Nameless 01: Victoria Gardenia

It was Saturday Morning. Which meant that Miss Victoria Gardenia was outside working on something in her back yard. It had been her way since I was eight years old... back when she had a husband. Back when she always looked... sad. Ten years and only two things had changed... her marital status and the look of sadness.

I rose and headed for the window that let me have an uninterrupted view of her back yard. It was huge, and was decorated in a tasteful array of trees, bushes and flowered pathways. A pool was placed perfectly on a slightly raised hillock. The pathway from the house to it was lined with bonsai trees. Small little expanses of Zen. I remembered when she planted them. Her face seemed focused on her work. I smiled, remembering how I'd spent an entire Saturday just watching her prune one bush.

Today she was looking at a tree. It was the only real blemish on her land. Why blemish? Well... it was the only evergreen on her property. Just inside the fifteen foot wall keeping the woods at bay there were countless evergreens. Oaks. Other trees I'd be hard pressed to identify. Flowers. Animals. Inside that wall things were carefully maintained and controlled.

I was about to hit the shower when I caught sight of what she was wearing. Had I been more awake the obvious change would have slapped me in the face instead of struggling to slide its way into my conscious mind. She was wearing a sundress.

Since I'd taken to peeking in on her Saturday routine, she'd always worn work clothes. Overalls. A shirt. And a wide-brimmed straw hat. I'd seen her in formal gowns, business attire and that same Saturday outfit. ONLY in those forms of dress. This time... she was having an easy day. I stared at her for a few more moments before hitting the shower.

* * * *

Clean and dry, I locked my door. The house was empty; the rents were off in New Orleans for the Summer. Again. My sister was in Washington State working at a restaurant. Which left me alone. Cool; I could indulge in some of my more hedonistic pleasures. Like sipping wine while watching movies. The official title for everything I was doing was Dorking Out. I sat in front of the window, still nude, and started packing a cigarillo with marijuana.

Victoria was still standing at the pine tree. I noticed a small ring of roses around it... the only roses she ever kept. Then she bent over.

It was another strange thing. She was a proper lady, that much I knew. She always...ALWAYS... knelt when she had to pick up anything. Especially if some guy wasn't quick to impress her with his Southern Gentlemanliness. I know... I always gave her a hand whenever the opportunity arose. Why not, she always smiled this wonderful smile. Even thought I'm black I knew I was blushing when she looked at me. I always fancied that her eyes lingered just a touch longer on me than anyone else. So to see her bent over, that plump wide ass spreading the thin fabric of her sundress was startling... and erotic. VERY erotic.

It was probably because of her that my interest always ran to plump white women. I watched as she straightened up. She was very beautiful. Always had been. In that golden sundress she looked like a raven-haired...

"Where's your hat?" I knew she had black hair. Midnight black with a few ghostly strands of gray here and there. Yet she always... ALWAYS... wore it up on a neat, conservative bun. Not the totally relaxed... and infinitely sensual... style she sported now. It hung down her back, coming to what I judged to be the center of her back. I looked down; the neo-blunt was finished. Suddenly I didn't want to smoke up. I forgot my wine. I wanted to know why Victoria had changed her MO so suddenly.

* * * *

I rose, still naked, and walked over to my window. There was no way she could see me; I had the window replaced with a specially polarized one when I was sixteen. Dad had allowed me to smoke weed then... after having caught me more times than I cared to count. Being a chef, he understood more than I thought possible. Even helped me check my growing addiction. Thanks to him I was more open minded than most people, which tended to isolate me. Yet I still managed to make a few friends here and there.

Another thing that my father gave me was the ability to notice when something was wrong... and the Itch. I had to know the Why Behind. Change happened; that's just a fact of Life. But knowing and understanding the Why Behind was something few tried to do. Like my father, I had a NEED to understand and know the Why Behind. Victoria Gardenia had changed her pattern. It wasn't the anniversary of her divorce. It wasn't her birthday or those of either of her parents. She'd changed ten years of formality.

Then I saw her turn around. Turn completely around... until she was facing my window. Her eyes locked onto my window. No... they were locked onto MY EYES!!! My brow furrowed as I remember a... curious... look on my father's face as he left for the Big Sleazy. I grinned slightly and tapped the glass silently. Victoria was blushing... and eventually turned her head away. But I could still see that smile. That same honest smile. And the lust that lingered on the corners of her lips.

Now I smiled. I knew my father was a sneaky bastard. Honest and honorable, but sneaky and paranoid as any black man I'd ever known... even one who wasn't a total pothead. Victoria's eyes slid back to my window. I slid a hand down my crotch and began lazily stroking off. She tried not to look. I saw her eyes dart around, looking for anything to save her from the raging lust I knew was tormenting her.

She probably hadn't had sex since her sleazeball husband stopped banging her in favor of the drugged out transsexual stripper he'd met in North Carolina. I'd always been around, doing odd jobs inside the house for her husband and later her. It was a summer job that paid better than slinging burgers. And it got me out of the kitchen for three months; I'd followed my father's footsteps by going to college and working in one of the kitchens. So of course she'd begun to wonder about me sexually. After all, I'd grown up in her house just as much as I'd grown up in my own. I'd installed their computers. Built their network. Connected their entertainment system. Cleaned their toilets. Strangely, I never entered the back yard.

She'd lost; her gaze riveted on my jacking off. Memories of those warm eyes watching me as I watched a movie in their livingroom. She was studying me even then. I didn't mind. I enjoyed the silent attention. I closed my eyes, placing both hands on the window, and looked down.

* * * *

Victoria Gardenia. She stands about five feet three inches tall. I know she weighs 150 pounds. Warm brown eyes. Perfect lips that were a naturally lush red. She never wore makeup. Even as age made its presence known in wrinkles and the ever-present pull of gravity she looked beautiful. Her breasts swelled from a proud and confident chest. Even the slight sag was perfect. It gave her an ageless air... one I'd always known her to.. have? No... she WAS ageless. She could have been anyone in a crowd. Just another pretty face. One with emotions and feelings. Which meant the mindless sheep that seemed to populate the damn place shunned her.

She was always human to me. Like my dad. Human. With needs. Her eyes told me she needed me. Needed to know that someone truly cared for her. Wanted her. Believed in her as a person. The inside... that's what counted. Which made her garden seem appropriate.

Her hands slid up to her top button. I nodded, finally understanding. I'd spent so many days just hanging out in her house that I never noticed. Never wondered why I felt so comfortable in her presence. I never bothered to hold her. I was just there. And she was there for me. I tried to never let her see me cry... but it happened. Once. It was the day I swore to control my outward emotions. My tears tore at her soul. I saw it in her eyes. That painful memory haunts me on a near weekly basis, which is better than the nightly images that used to be the normal fare.

Now... with nothing but glass between us... there was only one thing to do. Only one thing... and I was having difficulty doing it. Get dressed. Go down there and be there for her. Give her freely what she gave me... someone to just hear the words. Maybe sex. Probably sex. But that was a by-product. She needed me. ME. And I... was afraid.

Sex is dangerous. Especially good sex. I know; I've broken one heart with a night of really good sex. She brought her heart. I told her not to. SHE told ME not to. It was not a pretty sight. And once again, dad was right on the money. I looked into Victoria's eyes. She could well be the second heart to fall. All because of...

Because of what? What did I have to fear? She was older than I was. Nothing could happen. Then again... The doubt must have shown somehow. My vision was moving. She was moving. Slowly, letting the sundress flow with her beautiful hair. Yet I caught sight of a smile on her lips. Those lush lips. And I witness something curious... and familiar.

I always wondered how she got along with the snobbish rich slags that her husband often courted for dinner or some fat-cat party. Now I understood. It was her face. Somehow she was able to shift her face to show the right thing at the right time. Which wasn't comforting; her face was full of mirth and determination. And lust hung over everything like gossamer threads. Even her walk shifted. Still confident and proud... but that swivel to her hips was definitely...

* * * *

I panicked. I had a fairly good idea what was going to happen. But think about it from my viewpoint. I'm about to have a dream come true... a sexual liaison with an older woman. A MATURE female. One I'd known for years. Cared for. It was going to happen... but HOW? Sure I'd jacked off in front of her... technically. But I COULD be mistaken. Maybe...

I was getting dressed as my mind turned over the thoughts. It was instinct... and the end result was definitely impressive.

fin