She was wearing only her bra and a half-slip when she ran to the door to greet Joey. When she found Joyce instead, her face froze for an instant. She was unable to hide her surprise at finding the boy's mother instead of the boy himself. She wondered what Joyce thought of the look of shock on her usually calm face. She recovered quickly enough and slid the glass doors open, putting on an expression of pleasant surprise that she somehow felt was not quite believable.
"Joyce! What a wonderful surprise!" Carol said, a bit nervously, sounding more ironical than
sincere.
"I was just in the neighborhood and I thought I'd drop by!" Joyce laughed, opening her beach coat and revealing a luscious body clothed for a swim.
Carol was flabbergasted. Joey would be over in a few minutes unless Joyce had told him that she was planning to drop by for a swim. The last three or four times Joey had pulled his dick out as soon as he had locked the gate behind him and had had a big hard-on by the time he reached the house, all in fun, of course. What would happen if he did that today? Carol felt a shudder of fear at the mere thought of such a horrible happening.
There was something else that bothered Carol strangely when she realized that Joyce was planning to stay awhile. It didn't register on her immediately. Rather it was a slow building of the most peculiar feeling she had ever had about another woman. When she saw Joyce wearing such a microscopic bikini of the flimsiest possible material, a surge of sensual delight coursed through her. There was something about Joyce on that particular afternoon that was strangely exciting, strangely stimulating sexually, even for a woman as strictly heterosexual as Carol. The first surges of passion for Joyce passed over her in an instant and disappeared, leaving her strangely disquieted.
"Whatever is the matter, Carol?" Joyce asked with a gentle laugh in her low smooth voice. "You seem surprised! In fact you seem shocked! Am I too old for a bikini or something?"
"I'm sorry, Joyce darling," Carol said, sounding
as if she had suddenly shaken herself from a trance. "I just wasn't expecting you, that's all. Do come in!"
"Judging from the way you ran to the door, I assume you were expecting somebody else! And from the way you're dressed, I assume that the somebody was a man!" Joyce smiled, obviously referring to Carol's scanty attire, which included a red lace bra and a black half-slip of see-through material.
"A man?" Carol gasped. "Oh, I see what you mean! This!" Carol said, brushing her hands over her well-filled bra.
"Oh this, she says!" Joyce laughed, making an exaggerated motion of dismissal. "Good Lord, Carol dear, that outfit is enough to give my great grandfather a hard-on, and my great grandfather has been in his grave for fifty years!"
Carol didn't need to hear anything about hard-ons at the moment, especially from the mother of the boy she had planned to excite to such a turgid state. It occurred to Carol that for all Joyce's apparent free-thinking and easy use of the four-letter words of sex, she hadn't done much to make her son s sex life any easier for him. That chore had been left up to Carol. She had enjoyed performing it but she couldn't help feeling just the slightest trace of disdain for the woman who wouldn't even let her sons have a healthy peek at her tits once in a while. She hoped that trace of disdain wouldn't injure her relationship with Joyce, whatever that relationship was destined to become. Carol had the strange feeling that her
relationship with her neighbor was about to change considerably.
"It's a good thing Joey didn't drop by instead of me, Carol dear. Who knows what gown-up thoughts your get-up might have inspired in him? We can't have the boy chasing after you, can we?" Joyce laughed.
"I hardly think I'm that alluring, Joyce, at least not where a eighteen-year-old boy is concerned," Carol smiled.
"A eighteen-year-old boy?" Joyce smiled, following Carol into the living room. "You flatter me, darling. But I'm afraid little lacy is a bit older than that. Try nineteen!"
"Oh, that's right. They are all almost nineteen. I can't keep track of children's ages, darling. Perhaps it's a good thing I never married. I wouldn't know how old the little creatures were," Carol said, realizing that her act was working.
"I'm surprised to hear that you don't know how old Joey is, Carol. After all, dear, he's been coming over here every afternoon for six weeks or so. I hardly ever see the boy any more." Joyce said, taking the cold lemonade that Carol handed her. "Oh, I see you were expecting somebody. Two ice-cold lemonades all poured and ready. Who's the lucky man?"
"Joyce, you have a wicked mind, positively wicked! You know perfectly well that I've been playing the spinster for several months. No mare men for me. At least not right now," Carol laughed.
"Don't tell me that women's fib has finally
gotten through to you, too," Joyce said slyly, sipping her lemonade and looking at Carol with her clear blue glittering eyes, eyes that couldn't help but remind Carol of Joey.
"Women's lib? Oh, well, darling, I've been liberated for years. You know that. My decision to do without men was definitely neither political nor philosophical. I just need a few months to look at my life and decide what direction the rest of it should take, that's all. After all, Joyce, I'm thirty-five years of age. One morning I'll wake up and find that I'm forty. I want the rest of my sexually useful years to be happy ones," Carol said, hoping she hadn't opened a can of worms with her musings about her sex life.
"Are you saying that you haven't been enjoying your sex life?" Joyce asked, obviously amazed.
"It hasn't been the greatest," Carol said, shrugging her shoulders, wishing she had kept her mouth shut. "But anyway, Joyce, my sex life doesn't make for a very interesting conversation."
"That's a matter of opinion, Carol." Joyce smiled concernedly.
There was a look on Joyce's lovely face that made Carol warm inside, the look of true concern. It made her feel uncomfortable at the same time, knowing that she had been doing such depraved things with Joyce's eighteen-year-old son. This sudden and apparently real interest in her sex life was something new in her relationship with Joyce. There was something behind her sudden interest in Carol's happiness, something that she couldn't quite grasp at the moment. She knew that it had
nothing to do with her clandestine relationship with Joey. Such knowledge, no matter how carefully concealed, would have revealed itself to Carol immediately, she knew. Whatever Joyce's ulterior motive, Carol decided, her interest was genuine.
"Would you like something a little stronger than lemonade?" Carol asked her friend, getting the impression that something was about to be brought up that would require the soothing effect of something alcoholic.
"That might be a good idea, under the circumstances," Joyce said with a smile, crossing her long pale pink legs.
Carol fixed Joyce a dry martini, a very dry martini, taking her time while she tried to dispose of the problem of Joey's impending visit, a visit that might cast some doubt on her innocence. She did, after all, run to the door wearing very little and expecting to see a boy with a hard cock. If Joyce ever found out that the boy she wanted to see was her own son, there would be the devil to pay.