Todd seemed to be in seventh heaven. He had a young strong college football player coming to his home on occasion to mow the lawn, clean the pool, paint some rooms. Occasionally, DeMarcus would hang out in the backyard and teach the two boys how to run some football plays. When this 19-year-old African-American jock was done with the tasks for the day, Todd would pull a wad of cash from his dry-cleaned slacks and peel off a few bills for the financially struggling student-athlete. "Thank you, sir, thank you so much," DeMarcus would so respectfully.
Initially Chrissy and the wide receiver didn't cross paths. If he was the the house working, she was off taking classes to be a massage therapist or going to some lunch gathering with the neighborhood ladies. But she clearly remembers the day she drove up to the house and saw DeMarcus mowing the lawn wearing only some basketball shorts and gym shoes. "Oh my God!" she said to herself, realizing she'd never seen in person a body like his. The summer heat caused his sweat to glisten on his coal-black dark chocolate body. Talk about eye candy.
Chrissy, in her early forties, pulled the Lexus SUV into the garage, but when she got into the kitchen, she found herself taking another peak through the living room window. DeMarcus stood 6-foot-4, and weighed a lean 180 pounds. She took special notice of his ripped stomach muscles, and even through his gym shorts, she could see a firm, well-muscled ass. Part of her began to feel guilty checking on this kid, but as she glanced his body, he was no kid physically. "What am I doing? Stop this now Chrissy!" she whispered to herself.
Later that evening, Chrissy found herself revisiting what she saw that afternoon -- a young, energetic, charcoal black stud mowing her lawn. What a contrast to the tub of goo she sat next to at dinner; consuming one scotch after another and then passing out in the TV room. Todd rarely looked at her in a desiring way anymore, and she felt unappreciated for all she did around the house and with the boys. She was ripe for seduction; vulnerable to eyes that found her soccer mom looks desirable. However, in her mind, she never pondered the notion that some 19-year-old college athlete would wanna get with some "old woman." Little did she know the times, and what some young guys fantasized about when daydreaming.
One day, Todd called and asked Chrissy to make sure DeMarcus got paid. She was out with friends and Todd couldn't leave the office. Slightly pissed, she reminded Todd that the college athlete Help a Jock program was his idea, and that now she was getting dragged into it. "So you need me to now go get money and pay this kid," she said, irritatingly. "Yes," he said, shyly. "What the fuck?" she said to herself. Chrissy cut lunch short because DeMarcus was scheduled to be gone by 2 p.m. and he would be expecting his cash payment (part of the deal). She went to the ATM on the way home.
When she pulled up she was surprised to see her two boys out front on the lawn running simulated football routes with DeMarcus. Part of her smiled. The boys seemed so happy. Obviously the kids were back from a day at the lake with neighbor friends. Marci, one of the other cul-de-sac moms stood watching. "Mom, mom, DeMarcus says I have potential to be a good wide receiver some day." DeMarcus had a big warm smile going. "Thanks for playing with them." He offered back, "Oh, no problem Miss. I love the game, ya know?"
Did he just say Miss? Did Chrissy hear that right. Part of her was offended, but then again, there was a 20+ year difference. She let it go. Once again she took notice of his big black hands, one of which was easily holding the football. "Thanks Marci for being with them today." Not wanting to keep the young guy waiting, Chrissy handed him two one-hundred dollar bills. "Todd couldn't get here on time, so he wanted to make sure you got your money." He took the bills and expressed his gratitude. Chrissy appreciated how polite and professional he spoke to her. Off he went, back to campus.
"Um, who is that?" Marci inquired. "That's just Todd's latest distraction. He's a football player at the university and he needed summer work, so Todd jumped at the chance to help." No doubt DeMarcus didn't fit the neighborhood profile, which was all-white and wealthy. There was a chance some of the neighbors looked out there window at DeMarcus with the young white boys and considered calling the police. "Now I know why some women our age succumb to temptation," Marci said, slyly. "That kid looks like a sex machine."
Chrissy knew Marci well enough to know she spoke salty at times. This was one of those times. "Stop it," said Chrissy. Although to herself she thought the same thing. He oozed testosterone. "He definitely makes me wonder," Marci added. They laughed, and went about their day.
Back at the dorms, DeMarcus shared with some of the brothers the sweet summer gig he had going -- good money, easy work, and a cute little white wife who had a nice little ass and looked hungry for something new. They quickly shared some of their stories of being flirted with by more mature white females. "You think she go there?" He had to admit at that point he wasn't sure. But he knew, given the chance, he wanted to pipe her good. She'd be fulfilling his fantasy. They all wanted to fuck married white broads who weren't getting it at home. Some had already, some were waiting for the situation to present itself.
Any chance DeMarcus had to play a little football with Todd & Chrissy's boys, he took. This usually happened when he was down with the lawn or the pool. The boys loved asking him questions, and occasionally he'd ask a question back. Taking advantage of their innocence, Dee learned that Todd drank too much, and that it made mommy mad. He also learned that Chrissy had just completed her certification to be a massage therapist. It seemed the perfect part-time job for a busy mom with two boys. Dee filed the info away for future use.
Within the week, DeMarcus used to inside information. "Miss, I hear you a massage therapist." Chrissy was taken by surprise. She paused to think if she should answer, but affirmed she was one. He feigned interested. "So like, is that good money?" She said it was okay; good extra cash for bills. DeMarcus explained how during the actual football season the players have access to a massage therapist but during the off-season they do not. "You know, those massages really do wonders for me." Chrissy took more time to process privately. "Is he expecting me to offer my services?" She sensed this was a tipping point depending on how she answered.
She looked at him. She knew what he was asking. "Um, well, I would hate to have to charge you money and all, considering you are a college student-athlete. "Oh, ya, ya, I hear you," he said, pausing to think and hope she said she'd do it for free. Chrissy also thought quietly, "Todd cannot know about this in any way." Now was not the time to confirm one way or the other. "We'll see," she finalized. DeMarcus took it as a future yes. He hopped in his crap car and was off.
Later that evening, when Todd poured his first scotch, he informed Chrissy he had to go to New York on business. He'd be leaving Sunday evening and returning on Tuesday evening. She used to hate when he left time, but lately found herself cherishing his trips. But now there was a very distinct window to explore the DeMarcus massage dilemma. "Am I really thinking about doing this?" She rationalized it was only a massage, just like any other client. And yet she felt different about this.
Todd left for the Big Apple, and the two boys were off to a one-week summer camp. Chrissy had planned to use the time for go see her mom, who had been sick. DeMarcus was not scheduled to be at the house for work. She looked at the large wall calendar on kitchen wall, and saw his number in the upper right corner -- "Demarcus 815-555-1234." Todd has written it down. The next 20 minutes were spend doing kitchen cleaning that didn't need to be done, as she summoned up the courage to call, or the timidity to back down.
Finally, she throw down the kitchen towel and picked up her cell phone. She called. One ring. Two rings. Three. She was ready to hang up. "Yo! This is Dee." For a second, she thought it was a recording, but there was a pause. "Hello?" It was him. "Hi. Is this DeMarcus?" Chrissy asked. "Ya, who dis?" She identified herself. "Oh ya, I am not working there for a week. Your husband called me off." She explained this wasn't about his summer work. "This is about our conversation. You know? The massage." He played it smooth. "Ahh, ya, you was all worried bout charging me." She laughed, nervously. Then she made her offer.
Initially Chrissy and the wide receiver didn't cross paths. If he was the the house working, she was off taking classes to be a massage therapist or going to some lunch gathering with the neighborhood ladies. But she clearly remembers the day she drove up to the house and saw DeMarcus mowing the lawn wearing only some basketball shorts and gym shoes. "Oh my God!" she said to herself, realizing she'd never seen in person a body like his. The summer heat caused his sweat to glisten on his coal-black dark chocolate body. Talk about eye candy.
Chrissy, in her early forties, pulled the Lexus SUV into the garage, but when she got into the kitchen, she found herself taking another peak through the living room window. DeMarcus stood 6-foot-4, and weighed a lean 180 pounds. She took special notice of his ripped stomach muscles, and even through his gym shorts, she could see a firm, well-muscled ass. Part of her began to feel guilty checking on this kid, but as she glanced his body, he was no kid physically. "What am I doing? Stop this now Chrissy!" she whispered to herself.
Later that evening, Chrissy found herself revisiting what she saw that afternoon -- a young, energetic, charcoal black stud mowing her lawn. What a contrast to the tub of goo she sat next to at dinner; consuming one scotch after another and then passing out in the TV room. Todd rarely looked at her in a desiring way anymore, and she felt unappreciated for all she did around the house and with the boys. She was ripe for seduction; vulnerable to eyes that found her soccer mom looks desirable. However, in her mind, she never pondered the notion that some 19-year-old college athlete would wanna get with some "old woman." Little did she know the times, and what some young guys fantasized about when daydreaming.
One day, Todd called and asked Chrissy to make sure DeMarcus got paid. She was out with friends and Todd couldn't leave the office. Slightly pissed, she reminded Todd that the college athlete Help a Jock program was his idea, and that now she was getting dragged into it. "So you need me to now go get money and pay this kid," she said, irritatingly. "Yes," he said, shyly. "What the fuck?" she said to herself. Chrissy cut lunch short because DeMarcus was scheduled to be gone by 2 p.m. and he would be expecting his cash payment (part of the deal). She went to the ATM on the way home.
When she pulled up she was surprised to see her two boys out front on the lawn running simulated football routes with DeMarcus. Part of her smiled. The boys seemed so happy. Obviously the kids were back from a day at the lake with neighbor friends. Marci, one of the other cul-de-sac moms stood watching. "Mom, mom, DeMarcus says I have potential to be a good wide receiver some day." DeMarcus had a big warm smile going. "Thanks for playing with them." He offered back, "Oh, no problem Miss. I love the game, ya know?"
Did he just say Miss? Did Chrissy hear that right. Part of her was offended, but then again, there was a 20+ year difference. She let it go. Once again she took notice of his big black hands, one of which was easily holding the football. "Thanks Marci for being with them today." Not wanting to keep the young guy waiting, Chrissy handed him two one-hundred dollar bills. "Todd couldn't get here on time, so he wanted to make sure you got your money." He took the bills and expressed his gratitude. Chrissy appreciated how polite and professional he spoke to her. Off he went, back to campus.
"Um, who is that?" Marci inquired. "That's just Todd's latest distraction. He's a football player at the university and he needed summer work, so Todd jumped at the chance to help." No doubt DeMarcus didn't fit the neighborhood profile, which was all-white and wealthy. There was a chance some of the neighbors looked out there window at DeMarcus with the young white boys and considered calling the police. "Now I know why some women our age succumb to temptation," Marci said, slyly. "That kid looks like a sex machine."
Chrissy knew Marci well enough to know she spoke salty at times. This was one of those times. "Stop it," said Chrissy. Although to herself she thought the same thing. He oozed testosterone. "He definitely makes me wonder," Marci added. They laughed, and went about their day.
Back at the dorms, DeMarcus shared with some of the brothers the sweet summer gig he had going -- good money, easy work, and a cute little white wife who had a nice little ass and looked hungry for something new. They quickly shared some of their stories of being flirted with by more mature white females. "You think she go there?" He had to admit at that point he wasn't sure. But he knew, given the chance, he wanted to pipe her good. She'd be fulfilling his fantasy. They all wanted to fuck married white broads who weren't getting it at home. Some had already, some were waiting for the situation to present itself.
Any chance DeMarcus had to play a little football with Todd & Chrissy's boys, he took. This usually happened when he was down with the lawn or the pool. The boys loved asking him questions, and occasionally he'd ask a question back. Taking advantage of their innocence, Dee learned that Todd drank too much, and that it made mommy mad. He also learned that Chrissy had just completed her certification to be a massage therapist. It seemed the perfect part-time job for a busy mom with two boys. Dee filed the info away for future use.
Within the week, DeMarcus used to inside information. "Miss, I hear you a massage therapist." Chrissy was taken by surprise. She paused to think if she should answer, but affirmed she was one. He feigned interested. "So like, is that good money?" She said it was okay; good extra cash for bills. DeMarcus explained how during the actual football season the players have access to a massage therapist but during the off-season they do not. "You know, those massages really do wonders for me." Chrissy took more time to process privately. "Is he expecting me to offer my services?" She sensed this was a tipping point depending on how she answered.
She looked at him. She knew what he was asking. "Um, well, I would hate to have to charge you money and all, considering you are a college student-athlete. "Oh, ya, ya, I hear you," he said, pausing to think and hope she said she'd do it for free. Chrissy also thought quietly, "Todd cannot know about this in any way." Now was not the time to confirm one way or the other. "We'll see," she finalized. DeMarcus took it as a future yes. He hopped in his crap car and was off.
Later that evening, when Todd poured his first scotch, he informed Chrissy he had to go to New York on business. He'd be leaving Sunday evening and returning on Tuesday evening. She used to hate when he left time, but lately found herself cherishing his trips. But now there was a very distinct window to explore the DeMarcus massage dilemma. "Am I really thinking about doing this?" She rationalized it was only a massage, just like any other client. And yet she felt different about this.
Todd left for the Big Apple, and the two boys were off to a one-week summer camp. Chrissy had planned to use the time for go see her mom, who had been sick. DeMarcus was not scheduled to be at the house for work. She looked at the large wall calendar on kitchen wall, and saw his number in the upper right corner -- "Demarcus 815-555-1234." Todd has written it down. The next 20 minutes were spend doing kitchen cleaning that didn't need to be done, as she summoned up the courage to call, or the timidity to back down.
Finally, she throw down the kitchen towel and picked up her cell phone. She called. One ring. Two rings. Three. She was ready to hang up. "Yo! This is Dee." For a second, she thought it was a recording, but there was a pause. "Hello?" It was him. "Hi. Is this DeMarcus?" Chrissy asked. "Ya, who dis?" She identified herself. "Oh ya, I am not working there for a week. Your husband called me off." She explained this wasn't about his summer work. "This is about our conversation. You know? The massage." He played it smooth. "Ahh, ya, you was all worried bout charging me." She laughed, nervously. Then she made her offer.