Going Dutch Ch. 01

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I try not to be obvious, but sometimes there are lovely women in the grocery store, and taking a nice long look makes the shopping more enjoyable. Ask any guy!

Anyway, I tend to shop after work to get stuff for dinner. Last Friday night was no exception, but the evening was. I had stopped at a grocery in the next town over from where I lived-it was close to the liquor store I wanted to hit next. That night, I was buying up only for myself-my wife had taken both kids to her parents house for the weekend. I had a lot of work to catch up on after being out sick, so she kindly offered to leave me alone for some peace and quiet. I decided a good stir-fry would set me up for the weekend, so I got some flank steak on sale and went to get vegetables.

As I turned down the aisle between carrots and potatoes, I saw a tall, slender woman browsing along in front of me. She wore low suede boots, jeans that clung tightly to her long legs, and a puffy white bomber jacket. Since I am generally an ass-man, I let my eyes linger discreetly on the delicate swell of her hips below the jacket’s waistband. The muscles flexed as she rocked forward to choose a head of garlic. I slowed my pace to enjoy the subtly shifting curves. Her short blonde hair fell forward to cover her face, but I was already attracted by her delicious derriere and the cool, slim hands that I could see as she sorted through the produce.

Sadly, discretion has its price. I had to keep walking, and I’m not enough of a lech to turn around and blatantly scope her out. As I passed, though, I saw her head turn toward me.

“Hey!” said a happy voice from her direction. I turned with a smile to see what she wanted. The voice was familiar, and when I saw her wide smile, my mind snapped back five years to my classroom. I taught her as a senior-British Lit-and she was a very smart but very troubled young woman. My brain whizzed, then her name popped into my head.

“Hey, Britt!” I said with an appropriate teacher-like smile. I didn’t want my voice or my expression to betray the intense interest I was just taking in her body as she fondled the garlic. “What brings you so far up the coast?”

“My mom and I are selling a house up here, and we are living in it to fix it up!”

“That’s great! How is your mom?”

“She’s good. She’s right there!” she exclaimed as she pointed to an older version of herself at the end of the aisle. “Hoi, Mam!” she called.

Britt’s family was Dutch, I remembered. Her mom looked up, saw her daughter’s expression, and looked to me for the cause. Her brow crinkled as she wondered briefly who I was, but then a polite smile smoothed her expression and she came toward us.

“Hello?” she said with a stronger accent than Britt’s.

“Mam…this is Mr. Robertson. He was my teacher, remember?”

Mam looked back at my face, but clearly did not. She shook her head slightly, but continued to smile politely and looked at Britt for more information,

“He was my English teacher-the one who was so aardig to me.”

“Hello,” I said to the mother in formal tones. “I am Steve Robertson, Britt’s teacher for English Lit her senior year. I don’t know what “aardig” means, but I hope it’s something nice!”

“It is nice to meet you,” she replied with equal formality. “I am Lara Janssen. Aardig means kind in English.”

“Well, I am glad to meet you, and I’m glad that Britt remembers me being kind. She was a wonderful student.”

With that, Lara reached out her hand and shook mine once. Just once. Must be a Dutch thing. Then she turned to her daughter, still holding my hand but ignoring me for a moment.

“Was hij degene van wie je zoveel hield?” [quick note-I’m recreating the Dutch as best I can!]

Britt’s eyes went wide. “Mam!” she hissed as a blush spread across her face.

I looked to Lara for an explanation. She grasped my hand with both of hers and grinned at me delightedly. “I asked Britt if you were the teacher she was so much in love with!”

My eyes flicked to Britt’s crimson face. That pretty much said it all. Then I turned back to her mother, trying desperately to think of something to say to defuse the moment.

“I must have been teaching really well that year!” I said, somewhat lamely after a long pause.

“No, no,” Lara answered. “Britt said many times how smart and handsome and funny you were. It was not only about being a good teacher. She said all the time how she loved you as a man, a…een goede man…a good man.”

“Mam!” Britt hissed again. “I’m going to get the bread! You are SO embarrassing!”

With that, she turned and strode away down the aisle, not looking back. I watched her in sympathy, knowing how mortified she must be, but also enjoying the undulation of her ass as she fled the scene.

Lara, however, was not embarrassed at all. She tugged on my hands and I turned back to face her.

“I know she is embarrassed with me,” she said indulgently, “but I am only telling you the truth. She talked so much about you. We matadorbet are alone, Britt and me, and we talk of things like this together. Like sisters. She talked so much about you that I expect to find you in my house some day making love to my daughter!” She laughed with gentle delight at the idea.

“Well…” I said, struggling to find a response. “That’s usually not what teachers do!”

“Ohh, pfff!” she exclaimed dismissively. “She is young and beautiful and so in love! I would not have been surprised at all if she convinced you. You are a man.” She nodded wisely.

“A married man,” I told her with my most serious expression, eyebrows raised.

“A man,” she replied. “A married man simply must be more cautious.”

All of a sudden, my perspective shifted from Britt’s predicament to the tall, pale woman who was still holding my hand with both of hers.

“You sound very…experienced in such things,” I said with a glimmer in my eye.

“Oh, yes…I have been a real estate agent for many, many years!” she told me, as if that should explain everything.

“And have the married men been cautious?” I asked in suggestive tones.

“Almost always. The ones who are not create their own problems, and if the wife is aware, I do not make the sale. So I always ask them to be cautious. It is my business!”

I smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “That sounds like a good business strategy.”

“I am very good at my business,” she assured me. There was no mistaking the double entendre that statement contained, and I chuckled deep in my chest as her thumb stroked the back of my hand.

“If I was buying or selling a house, I would call you first!” I told her gallantly.

“I hope you will call me,” she said seriously. “But I do not want to cheat my daughter out of her prize! She has been in love with you much longer than I have known you. And I believe you would be cautious with her as well, yes?”

Seriously? Was this lovely Dutch mother setting me up with her daughter? What the hell was happening in the produce section?

My puzzlement must have shown on my face. Lara interpreted it correctly and laughed, a gentle smile brightening her features.

“I mean what I say…Britt and I are more like sisters, and like a sister, I help her with her romance. She is maybe confused because you were a teacher for her, but I think she is so embarrassed because she is still very much in love with you. She is not a school-girl and you are not her teacher now!”

My mind struggled to follow the logic of these pronouncements. There was something fundamentally European about her logic, I supposed. Britt is young and beautiful, and she had the hots for you, and men can’t resist that, so now that there’s no legal reason not to pursue things, you should definitely go for it, as long as you are cautious. Very pragmatic about lust, those Dutch!

Her voice cut through the pleasant fog of my meditations. “Can you come to dinner soon?”

I looked back at her with a grin. “I am free all weekend!” I told her sincerely.

“Good. It is fixed. I will speak to my daughter.” She let go of my hand at long last and pulled a card and pen from her pocket. Swiftly, she wrote an address on the back-a very nice address-and pressed it into my palm. “Come to dinner tonight at eight o’clock. Bring a white wine. Okay?”

Slightly stunned by her directness, I agree. She rose on tiptoes and kissed both my cheeks. Then she patted my arm and said, “See you at eight!” before walking swiftly away to find Britt in the bread aisle. Bemusedly, I watched her well-shaped ass disappear around a corner.

The door to the store was right next to the produce aisle. I abandoned my basket and walked quickly out to my car. Married men simply have to be more cautious-was that what she said? Well, I could do that! Once the car was started, I called my wife. A I suspected, she and the kids were still on the road.

“Hey, babe-how are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’m good. Still tired, and I’m so swamped with grading that it’s ridiculous.”

“Are you going to work on it tonight?”

“No…I think I’m going to eat dinner and go to sleep. That way I can get up early and get started. How are you guys doing?”

“We’re good. Traffic is bad, but we should be at Mom and Dad’s before six. Call before you go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay, babe. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I stopped at the liquor store and chose two bottles of dry Alsatian white wine, figuring they would go with almost anything. Then I sped home and set them in the fridge to stay cold while I cleaned up. A long shower, a close and careful shave, and some man-scaping followed, and by seven o’clock, I was ready to go. My pulse was racing slightly as I got dressed. What would tonight bring? Lara was an experienced and beautiful woman, and I would have driven over there immediately if it was just for her. Britt, however, was another story, and a new situation for me. Every teacher matadorbet giriş has occasional fantasies about attractive students, but she was not a student anymore, and she was 23 or 24, and her mother-I know, it’s messed up!-had told me she had the hots for me. Even better, her mother told me she was all for it!

Despite Lara’s assurances, I had to wonder: would Britt be shocked to find me at her house? Would she want any part of her mother’s seductive scheme? Would I be walking into an amazingly awkward misunderstanding? The uncertainty was part of my nervousness. The other part, however, was lustful anticipation. Would I find myself alone with Britt? Would my lips taste the pale skin of her breasts? My cock hardened as I imagined those slender, graceful legs parting for me and those bright blue eyes going wide as she felt me entering her. Holy shit! I was so turned on by the prospect that I almost couldn’t wait.

Fortunately, at half past seven I remembered to call my wife. We talked for a bit about the drive, and then I said goodnight to each of the kids. Finally, my wife came back on, smacked a goodnight kiss into the phone, and told me to get some rest before hanging up.

That intrusion of reality had helped to settle my nerves. Whatever the evening brought, I would proceed with courtesy and with…caution, I told myself with a smile.

The drive was uneventful, and my GPS got me to the house they were selling just before eight. Holding both bottles with one hand, I rang the bell and waited on the wide front porch. The place was enormous-just the downstairs probably had more square footage than my entire two-story colonial!

I heard soft footsteps and the locks clicked open. Lara grinned at me happily and pulled me inside, closing the door behind me. I stood on the slate floor uncertainly until she turned and took my free hand.

“I’m very glad you are here on time!” she smiled. Then she rose on tiptoe once again and kissed both my cheeks. This time, a wave of scent enveloped me-something faint and musky and arousing. Her breasts pressed briefly against my chest, and then she spun on her toes and tugged me down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Since you have brought two bottles, will you open one to drink for now?” she asked. “Glasses are there.” She nodded toward a wide marble countertop set up as a bar. Then she took the second bottle and opened the cabinet-fronted refrigerator just wide enough to slip it inside before she moved further down to stir something delicious-smelling on the stove. I was struck by her graceful economy of motion-her petite frame seemed relaxed and at home in this beautiful place, and a quick smile crossed her features as she tasted the end of a wooden spoon.

Glad to have something to do, I made quick work of the cork and poured three glasses. After setting the bottle in a ceramic cooler, I picked two of the glasses up by the stem and moved around the island to offer Lara one. She dried her hands on a kitchen towel and turned to accept it, looking up at me silently.

“To my gracious hostess!” I murmured, smiling down at her and lifting my glass a fraction.

“Thank you,” she replied with a smile and a tilt of her head. “I am glad you are here.”

We both took a sip and her gaze stayed on me, cool and amused and just a tad provocative. For a moment, I contemplated how she would feel in my arms, how her lips would feel against mine if I were to tilt her head back and kiss her then and there. The moment hung between us.

“Oh!” she interjected with a short laugh. “I am not so good a hostess! I forgot there is another person who might need a drink! Will you take Britt her glass while I finish the cooking? She is in the living room I think-just through there.” A vague gesture accompanied her words.

“Of course,” I answered with a polite smile.

Inside my head, however, I was anything but calm. I wanted to take this gorgeous woman in my arms and feel her body respond to mine. She was blunt and sensual and attractive and clearly open to the possibility of a passing fling. However, she was also setting me up with her equally lovely daughter-a younger version of herself-with the full understanding that her daughter had a crush on me. To her European sensibility, my age and marital status were no impediment to having a good time as long as I was “cautious” about it. If anyone in this situation needed a drink, it was me!

With that internal dialogue going on, I picked up the third glass and went off to find Britt.

From the spectacular kitchen, it was easy to find the living room. The architect had done well, and the spaces flowed easily from one to the next so that I could see the length of the house. At the far end, I could see a softly lit room and I heard a familiar bass line traveling down the hallway. I smiled to myself once I identified it-David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance”. I always did like the 80’s version of Bowie best.

Feeling somewhat more confident because of the music, I carried both glasses into the room. Britt was sitting in a deep leather chair on her phone and didn’t hear my footsteps as I crossed the soft Persian rug. Illuminated from below, her pixie features were sharply defined and lovely, framed by the fall of her hair. She was wearing a soft, finely-knit grey sweater, and her long legs were stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. I slowed my pace just as I had in the grocery store to admire her without being caught. Flashes of what I saw filled my senses-the tautness of her thigh as it curved toward her hip, slender fingers surrounding the phone, porcelain skin along her cheek lit blue by the screen, and the subtle swell of her breast in the shadow of her arm. She was lovely.

However she looked, though, she was still the young one in this situation. She didn’t have her mother’s urbane sensuality, and had clearly been embarrassed in the store. My instinct was simply to put her at ease, but I also wanted to use some of Lara’s directness to my advantage.

“There you are!” I said softly when I was close enough.

Britt looked up startled, her eyes wide. With a carefully neutral expression, she set the phone aside and stood up to face me.

“Hi…” she said uncertainly.

“Your mom thought you might need a glass of wine,” I told her smoothly, passing hers over.

She nodded, took the glass, and took a sip. Then she closed her eyes, took a quick breath, and took another sip. Clearly, she was a bundle of nerves.

“Britt…come sit with me for a minute, will you?” I gestured toward wide bluestone hearth where a small fire crackled. I took her elbow and urged her along. She complied silently, and when I sat down on one side of the fire, she settled across from me with her knees together, the glass on top of them held in both hands almost defensively.

“I know your mom embarrassed you in the grocery store today…I’m sorry for that.”

She looked down quickly, but I saw her eyes well up a little bit.

“She’s always saying something embarrassing!” she said softly but fervently.

“What if I told you I liked what she said to me?” I asked in an even voice.

Britt looked up, eyes still glistening, but the fine line of her eyebrows arched inquisitively.

“What do you mean? What did she say?”

“She said you had a crush on me back in school and that it was completely normal.”


“And while she was being so blatant about your feelings, she said she was surprised that she hadn’t come home one day and found the two of us in bed together!”

“Oh, my God!” Britt groaned. “She’s so bad!”

“She is pretty blunt, isn’t she?”

“Always!” she agreed with a grimace.

“I feel the same way and she’s not my mother!” I assured her. “She basically said men can’t resist beautiful women and that it would have been okay with her if I had wound up sleeping with you back in high school!”

“I know…I’m sorry for her!”

“Britt…I said don’t worry about it. It’s not something a teacher can do-obviously-but you aren’t my student any more. You’re a smart, beautiful young woman. Any guy would be flattered that you were attracted to him, and just because I was your teacher once, that doesn’t mean that I’m immune to you!”

A small, pleased smile curled at the edges of her lips.

“Is that all she said?” she asked in a more normal voice.

“No…she seemed to think me coming over to dinner was a great idea. Now that I’m here, I think she was right!”

Britt looked directly into my eyes at that statement and smiled. Gently, I set my wineglass aside and tugged hers out her hands as well. Then I took her hand and stood up, drawing her up to stand close in front of me.

“Britt,” I said softly as my arms went around her waist, “I’m here because I want to be with you as you are today. Not with a student, not with your mom-with you. Are you okay with that?”

With a noise that was almost a moan, Britt’s body plastered itself against mine. Her eyes closed, her arms came up to wrap around my neck, crushing her breasts against my chest, and her head tilted back to allow her lips to reach mine. Almost immediately, I felt the flicker of her tongue along my lips, and I teased it with my own.

“Yes,” she murmured at last against my lips. “I am VERY okay with that!”

Her body relaxed then, molding against mine even more. Her lips parted trustingly to my exploring tongue, and my hands began to explore her body, caressing her in long strokes from her shoulders to her firm little ass. That part of her received a lot of attention, and when I squeezed her firmly with both hands, her hips rocked forward against me, causing her belly to press against the growing erection in my khakis. Immediately, Britt angled her body to allow space between us and slipped her hand down there. With her palm, she traced the length of my cock as it lay vertically against my stomach.

“Did you ever know that I wanted to do this in your class?” Britt asked me softly, looking into my eyes. “When you walked past me or stood next to my chair, I thought of this.”

“No I didn’t,” I told her with a smile. “That would have been bad for discipline anyway!”

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