the best laid plans

As Irene pulled onto her street, her only thought was shower. After nearly four hours in the summer heat, trying to herd her third grade students and their parents through orientation in a room that had apparently lost all cooling capability over the past three months, she was ready for her own, working, air conditioner. And a long, cool shower. And maybe a nap, although she didn’t want to hope for too much.

But as she got closer to her house, her vision of a quiet afternoon at home faded. There was a construction crew right in front of her house, tearing up the road in what looked like the beginnings of a rain puddle. Except it hadn’t rained in days.

She maneuvered around the construction people towards her driveway, then stopped.

There was a knock at her window.

“Sorry, ma’am. Water main. We had to shut of the water to this entire side of the street. We had to shut off your power as well.” Irene shut her eyes and let out a moan. There went her shower. And her air. The man almost sounded sympathetic as he continued, “We should have everything fixed by five. Tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

Could this day get any worse? There was a shout and some kind of enormous splash, which drenched her with dirty water through the still open window. She shook her head in disbelief.

Suddenly, she heard tapping from the passenger side window. She looked up. It was Mike, her neighbor from across the street. They didn’t talk much, just to say hi and flirt while they were out jogging, although he’d always given off “uninterested” vibes.

She pressed the power window and stared at him, feeling like a drowned rat with her hair dripping and her makeup probably running. At this rate, he’d never ask her out, and she’d never find out how well he kissed—he had such kissable lips.

Her fantasy broke off as he passed her a handful of paper towels. “I heard. I saw. Do you want to come over and use my shower? I still have hot water.”

She paused as she wiped herself off. “You’re an absolute lifesaver.”

He grinned and stepped away from the car so she could maneuver it into his driveway.

Ten minutes later, armed with a duffle bag full of a change of clothes and assorted shower essentials, Irene knocked on Mike’s door. He opened it with a flourish and ushered her in. She stared up with as pathetic expression as she could. “Shower?”

He led her upstairs through what was obviously his bedroom. “I set out towels.”

She gasped as he opened the bathroom door. The master bath was nearly as big as her entire bedroom, with a skylight, a walk in shower with a seat, and what looked like a Jacuzzi in one corner. “I think I might be falling in love,” she murmured.

He laughed. “You just love me for my shower,” he shot back as he closed the bathroom door on his way out.

In moments she had stripped out of her clothes and stood under the hot water. Beneath the pounding drops she could feel her cares washing away, the tension seeping from her arms with the suds washing down the drain. This was even better than she had dreamed about driving home.

After the shower, she dressed and looked at herself in the mirror. She frowned. She hoped he didn’t notice that she’d skipped a bra—she was so flat she didn’t really need one.

She shrugged. He never noticed her before, why would today be any different. She sighed and headed downstairs, making nearly no noise with her bare feet.

Half way down the stairs, she froze. There was Mike, sitting on the couch with his eyes closed and his dick out. She could see the slow strokes he made, circling around the head with his thumb and then reaching down to cup his balls. All the while, his left hand was stroking the shaft, varying the rhythm but getting faster. He glistened—from some kind of lotion.

She could feel her nipples tighten and her hand was slipping down to touch herself when she realized his hand had stopped. She looked up. He stared straight back at her.

She swallowed hard. “Mike? I may love your shower, but I’m definitely falling in lust with you.” With hesitant footsteps, she walked down the stairs and over to kneel before him.

Tentatively, she reached out to touch him. Her hands were so much smaller than his. She hadn’t realized how long he really was. Her movements were timid at first, trying to imitate the ones she had seen him make, but when she passed her thumb across the head, he groaned. Her eyes flew up to meet his, never stopping the movement of her hands.

“You’re perfect.” He groaned, grabbed a towel from a handy table and came into it.

In the aftermath, they stared at each other. Her eyes were wide and her hands were in her pants.

Then she shrieked as he picked her up and tossed her on the couch.

His voice was deeper than usual. “Your turn.”

word count: 869