My Bi Valentine

A Valentine's Day contest entry from me that doesn't have a proper home. In my opinion this piece doesn't sit in Gay Male, not since there's a lot of activity centred around Michelle. I'm torn between Fetish or Novels and Novellas, and I hope the category it ends up in attracts the readers.

In this one a young man has a keen desire for his mature and sexy neighbour. He sends her a Valentine but gets caught in the clandestine act of delivery. She's flattered by his attentions but points out she's so much older and already has a boyfriend.

The young man eventually accepts this but is then further confused when Michelle admits she wants to kiss him. Then, at work he receives a card -- it's from Michelle!

After that, Alan's day gets very exciting, culminating in an adventure he most certainly didn't foresee.

Okay, enough waffle from me. I hope you enjoy the story. Feedback is appreciated.

Thank you for reading.

GA -- Da Nang, Vietnam -- 3rd of February 2015.

One

I had just posted a Valentine's card through the neighbour's letterbox. It was a clandestine act and supposed to be a secret. I knew I'd been caught when I heard the door open behind.

The plan, as per my usual modus operandi, had been to get the deed done much earlier in the morning. Originally I had meant to move under cover of darkness, a wraith in the pre-dawn creeping to her door. However, a mistake in setting the alarm combined with my eagerness for Michelle to receive the card before the day began became my undoing. When I awoke and realised the error, my impatience took me to her door at an extremely risky 8 a.m.

It was insane to think I would get away with it.

When I heard her call my name it was like a bullet between my shoulder blades.

The shock hit me. I couldn't believe I'd been caught.

I turned slowly and saw the envelope in her hand.

Michelle's expression questioned me. "It's been you all along?" she said, pausing before adding, "I think you better come in."

She stood there, one eyebrow raised, a hip cocked. It was one of those moments where time compressed and somehow stretched simultaneously. Adrenalin surged through me. I was torn by indecision. I wanted to follow Michelle into her house but was daunted by the prospect of what might follow. Embarrassment washed over me in a hot tide, with beads of sweat forming on my back and forehead regardless of the morning chill. I boggled for an instant, my brain registering her plum-coloured blouse while also sucking in the detail of long sleeves and the promise of Michelle's generous bosom beneath. I saw the top two buttons unfastened and a tantalising hint of cleavage. During those few seconds I also soaked in her light-brown bobbed hair and a necklace of dark beads around her delicate neck, her smile all bright red lipstick. Hazel eyes confronted me when I glanced up, sparkling and amused to match the curve of her mouth. To me, in the moment, Michelle was elegance personified, immaculate as usual.

I took it all in, anguish churning my guts while Michelle appeared cool and collected, her head canted, enquiring, the evidence in her hand.

She had me bang to rights.

My first instinct was to run, but some force held my feet fast against the pavement. The thought of facing Michelle and the inevitable enquiry filled me with dread, with fleeing the scene the most tempting idea. I could leg it and hide out for a few months, thus avoiding any and all contact with our neighbour. I'd done no wrong but let my infatuation run wild. I'd gone beyond reason, desire overwhelming common sense.

Michelle said, "Don't be embarrassed, Alan. Come in," she gently added. "Let's just talk about it."

"I'm sorry," I croaked as I turned to face her square on.

Her smile beamed at me. "Don't be sorry," she said, the tone kindly. She waved me towards her again. "I understand, truly. Please, won't you just come in? It's freezing out here."

Still resisting, I offered a weak excuse. "I have to be at work in an hour."

Michelle held up the envelope and condemned me with the irrefutable evidence of my puerile crush.

I winced and closed my eyes until she murmured, "It's Valentine's Day and you sent me a card. Come on," she insisted. "Come in. You don't have to rush off."

Mortification washed over me in a hot tide. Michelle knew I could walk to work in ten minutes. She was fully aware there was no desperate need for me to leave.

I looked at her and clarity hit home. How could I have been so stupid? For the first time in months I could see the situation for what it was: me, nineteen; an apprentice mechanic lusting after the unattainable. Michelle was a sophisticated, independent career woman over three decades my senior. It was ludicrous to have ever imagined a relationship between us. I was crazy to think my flowery hyperbolic prose would impress her.

I should have left it in the realm of fantasy, just tugged my dick and dreamed.

However, regardless of my desire to run and hide under a stone, I found myself moving along the path towards the house. I followed Michelle inside and hung my jacket on the newel post at the foot of the stairs. I loitered near the front door, reluctant to face the post mortem until Michelle called me into the living room.

"Okay, right," Michelle said briskly, all business. "How about you sit down and I'll make us some tea -- or would you prefer coffee?"

I mumbled about coffee and she turned to leave.

"Sit down," added Michelle, pointing to the chair. "I'll be a minute or two." She jabbed a forefinger at me for emphasis. "Don't you dare run off."

***

Her heels pecked on the parquet when she returned. I looked up from my boots when I heard the sound, internal wrangling over for the time being. Michelle strode into the room, purposeful, a force to be reckoned with. She came in with a mug for me and a more delicately appropriate cup for herself, handing me my coffee before settling elegantly onto the large L-shaped sofa opposite my chair. She eyed me and sipped her tea while I looked everywhere except directly at her.

I vaguely registered how physically similar the house was to ours next door. But while my parents were firmly entrenched in middle-age, Michelle's tastes ran to the more contemporary. The white walls and blonde-wood flooring made the place look clean, the colours brightening the room to give the place a light, airy atmosphere despite the dank February day beyond the big bay window. The settee upon which Michelle was perched was vast, all tan leather and so wide it could sleep four people. A huge print hung on one wall, a black and white scene of Waterloo Bridge, the bright-red double-decker bus in stark contrast against the monochrome background. A silver-cased BOSE system sat on top of shiny metal unit while a massive flat screen television was fixed to the wall opposite the print. In the no man's land between us a low coffee table completed the somewhat minimalist effect.

"Alan?" Michelle said, her voice pulling my attention to her face. "What's going on? Why the card ... And what about all those other notes, too?"

I sat there and wished I were invisible. "Uh," I managed, unable to formulate a more articulate response.

Michelle chuckled. "It's a crush, isn't it?"

I felt my face burn and knew I was as red as the bus in the print.

Michelle sighed. "You're embarrassed, aren't you? I know you're cringing, Alan. You didn't expect me to find out, but now you've been caught..."

I felt cornered, trapped by Michelle's intent stare. Panic welled in my chest. I was flustered by the direct questioning and my body's response at being in such close proximity to the object of my desire. The hint of her scent sent a ripple of arousal through me regardless of my discomfit.

My cock was hard.

"Ah," I groaned. "I ... I'm so sorry. I..."

Fidgeting in response to my inappropriate and ill-timed desire I then noticed the fortuitous gape in her blouse, Michelle's positioning affording me a glimpse of a lilac bra through a gap between the buttons. The sight unsettled me even more, especially since I could also glimpse a section of breast flesh, my eyes drawn like twin compass needles.

Michelle shifted and leaned forward, the gap closing even as the valley between her breasts deepened. The sensory overload I experienced brought a lump to my throat.

"You don't have to feel awkward, Alan," she breathed, "I understand."

"Do you?" I gurgled, my throat working as I swallowed heavily.

"It isn't unheard of, you know," Michelle smirked.

I gulped again and dragged my attention up to her face. "I don't know what to say," I moaned.

She got to her feet and moved around the coffee table.

My pulse raced when Michelle squatted in front of me. She laid both hands on my knees and, fixing me with a direct look, quietly said, "You don't have to say anything. I keep trying to tell you ... I understand."

"I've been such an idiot," I sighed.

Her fingers squeezed my knees while Michelle shook her head in slow denial. "Absolutely not," she said, emphatic in tone. "You're kidding me. I'm extremely flattered, Alan."

I blinked at her as she pouted and her head canted to one side.

Michelle regarded me for a time, expression thoughtful. Then she sighed and said, "It makes me feel good to know you find me attractive." Shrugging, she continued with, "And it was driving me mad not knowing who it was leaving those notes. But now I know..." Pausing, Michelle pondered and finished with, "Well, let's just say now I know it was you, I don't mind at all."

Joy surged inside me, words tumbling out in my relief. "Yuh-you're so lovely," I stammered. "I can't stop thinking about you. Ever since I saw you in your yellow bikini, last summer, the day you asked me to move your barbecue..."

Michelle's eyes went wide. "Ah, the yellow bikini," she said, nodding. Rising to her feet she looked down at me, fists on her hips. "And I thought it was love," quipped Michelle, "but you just want me for my body."

In the intensity of the moment, the humour was lost on me. "No ... Yes..." I babbled. "I mean ... Uh ... You..."

Michelle batted the air with one hand. "Alan, stop, please. I'm joking," she sighed. "I was only teasing. I get it, Alan, I really do." She shook her head, amused, and, chuckling, added, "You don't have to tie yourself up in knots." Returning to the sofa Michelle sat down, arranging the long skirt around her legs. "Listen," she continued, abruptly serious, her change in tone making me blink. "You know how old I am, right?"

I nodded -- Michelle being fifty-three wasn't an issue for me. I thought she was gorgeous.

"It wouldn't work, Alan. A romance just wouldn't be fair on you. When you're forty, I'll be...

"Well, I'll be in my 70s. I don't think you'd fancy me much then. And," she added softly, "I've got a boyfriend already. Even if it was just a physical thing between us..." Michelle shrugged again and left it hanging.

Desperation welled up in a hot rush and I blurted, "Can't I just kiss you?"

Michelle gazed back at me, eyes imploring. "Oh, Alan..." she sighed.

Sitting upright, I couldn't stem the flow. "I just want to so much," I babbled. "I wouldn't tell anyone. He wouldn't find out. It would be one kiss." I could hear the urgency in my own voice and, growing ever more frantic, knowing I was making more of an idiot of myself, continued with, "Please ... cuh-can't I kiss you? Just once?"

I had no idea why the idea of kissing her once would melt Michelle's apparent reluctance. But my desire was so great I was losing control, edging towards a precipice, desperate.

I saw the pity in her eyes and, despite knowing it was a useless exercise, carried right on.

"Or ... or ... or if you break up with him," I gabbled, "won't you think about it then? I can wait. You don't love him, do you? If you break up with him, I'll still be here."

When I finally shut up she was looking at me and shaking her head. "I can't cheat, Alan. My ex-husband did that to me and I won't ever do it to anyone else. You'd be better of finding a girl nearer your own age. Mooning about over me isn't the healthy thing to do."

It was all slipping away and I couldn't stand it. Even though I'd known on an intellectual level it would never happen, being so close to her, the two of us her living room together with the secret out in the open had given me some hope.

But, like a leaky balloon, the fight rapidly left me. I realised it was futile and emotion squeezed my chest.

I nodded, forlorn as I breathed a devastated, "Yes ...Okay...

"I ... uh ... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," Michelle replied softly. "Drink your coffee, Alan. Calm down."

Sipping mindlessly I stared off at nothing.

"Are you all right, Alan?" Michelle asked.

Swallowing down the bitter disappointment, I sucked in a deep breath and fought for control, self-loathing at my own weakness filling me.

Humiliated and unable to look Michelle in the face I mumbled a disconsolate, "I think I'd better go."

Michelle shook her head and stated an emphatic, "No. Wait a bit," she insisted. "Drink your coffee. You can't leave it like this. You'll feel bad about it later. We need to clear the air. I don't want you to leave feeling this way, Alan."

I blinked against the hot tears and looked at her, my heart wrenching while, simultaneously, hot desire flared inside me.

"Stay," urged Michelle, her expression concerned.

Disgraced and embarrassed but so far gone with the need to be near her I sacrificed my self-respect for a few precious minutes in Michelle's company. "Okay," I croaked, sniffing.

Michelle sighed. "Good."

Silence ensued, a minute where Michelle allowed me time to gather my thoughts and collect my scattered emotions. I sucked in deep breaths, the air hissing out of my nose.

Reality returned, clarity resumed and, feeling a prize tube, my eyes flicked away from Michelle's worried frown as I sipped coffee.

Then I apologised again. "I'm sorry about everything. I should have known better."

Michelle leaned back and crossed her legs before clasping her hands one on top of the other over her raised knee.

She eyed me for a few seconds and then sighed, saying, "I do wish you'd stop going on about how sorry you are. You haven't done anything bad, Alan." Michelle waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, perhaps I was a little concerned about some weirdy stalker at first. But now I know it was you, Alan, like I said before, I'm very flattered." Her tone softened even more when Michelle uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, elbows on her thighs, hands dangling, her position incongruous to her usual elegance, like a warehouseman on a smoke break. "Having you pay me so much attention is quite a compliment. In fact, I can't tell you how good it makes me feel. Really, it's a boost to know a good-looking young man would be interested in me."

Michelle paused, hesitating before adding, "If things were different, if I didn't have Zach..." Then she grinned and floored me by saying, "If you'd made a move the day I asked you to shift the barbecue...

"I was still a single lady then and, well, as I recall it was a warm afternoon and I'd been on the white wine."

I boggled when the implication seeped through. Astounded at this revelation I just sat there and gaped, jaw hanging, the weight of Michelle's disclosure settling in the pit of my stomach like a brick in a pool of mud.

"I get a little frisky when I drink white wine on hot days," finished Michelle, adding to my torment.

Stunned, it took me several moments to recover enough to gurgle a choked, "You mean you...? If I'd...?"

Michelle pouted, a moue of contemplation twisting her red-painted lips. "I can't say for definite," she said, chuckling, eyebrows going up to her fringe. "But we might have had a kiss and a cuddle, yes."

Groaning, I leaned forward and dumped the coffee mug onto the table. "Shit," I hissed with my face in my palms. My hands dropped and I regarded the woman sitting opposite me. After repeating the expletive I muttered, "Knowing that doesn't help me at all."

Michelle pulled a face and levered upright.

Apparently realising her faux-pas her face twisted with what I took to be chagrin. Sorry, she mouthed.

A moment or two passed before she said, "Tell you what, like you said, about if Zach and I break up..."

Resurgent hope soared. I sat up, spine straightening.

"No promises," she continued, holding up a hand. "But, you and me, Alan, I don't see why we couldn't go on a date." Michelle shrugged and finished with, "If I ever finish with Zach, of course. Which I'm not going to."

My stomach flipped when she said it, the images coming rapidly, an entire scene flashing through my mind in a blink.

In my mind's eye I saw Michelle smiling at me as I presented her with a bottle of wine. It was summer and she was in the yellow bikini. Michelle took the gift and led me through to her back garden, buttocks jiggling, her feminine hip-sway holding my attention. Next, in a fast-forward step she was naked and giggling with the alcohol. I was bare as well, my erection huge as I gazed in wonder at Michelle's body. I'm horny, Alan, the fantasy murmured. White wine and a warm day...

She moved in close and curled her fingers around my cock, her tongue sliding into my mouth.

But in Michelle's living room it was still Valentine's Day. I blinked at the corporeal Michelle, gulping before breathing an astonished, "Would you really go out with me?

The woman nodded immediately and replied with, "Yes, of course," but raised an index finger straight away and issued a caveat. "But I want you to get on with your life, Alan. You need to think about a girlfriend of your own." Michelle fixed me with a stern expression and told me in no uncertain terms I wasn't to cling to the suggestion. "Because I have no plans to chuck Zach," she said.

Jealousy spiked my chest when Michelle grinned and continued with, "He's quite fun. We have a good time together. We're both old enough and experienced enough to understand each other." She waved a hand. "Oh, it isn't love, but we're getting along. It works in a way we both appreciate, and at my age I'm a bit jaded by love.

"However, Alan, if anything did occur..."

My throat worked while she stared at me.

"... Let's just say I'd be happy to go on a little date with you."

"I don't believe it," I groaned. Blinking, I gulped again and slowly shook my head, berating myself with, "Why didn't I say something?"

"Don't go getting worked up," Michelle sighed, exasperation flickering across her face. "Don't get upset. You didn't say anything, and that's that. And this date idea, it's a maybe, no promises. If anything happens between me and Zach...

"I want you to promise me you'll stop being so silly about me and try to find someone more age-appropriate." Michelle thrust a more belligerent stare my way and insisted. "Alan...? I want you to promise me..."

It seemed like Michelle wouldn't be shifted. There was nothing I could do or say to influence her and I decided the best course would be to agree and hope for the best. It wasn't the ideal outcome, but was still infinitely better than I could have hoped.

I mumbled a few utterances of acceptance to the terms and Michelle, apparently satisfied, said, "Good, it's settled then."

She relaxed and eased back against the settee, with me simply appreciating the way she looked just lounging there. Despite what I'd so grudgingly promised I still experienced the urge to stand and go to her and lean in for a kiss. I wanted to rip the blouse open and bury my face between her big breasts. The memory of her yellow bikini rushed back and desire rose in a hot welling of lust, my cock stiffening with renewed interest.