Like much of my writing this is a fantasy, well about 85% is fantasy based on a real life situation, names changed, yada, yada, yada.
Ella paraded through the living room wearing what appeared to be nothing but an ivory colored satin robe right out of a 1930’s movie and her cigarette in its long holder bounced as she moved across our painters tarps. She smiled at Sam and me, “break time boys,” she announced, “in the sun room, hurry along now,” she finished as I watched her skinny ass sway under that seductive gown.
Sam immediately got down off the ladder, dropped his brush in the paint and covered it with his rag, “that Ella makes me so fucking HARD,” he whispered and all but ran after Ella as I finished up the piece of trim I was working on and got off the ladder.
Ella was setting in the sun room, in what might be thought of as a greenhouse yet part of the house with white painted wrought iron furniture and lots of plants making it look like we were somewhere in the French Quarter of New Orleans. She had a sterling coffee service on the table and poured three cups of steaming hot coffee.
As I entered Sam had picked the prime spot right beside her and had his eyes fixed on her tits, which sagged nearly to her waist with nipples the size of g****s poking against that satin fabric. “Don’t doddle Larry,” she said as she reached under the table and pulled out a sterling silver flask and poured a generous amount of whiskey in each cup, “you boys really need to take advantage of hospitality when it is offered she said adding another glug of the whiskey to hers.
Ella took a long drag off the cigarette and flicked the ash into a plant near the table, “I tell you boys,” Ella said in a course old voice hardened by whiskey and cigarettes, “when I was your age, you two are about 30 right?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but we were, Sam was the older at 35, I had just turned 30. “As I was saying,” she said as she sipped the whiskey spiked coffee, “when I was your age I had a gay old time in the French Quarter, I met all the big names, Duke, Cab, and the like.”
“And we are off and running,” I thought in my head. We had been working at Ella’s place for a week now, a total interior paint and paper job and every morning at precisely 9:45 AM and every afternoon at 2:15 PM she held court in one room or another and would launch into stories of the good old days. I had trouble keeping up because I knew nothing of the 1930’s entertainers, but Sam was a jazz nut and knew every name she dropped.
We guessed she must have been 85 at the time we were working there based on the stories she told and she looked every year of it. “Rode hard and put up wet,” as the old cowboys used to say in the westerns. But there was something seductive about her, she never really got dressed in street clothes, always some old lingerie when lingerie was stylish and not so revealing as today.
Sam hung on her every word and his eyes never left her tits that would sway under the gown with each flourish of her hands as she described parties with the old masters, trysts with the band members, and drunken brawls that led to arrests and rides in the paddy wagon. She never claimed to have sex with any of the jazz greats but there was just something believable about her stories that kept us entertained.
Afternoon tea was anything but tea and on several occasions we were both so buzzed that we didn’t get much done after the break. She didn’t seem to mind and our boss would ask every morning as we’d load up to go, “How are you guys getting along with that old broad? She will talk your leg off if you give her a chance, but hell she has the money so let her run the job if she wants.”
As I listened to Ella talk and yes I watched those tits as well, I became aroused, at every break and then most of the day as I worked. Her tits had to be skinny, they probably looked like a zucchini with nipples to die for. But my arousal built each day. Now I must mention I was (and still am) married and ever faithful having never strayed, but if it hadn’t been for Sam I think I would have had her in that old iron bed in her bedroom.
We had painted the bedroom first and had moved all the furniture out and when it was done moved everything back. “Come set with me Larry, let me show you this little photo album, I had so many pictures of Duke that I made this up just for him,” she said as she patted the creaky old bed she was setting on. We had learned on our first morning when she beckoned you came, she would get sulky and muttered obscenities that and threatened to throw “those ungrateful sons a bitches out of the fucking house,” so we decided to humor her as we didn’t have a backlog of work.
I sat on the edge of the bed, it creaked like an old rusty hinged door, “get over closer Larry, I won’t bite you and I don’t have anything catchy, at least not that I know of,” and laughed at her own joke. She placed the album on her leg and mine and her left hand under it resting right by my crotch.
I could smell lilacs, it was her perfume and so strong that it was nearly intoxicating, and she started leafing through the pages. As she did the back of her hand got closer and closer to my now hard cock and then it happened, she pressed against it. She looked up at me and with a sly old grin she whispered, “these old boys do the same for me, being horny is part of life, fuck em if they don’t understand.”
I knew I was blushing but she continued showing me the album. Sam carried a chair in the room and slammed it down hitting my foot with the leg and said, “woops,” and I got up to walk it off and he took my place. I knew he was hot for her that first day and now it was the end of the week and I wanted to get old Ella in bed just to see if she was as good a fuck as I imagined.
Morning break ended with Ella nearly in tears over some story about some old flame that had been hit by one of those, “fucking carriages pulled by horses, just a fucking tourist thing. No self-respecting whore would ride in one.” She said and Sam helped her up and escorted her to the bedroom. I went back to work and it took a long time for Sam to return and get back at the work. I thought nothing of it as Ella had a way of cornering a person and she considered it an insult if you walked away while she was chatting.
Later that day we finished up the living room and picked up our tarps for the weekend. We promised to return on Monday, “well for fucks sake,” she said, “I will be lonely all weekend, you sure you don’t want to work a little overtime?” she asked.
We both begged off and as we drove off Sam said, "best fuck I have had in years, she really needed a man, you should have jumped on her." I was shocked and looked over at him as he started the truck, "you are such a bull shitter," I said.
He reached in his pocket and pulled out an old style granny panty, satin and it matched the ivory colored satin robe she was wearing, "she said I earned these." They were sopping wet and I remembered they both vanished after morning break.
“I don’t believe you,” I said watching him for a hint that he may have made it all up, “that old bed would have made so much noise it would wake the dead.” I reasoned.
“I took her doggy as she leaned over the back of a chair, damn she was tight, I thought I was in her ass at first,” he said and the look on his face told me it was true. “I knew you had the hots for her Larry, and I think she’d fuck you too if you had the balls to step up to the old cunt and tell her to bend over.”
“I thought you liked her,” I said.
“Sure I like her stories but the moment I saw her I wanted to fuck her, I have a thing for old ladies.” Sam said and then added, “And I hope you don’t believe all those old bull shit stories of hers, I am sure she met a few of the old great jazz guys but the rest is made up shit.”
We pulled into the shop and as usual Sam ducked out, “Gotta get home, the old lady suspects I have been sniffing around, she knows me too well.”
As I unloaded a few things from the truck the boss came back, “back from Ella’s, are you done?”
I told him we had a few things to finish up and would be done by Wednesday. Then I asked, “Sam thinks all Ella’s stories are made up, you know all the New Orleans stories.”
“I have known Ella for almost 40 years and never known her to lie. She does stretch things a bit but that old woman has had a tough life,” he said as he helped with a couple planks we were done with. “You know when I first met her she was back from a winter in New Orleans and in terrible shape. Some guy had beat her up and her boyfriend at the time walked in the room as the guy was running out the fire escape. Her boyfriend chased after him and wouldn’t you know he ran right into one of those carriages and died on the spot.”
I listened and realized that her story this morning was true. “She asked if we wanted to work a little overtime, I could do a little work tomorrow ,” I said.
“Just make a note that it overtime so Dorothy pays you right and we get it billed.” He said and walked up front to the store.
I drove the truck home and went to Ella’s first thing in the morning with the intent of painting a small pantry that we had not started and planned to make a move on her. As I pulled up to the house I saw Sam’s car and he was at the door, and not wearing painter clothes, and that is what saved me from cheating on my wife. I had every intention of making a move on Ella, so that was a near miss.