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An instant later that finger slid between her lips and she automatically began to suck it clean, tasting herself at the point of orgasm.As my finger left her mouth, I leaned in close to her and quietly asked, "Are you all right? Are you still afraid of me?"She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. A little breathlessly, she said, "I thought you were going to make me come ... I was so close..."I put a hand on her thigh, pulling it a little closer to me, and then slid my hand up until my little finger could sense the moist heat of her. "I can do that if you'd like..."She clamped one of her hands on top of mine and looked pleadingly into my eyes. "No ... no ... no. Please ... not here..."I lifted an eyebrow. "Not here? So you'd like me to make you come, as long as it's somewhere else?" My smile was a little mocking, and a little suggestive, though she didn't realize how she'd trapped herself."Why ... why are you doing this to me?"I lifted my other hand and started lazily tracing a line. The buzzing drier impatiently announced the end of its cycle. Rosalie Wren slumped on the laundry room floor, her limbs weak and shaky. The washing machine thumped and vibrated in its spin cycle as she withdrew her hand from the waistband of her sweatpants and wiped it on the pile of dirty clothes waiting their turn to be washed. She was alone.As much as she had hoped otherwise, the kitchen sink was still full of last night’s dishes. She sighed and swished a soapy rag around a tea glass as the hum of a mower came to life on the other side of the kitchen window. The lawn service had arrived.She’d never known the youth’s name, though he’d been cutting their lawn for years now. In her mind he was just Lawn Boy, although hardly a boy anymore. Over the years Rosalie had watched him develop from a scrawny sixteen-year-old kid to a 6’3”, 175 pound mountain of athletic muscle. He was a blond, big-shouldered, bronzed Adonis with sky blue eyes, and an incandescent smile. Every week when he was.
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