Mrs. Madrigal

A week or so later, I’m thinking about Lauren Sanders. I would never have expected her to have me over and fuck my brains out. I would never have suspected she would want to. I wonder if she’s the only one in the neighborhood who would? . . . I wonder what Mrs. Jensen is like in bed? Or Amanda Reynolds?

As I’m starting to daydream, the phone rings. I’m the only one home, so I answer it. I hear Mrs. Madrigal say, “Oh, good, Chris, you’re just the person I want to talk to. Are you free this evening, by any chance?”

“Yes, Mrs. Madrigal, I am. What can I do for you?”

“Please, Chris,” she says softly, “call me Noelle. I’m not so much older than you, after all. Would you be able to help me with my kids tonight?”

“Yes—Noelle,” I say, stumbling a bit over her name. “I’d be glad to.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” She gets all the details straight with me and hangs up.

When I arrive at her house that evening, Mrs. Madrigal opens the door dressed in a simple strapless black dress that shows her cleavage to stunning effect. At least, I’m stunned. She giggles at my expression and draws me into the house, breaking my stasis. “Ian and Rowan went to bed early tonight; I just checked on them and they’re already asleep, so this should be easy for you. I don’t know how late I’ll be back—it will depend, I guess. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad to be of help.”

I settle down to watch a movie, keeping the volume down so I can have an ear open for the kids. They don’t so much as snore, but before the movie’s over I hear their mother come back. She looks upset, and I sit up, worried. “M—Noelle, what’s wrong? Are you OK?”

She gives me a watery smile and says, “Bad date—I don’t want to talk about it. But Chris?”

“Yes, Noelle?” I want to support her however I can.

“Would you stay with me for a while please? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Sure.”

I turn off the TV. I expect her to go change clothes, but instead she just sits down next to me on the couch. She asks how things are going for me, and how my mom is doing, and we talk about my life and family for quite a while. She asks a question about the movie I was watching, which gets us talking about movies and books for even longer. For most of our conversation, I’m trying to hide a huge hard-on at the sight of her in that dress. Every time it starts to go down, she shifts her position or leans forward to say something, and I get a look down her deep cleavage. Eventually, she starts yawning, and I tell her I should let her get some sleep. At the door, she pays me for babysitting, then hugs me close and kisses my ear. I blush furiously and stammer my goodbyes, then walk out, leaving her with a strange little smile on her face.