So I had just put my kids on the bus to afternoon kindergarten today, when there was a knock on the door. I was not expecting anyone, so I was prepared to be annoyed by a door to door salesman. When I opened the door, I was faced with the most handsome young man i'd ever seen. His cheeks were rosy and his breath steamed from the cold. He looked cold in his leather jacket, and jeans and I noticed a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. My mood was shifting so quickly from annoyed to intrigued that I nearly lost my balance.
"Hi." I cocked my head, and smiled at him, inviting him to explain his presence.
"Hi, um, I'm sorry to bother you, but could I use your phone? My bike just quit on me and I need to call my buddy to bring me some tools." He was soft spoken, almost shy, which contrasted with the bad-ass image of a biker. He was only a few inches taller than me, and had a wiry frame. He looked to be no more than 18 or 19.
"Sure, come on in. You must be freezing." I glanced up and down my suburban little street, wondering where this marvel of sexiness had come from. I saw his bike, a Honda Shadow, right at the end of my driveway. As I closed the door behind him, and turned to get the phone, I noticed the blond ponytail hanging halfway down his back. I led him through my cathedral ceilinged living room to the kitchen where the phone was. I couldn't think of anything to say to him, but I didn't mind. I handed him the phone then put on a pot of coffee. He looked like he could use some, and nodded appreciatively when I gestured with the pot.
"Damn. No answer." He was mostly talking to himself, and as he put the phone down, his brow furrowed, his finger tapping impatiently, I spoke
"I have plenty of tools in the garage, and you're welcome to bring the bike inside to work on it, out of the cold." I handed him a cup of coffee and we both sipped silently for a moment.
"Really?" He looked suspicious of my kindness, and I realized he was probably a punk kid who wouldn't expect a 25 year old housewife in a nice neighborhood to be so solicitous. "I mean, that would be great, but I don't want to be any trouble." He seemed a little nervous, so I smiled reassuringly.
"No, it's no trouble. come on." I led the way, and opened the garage, turning up the heater first, then pulling out various tools while he pushed the motorcycle inside.
I assured him that he was welcome to use any and all of the tools he needed and went back inside to get his coffee. I started to realize that I was alone in my home with an extremely attractive man. I decided to check my appearance before going back out to the garage. My black waist length hair was clean and shiny and I had never been one to need, or enjoy, makeup, so that was a check, then there was my choice of wardrobe....hanging out with my kids never inspired me to wear my nicest clothes, but I decided that what i was wearing was just fine--comfortable jeans and a tight t-shirt, rather sexy actually. So I took a deep breath, grabbed that cup of coffee, and went back out to the garage.
"How's it coming?" I had hoped he would find everything he needed, but not finish the job too quickly, and it looked like that's what was happening. He had taken apart something and was looking pretty pissed off.
"Not so good. I thought I knew what was wrong, but it's something different this time. Piece of shit." He kicked the tire, then looked up at me with a smile. "Sorry. My name's Jesse, by the way." He held out a greasy hand for me to shake, and I didn't hesitate. Touching him sent chills up my spine, as I knew it would.
"Lisa. And don't worry about it. We'll get her running." I walked over to the bike, and started looking at what he had done so far. My first boyfriend had been a mechanic, and I had learned a lot about bikes from him. I picked up one of the pieces he had detatched and laid on the floor.
"This is your culprit, right here. I bet you fifty bucks." I winked at him, then turned to go inside. "Let's go call a parts store and see if we can get you another one, huh?" He was looking at me in awe, as he caught up to me in the kitchen.
"You know bikes?"
"Damn straight. Just because I look like a snotty bitch doesn't mean I'm not cool underneath it all." I laughed then started flipping through the yellow pages.
"No, you don't, I mean...I just..." He wasn't sure how to take me.
"Here's one. What year is your bike?" I got the info i needed from him and made the call. The first store i tried had the part he needed and would send a driver over within the hour. "You don't have anywhere you need to be, do you?" I dared him to disagree.
"Uh, no. I"m good." He was starting to look nervous again. There was no way he could not sense my intense interest, but seemed unsure of how to read it.
"Great. You can wait here." I took his coffee cup, to refill, and used that as an excuse to touch his hand. He dropped the mug before i grasped it, and it hit the tile floor with a loud crash, breaking into a dozen pieces.
"Oh god, I"m sorry...I uh,..." he was on his knees, scrambling to pick up the pieces, and I joined him.
"Hey, relax, I'm not going to bite." I put my hand on his, to steady the shaking. He looked up from the pieces of pottery he was holding, and into my eyes.
"Are you really....?" He had a half smile on his face, his head cocked in disbelief. I didn't answer, but that was enough. He reached for me, and our lips met in a rush of excitement and insecurity. He was soft and sweet and I wanted to rip his clothes off right there. We kissed for a while, surrounded by broken pottery, and then there was a knock on the door. We both jumped, and I scrambled to my feet and nearly tripped over my own feet trying to get to the door. It was the parts delivery guy, miraculously quick arrival. Curse him! I paid him and thanked him, and headed back to the kitchen. Jesse was looking guilty and shy.
"here's your part. where were we?" I pushed him onto the couch and we continued kissing for a long time. I felt like a kid again--partly because he was a kid, and partly because i hadn't simply "made out" with a guy for a long time, even before i was married. i tried not to think of my husband who was on one of his abundant business trips--which he had used to have several affairs during our brief marriage. I slid my hands under Jesse's shirt, and felt his smooth skin stretched over the muscles that young men have without trying, his hairless chest reminding me that he was too young. Soon, my shirt was off and his pants were off and he was smiling at me like a kid in a candy store.
"I can't believe I'm here. I've seen you, working in your garden or whatever, and that's why I picked your door to knock on." His breath was hot against my neck and I was thrilled with the knowledge that he had been checking me out before.
"You're at least 18, right?" I asked insistently. I didn't exactly want to be breaking the law.
"20, actually." He was tugging at the waistband of my jeans, and I decided to help him by removing them as quickly as possible. It felt so good to be with someone again, the heat of passion, just sex for the sake of sex. No strings, no expectations. We stayed naked for the rest of the afternoon, and defiled several rooms of my house. I finally noticed the clock at 3:15.
"Oh shit! You gotta go. My kids will be off the bus any minute! Hurry!" We ran around, gathering his clothes, then he scrambled into them. I shoved him into the garage just as the bus pulled up. That's when the guilt hit.