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Naomi Phillips stood at the bus stop, her shoulders slumped, eyes staring ahead blankly. Her mind kept going over and over the events of the summer, when she and her parents had moved to this new neighborhood. They were so happy and then…
Why did her father have to have a fatal heart attack? Why was he having an affair with his secretary? How could he have squandered his wife’s and daughter’s future on this sordid affair?
Naomi’s eyes welled with tears as she contrasted the past with the present. A preemie, she had been in an incubator for two months and when she did come home her mother was terrified she would become ill from exposure to gems.
Her mother wore a surgical mask whenever she touched Naomi and the two never bonded. Her father “worked” late and had no time for her. She was home schooled because her parents were afraid she would contract an illness from other children.
When Naomi had her first menstrual period her mother called it the “curse” and told her to never let a man touch her until she was married. She had few friends, partly because her family moved often as her father worked his way up the corporate ladder.
This was to be their final move because her father had been made a vice president and would now work in the home office. Naomi sighed as she looked around this upscale neighborhood.
Her father’s estate had consisted of a mortgage on the house, a pile of unpaid bills, loans on two cars, and an insurance policy. The policy paid off the mortgage and the car loans but that was about it. Her father had cashed in two other policies in order to entertain his girl friend.
Naomi’s mother went back to work as a nurse in order to pay living expenses. The job paid well but she was no longer able to home school Naomi. And so Naomi was enrolled in the local high school. Her paranoid mother had always dressed her in ill-fitting clothes, concealing her sexy curves, in order to ward off any interest boys might have in her virgin daughter.
“Stay away from boys and men, Naomi. They are disgusting and will betray you at every turn,” her mother told her, bitter after the betrayal of her husband of twenty years.
Naomi had made a few girlfriends at the school, who told her wild stories of sucking cock and eating pussy and fucking. It seemed to her she must be the only virgin in her graduating class. The only good thing she could think of was that she was now eighteen and had been admitted to the prestigious university her father had attended with all expenses paid, the “full ride” her counselor called it.
She looked up, startled to hear a male voice.
“Good Morning. Look what has been added to the neighborhood.” It was Justin Nettleson. Justin was a widower. His wife and son had been killed six months ago when their light plane she was flying had gone into a spin and crashed. The National Transportation Safety Board called it pilot error.
Justin had taken a round the world cruise after his wife and son died, accompanied by their miniature poodle, Mimi. He had mourned and grieved until he was exhausted from the pain. He had returned the night before.
Justin was a moderately wealthy man, having invented a computer painting program for artists when he was an undergraduate at the state university. It sold well and was making good money for him by the time he graduated. He realized, however, that he was not cut out to be a businessman and sold his company to a large corporation, which hired him as a consultant.
He was thus free to tinker on beta versions of games the company produced while being free from any concerns about the running a business. For him, it was the best of all possible worlds. He was thirty-two years old, athletic, nice looking while not being handsome and well enough off to never have to work for a living again.
When his wife died he was deluged with invitations from every unattached and some attached women he and his wife knew. One reason he took the cruise was to get away from them. He had no intention of jumping into a relationship at this time.
Justin was going on the morning walk he and Mimi took each day when he saw Naomi. Nice looking kid, he thought, but my God, somebody has no idea what size skirt and blouse she needs. Even in the oversized clothing she wore his eyes could discern a well-shaped female form.
He smiled as he and Mimi, her tail wagging, approached Naomi. “I’m Justin Nettleson and I live in that house across the street. Mimi and I check out the neighborhood every morning about this time.”
Naomi blinked her eyes as she looked at this nice looking man who seemed so full of good cheer. His voice and smile were infectious and she felt herself smiling in return.
“I’m Naomi Phillips and I live in the house behind me. I haven’t seen you before.”
Justin shook his head. “I’ve been away. I’m sorry I was not here to welcome you to the neighborhood, but I am here now and I will do so properly this very day. Is your mother at home?”
Naomi shook her head. “No. casino şirketleri She is at work. She’s a nurse at the local hospital.”
“Well. I’d like to meet her and your dad and have you over for dinner. This is Friday and I bet they would enjoy having someone else prepare dinner after working all week.”
Naomi’s smile disappeared and she told Justin her father had died at the beginning of the summer. “I bet mom, though, would welcome your offer. I’ll ask her as soon as she comes home, at five.”
Justin expressed his condolences and told Naomi that dinner would be at six and that he would accept no excuses.
Naomi’s face brightened at the way Justin expressed himself, so full of life, so cheerful, so just plain nice. “I’ll tell her. I’m sure she will be pleased to eat someone else’s cooking for a change.”
“What do you mean we are going to dinner with a Mr. Justin Nettleson? Who is he? What have you been up to?”
Naomi put her hands over her ears to block out her mother’s screams. Her mom. Monica Phillips had been like this ever since her dad had died. It was impossible to talk with her without her going into a rage.
“Mom. Mom. Listen to me. He lives across the street. I asked a couple of the girls on the bus about him. His wife and only child died six months ago. He’s been away on a cruise; must have plenty of money.”
“I don’t care, Naomi. You have no business accepting an invitation to dinner without my permission. Maybe I’m too tired to go out.”
Naomi grinned at her mother. “But you are not too tired to fix dinner tonight. Is that it? You would rather stay home and cook than go out to eat. Come on, Mom. Give me a break.” Naomi put her arms around her mother and caressed her back. “If you don’t like him or his cooking, we will not see him again. OK?”
Monica Phillips shook her head and sighed. God. What is this world coming to, she thought? My daughter is comforting me. I should be comforting her. She put her arms around Naomi and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Disentangling herself from Naomi she gave her a wan smile. “OK my little one. Let’s get changed. We barely have time to get ready before we are due across the street.
Monica and Naomi used their two bathrooms to take quick showers and dress rapidly. Neither wore much makeup, a little lipstick was it. Monica wore a pant’s suit and Naomi one of her loose-fitting dresses.
At 6:10 they were on Justin’s doorstep.
He extended his hand and they exchanged introductions. I can see where Naomi gets her good looks and figure, Justin thought, as he inconspicuously assessed Monica’s attractive body.
Justin led them into the living room and asked if Monica would like a drink before dinner. “We have twenty minutes or so,” he told her.
Monica accepted a glass of wine and Justin suggested that Naomi take her soft drink and explores the new beta version of a painting program. Naomi, who was very interesting in painting, agreed with alacrity. She was a double major in high school, computer science and art, and had used a number of painting programs in the past.
Justin and Monica, while not dwelling on the details, exchanged basic biographical information. Monica felt very at ease with this man, more so than she had with any man other than her husband. She was not looking for husband material, having decided men were worthless bounders, but she did not mind being entertained by this man.
A kitchen timer rang and Justin excused himself to attend to the meal. Monica wandered over to where Naomi was seated in front of a computer screen.
“Mom. This is the greatest. I have never used a program this sophisticated. I feel as if I am actually in front of an easel using a brush. Look at this.”
Monica looked over Naomi’s shoulder and gazed at a watercolor that Naomi had created. “It looks very realistic, homey. It must be very expensive.”
At that moment Justin called them to the dining room where he had laid out their dinner; salad, roast loin of pork, roasted carrots, pearl onions, and potatoes, gravy, and mixed squash.
Monica took in the scent of the food appreciatively. “This looks and smells delicious, Justin. Thank you so much for having us over this evening. I really did not want to cook.”
Justin beamed at the two of them and they dug into the food. “Absolutely marvelous. The meat is fork tender and that gravy is out of this world. How in the world did you prepare it?”
Justin gave the particulars of this complex sauce, his face shining from the praise. He had not fixed a meal since his wife died and it felt good to have people over for dinner.
When they finished he suggested he and Monica have a brandy. Naomi wanted to get back to her painting.
Monica felt very relaxed, after the wine before and during dinner and the brandy. I can’t believe this, she thought, as she looked around the living room. He must be a genius, to have developed that program, and certainly has money to live well. His wife had good taste, she thought, casino firmaları as she looked around at the paintings that decorated the walls of the room.
After the brandy, Justin led them back to the table where he served a flan he had prepared that afternoon. Monica and Naomi both praised the dish and Monica asked for the recipe. “I have eaten a lot of flan, but this is the best,” she told Jason.
It was past nine before they had finished. Monica excused herself and Naomi, telling Justin that between a long day at work and the wine and brandy, she was ready to go to bed.
“Oh, Mom!” Naomi wailed. I have just gotten into this painting.”
Justin smiled at them and told Monica that Naomi could save her work and come and finish it any time she wanted.
Monica, her motherly antennae suddenly alerted looked at him closely. He doesn’t look like a flirt, she thought and he has been very nice to us both tonight.
“Please, Mom. Let me come over tomorrow and work on it. I can’t get over how easy it is and how many sub routines there are. I’m just getting to learn it.”
Monica looked from Justin to her anxious daughter. It has been tough on her since Ralph died, she thought. She could use some fun.
She smiled at Naomi. “OK, but you also have homework to do.”
Naomi hugged her mother and thanked her profusely. “What time, Justin?”
Justin was delighted to see the enthusiasm on Naomi’s face. Her enjoyment from the program helped validate his view that the new version was a success. “Ah. How about nine? That will give me time to take care of Mimi and get something to eat.”
“Nine it is,” Naomi replied, her voice ringing with gratitude and enthusiasm.
Naomi was ringing his doorbell at nine sharp the next morning. Justin led her in and left her alone as she went back to work on her painting. He went to another computer and began to work on a new project he was developing,
His consulting contract required him to debug any beta versions the company bought but he was free to develop and copyright other computer software programs. This particular program involved programmed poker playing.
The two of them were engrossed in their work and the time flew rapidly. Justin realized how much time had passed when he heard his stomach growling. “How about some lunch?” He called out to Naomi.
Naomi looked over her shoulder at him and then to the computer screen. She was reluctant to stop working but realized she was hungry. “OK. I am hungry.”
Justin and Naomi pulled fixings from the frig and prepared sandwiches, which they washed down with sodas.
When they finished, Naomi went back to her painting and Justin to his poker program. It was five before either knew it. Justin walked over to where Naomi was working and peered over her shoulder.
“Looks nice. I like the way you create graphic movement along that path. You have a real talent for painting, Naomi.”
Naomi looked over her shoulder at him and beamed, a smile of appreciation filling her youthful face. “Thanks. I don’t know how much is me and how much this program.”
She stretched he arms over her head and shifted her body back and forth. “I am sore from sitting here all day. I just couldn’t get up.”
Justin put his hands on her shoulders. “You need a quick rub. Let your chin go to your chest and I’ll work the kinks out.”
Naomi felt a twinge of excitement run over her body when Justin’s strong hands touched her shoulders. No boy or man had touched her this way before. She let her chin sag to her chest, her shoulders drooping.
Justin’s strong fingers dug into her shoulders, massaging them and her upper back. He had not considered the sexual nature of what he had proposed, offering to massage Naomi out of a sincere desire to help her relieve the tension in her body.
As his hands continued to work her muscles, though, his fingers became more and more gentle, more, well, caressing. They wandered up and down her neck and then her collar bones. They seemed to have a will of their own as they went lower, touching lightly on her upper chest. He had closed his eyes, letting the feel of this youthful body transmit itself up his fingers and to his mind.
When he felt the soft swelling of her upper chest under his fingers his eyes flew open and he moved his hands back to her neck and shoulders. You idiot, he told himself. What the hell are you doing? She’s a nice kid, an innocent one, from what her mother told me last night.
Naomi’s heart had skipped a beat when Justin’s fingers had moved down from her neck to her collarbones and then her upper chest. She wanted to tell Justin that he should not do that but his hands and fingers felt so good, so natural, massaging her.
And then he moved his hands away from this sensual area of her body and she felt disappointed. A sigh escaped her lips as she turned to look up at Justin. She smiled as she told him, “Thanks. That felt good.” What she wanted to say was, “go for it,” but she was too shy.
Naomi güvenilir casino asked if she could come back and use the painting program some more. “There is so much to explore. Please,” she asked him.
“As long as you get your homework done and your mother does not mind, it’s OK with me,” Justin replied.
Naomi’s mother agreed to let her go to Justin’s after school each day as long as she did the housework and prepared a salad for dinner and, of course, did her homework.
The weeks flew by for Naomi. She was a good girl and did not mind helping her mother around the house. Her mother and she had grown closer together since the death of Mr. Phillips. Monica came to depend upon Naomi as she never had before.
They shared their day, the sadness of death in the ER where Monica worked and the stress Naomi felt from being a new girl at school trying to make friends with girls, and boys, who had often known each other their entire school career.
Between her newfound relationship with her mother and the excitement of painting with Justin’s complex computer program, Naomi began to blossom. Girls who had not given her a second glance found out she was bright and had a sense of humor, traits that had been buried under the burden of grief she had felt after the death of her father.
Boys began to hit on her, which flustered her and excited her at the same time. She was asked out on dates for the first time in her life and sought counsel from her mother about how to respond when her hormones and boys’ hands came together at the same time.
She and Justin also became close. She did not see Justin as a substitute father or as a sexual being, though she remembered, as the weeks passed, the thrill she felt when he worked the kinks out of her back and neck.
Justin became more and more aware of Naomi as a young woman, as a sexual person, as the days and weeks passed. Naomi asked him about boys, as she did her mother, wanting to get a man’s opinion, and listened carefully to what he had to say.
It seemed to her that she was given an opportunity to become a new person, since her father died. Everything had changed and it seemed to her it had changed for the better.
One thing that changed was her clothing. She begged her mother to help her pick out clothes that made her look more attractive, less dowdy. And her mother, who was also blossoming in this new relationship with Naomi, agreed.
Naomi’s wardrobe now sported shorter skirts and more revealing blouses. Not that she looked cheap, but now she actually looked like what she was, an attractive eighteen year old with a nice looking body. The drab, dreary looking girl of the past with her boring colors and ill-fitting clothing had morphed into a chic modern woman.
Justin became more and more aware of her femininity as the weeks passed. It pleased and troubled him, especially on Saturday afternoons when Naomi came early and spent the day working on the painting program.
Naomi would stretch her arms overhead and then clasp her hands behind her as she twisted in the chair planted before the computer screen. Her chest lifted as she stretched, bringing her pert breasts into prominence under the thin cloth of her fashionable blouses.
Justin’s eyes followed the rise and fall of her breasts and a twinge of sexual excitement would flow over his body. She’s just a kid, he kept telling himself, but his mind told him, she is not a kid. She is eighteen. Your wife was only two years older when you married her.
Naomi would look toward Justin after she had stretched a pleading look in her eyes. “Please, Justin, give me a rub.” This became a ritual repeated every Saturday.
Justin would massage her neck, rolling her head back and forth. Sometimes, when she complained of a headache, he would pull her head back against his chest and massage her face below her eyes where the sinus cavities are located and her forehead.
Naomi would almost purr her contentment as his fingers massaged her face and forehead gently. It was a trick Justin’s mother, who had been a masseuse at one time, taught him.
When he finished massaging her face he would let his hands move to her neck, rubbing and squeezing it gently, working out the kinks. Her shoulders and upper back were next.
As the months passed his hands and fingers became more and more gentle as he massaged her and began to stray more and more over her upper body. He began to massage her lower back and move his hands and tender fingers around to her waist.
His hands and softly probing fingers would caress her waist from her hips to her armpits and even, sometimes, below her breasts to her flat, hard, teen tummy.
Naomi, as the weeks passed would, when he agreed to massage her, push the computer keyboard aside, cross her arms on the table, and lay her cheek on her hands. “That feels so good, Justin,” she would murmur to him as his hands caressed her. And it did feel good and she wanted it to feel better, to feel his hands caress her most intimate zones.
She had fallen in love with Justin and wanted him to take her physically. His hands caressing her body, never threatening, never grabbing at her as boys did on dates, were the most loving hands she had ever experienced.
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