Twice Driven(106)
But as I was saying, it was that last summer when it all happened.
You see, it wasn't that I'd never noticed Mr. Weaver like I did that last summer before college, but I guess it had always just been that I'd been distracted by other things going on. Looking back of course, I have no idea how anything could have ever distracted me from how crazy hot my much older employer and neighbor was. I mean sure, we'd seen him plenty of times before at his pool, or when he jogged around the block shirtless and sweaty - I'm sure causing quite a fluster with some of the housewives in the neighborhood. He kept himself in amazing shape, and I know he also probably drew the jealousy of more than a few husbands of those housewives.
I suppose I always had a little crush on him, in an awkwardly flirtatious schoolgirl way. But I'd grown up since I'd first starting working for the Weavers, and I'd started to look at men - especially men who looked like Tyler Weaver - in a whole new, wholly adult way. And when I accidentally saw him like that, on THAT fateful day, I knew then how things were going to play out. Seeing him that day set something in motion and put a fire inside of me like nothing else ever had. And it was that day when I knew, despite every rational thought that said otherwise, or how crazy it was, that the much older and entirely inappropriate Tyler Weaver would be my first.
Of course, that came later, so let me explain.
Chapter 2
Tyler
When the moving truck full of roughly half the furniture in my house pulled away, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Relief.
Yeah, that sounds shitty to say, but that’s exactly the feeling that was going through my head knowing the final chapter of this particular book was almost finished. And now here I was, forty years old, and a divorcé.
About damn time.
Because really, whatever I’d thought I’d found with Rebecca back when we were younger never really was there. I’d given up life on the road happily, and on my own accord, to be with her. Yeah, the touring life was fun, and playing music like that was one of the best things I’d ever experienced in my life. And sure, settling down with Rebecca meant stopping that, but I was okay with that decision.
The music was fun, the women were a lot of fun, but the constant nomad shit had gotten old for me. I just wanted a fucking home base; some place to come home to at night and just put my feet up instead of trying to catch sleep on a fucking tour bus. And if that meant getting married and settling into suburbia? Bring it on.
Except it was pretty clear from the get-go that whatever Rebecca and I thought we had wasn’t actually there. We just weren’t the people we’d thought each other were. For instance, I always thought she’d wanted kids, but turns out she had no intention of that happening. Example number two might be that I thought she’d stay faithful.
Yeah, whoops.
Really though, when that shit came out, I wasn’t even mad anymore. I was just ready to move on and get back to being me. So, when she wanted to leave me for that guy? No problem; it was the move we both needed. So I waved the prenup in her face, signed the papers, and here I was cracking a beer and settling down into my half-empty living room, watching the moving truck drive away.
Yeah, like I said, relief.
The sudden sound of shrieks and giggling and splashing shook the thoughts from my head, and I frowned as I got up to go peek out the back window.
My frown disappeared the second I looked out, and my jaw dropped a little
Holy shit, well that’s a nice fucking way to welcome bachelorhood.
It was like the male fantasy come to life, splashing around in my pool, and I groaned.
I’d always told Christina Ames from up the street that she could come over whenever she wanted to use the pool. I mean I was friends with her parents, and I considered her responsible enough, seeing as she worked for me doing stuff around the house.
I’d never remotely strayed from Rebecca, but I did have eyes. And yeah, there was a little guilt about the way my cock twitched whenever Christina came over to do a little work around the house. Guilt because I was a married man, guilt because I was friends with her damn parents, and guilt because of how inappropriately young she was. I mean she was eighteen, and legal, when I first started noticing the young woman she’d become. But once you noticed something like that - yeah, good luck not noticing.
Just like good luck not thinking all sorts of wholly inappropriate things when a girl who looks like Christina Ames shows up smiling at your door. She was all legs, with this tight little ass, smooth, toned torso, full ripe young tits, and the face of a damn angel. Bright blue eyes, fully pouty pink lips, and long blonde hair that tumbled over her shoulders and fell halfway down her back.