MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172t)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172t)

From the time I heard Lynda’s voice until we were walking out of the showroom it was about 10 minutes. She introduced me to the man I’d seen her talking with… her father-in-law, the owner of the dealership. When I thanked him for his help he gave me one of these ‘what are you talking about looks’. Lynda bailed me out by saying that the used car part of the business was helping with some sponsorship for my race car. His response was quick and to the point. He told us he didn’t believe in spending dealership money on race cars because the people who went to the races were more likely to buy used cars than new cars. I took that as a less than enthusiastic approval. Linda, realizing that this was not going well excused us by saying I had to be going and turned towards the door. I hesitated but then followed. Once outside she said she’d explain later and asked if I knew the way to her house. I’d been there three times so was pretty sure I did. She told me she had to make a stop and would be there quickly.

There were certain what I call ‘markers’ I used as guideposts, one being the tavern that I called Elle from to pick me up back on New Years Eve. Once there I knew my way. When I pulled into her driveway I took a close look at the house and property. The first two times I’d been there it had been dark. The last time was when I pulled in unexpectedly and found her mother was there. I made a quick exit at that time and hadn’t taken a good look at the place. Lynda had explained that it was originally a guest cottage for a large estate built before the depression. With the onset of the depression and then WWII the manor house went into disrepair and the whole place went up for sale for back taxes. A developer bought it and started the first housing development in the township in the late 40’s. The guest house had been lived in and maintained all along so it wasn’t razed when the manor house was. It became a field office during the build-out of the development and then Lynda and her new husband bought it. I remembered the cute entryway and old style windows across the front of the house and tried to remember some of the interior as I waited for Lynda to show up. About the only thing that came to mind was that the ceilings were lower than in a normal house.

Lynda showed up with a few bags that I helped her carry into the house. As soon as I walked in I remembered the layout of the living room and how Lynda had place the furniture. There was a small fireplace but she’d moved the sofa across the front of it so that it faced a wall with two doors. To the right was an entry way to a dinette/kitchen and a door that I assumed was a bathroom. My guess was that it was less than 1000 square feet. In any case, Lynda motioned for me to follow her into the kitchen where she put the bags down and lifted a bottle of red wine from one of them. Her first words were to get confirmation that I didn’t mind left-overs. Once I’d re-established that she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a shallow pan covered with aluminum foil. As she rolled it back I could see it was lasagna, something I liked but seldom had at home. Elle said it was a mess to clean up and preferred spaghetti as our pasta meal. Right after turning the oven on Lynda pulled out two wine glasses and poured the wine. In the form of a ’toast’, I remember her saying something along the lines of how glad she was that the two of us had met. I had to agree.

There was a small screened in porch just outside the kitchen door where we went while the lasagna warmed up. The back yard was small and across the back of it was, for lack of a real description, a thicket of weeds, wild bushes and small trees that my father called ‘volunteers’ because they weren’t planted but just grew from seeds dropped by birds. There was one thing for certain… it was very quiet and private. We didn’t start to really talk until the lasagna was ready to be eaten. The other bag that Lynda had brought home was a loaf of Italian bread. I remember asking about the source of the lasagna and, typical Lynda, got a laugh for an answer. Her mother-in-law hated to cook and had hired a woman to come in each afternoon to prepare supper. She was given a day off during the week and would make something that could be easily heated for the meal on that day. It had been lasagna and, as Lynda put it, she ended up being the beneficiary of what remained.

I’m not going to try and tell you that right from the moment Lynda asked about “left-overs” my mind wasn’t on the possibility of getting to see more pictures of Lynda in panties. However, I had no idea on how to bridge the subject. She was sincerely interested in how the new motor project was going. As frustrated as I was back at the dealership upon being told that I wouldn’t be getting my cash back, her interest served to calm me down as I explained what was happening. I remember her asking if there wasn’t something more she could do as she felt badly for what had happened. There really wasn’t and as I was telling her had one of those hair brained ideas pop into my head. She saw my facial expression and picked up on it right away, prodding me to tell her what was on my mind.

I’ve written about how she would ’tease’ me with panty peeks at the office and at other times. But, there had been absolutely none of that on this occasion. I can’t tell you if I was truly embarrassed to raise the subject or if it was I was afraid that if I instituted the idea she’d be upset with me. She always knew when she had me in that vulnerable position and so it was again. She got up from the little table where we were sitting and bent over as if to pick something up from the deck. The move she made with her hand, to sweep the hem of her skirt up, was about as deliberate as it could be but she made some inane comment about “something biting her”. I know my mouth had to have been hanging open when she turned her head and started to straighten up. The impish smile on her face was proof that her action was by design. Lasting but maybe a couple of seconds, it wasn’t long enough for me to discern if the panties were bikinis or not. Then I remembered that she'd told me she preferred them to the full brief kind and wore them exclusively while her husband was away. Regardless, it was the ‘dessert’ to my lasagna meal.

Something got her attention and she went back inside. I took a look at my watch and saw that it was after 7pm. I pretty much knew Cliffy would be back at the shop and would want to know about the cylinder heads. Upon her return I asked if I could make a call. She took me to the phone located on the table between the two bedrooms and I proceeded to lose track of her as I dialed. Cliffy was waiting… and not too happy with what I had to say. Without the cylinder heads we were stymied. I stood there listening to him rant and just shuffled my feet, looking at the floor. I finally turned towards one of the bedrooms. Lynda was on the other side of the bed in just her bra and panties (and they were bikinis), looking out the window. At that point I lost all concentration on what Cliffy was saying. I had that unobstructed view for over a minute. Cliffy then yelled in my ear and I finally turned away telling him there was noting more I could do and heard him slam the phone down. Looking back at Lynda, she’d disappeared.

To be continued…