Her Guest

There he was. Phil. Standing at the door, cocky grin on his face.

Had it been any other evening, Rochelle would have slammed the door, glad to alienate the young man. The last person she wanted Matis hanging around with was this questionable clown.

And yet that evening, staring at her invited guest, she knew that Phil had to be there. Phil had to eat dinner with her and her son. No, that wasn’t quite right. She needed Phil there for dinner, not the other way around.

“Come in,” she said, holding the door open and stepping aside, “Matis is in the living room.”

“Thank-you,” the lech said through smiling teeth, eyeing her up and down.

He passed into the house, leaving her in the entrance to close and lock the door. Rochelle felt a knot of nervousness in her stomach. She didn’t want Phil at her house, and yet she knew deep down that she had to have him there. Wishing that it wasn’t so wouldn’t change anything, so she sighed deeply and returned to the kitchen.

Soon enough Rochelle’s mind was on other things. The roast, the potatoes, the salad, all took attention, all served as a distraction. Yes, her mind would flit back to the guest I’m the other room, but those moments lasted just a second or two. Honestly, Phil wasn’t worth her time.

What she did want to think about was Susan, that bank teller who had taken her daily deposit that afternoon. A few customers had paid in cash that day, so instead of using the ATM or doing the night drop, Rochelle had gone into the branch.

And she was glad that she had.

Susan must have been new, as Rochelle had never seen her before; she would have remembered. Long sexy legs, thick, kissable lips, and an amazing ass. All things Rochelle loved in a woman.

So she’d flirted. It was hard to tell sometimes whether someone was flirting back, or if it was just customer service. Rochelle wanted to tell herself that it was more than Susan’s job, that it was attraction, but it would take more than one visit. Maybe she’d go into the branch more often, really get to know her.

Then that queer feeling hit her again, like she wasn’t alone in her own head.

Bending down, Rochelle peeked through the glass of the stove at the roast. It looked almost done. Good. She really wanted to make sure Phil had a good time that night. He was her guest and deserved to feel welcomed, served, and happy. Oh yes, seeing Phil happy would sure make Rochelle feel happy.

Normally, of course, she felt differently. Phil was not her favourite of Matis’ friends, but now that he was over she was determined to ensure he had a good time. It was, after all, her idea for him to come over. What kind of hostess would she be if she ignored his needs?

The timer went off and she turned off the stove. Good. Quickly, she extracted the food from the oven, placing it on its serving trays. She had already set the table, and with the food done, she could invite the boys to the table. She smiled. Soon Phil would eat. Soon Phil would be happy.