Slumming It

Cynthia shut the front door behind her and, holding the lapels of her expensive blouse together, hurried toward her car. Nearing it, she patted her pants with her free hand, searching for her smart key.

"Shit!" she swore quietly, unable to locate it.

She turned and ran back to the rundown house.

"What do you want now?" called the gruff male voice from the bedroom.

"I can't find my key."

"On the table by the front door," came the reply.

Cynthia quickly located it, again steeled herself, and retraced her steps. She quickly entered the late model SUV, which was unlike the other old cars lining the street and front yards. Once inside she gripped the wheel, her heart pounding. She reflected on what had occurred over the past hour, and how she ended up in that house.

"It's John's fault," she suddenly cursed, her mind drifting back a fortnight. "Him and his smug suggestion."

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"If you're so worried about our son's school, why don't you go on the School Board, like they've asked you too?" her husband had told her.

This was John's blunt answer to her concerns around the local school they sent their precious son too. While John and Cynthia Spencer had been married for 15 years, they'd struggled to conceive. As a result they'd both been in their late thirties when John Junior was born. Cynthia viewed it as a miracle and was very protective of their only child.

John didn't share her concerns about the public school he insisted they send their only child too. John had attended public schools, feeling he was not harmed in any way by the experience. He'd pointed to the fact that he was now a qualified Lawyer, soon to be made a partner in the firm he worked for.

In contrast to her husband, Cynthia had only attended private schools. She felt they were safer, provided a superior education and connections to other children who would go somewhere in the world. With a change of schools stymied Cynthia felt she had to have some input into her sons education.

"Maybe I will then," she'd boldly replied to her husband's suggestion.

John was correct, at the School athletics day, the Principal had asked her to go on the Board. Cynthia had just won the mother's race. Despite feeling a little disconcerted at the manner in which her breasts and expensive pearl neckless had moved side to side during the race, she felt very happy to have beaten other mothers considerably younger than she was. While congratulating her, Mr. Freeman had made the suggestion that Cynthia would be a welcome addition to the School Board. She politely said she'd consider it.

As a result of this conversation, her concerns, and her husband's subsequent push, Cynthia felt compelled to put her name forward. By the end of month she'd secured a place on the School Board. As someone who kept aloof from most other parents, she'd normally have had little chance of being elected. However, the positions available outnumbered nominations, so everyone who nominated got elected.

Cynthia was aware the make-up of the Board would be across the spectrum of suburbs, from where the children lived. The Spencer family of three were located in the affluent suburb to the north of the school. However, the suburb on the south side contrasted sharply with their desirable, leafy area. It was working class, housing the type of people she'd had very little to do with.

Sitting in the first meeting Cynthia surveyed the others present. She was relieved that old Charlie Clarkson had been returned as Chair. His children had long departed the school, but he saw it as his civic duty. Marjorie Petherick was a middle class florist and Pete Banks a real estate agent. Cynthia felt relaxed with them, but not so much the other two. Loretta introduced herself as a solo mother of a little girl. She was blonde, skinny and Cynthia felt she could have been attractive, if only she styled her hair and could afford to dress properly. Then there was Duke Barrington. A brash, young, solo father, who wore and earing and had hair which came to mid-neck. Cynthia glanced at him as he sat slouched in his chair, while Mr. Clarkson droned on.

"And that name," she thought, as "Who calls themselves 'Duke' for heavens-sake?"

Determined she'd have little to do with either Lorretta or Duke, Cynthia was taken aback when she managed to get placed on the playground sub-committee with the two of them. Duke had volunteered first and Loretta quickly followed.

"Yeah, of course she did, the skank," thought Cynthia, who hadn't volunteered for anything.

"Well you best go with them," Mr. Clarkson said, pointing to the two in question.

"Well, I ummmm..."

"Come on Cynth," Duke, interrupted "You me and Loretta. We'll get that playground in order, for my boy Rocco and John Junior, won't we?"

"It's Cynthia," she'd clarified, with a pout.

Feeling cornered she'd agreed and after the meeting the three got together.

"Where u wanna meet?" Duke asked, to which Cynthia said nothing, having no wish to have either at her house.

"My house is small, but if we're meeting in the evening it will suit me to have it there," Loretta volunteered.

They'd all agreed, a time was made and early the following week Cynthia arrived at Loretta's dressed in an expensive blue dress, nylons and high heels, wearing her best pearl neckless. By contrast, the other two wore jeans and t-shirts.

Loretta's house was small but, to Cynthia's surprise, very well maintained, with many toys for her daughter. The meeting proceeded well enough, but Cynthia's mind drifted.

"These two are going to sleep together. There's no doubt about that," she thought, a picture of them naked in Loretta's bed coming to mind.

This image brought a small stirring deep in Cynthia's lower stomach and she shifted in her chair.

Cynthia wasn't averse to sex. She'd had boyfriends prior to marrying John, and initially their sex life had been quite robust. However, as the years passed sex had become somewhat regimented, especially since John Junior's birth. Cynthia would fantasize, but always left it to John to initiate, which he did less and less these days.

She glanced to Loretta's breasts, pleased to confirm they were considerably smaller than her own. She then turned her attention to Duke, deciding that, despite a lack of class he had certain 'animalistic qualities,' which could attract a woman like Loretta.

"After all they both come from the south side," Cynthia thought disparagingly.

At that point Duke rose and went for a glass of water and Cynthia watched his tight butt move. In her minds-eye she drew down his jeans and touched him. The sensation in her lower stomach intensified. However, she blushed bright red when he abruptly turned to catch her day-dreaming. He smiled knowingly at her.

"Damn!" she thought, embarrassed at having been caught.

The meeting continued well enough and concluded after about an hour. Despite her prediction, Cynthia felt Duke had unnecessarily antagonized Loretta on at least two occasions. She sat wondering why he would do this, with Loretta clearly having designs on the good looking cowboy.

"Ok, it's my house next week," Duke announced without consultation. "I think it's best to meet while the kids are in school. You alright with that Cynthia."

Cynthia and Loretta both agreed, and the other woman saw them out. As they walked to their respective cars, Cynthia's late model SUV and Dukes beat up 20-year-old saloon, he didn't hold back in regard to Loretta.

"You're so much more mature than that whiney bitch Loretta."

Surprised, Cynthia made no reply, although she was quietly happy he'd recognized what she already knew.

"You got a calm way about you Cynthia," he continued. "You dress fine and you got a nice bit of sexuality about you, but I think you already know that, don't you."

"Oh, I... ummm... " Cynthia stuttered, taken aback by this blunt comment and not sure how to respond.

At that point they reached their cars and with Duke looking directly at her, she felt obliged to reply.

"Well.... I... thanks, I guess."

"No need to thank me. I like older woman, and I first clocked you on Athletics day. I said to Hank Adams. That woman has class. Class and sex appeal," he said climbing in and starting his car. "I'll see you next week."

Duke drove off at speed, leaving Cynthia standing there completely taken aback by the brief interaction. On the drive home she replayed his words.

"He mentioned sex at least twice. He basically said I'm sexy and the men at school are talking about me," she thought, somewhat confused, but not displeased at this.

Cynthia wondered if she should tell her husband, but felt he would make some sort of a smart comment about her interest in younger men. Keeping it to herself she thought a lot about Duke Barrington, through the following week.

On the day of the next meeting, Cynthia went through her wardrobe contemplating what to wear. Despite Duke's comment, she didn't feel the outfit she'd worn to Loretta's was in any way sexy. She hadn't meant it to be. However, after their conversation, she determined this time would be different.

She chose black pants with a belt, a plain white blouse and black peasant shoes. She left the blouse untucked and didn't wear pearls. The outfit looked cheap, but it wasn't.

"The discerning viewer will see that," she thought, as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Cynthia had won the parents race on Athletics day, because she kept in shape. She used the gym, swam and did Pilates twice a week. She liked the way the trousers accentuated each butt cheek.

Duke's house was deeper into the undesirable south suburbs than Loretta's. Cynthia felt uncomfortable as she drove, wondering if her car would be safe parked on the street. When she arrived at the address she couldn't see anyone about, so relaxed. Then she looked to the house.

"Oh my!" she gasped. "It's a hovel."

"You ever been in a house this small Cynth," Duke asked, soon after she entered.

"It's Cynthia," she again corrected him, looking to the unwashed dishes stacked on the bench.

"Yeah, but that name's too long and proud. The way you've dressed for me today, you look more like a Cynth."

Cynthia was about to inform him she'd not dressed for him today, when Loretta knocked at the door. Duke let her in and offered the two women a drink. Bourbon or beer being the choice, both women declined and sat at the kitchen table, resplendent with sauce bottles.

"You're quite some way from the school here. How does Rocco get to school each day?" Cynthia asked.

"He walks. Walks there and walks back. Why wouldn't he?"

"Well, he's only seven years old," Loretta chimed in.

"I walked to and from school at seven. Rain or shine," Duke replied, which brought no further comment from either woman.

They began talking about the type of playground they wanted. It soon became apparent that Lorretta's ideas were focused solely on her five year old daughter, whereas Cynthia and Duke were looking for something the older, more robust children could play on. Loretta remained steadfast, becoming increasingly unhappy. Cynthia enjoyed the fact she was aligned with the good looking Duke, although recognized he was being deliberately antagonistic with some of his dismissive comments toward Loretta. Eventually the other woman indicated she'd had enough.

"Fine then! If that's how you feel, I'll leave you both too it."

Cynthia asked her to stay, but Duke merely indicated the door without rising from his chair. Loretta slammed the door behind her. As he took a long drink from his beer bottle, Cynthia felt a little uncomfortable.

"Well that wasn't good. I should probably go as well."

"Nah don't go," Duke said. "We all got a bit wound up there, and you and I need to make some progress with this playground thing. You want that drink now."

Cynthia felt they couldn't return to the next Board meeting, having made no progress at all, so she agreed to stay. However, the surroundings and her discomfort were such that she now accepted his offer of a drink.

"Ok, a little bourbon with water thanks."

While Duke poured the drink with his back to her, Cynthia felt a pang of guilt, as she again admired the tight butt, encased in his jeans.

"That's nice," thought Cynthia, her mind drifting, before he again turned to catch her looking.

Duke raised his eyebrows and smiled knowingly, as Cynthia quickly looked down first to the ground, and then all around the kitchen.

"It's small, but you really make it work in here don't you," she lied.

When she glanced back toward him he was looking directly at her as he offered the drink. It caused her disquiet and she quickly lifted the glass and took a large gulp. The liquid stung her throat, and Cynthia had to fight to hold off a cough. Her eyes watered.

"Hmph. You're not used to hard liquor are you?"

"Not really."

"Why'd you take such a big swig then?"

"I... ummm..."

"Is it cause you were embarrassed that I caught you looking at my ass?"

"No I wasn't," Cynthia replied, mustering all her indignity.

"Yeah you were. You looked when we were at Lorretta's, and you had another good long look just now, before you tried to praise my shitty kitchen."

"I don't think so," Cynthia replied, taken aback by his brashness. "I don't look at men. Especially much younger men. How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"So you had Rocky at what... eighteen?"

"Rocco! Yeah that's right, although his mother was twenty-eight at the time. It's older women. Always had a thing for them. How old are you?"

"Older than that," Cynthia answered, taken aback by his impertinence.

"Tell me."

"I'm in my mid-forties."

"Good! As I said, I like older women. That's why I got rid of Loretta. She doesn't interest me. Way too young, and not classy enough. You might be uptight, but like I said, you sure got class... Cynth. Class and sex appeal."

"Oh... well, ok... thanks, I guess. Look I should probably be going," Cynthia said standing, aware things were moving way to fast.

She walked two steps to the bench, with the intention of tipping her drink down the sink. She heard his chair scrape, and suddenly a hand locked on her wrist.

"Ah ah! No you don't. We're not rich like you, so we don't throw away good liquor. That would be impolite, and while we could say many things about you Cynthia Spencer, being impolite is not one of them. So drink it up," he demanded, releasing her wrist.

Cynthia's mind raced. She could ignore him and tip the drink out, but his tone and presence right behind her felt menacing. Right at that point she'd moved out of her depth.

"Damn!" she swore under her breath. "I should never have come to this house."

She raised the glass and took another drink. Again, it burned her throat, and she let out a little cough.

"It's a little strong for me. Is that enough?"

"No! What you need a chaser, to soothe your throat," he said, reaching around to offer her his half-drunk bottle of beer.

The fact he was offering her a drink from the bottle he'd been necking horrified Cynthia.

"Could I maybe have a bottle of my own?"

"Well, if you do you gotta drink it all, and I don't think you'll manage that. C'mon, I ain't got cooties. Have a swig."

Cynthia took the bottle and directed it to her lips. She tipped it and the liquid began to flow. It did quell the harsh burn of the bourbon, but suddenly Duke moved a hand back up to the bottle and held it there. Cynthia gulped as much as she could before she choked, lurched forward and spat beer into the sink.

"You all right?" he offered, a hand on her shoulder, keeping her bent over the sink.

"That was a mean thing to do."

"Yeah it was, but I knew you'd lean forward to spit it down the sink, so I'd get you in this position. Do you feel me Cynth?" he asked. "That's what older women do to me."

Cynthia could feel him alright. He was hard and pressed into her butt cheek. To make it worse, she felt him move himself there.

"Oh my gosh, I.... I think I definitely need to go now," she stated, as he allowed her to stand back upright.

"No you don't," he countered, making no effort to move back. "It's only one o'clock and the kids are safe in school. You chased Loretta away, now we're here alone and you can feel what you want. You like it?"

"No! No I don't, and I didn't chase Loretta away."

"Yes you did. Stop lying to yourself Cynthia. You wanted us to be alone so you could feel this. It's young, hard and available," he bragged, running hands under her loose blouse and onto her bare stomach.

"Oh golly," she exclaimed, taking a quick drink of her bourbon.

Aware this was getting out-of-hand, Cynthia knew she should be taking a forthright stand with this brash young man. However, the hands felt good, and the fact she was able to arouse a younger man caused her some pride.

"He finds me sexy and I've made him hard," she thought, moving her butt cheek on the hardness she felt there.

This action and the hands running across her belly began to provide sensations Cynthia hadn't experienced in some many years. She reached to grip the tap with her free hand.

"Undo your blouse," came the demand, causing her a moment of uncertainty, so she looked to delay.

"Oh no. No, no... that's too much. I'm not like that. I don't do this sort of thing."

"Stop gabbling on, and unbutton your blouse for me," he commanded, planting a light kiss on her neck.

Amazed by the softness of the kiss, she took another large drink. The hands on her skin and lips at her neck felt nice... real nice. Her head was spinning, partly from the alcohol, but partly from excitement about her situation. It was naughty. Cynthia had been hit on previously, by friends of Johns. Having never been a naughty girl, and aware how much their friends gossiped, she'd always rejected these advances. However, here in the small grubby house, with a man far removed from her social circle, the risk seemed far less. When the hands left her stomach and travelled up the inside of her blouse, she knew where they were headed, and made no effort to stop them.

Her breasts were a nice size and had always been sensitive. When he cupped them she sucked in a breath, welcoming the touch. He lightly massaged her there for a time, and a small moan escaped her lips. Suddenly he wrenched his hands to the side, sending blouse buttons flying.

"Oh!" Cynthia exclaimed, jerked back to reality by the violent action. "That's an expensive silk blouse and you've ruined it."

"You got the money to buy another one," he retorted, pulling the remains of the blouse down her arms to sit at her elbows. "You're in my house, and when I tell you to do something, you do it... OK?"

Hands returned to her breasts, kneading them through the bra. When his lips began reigning kisses across her bare upper back, she forgot about her blouse. Slowly he worked his way higher and teased her ear for some seconds, before he whispered.

"You're enjoying this Cynthia. I can feel you reacting, so let go of those false morals. You have an excuse for being here. As far as the world outside knows, we're just talking about playgrounds, but the reality is you can have yourself a much younger man. One who appreciates your beauty... your mature body," he crooned into her ear, causing the ache in her lower stomach to grow further. "No one will know. It'll be our secret."

As he spoke, hands left her breasts and moved behind to release her bra. She let him draw the straps off each shoulder, but held the cups tightly to her breasts. This small token of resistance proved futile, because he merely ran hands back around and down across her stomach, to unbuckle her belt. Pulling her away from the bench, he pushed a hand in to settle over her panties, cupping her there.