Neighbourly Passion

I once saw my math tutor walking down the street bare foot, red lipstick on, wearing skinny jeans and holding two wine glasses in one hand. She looked so sexy even despite her age. When I got home I fantasized about her being courted by a younger married woman. They would bond over their husbands distance towards them while drinking wine and the younger women would offer my teacher a cigarette from a foreign country. The younger women’s flirting would shed layers of repression from the older women. They would eventually take it to the bedroom, kissing along the way and accidentally knocking over a picture of the husband, a symbol of once held fidelity. Glass shattering across the wooden floor, they would be too caught up to care and continue to the bedroom. I imagined the younger women leading the way for my teacher, having never been with a women before but succumbing to the long overdue touch of another human being. She would be brought to a convulsing, screaming orgasm that threatened to be heard by the neighbours. Then they would laugh together in bed after this and eventually become still, at peace with one another.