David Crane: The wife_s young lover

Green Street comes snaking furtively out of the quagmire of the slums – a cobbled road not much bigger than an alley with derelict buildings, condemned tenements and warehouses lining either side. It ends at the junction with Broad Street which, although also a slum street, is respectable in comparison with Green and has functioning enterprises and businesses – such as pawn shops and saloons.

In front of one of these saloons, the Golden Garter, young Billy Wilson had set up his shoeshine box. He had considered the location carefully, tempted to work outside the pawn shop because the men who came out of that establishment would have money, having pawned their watches – or someone else's watches, more likely – but Billy had figured that the drunks staggering out of the Golden Garter would be more generous.

Billy was poor. He was a good-looking kid, with crisp hair and a wiry body, but his clothing reflected his penury – a ragged T-shirt and jeans that had been stained with shoe polish. But he was not inordinately poor for that section of the city, where everyone was poor. He was a cheerful lad who whistled while he worked and shined a shoe with dexterity and class.

He had just finished polishing a pair of expensive but ancient brogues and was waiting for another customer when he noticed a gleaming Cadillac cruising slowly down Broad Street. He looked admiringly at the car. Then he looked to see who the driver was, figuring that only a pimp could have a car like that in a slum like this.

But a woman was driving.

She was going past very slowly, looking out. She was about thirty years old, Billy figured, and good-looking. She had blonde hair worn in a style that must have taken her hairdresser ages to make look casual. Her mouth was full and sensual, her eyes smoky gray. She looked sort of excited, Billy thought. He figured that she was lost and had driven into the slums by mistake and was bemused by the whole situation.

The Cadillac turned onto Green Street.

A drunk wobbled out of the bar and peered at Billy with cloudy eyes, as if wondering if the kid was a lamp post upon which he should piss. Billy started shining his shoes without asking. The guy was too drunk to know the difference, but Billy, being proud and professional, gave him a decent shine. The guy gave him a quarter. Not bad.

Then the Cadillac came down Broad Street again.

The woman was still gazing out as she slowly cruised past, and this time Billy realized that she was looking at him. He figured she wanted to ask directions.

The car pulled over to the curb.

Billy started to walk over to it and the woman opened the door and got out, showing a lot of shapely leg as she did so. She was even better-looking than Billy had first noticed. She was tall and slender, with pneumatic hips and big tits that thrust out pertly. She wore a light summer dress that clung to her curves. Her skin was, short and her neckline, cut low and square, showed her cleavage.

Nice, thought Billy.

Billy appreciated women. He was not a virgin. He had fucked Sally McGee up on the tenement roof two or three times. Everyone took Sally McGee somewhere. But Sally was a teenager and this woman was respectable and elegant. Billy looked admiringly at her without imagining anything special.

She walked slowly across the pavement.

Billy knelt behind his box with his head tilted up as he watched her approach.

She was smiling in a very friendly fashion.

"Hello," she said.

Billy nodded uncertainly.

"Will you shine my shoes?"

Billy looked down at her shoes, nodding again. He figured something was funny here.

"Sure," he said.

She put her foot upon the footrest.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Billy," he said.

"I'm Marlene."

No customer had ever before introduced himself to Billy. Maybe things were different in the fashionable part of town, from where this woman obviously came, Billy figured. He hoped he wasn't expected, to shake hands with her. He bent over her foot and began to apply polish to her expensive shoe. She arched her ankle and Billy noticed how shapely her calf was. He tapped her foot. She stepped down and put her other foot on the box.

Somehow, no doubt accidentally, she managed to raise the hem of her dress in the process.

Her belly was thrust out and her legs were spread wide apart, and Billy just had to glance up.

He looked under her dress.

He blinked and beads of sweat popped out on his brow and he almost dropped the tin of polish.

She didn't have any panties on.

Billy was looking directly at her naked cunt.

Her cunt was wet and the lips were unfurled so that the juicy slot was an open oval, the pink flesh streaked with pearly ribbons of cuntjuice.

Billy figured that she had either just come from a visit to her lover or was en route to see that lucky man. He couldn't relate that creamy pussy to himself.

He looked up at her face.

She knew that he had been looking at her cunt. That was obvious. She didn't care, either, because she was still smiling at the youth.

Billy began putting polish on her other shoe, but his eyes kept going back to her crotch.

"You're a handsome boy," she said. He blushed. He was snapping the rag across the toe of her shoe and sweating heavily. He simply couldn't stop looking at her pussy.

When she switched feet again, she managed to keep her dress lifted so that the maneuver didn't hinder his view of her cunt for a moment.

Must be one of them cockteasers, Billy thought.

An effective one, too, because his sturdy young cock was getting hard as a crowbar and thumping vigorously in the tight confines of his jeans. He figured he was going to have to go into the bathroom of the Golden Garter and pull himself off as soon as the woman departed.

He looked over the polishing, wanting to gaze at that juicy snatch for as long as possible. It was frustrating, but the sight made it worthwhile. It was a much nicer cunt that Sally McGee's much used one.

Finally, he was finished.

"Okay," he said.

She gave him a dollar.

"Gee, thanks," he said.

She didn't take her foot off the box. She smiled down at him as he looked up her dress.

"Do you like what you see?" she asked.

What in hell did a guy say to that?

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"How would you like to earn… oh… ten dollars?"

Billy gulped. A kid had to shine a lot of shoes to earn ten dollars, but it wasn't the money that made the suggestion so fascinating.

"How?" he asked.

"Oh… come for a ride with me." Billy cocked his head. He noticed that she wore no bra, either, because her nipples were pushed out against the material of her dress in sharp peaks.

"Are you one of them nymphomaniacs?" he asked.

Marlene laughed gaily.

"Why, no. I just happen to like young men."

"I'm young," he said.

"Ummm, yummy."

Billy stood up – a bit reluctantly, since he couldn't look at her crotch when he was upright, but with high hopes of seeing it again.

She looked up and down the street. No one was paying them any attention.

Billy glanced inquiringly at the Cadillac. "Bring your box," she said. Buy was more interested in her box, but he gathered up his equipment hurriedly. She moved away, her lovely ass swinging like a pendulum. She got into the car and waited. Billy walked over, hiding his hard-on behind the box. He could scarcely believe this was happening to him. A guy heard about things like this, but he never expected them to really happen. He half-expected her to drive off, laughing at his distress and leaving him alone with his thundering hard-on.

But she didn't.

Billy got into the car and tossed his shoeshine kit in the back. He wasn't hiding his hard-on now, and the woman looked at his groin and licked her lips.