She starts teasing me

Listening to the bed thump against the wall and Dick’s vocalization that evening makes me want to bang my head against the wall. Instead I go down to my basement workshop and start work on a folding table that I can use in my backyard when it’s nice. To be perfectly honest the reason I haven’t started this project before is that I can’t see myself sitting out in the yard and watching the grass grow. The reason tonight seems like the perfect night is that the ‘ziiiinng’ of the table saw and whirring of the router kept the sounds of the whatever is going on upstairs.

I kept peeking out the basement window, but the wheels of Dick’s jeep stayed in the driveway almost an hour before I heard a door slam and the sound of tires squealing as he left the driveway much too fast. I wandered back up to the living room and put on the news, but as usual when Dick stopped by, my shy tenant kept to her upstairs suite. It is really just as well, I’m not happy cleaning up after other people’s messes and as attractive as Alison is I don’t want Dick’s sloppy seconds.

The next morning I set out Alison’s bowl like usual, and to my delight she wandered into the kitchen wearing jeans as always and a red silk top with a deep 'V' showing a good part on her firm round breasts. The straps on that top, must be stronger than they look, because they were barely thicker than two or three of her strands of fin hair.

“Do your professors let you dress like that in their classrooms?” I ask and realize that I sound just like her father. She takes two steps closer, until she is standing almost in my shadow, and before I can find some way to put some space between us she raises her hands above her head and does a graceful pirouette.

“Do you like it?” She smiles at me knowing that I must. “I hope I don’t give Dr. Williard a heart attack, he’s always looking at us girls, but usually he doesn’t get to see this much of me.”

“Maybe, you should wear a shirt over that,” I suggest as I turn to the empty sink and pretend to rinse out the sponge. “We don’t want to send poor Dr. Williard to the ER.”

“Oh,” Alison giggles mischievously, “I see how it is. It’s OK for me to show off my tight teenaged body to you, but not the other old men in town?” It does sound like that’s what I’m saying, and it irritates me that she is getting under my skin this way. She eats in silence and I try not to stare at the way her lips wrap around each spoonful of cereal. I don’t remember her looking sensual eating her breakfast before, but today I have a hard time doing anything other than watch. She’s deliberately teasing me, and I should be mature enough to ignore her little game, but damn does she look hot when she licks the dribble of milk that is escaping through her full lips.

“Do what you like, Princess,” I growl as I throw the sponge back into the sink with a little more velocity than it needed. “Watch out though, you don’t want to give anyone ideas.” With a smirk and an extra wiggle in her ass, Alison waves goodbye and heads out the door.

“I’m going to have to fuck that girl soon,” I grumble to the empty kitchen, “or it’s going to be me, and not Dr. Williard heading to the ER.”

By the afternoon, she's changed her top, but this one is even worse that the spaghetti strap tank top she had on this morning. It is little more than single band wrapped around her tits help up by a single strap over her right shoulder and what must be a good deal of divine grace.

“I'm going out with the girls in my study group,” She tells me as she once again stands just a little bit too close. “I should be back by eight if there's anything you'd like to 'chat' abut tonight.” If she thinks it's OK to dress like that because there are no young men in her study group, she hasn't paid enough attention to the looks she's been getting from 'the girls.'