Adrienne – A Rainy Day Ch. 01

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Only half an hour earlier, the sky had been bright blue, and Josh had figured he could get the lawn done in just over an hour, get paid and be on his way. But then the clouds had moved in quickly, dark ones, and then the rain came, pelting down hard. He got drenched as he moved the lawn mower into the shed, but there wasn’t enough room in there for him to wait out the rain, which only seemed to be getting worse.

“Mrs. Pearce?… Hello?”

As he came down the hallway from the back terrace, Mrs. Pearce emerged from the kitchen. He got a better look at her as she stepped into a cone of light under a ceiling lamp. She wore an elegant, thin knit sweater that buttoned down the front, showing off her breasts to spectacular advantage. There was no sign of a bra, and her nipples stood at proud attention, straining against the fabric, casting shadows under the overhead light.

Her lean, graceful legs were encased in tight, white capri pants. She was barefoot, and her hair was tousled. Apparently she hadn’t been expecting anyone to come into the house.

“Josh? What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Pearce. The rain just started so suddenly, I had to come in for shelter. I hope you don’t mind.”

She examined the young, handsome man standing in her hallway. Tall, solid muscle, and right now the sudden downpour had caused his T-shirt to cling to his torso, showing off his muscles. Look at that, she thought, he has an actual six-pack. She’d been in a sensuous mood, partly fueled by booze, for most of the afternoon, and the sight of this young, solid man in her own house started to stir deliciously lusty sensations in her lower abdomen.


At 37, Mrs. Pearce was a well-maintained, attractive woman. Josh had thought so ever since he’d first gotten to know her about two years ago. Slightly above average height, with sensuous curves, he had often stolen glances of her body as she sunbathed while he was mowing the lawn or cutting the hedge or cleaning the pool.

He would have done the yardwork for free just for the visual pleasures it afforded him, but she actually paid quite handsomely. Her husband worked in the city and wasn’t around much, which he compensated by keeping her financially satisfied. Their house was tastefully furnished and decorated, and Mrs. Pearce always looked well put-together, her make-up just so, her elegantly demure, stylish outfits always matching when he spotted her around town or at the mall.

Still, their marriage was a childless one, and she sometimes struck him as a little lonely. Sometimes he wondered if she had perhaps taken a lover or two over the years. When he had struck up a conversation with her a few times, she seemed vacuous and self-absorbed, chattering at length in a slightly high-pitched voice about anything that popped into her head. He had never felt much of a personal connection with her, maybe because of their age difference, but that didn’t stop him from occasionally fantasising about ravaging that luscious body of hers.


“Do you want to wait it out?” she asked.

“I might have to… if that’s all right with you. I don’t want to be a nuisance though.”

“Don’t be silly, Josh. I can’t send you home in this downpour!” It was true, the rain outside was just torrential. There was a flash of lightning and a few moments later the low rumble of thunder. “Your mother would never let me hear the end of it! Just make yourself comfortable. I could make you a drink in the meantime. If you’d like.”

“Sure, okay.”

“What can I get you?”

“Whatever you’re having, Mrs. Pearce. I’m easy.”

“Go in and have a seat, I’ll be right there.”

He watched her turn and admired that perfect ass and those lean, slender legs sensuously swaying back into the kitchen, and then he moved on the living room: a glass coffee table, a couch, two armchairs, an ottoman, a couple of side tables, a big-screen TV. On one of the side tables, he noticed a paperback with a Fabio-type cover model – a racy romance novel, borderline soft-porn. It was open and face down, as if she had just put it down while reading it. A pair of reading glasses lay next to it. He had a look at the ripped male torso on the cover. Huh.

He plopped down on the couch, and as his hand touched the couch cushion, he realised it was slightly warmer than other parts of the couch. She must have been sitting or lying right here just a few short minutes ago. And then there’s that book. Hm. Okay, then.

In the kitchen, Adrienne poured drinks for both of them. Suddenly she realised she had left that damn book lying on the side table. He was sure to have seen it. Well that’s just dandy, Adrienne, she thought. How embarrassing.

About an hour earlier, she had settled in with a bit of booze and erotica, and ten minutes ago, she had gotten into the mood – really gotten into the mood, gently rubbing her clit through the crotch Kıbrıs Escort of her pants, her insides starting to stir while reading one of her favourite saucy parts of that novel. She’d been planning to take her clothes off and make herself a lot more comfortable as soon as Josh was done with the work outside and had left.

That’s when the torrential downpour had started. Distracted, she had noticed her drink was empty, and she had gone back to the kitchen for a refill. And that’s when Josh had shown up, damn him. Bad timing… or was it?

Not that I could be mad at him, she thought as she entered the room and looked down at his impressive physique, right there on her couch. She took a throw pillow and casually tossed it onto the book to conceal it. At the very least she could make the point that she was embarrassed, if he happened to have seen the book. Which she was sure he must have.

She placed a drink on the coffee table in front of Josh, then walked past him, not registering that she was treating him to a perfect view of her ass and legs, sensuously gliding past him. When she sat down on the couch next to him just a little too hard, almost falling the last bit, it occurred to him she might have been drinking.

She held up her drink and they casually clinked glasses. His suspicion was confirmed when he took a sip of what he had assumed was coke, but turned out to be rum and coke, with what seemed like at least as much rum as coke. He felt the warmth of the liquor spreading through his chest.

She felt a little flustered sitting here with him now. She took a swig from her glass while avoiding eye contact, inadvertently giving him an opportunity to check out her curves, her soft belly and sleek legs. On the way back up, his gaze lingered on the pleasant swell of her breasts, and when he looked up at her face, he was startled to see she was looking right at him. Busted!

She was no stranger to being checked out by the opposite sex, and she usually bore it with a mixture of pride and quiet indignation, depending on who happened to be ogling her. In this case, perhaps as a result of having her hormone-laden, booze-fueled session interrupted, she felt oddly titillated and flustered. As a result, she did what she often did when she was nervous: she avoided eye contact and started making conversation – solo if necessary – about anything that popped into her head.

For his part, Josh really had just come in here seeking shelter from the raging storm outside, but now, as he watched her speaking in that lilting tone, apparently off in a world of her own, that distance between them, and took in that luscious body, a different plan began to form in the recesses of his reptile brain. A plan that might even be fruitful if that steamy book on the side table was any indication.

Soon enough, they had finished their drinks. Josh politely offered to make the next one, which she gladly accepted. What a nice young man, she thought to herself as she handed him her empty glass. Well-built, too, she thought as she admired his powerful thighs and calves.

In the kitchen, Josh thought of a way to move things along. How to get a woman to take off her pants, by Josh Riley, chapter one. Watch and learn, kiddos.

When he brought the rum and cokes – in the same concentration as before, he made sure of that – out into the seating area, he pretended to trip and sent one of the rum and cokes flying into her lap, soaking her. She whooped with surprise, and he acted horrified and contrite, quite convincingly even, as he quickly got paper towels from the kitchen and then used them to dab her capri pants dry.

“These are soaked!”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Pearce, I just tripped, I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s all right, Josh. I’ll just go get changed and put these in the wash.” She got up and swayed momentarily, the booze taking hold. He held her by her arms, steadying her.

“Oh, thank you, Josh,” she giggled. “I’ll be right back.” She squeezed past him, one breast grazing his arm, and he was thrilled by the proximity of her.

“Actually… um, while you’re doing that, would you mind putting my shirt in the dryer?” She turned and looked at him quizzically. He tugged on his shirt, which was plastered to his body. “It’s just not very comfortable sitting here in a wet shirt, that’s all.” Without waiting for an answer, he peeled the shirt over his head.

It was her turn to leer as she took advantage of the time his head was covered by the T-shirt to admire his rippling muscles, the solid build of his torso, pecs and biceps.

“I’d really appreciate it,” he said as he held the wet T-shirt out to her. I’m already appreciating it, she thought to herself as she took it from him.

“I can find you another shirt or a sweatshirt, if you’d like.” But it’s fine if you don’t, she added in her mind.

“Oh, I’m fine like this. It’s pretty Kıbrıs Escort Bayan warm in here.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not if you don’t.” She shook her head. Fine by me, she thought. A load of eye candy right here on my couch, things could be worse on a rainy afternoon. She went to the laundry room to put his shirt in the dryer, then headed to her bedroom to get changed.

While he was waiting, he took off his shoes and socks and put them aside. They too were still soaked from the downpour, and that was enough of an excuse to take them off. She was still taking her time upstairs, so he chanced checking out her book on the side table. It was pretty racy all right, full of buxom women and ripped Navy SEALs. Do women actually read this kind of stuff? Apparently so – some of the pages were well-thumbed. He quickly put the book back into place when he heard her footsteps padding down the hallway.

She returned, having changed into a pair of tight tan mini-shorts. Yum. She was still barefoot, but he noticed that while she was gone, she had brushed her hair and touched up her make-up, and unless he was mistaken, she’d dabbed on a bit of perfume as well. She’d made an effort to look nice. For him? Interesting. He was grateful to see she had still not put on a bra, leaving her spectacular tits perfectly in view, and easily accessible. At least in theory.

She sat on the couch next to him, folding one leg under her bottom and sitting back, one arm on the back of the couch, which gave her breasts a nice lift. As she started talking again, picking right up where she had been interrupted, he was wondering how he could move things along before the rain stopped and he would have to finish the work outside or head home.

Nodding along to her conversation and occasionally mumbling responses like “yeah” or “oh really” that made it seem as if he was paying attention, he had already tried some of the more obvious things, like gradually inching closer to her, looking deep into her eyes (studiously avoiding letting his gaze drift south again) and occasionally, when it seemed appropriate, reaching out to touch her arm or knee. But now he was kind of stalled.

Suddenly he realised she had just asked him a question.

“How are you at massages?”

“I’m sorry?”

“My shoulders are feeling a little tight. Are you any good at massages?” He knew next to nothing about massages, but he sure wouldn’t mind running his hands over that voluptuous body of hers for a while.

“I’ve never had a complaint yet.” Nor a compliment, but that was beside the point.

“Well, you’re still on the clock, so I may as well have you put in a bit of work.” He hadn’t realised until now that she still considered this as part of his work. He was being paid by the hour for doing work in the yard, but as far as he was concerned, right now he was on enforced downtime while enjoying a drink – booze, no less – in the company of a beautiful woman, which he would have considered ample compensation.

She was pleased with her idea. Massages were always a nice, low-key sensual thrill that could be seen as sexy or not sexy. That was the beauty of it: like foot-rubs, massages were ambiguous. She thought it would be nice for him to give her a little back-rub, make her feel good, before the rain would stop and he would finish the work outside and be on his way. A pleasant way to bridge the time before she could get back to her book, masturbate herself to oblivion, and then maybe have a nice hot foamy bath before heading out to dinner with her husband.

She twisted around on the couch and scooted back to him. Halleluja! Now he had free rein to touch her, with a perfectly unobstructed view of the slender lines and delightful curves of her back and ass. He gently moved her lustrous mane aside and started rubbing her shoulders and upper back.

Almost immediately, her lilting chatter resumed, and he could feel the vibrations of her words resonating through her back while he massaged her. She was simply free-associating, talking about things going on in the neighbourhood and in the world today, as if she were at the hairdressers or a coffee klatch. While she kept sipping her rum and coke, he was wondering if he could escalate the situation somehow.

He moved from simply rubbing her shoulders and neck to including her upper arms, her lower back and finally the upper edge of her ass, that thin strip of soft skin between her shorts and her thin sweater. He had briefly tried massaging her sides, and it had taken an heroic act of will to not just reach around and scoop her magnificent mounds up in his hands and swoop in and kiss her neck and see where that would take them.

He did notice that she occasionally paused in her self-dialogue and sighed, apparently savouring the treatment he was giving her body. Mmm, this feels nice, she thought. He’s got strong hands. Whatever he Escort Kıbrıs was doing to her, it certainly kept that tingling feeling that she’d been feeling all afternoon going inside her. It might even be heating up a little…

“Mrs. Pearce?”

“Uh-huh?” Now what?

“Maybe this isn’t the best position.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“You see, when you’re sitting like this, your back isn’t straight while I’m massaging you, and I need it to be straight so I can work your lateral dorsals properly.” Which was BS he’d just made up, but he suspected she knew as little about the technical aspects of massages as he did. And he was right.

“Really? What do you suggest?”

“Well, if we just…” He got up and stood next to the couch as she looked up at him. It occurred to him that his groin was level with her face, and if she happened to look straight ahead, she would see by the bulge in his shorts that his little friend was already showing an avid interest in her fuckable self. Fortunately, his bare torso proved to be more of a distraction to her as she kept looking up at him. My, aren’t you a fine specimen, she thought woozily. I wonder what all those muscles are called.

He quickly took one of her slender hands and guided her to stand up. “Maybe if you lie down across the couch, facing down, I can access your back better.” He watched as the graceful beauty stood next to him, at eye level for a moment, a fresh wave of perfume hitting his nostrils, then got down on all fours on the couch, her fantastic ass jutting up high in those tight mini shorts, her magnificent breasts dangling free and practically unsupported in that knit sweater.

She slid forward and down into a fully horizontal position, with her delicious mounds mashed under her, spilling out at the sides. Her head ended up at the edge of the couch, facing down, as if she were on a massage table. None of this seemed to be intentional posing on her part, and she was paying no attention to him throughout the short move. It was just the natural way for her to get to that position, but it was poetry in motion.


“Much.” Phew. Down boy.

“Now.” He clapped his hands once. “The lateral dorsals, let’s see.” He kneeled down by the side of the couch, right by her head, with a perfect view straight along her luscious body. The mane of her hair, her lean shoulders and back, the curves of her waist and hips, the enticing swell of her ass in those tight shorts, her long, slim, bare legs stretching away from him. He would have preferred her to be facing up, for a number of obvious reasons. With a bit of luck, they might get to that too. Down boy! One thing at a time.

He moved her hair aside and got to work on her shoulders and upper back muscles, then proceeded to give her long strokes from her shoulder blades to the narrow stretch of bare, soft skin just above her shorts, eliciting occasional sighs from her. Every time his hands reached her lower back, she could feel the heat from his groin near her head.

Incredibly, she soon started talking again, this time about a holiday she was looking forward to having with some friends. Meanwhile, Josh tried not to think about his swelling cock in such close proximity to her pretty head.

But what could he really achieve right now? She was lying on her belly, still wearing that sweater. He could only pull it up that far from her lower back before she might object, and it was difficult to get to her bare skin from her neck on down, via the collar.

The answer again came out of something she said. Or rather, the fact that she was still talking incessantly throughout all this. He couldn’t ask her to shut up exactly, and it didn’t seem like she was running out of things to talk about any time soon. Was it just nerves, or was it the alcohol, or was she always like this?

He decided to massage her head, her throat and her neck, up to her jaw, figuring that was a nice change of pace about now, and it might just make it awkward for her to keep talking while his hands were right there. No luck. She seemed to enjoy what he was doing, but at the same time she just kept talking.

Then, almost as if by chance, he ran a finger directly over her lips. That surprised her… and it silenced her. Okay, that was… interesting, she thought.

He thought exactly the same thing. He repeated the move, gently rubbing her lips. Meanwhile, he kept rubbing her neck and scalp with his other hand, so he could at least pretend this was all still part of the massage.

Okay, so now this is happening… she thought. She had enjoyed the massage so far, but she hadn’t seriously considered that it would go any further than an innocent massage – though she started to realise that she hadn’t thought out this part very well.

Now she found herself in a kind of sexual no-man’s land. His strong hands roaming all over her body had made her feel very sexy – more so than she had expected when she first suggested the massage. She was palpably aware of his masculine, barely dressed body so close to hers. For a brief moment, she pictured him in the saucy scenario she had been reading in her novel. He certainly was a plausible fit.

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