As I showered I was surprised to find myself horny. Really horny! The ued sight of Heather doing…whatever she’d been doing seemed to light a fire inside of me that I hadn’t felt in months if not a year or more. When was the st time Bir wanted me, really wanted me, in that way? I couldn’t holy remember. Bir was my dream girl. Small, delicate features, slim and trim, bright blue eyes, with perfect petite titties and natural golden blond hair both above and below, she checked all the boxes for being the type of girl I always wanted. When we first got together I couldn’t believe my lu snagging such a hottie. The sex had bee! Yet, for whatever reason, somewhere along the way the fme dwihen snuffed out pletely. While my low libido was definitely a me problem her not looking at me in ‘that way’ certainly didn’t help things. That look had fouargets. Actors, models, men we’d see while we were out in the world. Lately she’d even gotten so bold to start enting on them. It hurt my feelings but she would tell me not to be so jealous and that it was okay to look as long as she didn’t touch. She was right I suppose, it just would have been o be looked at like that on a while. But…how could she ever see me in that way when she knew what a loser I really was. Whether I was misreading her iions and her as or not, Heather had just reminded me what it was like to feel sexy and attractive again.

  At the point when I ther myself up with one of Heather’s fancy body washes I just go ahead and spend some extra time on my manhood. It does not take long t it to full mast and just a couple minutes after that I am busting and watg my creamy seed fall to the tub to get washed down the drain. God DAMN had that felt good! A mueeded release after an awful day. After rinsing off I wash my hair to get out all the missed clippings and trimmings from my haircut then step out of the tub smelling like a bouquet of summer flowers. I dry off with a towel that she had left out for me then slip into the pajamas, sans underwear. No point in putting filthy cloth on skin. I’d wait until I had some oo put on. Besides, it felt kinda o go ando uhe soft fabric of the new jammies.

  I the mirror of steam so I could brush my short bck hair. Standing back I stare at the blue eyed man looking back at me. Fuck. Shaved and trimmed I almost looked like…Dad. There was one big difference however. In that deep sapphire gaze I do not see the hope and pride of my living father. I see nothing but the disappoi of his ghost at what had bee of his legacy. I shake my head and look away. I throw the robe over my shoulder and gather my clothes. Slipping out of the washroom I toss the clothes and robe onto the guest bed. My natural instinct was to grab for my phoil I remember that there was no wifi here. A fact I was still grappling with. Until tomorrow I was cut off from the world. A loud clearing of a throat grabs my attention.

  “Ahem!” Heather says, looking in from the other end of the hall. “Dirty clothes do not go on bedding. You take those downstairs, please and thank you.”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

  Pig up my clothes again I trot down to the basement to add them to the sed load that was waiting for its turn in the washer. While there I look about for the object Heather might have been handling when I peeped down earlier. Damned if I could see anything. There was a jug of bleach. Perhaps she was holding against herself as she struggled with the cap? But why would she have had the front of her dress hiked up while she did it? And why did it look like she was stroking it? Maybe I was remembering it wrong. That must be it. Yeah, it robably just the bleach bottle She robably smelling my shirt thinking she needed some extra powerful er to get the smell out. God, I’d gotten it all twisted up. I’d deluded myself. As if a cssy old gal like that would be attracted to a broke ass charity case like me.

  When I reach the top of the stairs I fiher waiting for me with a great big smile. “That’s better!” She says brightly. Taking the colr of my pajamas she straightens it then smooths out the fabriy shoulders. It was VERY weird being touched like this. Even Bir wouldn’t have felt so bold as to fuss over me like this, even ba the good times. “I khere was a handsome d uhere somewhere.”

  “Urm, yeah.” I say awkwardly. “I feel…um…almost human again.”

  “Treat yourself well and you’ll feel well.” Leaning iakes a long breath in through her nose. “Mmm. Yummy.” She then pats my chest. “I’d say I got your size perfectly.”

  Yummy? Her casual toug and sniffing still had me a bit weirded out. And the fact she was a bit taller and a lot heavier than me, something I was not used to in women, had me intimidated. But there was something about the easy way in which she spoke with me, as if we were longtime friends, that put my jangled ease. I barely khis woman a she made me feel fortable in her presence.

  “Yeah.” I run a hand down my front. “Thank you again Mrs. Hutton.”

  “Couldn’t have you running around here in yhty whities, could I? Not that I haven’t seen it all before.” She ughs. “I don’t have any spare slippers I’m afraid.”

  “I’m okay.” I say. “If you don’t mind me walking around barefoot.”

  “I don’t mind.” She turns and invites me into the kit. Oove sat two pots and a roasting pan with a scrumptious looking whole roasted chi waiting for us. On the ter beside the stove was a loaf of French bread on a cutting board with a dish of butter nearby. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Woah! Is this all for us?”

  “Do you see anybody else?” She chuckles. “I’ll slice the bread. Would you mind carving the bird?”

  Without waiting for my answer Heather busies herself slig and buttering the bread. As I approach she pulls up another cutting board for me to use and points to the block of knives sitting on the ter. Clumsily I trahe chi on the board then pull a long chef’s knife from the blod stare down at the beautifully prepared poultry.

  “So.” She says. “You said you lost your job today?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah I did.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. Do you know why?”

  “Well…yeah. Yeah I do.” I sigh. “I was sg off. Showing up te. That kinda thing.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I was a lousy employee. I deserved to get fired.”

  “I’d say so.” She says point bnk. “But at least you know what you have to improve on. It’s worse when you don’t know. Those are easy to fix.”

  “You’d think so.” I mutter.

  She bumps her hip into mine. “Is that pity I hear? What did I say when I invited you?”

  “To leave it at the door.”

  “That’s right.” She nods. “None of that now. You’ll spoil my appetite.”

  “Yes Ma’am.”

  “Are you going to cut that bird or just admire it?”

  “Um…it’s been awhile.” I say as I try to gauge where to cut the chi first. “Um.”

  “Let me guess. You’ve been living off microwave dinners?” She pokes my little pudge. “That’s processed fht there, isn’t it?”

  “Bir and I weren’t really ones for…cooking.”

  “Pff! As if it’s optional!” She scoffs. “How are you going to feel good agaiing garbage, hm? A man needs some real food in his belly.” Pg a hand on my back she ys her other hand over mine. Direg my knife hand she guides me through the first slice. “Pull the leg away from the body. Like that. Yes. Now find the joint. It’s easier at the joints. There you go! Now just slice it away from the rest. Perfect.” Letting go of my hand she says. “Now do the other side just the same. Perfect!” Grabbing my hand agaihen directs me through slig the breasts apart then removing the wings into their own pieces. “Very good, Elliot. You are a quick learner.”

  Was she being sarcastic? It was just carving a chi. And she did most of the work. Why was she being o me?

  Without a pause she brings down a couple of ptes. “I didn’t make any gravy but there’s some Peri-Peri in the fridge if you want something for the chi.” She starts to dish out the food. Opening the two pots she reveals buttery mashed potatoes and steamed green beans. “Ah, damn. I let the beans cool off. Hope you don’t mind tepid beans.”

  Wanting to be helpful I say. “I’ll just hem. If you’ve got a bowl…”

  “Ah.” She sighs. “Microwave’s on the fritz.” She g me from the er of her eye. “I’ve been meaning to pick up a new o…just haven’t gotten around to it.”

  “Oh. What’s wrong with it?”

  “I don’t know. It seems to work. Turns on, light es on, turn table goes, ts down, everything. It just doesn’t heat. The element is burnt out or something.”

  “Element?” I grin. “No, Ma’am. Sounds like it’s the door switch.”

  “Door switch?”

  “Yeah. It happens a lot. The oven won’t heat if the door’s buggered.” I say. “It’s an easy fix.”

  “Oh yeah?” After a pause she asks. “Out of curiosity, how much would something like that cost?”

  “For the part? Like…five or ten bucks.”

  “That’s it!?”

  “If you know what you’re doing.” I say. “It’s not worth hiring a repairman. If you get the part I swing baorrow and do it for you. I’ve got the tools. If that’s what it is I get it up and running in a few minutes.” I look back to her. “The least I could do for the meal and the bed.”

  “You’re a handiman?”

  “No, Ma’am.” I say. “I just fool around with it. Or used to.”

  “I think you’re selling yourself short, Elliot.”

  “Nah. It’s just a thing I used to do when I was bored. I was forever taking apart things. All sorts of things. Unfortunately putting them back together again was the tricky part.” We share a ugh. “Drove my Mom crazy with it.”

  “Sons ALWAYS drive their mothers crazy.” She chortles and pats my back. “Eae in their own special way.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Meals are dished out a out on the small round dining table for two that sat at the border between kit and living room. Pulling doair of wine goblets she asks me. “Would you mig the wi’s in the fridge.”

  “Yes Ma’am.”

  I go to the fridge and start looking around.

  “It’s otom shelf, Elliot.” She says softly from behind me. “Wayyy at the back.” I bend over and move a bag of broccoli to discover a box of cheap white wine.

  “The chardonnay?”

  “Mm hm. Mmm, yes, that’s it Elliot. You got it.” I pop up with the box and spin around to fiaring intensely down at the wine gsses. “Oh! Um…just half a gss for me, please.” She turns away and hurries to take her seat at the table. Laying a napkin across her p she says. “Mmm, I’m hungry.”

  “Me too. Just be a sed.” With the little spout I pour us each a half portion of wihen bring the gsses to the table after putting the box ba the fridge. “Madame.” I say in a cheesy French at as if I were some suave waiter at a fancy restaurant as I set her gss in front of her.

  “Merci, monsieur.” She smiles.

  I take my seat and soon we are sitting on opposite sides of the table for two looking over the homemade feats. My mouth is watering and my unworthy soul feeling overwhelmed and oh srateful.

  “Mrs. Hutton…this is…just wonderful.” I say. “This is too much. You really shouldn’t have… I don’t…deserve…”

  “You shush now.” She says firmly. “It was really o cook for someone again. Besides, a meal with good pany always tastes better.” Taking her wine goblet she raises it toward me. “To old acquaintaurned new friends.”

  “To new friends.” I raise my gss across the table to k it to hers.

  Heather’s warm browwinkle while we sip the honey sweet wine.