Seeds of Fear

Should she wear panties? Yes? No?

Wouldn't Mother be mortified at the thought? Not wear underwear? Mother would kill her if she knew.

But Mother isn't here now, and Cindy is a grown-up girl who can make her own decisions.

She decides to leave the panties at home.

* * *

'So this is where you live,' Alex says. 'Nice.'

'I inherited this house when my parents died,' Cindy tells him. 'I've lived here all my life.'

'Bet it costs a fortune to maintain a house like this and the grounds,' Alex whispers appreciatively, strolling around the huge living room, examining the fine furniture, the glassed-in curio cabinets, original framed oils on all four walls. 'How do you do it? Everything looks so neat, so clean, so spotless. So perfect.'

'Why, thank you,' Cindy beams, pleased he noticed. Most of the pretty boys she met tonight at the club wouldn't have. That's why she picked Alex: He has a certain sensitivity she finds attractive. 'A landscaping service takes care of the yard,' she explains, 'but the house I do all by myself. My mother taught me that cleanliness is next to godliness. I've never forgotten a thing Mother taught me.'

'No wonder I haven't seen you out on the dance floor before,' Alex says, only half-jokingly. 'You spend all your time cleaning.'

'Not all my time,' laughs Cindy. 'I'm the chief executive officer and chairperson of the board of two international corporations my father founded. Most of my time, I'm sorry to say, is taken up by business. But I really don't want to spend all night talking about business or cleaning house. And neither do you.' Cindy crooks a finger in Alex's direction. 'C'mere, you gorgeous hunk, you. The bedroom's this way.'

As Cindy climbs the carpeted stairs to an upstairs bedroom with Alex following closely behind like a lovesick puppy tied to a leash, she allows the short leather skirt to inch slowly up the backs of her thighs.

By now there should be absolutely no doubt in Alex's mind that Cindy isn't wearing panties.

Alex can't believe his luck. Not only is this prime-looking bitch horny as hell, she's also richer than Rockefeller.

A college junior, Alex was Friday-night bar-hopping with two half-drunk classmates — 'looking at girls, not for girls,' they lied to themselves as they put away beer after beer in bar after bar — when they discovered sexy Cindy gyrating on the crowded dance floor of an upscale nightclub out on the beltway.

Instantly smitten by the really seductive way this older woman's tight ass wriggled beneath her incredibly short leather skirt, the way her half-hidden breasts jostled the front of the see-through blouse, the way her piercing eyes scanned and measured each of them in turn — promising heaven on earth to anybody man enough to fuel the fire in those eyes — the boys picked a place at the bar where they could ogle the woman's every move without being obvious.

'She's not wearing panties!' Ernie relayed over the music, becoming so excited, he slipped off his barstool and nearly sprawled face-forward on the floor. 'I swear she flashed me a live beaver!'

'Shut up and sit down,' Alex shushed, embarrassed by his friend's drunken display. Alex was acting as the designated driver tonight, carefully nursing his own drinks to keep a clear head and stay within state-enforced legal blood-alcohol limits. 'No need to blow your cool, Ernie. She's probably wearing flesh-colored bikini panties or a thong.' Alex squinted his eyes, scrutinizing the hem of that short leather skirt bobbing oh-so-dangerously close to crotch level, a man might imagine almost anything. 'You can't see well enough in this light to tell the difference,' he concluded.

'I think I'm in lust,' Ernie groaned, downing his nineteenth beer of the night, and immediately chasing that one down with a shot of Jim Beam. He signaled the bartender for another round.

'You're always in lust,' Alex said disgustedly. But then, he mused, his eyes zeroing in on interesting shadows dancing around the woman's crotch, so am I.

When the dance ended, the woman excused herself to her dance partner — a muscle-bound thirty-something wearing a half-unbuttoned shirt that showed off his gold chains and steroid-induced pecs — and headed for the ladies' room.

'Show's over,' Ted sadly lamented, killing his watered-down scotch and setting the empty glass on the bar. 'You guys ready to move on to the next watering hole?'

'Not me, man,' protested Ernie, beginning to look a little green around the gills. 'The whole room's spinning around like the tilt-a-whirl at Kiddieland. I think I'm gonna puke.'

'Warned you not to mix bourbon and beer on an empty stomach, didn't I?' Ted said knowingly. 'Maybe if you eat something solid, you'll feel —»

At the first mention of food, Ernie lurched from his perch on the barstool and rushed straight to the john, a protective hand over his mouth.

'Guess he's done for the night,' said Ted, shaking his head. 'You wanna split before he comes back? Let the asshole catch a cab?'

'Here,' said Alex, flipping Ted the car keys. 'You go. I'll stick around and make certain Ernie gets home okay.'

'You sure? The night's still young. We could always hit a few strip joints…'

'I'm sure,' Alex said.

After Ted left, Alex asked the bartender to phone for a cab. Then he headed for the men's room to check on Ernie.

And bumped into the blonde.

Up close, he could see she was older than she looked on the dance floor. Suddenly he felt like an immature teenager with a crush on his eighth-grade English teacher. He couldn't move. He didn't know what to say.

'Do I have to crawl over you to get by?' she asked because Alex's solid bulk blocked the only way back to the dance floor from the rest rooms.

'You can crawl all over me anytime you want,' he offered, surprised by the brazenness of the words coming from his own mouth. He couldn't believe he actually said that. He licked his lips, then literally bit his tongue.

Her eyes roamed his body from head to toe. 'If I were to crawl all over you,' she asked seriously, her voice indicating newfound interest, 'what would you do?'

'I'd lick your pussy until you begged me to fuck your brains out,' he said, still biting his tongue. It sounded to him like he said, 'I dick yewsy ilew egg ilew uck ur ainsout.'

'Think you're man enough to fuck my brains out?' she asked.

He reached for her hand and, without thinking of the consequences, moved her fingers straight to his fly. 'Think you're woman enough to find out?'

Her eyes locked his in a battle of wills as two of her painted fingers touched the tab of his zipper, tugging it down. Down past the dangerous snake uncoiling in his jeans. Down, down, all the way down. As far down as his zipper would go. A curious smile curled the corners of her eyes as the same two fingers slowly — oh, ever so slowly! — crept inside his open fly, around the elastic edge of his Jockey shorts, made intimate contact with his bare flesh. Made him jump. Made hot sparks shoot through his nervous system like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

'You'll do,' she acknowledged, withdrawing her hand. 'Let's go before I change my mind.'

'Go? Go where?' Alex asked in a daze, awkwardly fumbling to zip up his pants before anyone else saw he was wide open.

'Why, my place, of course,' the girl said, making him feel stupid for asking such a dumb question. 'I'm going to give you a chance to fuck my brains out.'

Cindy takes her time undressing.

She has already undressed Alex. He sits, completely naked, on the edge of the bed, watching her every move, a throbbing erection between his hairy legs.

Cindy loves the look of rapt attention fixing his face. He seems so young, so innocent, so expectant. So hopeful. So perfect.

He is the exact same age she was when her parents died.

She peels off her see-through blouse, drops it to the floor by her feet. Her full breasts, spilling over the tops of the half-cups, ache to be touched. She reaches up and touches her flesh herself, squeezes her own firm flesh as