Memoir of a Young Mistress Pt. 22

Sunday afternoon, Emily heard a knock at the door. Her parents were seeing a movie and shouldn't be back yet, so she peeked through the privacy lens in the door. Hard to tell, but it looked like Mrs. Mitchell from next door. Not a salesman, anyway. She opened it to see Louise smiling at her.

"Hello dear, you're just the one I wanted to see! How are you?" She was overly cheerful, Emily thought. What does she want?

"Hi, um, I'm okay, how are you? Is Mister Mitchell okay?"

"Well, we're both okay, just a little slower each day, dear. But that's why I wanted to ask a favor. May I come in?" Louise started towards the door, expecting to be let in.

Emily allowed her in, but thought it awfully forward of her to assume.

Louise continued with her cheerful chatter. "My, you've grown! I remember when you were so little! You're quite the pretty young lady now."

"Oh, uh, thanks, haha," Emily still wasn't sure where this was headed, but she was sure the "favor" would be revealed soon.

"Can I get you something? We have some lemonade, or I can make coffee."

"No thanks, dear, I won't be long. I'll get right to the point."

She spoke quickly, pausing only for air when she needed, as if the speech had been rehearsed several times.

"I wonder if you could come over in the morning to make sure Walter has his mid-morning medicine? He's been forgetting it lately and if I have him take it at noon it messes up his schedule the rest of the day."

"I'd call him but that doesn't seem to work; he just says he'll do it and then he forgets anyway. If there were actually a person there to remind him, and make sure he takes them, it'd be such a big help."

"Could you do that for me dear? I'll certainly pay you for your time; I'm sure you're busy with other things."

The sales pitch was well-delivered. Louise had said it over and over to herself until it sounded perfect.

Emily had to pause a moment to digest it all before she replied.

"Oh, uh, well, I have a job now, so I don't know that I could..."

Louise interrupted her, "Ah, that's nice dear, I didn't know. Well, maybe I can have one of the other neighbors do it," and she headed back to the door almost as quickly as she came in.

"I'm sorry, I'd help if I could. I am off tomorrow; that's my regular day off. I can do it just on Monday if that would help," Emily didn't really want to obligate herself for the once-a-week ritual, but maybe Mrs. Mitchell would find someone soon and they would do the favor every day, including Mondays.

"That'd be sweet of you, dear. I'll certainly compensate you for your trouble..."

It was Emily's turn to interrupt. "No, that's not necessary, really. It's just a few minutes, right? I can be in and out really quick."

"Of course, and he's not much for chitchat, anyway. Just make sure he takes the pills on time and you can go. He will probably fall asleep in his chair soon after that."

"Haha, okay, I can do that. Around ten or so?"

Louise was already letting herself out. "Yes, that will be fine. I'll tell Walter. He will be so surprised to see how you've grown up!"

Emily closed and locked the door. "Well, so much for sleeping in on Monday," she thought to herself.

On Monday, Louise Mitchell told her husband Walter goodbye as she stepped out the front door. Soon the van from Sea Coast Senior Center would pick her up and she'd spend her morning visiting with her friends until lunch time, then it would bring her home.

Inside, Walter was finishing up his toast, and poured a second cup of coffee. His wife would scold him if she knew, because the coffee gave him heartburn, but old habits die hard. He'd rather have the extra cup with a little acid stomach rather than nod off before lunch.

In the living room, he turned on the TV and started cycling through the hundred-plus channels, and as usual, found nothing of interest. He missed having three channels. Easier to make up your mind back then, he thought.

He heard the van backing out of his driveway, making the beeping noise while it was in reverse. Satisfied he was alone, he got up and knelt by the TV, removing a couple of books from the entertainment center, and took a VHS tape out that was hidden behind them. Sliding it into the player, it automatically started playing at the point where it had been stopped previously.

Walter watched and reminisced as he viewed a much younger version of himself removing the clothes of a pretty twenty-something girl who was his co-star for this film. Walter didn't watch his old party films very often, but since the day the cute girl next door had given him a little peep show in her backyard, he'd taken to watching it more often. He had realized that seeing the pretty girl had stirred his old member somewhat, which surprised him, as he hadn't had an erection in years.

The next time he watched his tape, he couldn't help but think about the girl, and he found himself getting a little aroused again. So, as an experiment of sorts, he had taken to watching every few days while his wife was away, to see if he could waken his sleepy friend. So far, he had not gotten much more than a twitch, but he kept trying. He had decided though, that it was specifically the girl next door, and not just naked girls in general, that gave him the stiffy.

Watching the film, he saw the bad makeup job on his arm, and remembered the argument he had with the director about him wanting to hide his tattoo. Walter had a tattoo of a mermaid on the inside of his left forearm, the result of a tour of duty during the war when he had a few extra dollars and he and all his friends decided they wanted a souvenir. Walter had chosen a topless mermaid who was very well-endowed. His wife hated the thing, and always insisted he wear long sleeves when they went out, and he usually complied, but at home it didn't matter.

The argument had happened before the first film was shot. Although Walter was given a face mask to hide his identity, he pointed out that someone might recognize his tattoo, and asked if the makeup man could cover it with some of the stuff he used on the girls. The makeup man didn't mind, but had trouble matching Walter's sun-darkened skin, so the lighter patch on his arm stood out almost as much as the tattoo.

The director was mad because makeup was one of the more costly expenditures of his film-making business. The girls needed it over most of their bodies, so it went fast. Walter did win out though, as he refused to film anything until the tattoo was disguised. He looked down at the mermaid, remembering his youth, and sighed.

The doorbell rang partway through the tape, and Walter hit the stop button on the remote and slowly made his way to the door. He remembered his wife telling him that she would have someone come by to make sure he took his pills on time. He figured it would be one of the other retired folks who lived on the street, as there were several.

When he opened the door, he was delighted to see the pretty girl next door, up close, and smiling. She had a plate with her, something covered in foil.

"Hi Mister Mitchell, your wife wanted me to check on you. I made some cookies last night, would you like some?" she smiled.

"Come in, child, come in! Yes, I'd love a cookie or two. Just don't tell my wife, or she won't let me have dessert after dinner tonight!"

"It'll be our secret, I promise," Emily laughed. She had never seen her neighbor this close up. Once in a while over the fence, they would give a friendly wave, or out front as they were dropped off by someone. Mister Mitchell looked like a kind old grandpa that would be spoiling kids by giving them ice cream when their parents were away. She immediately liked him.

"I was about to have some coffee, but I let it get cold. The pot is still on. Do you drink coffee, dear?" Walter asked. He was trying his best to keep his eyes on the girl's face. Up close, she was even more pretty. He felt a bit of guilt at having watched her from his kitchen window, but reminded himself that she went out there in broad daylight and stripped of her own free will, knowing full well that she might be seen. It's not like he was outside her bedroom window watching her undress.

"I love coffee," she answered.

"He's a sweet man," she thought to herself.

Walter went to refresh his coffee and pour a cup for his pretty young guest. Emily sat the cookies on the small end table by Walter's chair and examined the entertainment center. She saw he had an impressive collection of classic films, some of which she wanted to see but hadn't yet. She thought about asking to borrow a couple, but realized they were tapes, not DVDs, and her parents didn't have a VCR.

Snapping out of her distraction, Emily remembered why she had been asked to visit. She called out towards the kitchen door. "Mister Mitchell? Your wife asked me to come over to make sure you took your medicine. Have you taken it yet?"

Walter called back from the kitchen. "No, dear, I haven't. Thank you for reminding me. I'll get it while I'm up." He went out the opposite end of the kitchen towards his bedroom, where he kept his pills.

Emily saw a tape of one of her favorite classic films, Casablanca. She took it from the box and examined the VCR. "Maybe he'd let me watch a few minutes," she thought. She had never used a VCR, but the controls looked simple enough. She knelt by the entertainment center and looked closer at the VCR. She was fairly sure there was already a tape in the machine, from the illuminated icon in the display. She pressed the "play" button.

Walter sat at his bed and opened his pill bottles, one by one, and lined them up on the nightstand next to the glass of water he had brought from the kitchen.

"So many pills," he thought. "Are the pills keeping me healthy or killing me slowly? And how come none of these pills help me remember things, or let me move as fast as I once could?"

"Or make me attractive to young women," he mumbled out loud, remembering how beautiful he thought Emily looked as she undressed in her yard that day. There was, of course, a pill to give him an erection, but he saw no point in asking the doctors about that, as his wife would have none of that nonsense. Those days were long past now, fading memories. He started the process of swallowing the pills, which always took a while. Walter never liked swallowing pills.

Emily watched the flickering video in amazement and glee. "Mister Mitchell watches porn, haha!" she thought.

This wasn't just porn though, it looked like a really old film, maybe something someone shot with their personal movie camera. The lighting and focus were far from professional.

The man in the film had the most amazing cock, she thought. She watched as the young girl straddled the man, slowly taking all of him inside her.

"Damn," she thought, "He's bigger than the vibrator Ted bought for me." Emily watched the film, wondering what it would be like to have sex with a man that big.

Walter finally downed the last of his pills, and got up and made his way back to the kitchen. He poured a cup for himself, and another for Emily. He thought about calling out to ask how she took her coffee, but decided it would be more charming if he brought out the cream and sugar on a tray.

"It might make her want to stay and visit a bit," he wished. He got a tray and began arranging the accessories.

As Emily watched the film, she noticed in a close-up that there was a lighter-colored area on the man's arm. Once she noticed it, it distracted her. She wondered it if was scarring from a burn. But as the scene continued, she realized it was makeup, because the girl had grabbed the man's arm as he fucked her, and some of the makeup smeared off and revealed a tattoo. It looked like a girl or something, she thought.

Walter came into the living room, tray loaded with coffee, sugar, and cream. Emily didn't hear him return to the room. He was about to say, "Here we are," and he saw what she was doing. He froze.

Emily's attention was glued to the TV, and her back was facing Walter. It was the film where the girl was mostly on top of him, riding him. Her breasts and hair swung with her motions, and the cheap bed they were using was rocking back and forth with each thrust. Walter remembered the annoying squeak it made, and was glad the film didn't have sound.

Walter cleared his throat, and smiled his most disarming smile. "I have the coffee."

End of part twenty-two.