Of all the fantasies about women that I’d had throughout the years, that had to be the sexiest one of them all. Just the thought of Vivienne down here in her beautiful kitchen slaving away for me socked me right in the gut.

She’d obviously showered. I could smell the delicious scent of soap on her soft, supple skin. Her hair was up in a cute, messy knot on the top of her head. But the pièce de résistance was the red apron with white polka dots. It wasn’t just a regular run-of-the-mill one either. In true Vivienne style, it was pimped up with ruffles and ribbons.

In my mind, the only thing hotter was if all she wore was that cute fucking apron. A naked Vivienne underneath those polka dots and bows baking me blueberry muffins would be my ultimate fantasy. I moved and adjusted myself at that thought.

We sat down to her feast. The woman had prepared every breakfast food that I knew existed. There was no delicate way to ask if she had kids, so instead, I blurted it out, “I snooped a bit when I was upstairs.” I waited for her eyes to meet mine.

“Okay…”

“The baby’s room is really nice. Is he or she hiding somewhere?”

She started choking. Shit, I shouldn’t have mentioned anything while we ate. My hand patted her on the back while she gulped water down.

Breathless, she said, “Sorry, you just caught me off guard.” Then she burst into giggles, wiping under her eyes.

“A baby’s room with no baby?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Ugh.” She shook her head and took another sip. “No kids at all. You?”

“None that I know of.” I gave her a wink. Her lips pursed together. I guess she didn’t think I was funny.

“I go to flea markets and sales. If I see something nice, I pick it up. It’s really no big deal.” She shrugged and resumed picking at her food on her plate.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” My mind swam with ways to change the subject. Obviously, Vivienne didn’t want to talk about this.

“It’s fine.”

Oh boy. Even at my age, I knew what it meant when a woman said “fine”. It was the other “F” word.

“What do you do at Brentford?” I asked, hoping to deflect my earlier question.

She cleared her throat. “I’m their sales associate. Essentially, it’s my job to hunt for prospective clients and talk them into using our business.”

“Food, right?”

“Produce, meat, you name it,” she told me, waving her fork around.

“Yeah, I’ve seen your trucks on the road. Organics?”

“Mmmhmm,” she replied, chewing one last bite of waffle. “How long have you been driving?”

“A year and a half? Give or take,” I answered, feeling like a shithead. Here I sat with this talented, well-off woman in her awesome home. I could barely afford the rent on my piece of shit apartment.

“You like it?” she asked with a forced smile on her face.

“It’s okay, for now,” I said, not elaborating on why I drove.

“For now?”

This was when things got dicey. “For now. Hopefully, something better comes along.”

“Like what?”

“These waffles are fantastic. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

“Thanks. My mom and my granny. I guess it’s tradition?”

“It’s delicious,” I said, right as the doorbell rang.

“I have no idea who that could be. I’ll be right back.” She frowned, pushing away from the table. I had a clear view of the front door from where I sat at the huge table.

“Gerry, how’s it going?” Vivienne said politely to the portly man in her doorway. He looked to be around sixty or so. The checkered flannel shirt did nothing to hide his burgeoning belly.

“Sorry to bother you on a Saturday, sweetheart,” Gerry said while scratching his gray comb-over. My hackles rose when I heard him call her sweetheart, but I seriously doubted he was Vivienne’s type.

“No problem at all. What can I do for you?”

“My electrician finished early on a different site, so I thought she could come over and work on the backyard hook-ups? If that’s okay with you, of course.” He cleared his throat as he spotted me.

“Absolutely, whatever you need to do,” Vivienne said.

“Great,” Gerry said and gave me a bit of a side-eye. “I’ll take her around the back. When we need to disconnect the power, I’ll let you know.” He spun around, stopped, then turned his head back to me once he was at the door. “You know, on second thought, you should come outside and talk to her. We need to go over the plans for the garage renovation.” Then he sidled back out the door.

I gathered up my plate and cutlery. Guess it was time to go. “I need to get back on the road,” I said, heading toward the kitchen sink to rinse them off.

“This could take a while. You’re welcome to stay?”

A big grin overtook my face, followed by relief. This was different than last time. No walking papers in sight.

“I should get some work in,” I told her, pulling her good arm toward me, sighing. She’d collected quite the array of bandages while in my care. I kissed her gently, whispering into her ear, “I had such plans for that bottle of syrup before your contractor showed up.”

Her body shook, and she put her finger to my lips to quiet me. Instead, I took it as an invitation and popped it into my mouth. My eyes held hers as I sucked on it, hard, biting with my teeth as I went. Vivienne’s face heated as she swayed into me. Releasing her digit, I stole her mouth and showed her how much I’d miss her.

“I’ve gotta go. Thanks for everything,” I said into her ear, giving her heavenly body one last squeeze.

Leaving her house was harder than I thought. It was a stupid fantasy, but Vivienne fulfilled something I’d been dreaming about since I was a young boy. I’m not just talking about the sex—which was out of this fucking world. That woman was a siren, and listening to her go off—twice—was phenomenal. In fact, I could still feel her pulsating around my cock, squeezing the ever-loving hell out of it.

Okay, time to think about something else. It wouldn’t do to pick up a client while sporting another Vivienne-induced boner. If I was going to make rent next week, I had to do a few pickups today. Fingers crossed for normal customers.

My first pickup was only four minutes away from Vivienne’s house, so I zoomed over there.

“Hi,” a mother in her early forties said as she entered my car. Three young, laughing girls barged into the back seat. “Midland Mall, please. Heaven help me,” she muttered the last three words with a strained look on her face.

“You bet.” I chuckled back.

The girls’ giggles got louder. Shouts of, “No, he’s going to marry me,” about the latest pop stars echoed in the small confines of my car. Christ, it was horrible.

“Sorry, apparently, marriage is extremely important to pre-pubescent girls,” the mom said, rolling her eyes. I nodded in sympathy.

“Mommmm,” one of the girls said in an annoying singsong voice. “God, she just doesn’t get it.” She scowled at her friends who wholeheartedly agreed.

“Take my advice. Don’t have kids. They’re all cute and cuddly when they’re young, but then look what happens.” She motioned her head toward the back seat.

I wasn’t planning on having kids. Not anytime soon. My wage barely kept my own head above water. There was no way I could afford a wife and kid.

Once we arrived at the mall, the mom threw an extra five-dollar bill onto her seat. “Sorry again for the noise,” she apologized.

My next fare was an old man on his way to his grandson’s ballgame.

“You gotta watch for my grandkid in the newspapers. I tell you, one day, he’s gonna make a splash. That kid’s got an arm on him like a rocket,” he exclaimed with all the pride only a grandparent held.

Never having had the support or love of an extended family, or family in general for that matter, I secretly wondered if that kid realized how lucky he was. After I dropped the proud grandpa off at the ball field, I found myself getting out of the car. The gravel in the parking lot crunched under my feet, leaving small billows of dust behind me.

The game was already underway, and the players couldn’t be more than six years old at best. From the sounds of the cheering in the stands, you’d think it was a major league game.

Jealousy and a profound sadness filled my soul at the sight. What kind of an idiot was jealous of a bunch of snot-nosed boys? The kind who never had that love and support, that’s who. I continued torturing myself by watching the rest of the shortened game. When it was finally over, I observed one of the boys run full out right into the arms of my customer. Hmm, I guess the kid knew what he had.

Two people who must be the boy’s parents strolled over to the hugging pair. Watching the family laughing together, I imagined them discussing the boy’s amazing plays and where to go out to celebrate. Witnessing things like this had been commonplace my whole life. Always an outsider looking in. As if everyone else lived in a different universe than I did.

Before I got my period, I decided to get the hell out of there and head back home to get some work done.