with Rhianna, Jess Glynne and anything you could dance around your kitchen and listen to Adele when sad.

Maisie laughed and said she asked Tom who I was.

Tom being her boyfriend. Mmmmm.

So then Tom had to ask Stefan who told her who I was, how I knew his parents and the company I worked for. Then she went online, found the company and also discovered my mobile number was listed on there as part of the field sales department. So much for a small world. I didn’t even know my number was on my company website!

I complimented her on her detective skills — I think on par with mine and then, it was time for the killer question.

“So why message me?”

“You looked cute and I noticed you admiring me”.

It was hard not to at the party.

Maisie was hardly covered up that day and bra free in her burgundy wrap around silky top.

Yes it covered up and contained her breasts, that today were almanbahis ‘off show’ but were probably looked at by everyone there that day.

“Did you like what you saw that day?”

Now, do I nod or not?

“I did and I do now”, my mouth responding before I could move my head. What does she want?

Maisie took another suck on her straw, her tongue resting on the tip at one point. This girl really knows how to play a guy. If she isn’t or doesn’t realise she is, it’s a damn good performance.

She lets the straw drop and smiled. “I thought you did and thank you”, she smiles at me, her eyes looking, not staring, but in my direction.

So what now. I’m sitting here, in the garden centre with an amazingly sexy young eighteen year old and you’re probably thinking the same. What do I do? Lunch? Maybe she’s eaten.

I look at her, wondering where to take the conversation as my cock has kind of woken up too from his sleeping state as Maisie is running a finger across her bottom lip, making him wake a little more.

I was about to speak and my words came out jumbled and she laughed. What an utter tease she is. I laugh with her.

Part of me wants to say “Well this is lovely, do you want lunch?” and another part of me wants to say “Come back to mine and let’s see what happens and who gets naked first” and a final part reminds me that I’m in a garden centre, sitting across from someone’s girlfriend who’s friends with a friends son.

“Let’s go for a walk”.

“Sorry?”, I replied.

“A walk, you know, outside”.

Maisie rises in her seat, gathering her purse from beside her while giving me a glimpse of her legs, which are neither skinny nor plump and her boots that have a little bit of retro about them and I can tell that she’s still partly tanned, albeit fake.

“Do you want a sandwich?” (God I sound such an old man at times)

“Ham Salad please” she responds then gestures she’s heading to the Ladies, so I grab two packs, pay and wait for her just outside the exit.

Right Weaver — it’s time to decide what to do next.

The ice is broken, fingers crossed you’ve done well so far but where is this going to go? You’re older than her by a lot of years and, when she was in nappies, you were rewiring houses, going out at weekends, dating regularly and drinking while realising your were crap at golf.

My brain knows what I’d like to do, so let’s see what reality delivers.

“Thanks”, Maisie takes the sandwich from me and carries it.

I can tell she’s touched up her makeup and tidied her hair while in the Ladies and, standing next to me, she is almost a foot smaller than me and everything under the polo neck jumper is perfectly in place.

My eyes dart back and forth, also taking in her face, her legs, her ass and then back to her breasts again. I want to grab her hand but it’s most certainly too early for that.

The garden centre is a mix of sales, shops and a garden display, towards which we head, chatting about nothing and everything as we go, including the boring details of my job, which she admits, was quite good seeing I still earn a living, have my own place and no mortgage.

We sit on a bench inside a little hexagonal summer house, slightly hidden, as I start to nibble my sandwich, Maisie taking my cue to do the same, still chatting in between bites.

“What would you have done if you didn’t get my number?” I ask as Maisie passes me her sandwich packet that I place in a nearby dustbin”

“I don’t know, maybe tried harder to contact you or given up. I’m glad you replied.”

I’m still mixed up. Is this just Maisie satisfying her curiosity or something more?

I could literally see her walking away if I say the wrong thing or ‘come on strong’ as, underneath, I know what I’d like to do. I’m in that kind of ‘run away’ state or think she could be any moment.

Maisie turns on the bench and looks at me.


I look at her and lean forward. Oh this is stupid. Snap out of it man! This feels a bit serious.

Suddenly I sense her move towards me and our lips touch. Just briefly and I can taste the gloss on them. I keep as still as a statue, my hands locked into place so not to touch her, as the kiss lingers a little more and then breaks.

“I’ve not done that in a long time”, I admit to her. It wasn’t the most spectacular kiss and probably the most stupid response, but when not expected, a kiss is a kiss in my world.

Maisie laughs and smiles at me. “It was nice, you’re nice Richard and I’m glad you turned up today”. I smile back, my brain still racing as it’s tries to process what has just occurred.

“Tom reckons you’re in your 30s”. I tell her Tom is wrong and I’m actually just 40 to which she nods.

“I thought you were”. Her hand is resting on mine and she smiles. This is nice. Odd but nice.

“I need to be gone by 3pm” she says. I check my watch, it’s just after 2pm and I still aren’t sure what to do next, if there is a next, if there is a next move or she will head off home, text almanbahis giriş me later and ask not to see me again.

“Where is this leading Maisie?” I ask. Ten out of Ten Richy-Boy for being direct and subtle. Sometimes my brain and mouth find they are disconnected for a moment and I just spurt words out.

“May I whisper?”

I lean into her again and listen as she move in close.

“When I saw you looking at me Richard, I liked it and I liked you. Tom doesn’t look at me like that. I’m literally feel just like a girl he hangs around with not his actual girlfriend, takes with him when he goes with Stefan and his girlfriend and someone he fucks from time to time when he feels like it, not when I want to”.

“I won’t say I like older guys as I don’t know what I like but I got butterflies when you looked at me and I hoped you would talk to me that day but you didn’t and when I looked for you, you’d left already. I wanted to talk to you if only to say hello”.

I expected tears any moment and I reached towards her face in case any came, resting them by an ear. My fingers slowly but gently traced down her cheeks, down her neck and then I pulled away as I reached the fabric of her polo neck.

We sit for a while, in the quiet. I don’t want to say anything as I don’t know how to react if she’s upset. Anything I say now could see this being game over.

But something inside me pulled her closer to me on the bench and I could smell her, a sweet coconut type of smell, then whatever she used that were slightly strawberry and citrus at the same time and she rested her head against my arm.

I looked down and our lips met once more as if it was the natural thing to do and we gently kissed again, albeit briefly as we heard adult voices walking nearby and the chatter of youngsters.

“Thank you Richard”, Maisie said. “Can I see…”

“Yes, I’m free on Saturday” I replied, “Free all day”

“Tom is at a football event all day”.

My brain has finally processed things. I’m sitting on a bench with a stunning 18 year old who’s now admitted to me that her boyfriend doesn’t give her the attention she craves.

Is she bored of him? Does she want him and someone else? Does she want me? What do I want? What does she want?

I guess there is only one way to find out?

“I cook a good breakfast if you arrive early enough”, I tell her.

“At yours? Sounds good to me” she replies.

I’ve pretty much invited her around. I best make sure that I clean the place on Friday from top to bottom and, not presuming anything, make sure I change the bed too.

“It’s getting close to 3pm” I say, looking at my watch.

We both stand and start walking towards the exit and car park.

“I’m over there”, she gestures, my car in sight too and we start walking towards her parking spot.

Do I hold her hand? Best not. Then I feel her hand reaching for mine.

“I like you Richard, you’re a gentleman and I don’t know many of them.”

This moment reminds me of the end of movies, when the guy drives away towards the horizon, wishing he’d done more but leaving the female behind.

“Thank you” I reply, holding her hand as we walk.

“This is me”, we stop at a blue Nissan, “It used to be my Mum’s car and she gave it to me when she passed”. I recall my father did the same for me when I passed, donating a well-worn Ford estate that had been used as both our family car and company delivery vehicle with a massive mileage on the dial and I had to clean it out myself, throwing copious old delivery notes away and empty boxes.

Maisie opens the car with her fob, the lights flash and the car beeps at us. Do I give her another kiss as a parting gesture? I decide yes, before she has chance to get in, reaching for her hand.

I gently kiss her hand and she smiles.

“Drive safely” I say.

“Thank you”, she says as she closes the door and settles in her seat, belting up and starting the engine.

Her window slides down and I expect a goodbye.

“36E” she says laughing with a devilish smile on her face, as she reverses from the parking space and slowly starts to drive away.

Well, Richard Samuel Weaver, I guess that answers that question!

I have the rest of the day to myself and head to my mothers to finally repair the DVD player that she’s asked me about three times.

Mum forgets that often I will drive hundreds of miles in a day and, after that, I want to get home, eat, crash out and sleep, despite the fact I could drive the few miles to her house. We exchange chit chat and I’m still there at 5pm when the offer of an evening meal comes my way that I accept.

My phone buzzes. I’ve started to leave it on vibrate now that Maisie messages me.

I look at the screen. ‘M’ has text me. I set Maisie as that when she told me her initial and I find it easier to leave it as that among my work colleagues, business contacts and suppliers.

“Thank you for today. Thank you for the kisses”, she says.

“You’re welcome Maisie, it was lovely almanbahis yeni giriş and so were they”. Blimey I’m romantic.

“What do you want to do Saturday as well as breakfast?”

Hoping that she is still free. I could say to her that getting naked would be nice but, I choose a safer response.

“See what happens, no plans really” I respond.

“LOL ok.”

There she goes with the LOL again. I guess it’s the response when you don’t know what to say.

“Did you hear what I said as I drove away?”

“Yes, you naughty girl”.

I get another emoji that looks like someone licking their tongue out.

“You were curious?”

I admitted I was.

“Catch u soon”. And with that, she was gone.

Maisie and I would chat by text a few times up to the weekend. I didn’t want to pester her so I’d let her initiate them each time. I felt it safer and not me being pushy.

Texts would often be about what we are doing, am I busy (often yes with work) or just goodnight.

Friday afternoon came around and thankfully my mother had taught me well, so armed with various products, I cleaned my place top to bottom, added various air freshening devices and even a candle or two from the pound store in town.

While I was in town, I also called in the main pharmacy. Do guys buy condoms now in bulk or just threes? I decided a 12 pack was a little excessive but six better as it’s not good to run out. So instead I grabbed two six packs.

And some lube.

Just to make sure.

Something inside me said I may not even use this haul but better to have it in the bedside cabinet than not at all. Maisie may not be interested but I still knew what signals were and being told the bra size by a woman still counted for something. I took from from the packet and left them in their wrappers, save fumbling if required. I could always put them back in, hoping to use them before they go out of date.

The final tasks: hoover the entire place and then change the bed. Again, do I go jazzy or plain? We may not even get this far but, again, best to be prepared.

I settled on a navy fitted sheet and duvet set plus a throw that I use in winter that looked good in place.

7.30pm Friday evening and I’m done and smell great. When I say great — a mix of cleaning products and bleach. I then realise I needed milk and bread so headed back out to the supermarket.

“Around 9 trmrrw?”, my phone buzzes as Maisie texts me.

“Yes, works for me”, I reply as I push the trolley down the dairy aisle, putting cheese into my shopping cart alongside the milk. What started out as a small shop has now turned somewhat larger.

I put enough in to cover a light lunch and potentially an evening meal in case Maisie, saying she has all day, chooses to stay all day. I hope she does.

“Just getting a few groceries. Wuup2?”. I’ve turned into her with my messages.

“Chilling. Thinking bout you”.

That’s sweet. Well it’s either sweet or naughty depending on what she was thinking.

“Your address would be useful”

I realised I hadn’t sent it, so whizzed it over complete with directions to find me easier.

“I’m looking forward to see you tomorrow”, I send.

“Me too. Night x”

Oh my, I get a ‘kiss’ on the end of the text too. That’s new.

“Night x”

Looking at the time, I best get some sleep.

I check myself out and decided the smell of bleach and other household cleansers have gone. Room check: hallway – tidy, kitchen – tidy, lounge — tidy and no junk left lying around, bathroom — like a palace, spare room — why do I check in here but yes it’s tidy and finally my bedroom on the attic level — exceptionally tidy, all clothing put away and clean.

I switch everything off, check my phone, set an alarm for 7.30am and settle off to sleep.

‘Bzzzzt’ ‘Bzzzzt’

I dash from the kitchen across to the hallway and literally run down the stairs to answer the door. Looking through the frosted glass, I see Maisie standing there wearing some kind of patterned dress, her face made up a little more plainly today — just foundation and her eyes made up. Lovely.

“Good morning Richard” she says, as I open the door, my eyes flicking up and down all ready, looking at her figure in the flower print dress that reaches to her knee, the upper part buttoned but her breasts pushing their way out. (Calm down and invite her in).

“Come in, come up!” I say, smiling to myself, so happy I was up, showered, shaved and dressed for 8am and already sorting out breakfast.

Maisie races upstairs ahead of me as I admire her curvy ass and legs, one of the benefits of having a flat where the ground floor is the garage, another floor with the lounge, kitchen and plus bedroom and small shower room and a final massive bedroom up top with en-suite bath.

“Stop looking mister, I know your sort”, she laughs as her nose follows the smell of cooking. “Do I have to take my shoes off?”, she says, motioning to her white tennis pumps.

“No need, I’m not that fussy” I reply. Maisie takes a chair at the table, her legs still on show. She has a delicious body.

The radio is playing, just a mix of modern and recent tunes and I offer her a drink.

“Tea? Coffee? Juice?”. Maisie reaches for the fresh orange and I pass her two glasses.

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