Limitless Love and the New Hire

1

~ Ian ~

What a difference a few weeks make.

It wasn’t that long ago when I stood on this porch and gazed up at my new home as its owner for the first time.

The keys felt strange and new in my hand.

The sights and scents were totally unfamiliar, but filled me with excitement to get to know them better.

At the time, I was preparing to begin a new chapter in my life; one devoted to leisure, education, reading, and self-betterment.

Look where I am now.

“See you tonight, Ian,” Lorna says, with a beaming smile.

She rises onto her toes and plants her mouth against mine in a tender, loving kiss.

I slide my arms around her slender waist and return that soft kiss.

Our tongues are entwined in mutual pleasure for a long moment before we pull apart.

Lorna’s cheeks are flushed. My hands cup the erotic curve of her butt.

Today, she’s wearing a white blouse and a blue skirt; a simple enough choice, but one that sets off those caveman parts of my brain.

It would be so easy to lift this skirt and…

“Are you sure you have to leave right now?” I cock an eyebrow. “Maybe it won’t hurt to be a few minutes late?”

She laughs and puts her hands on my chest. “We both know it will be a lot longer than just a few minutes once we get started. Besides, my professor is a real hardass for late students. I don’t want to get on his bad side.”

I tut, shaking my head in mock indignation. “Sounds like a bad professor. Back in my day, students were allowed to be as late as they wanted. I never marked anyone down.”

“No?” She smiles. “I seem to recall you handing out extra homework to anyone who rocked up once class started.”

“That was different.”

We exchange sly grins. Maybe I wasn’t so different when I was a professor. But that was a long time ago now. A lifetime, almost.

“I’ll see you tonight.” I lean in to give Lorna another warm kiss, but she turns her head and I plant in on her cheek instead.

It makes sense. The more we kiss, the longer she’ll stay.

As much as I want to keep her here - and drag her back to the bedroom for a repeat performance - I also want her to do well at college.

She’s fought like hell to get back to where she is and, boy, do I ever want her to succeed.

“Tonight. Maybe we could go out for dinner?” She gives a coy tilt of her head, as though there’s something on her mind but she doesn’t want to come right out and say it.

“Sure. Is there somewhere in particular you want to eat?”

“Maybe… we could go to the diner?”

Her face is the picture of faux innocence, as if she is asking to eat at a place where - by pure coincidence - we have discussed trying to employ one of the wait staff as a housekeeper. I can’t help but laugh. I take her hand and give it a warm, gentle kiss.

“Sure. Does your friend work tonight?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“Then it’s a date.”

I pull her in for another kiss. Lorna giggles and slips from my grasp, cheeks flushed with warmth. She says, “Not until later. Behave yourself.”

We laugh. Lorna turns and walks away, leaving me with a wave and a smile.

I watch her walk down the long drive - legs pumping, skirt swishing - and turn onto the main road.

I let out a long sigh. How strange it is to think that I moved into this house with the intention of becoming a gracefully aging widower, only to wind up in this wonderful, exotic, sexually invigorating new relationship with one of my former students.

Everything seems brighter and clearer now that Lorna is a part of my life.

She’s given me a whole new outlook. Not just in the way she views the world - a world that spent ten years kicking her to the curb before she was able to rise again - but in her approach and attitude to the carnal arts.

And, I’ve got to say, she is one heck of a talented artist.

I head inside the house, noting that I don’t really view it as “my” house.

Since the day I collected the keys, Lorna has been a guest here and I have no intention of asking her to move any time soon.

As I assured her on that first night, she was welcome to stay until she felt ready to leave.

If that happens next week, next month, or even next year, I don’t mind.

I’ve got more than enough money to support the two of us - and that’s generously underestimating my bank account.

The kitchen door is still closed, as we left it last night.

I steel myself and head inside. The room is still a disorganized, chaotic mess.

I only wanted to sweep the floors, but that small task kicked off an avalanche that damn near buried me and forced me to realize that I am hopelessly out of my depth when it comes to household maintenance.

I could just about manage after Katie passed, but we were living in a much smaller place back then.

At least, it was small compared to this, with multiple bedrooms, bathrooms, recreation spaces, and at least one pantry that I know about.

There could be more that I haven’t discovered yet.

So I stand in the kitchen door for a few moments and survey the mess I caused, having a brief but fierce internal debate as to what course of action is best. I know that the clutter and carnage need to be cleared, but I also know that if I start now, there will be no end to it.

No, it’s a far better use of time for me to try and figure out exactly how much work I would expect of a professional housekeeper.

There’s a lot to do here and a gargantuan amount to get caught up on before any daily tasks can really begin, so maybe I should prepare some kind of presentation.

The last thing I want to do is make the job seem like an insurmountable task, especially as Lorna described her former coworker as a one-woman operation, so maybe I need to break down my expectations and outcomes and-

There I go again. Always thinking like a professor. I can’t help it.

I allow a wry smile and walk through the house to one of the studies.

I pick up a legal notepad and a pen to start the process of writing up my thoughts about the housekeeper position.

My phone pings with a message from Lorna.

I open it up, half-expecting her to have forgotten a textbook or need me to bring something to campus for her. But my jaw drops.

The photo shows Lorna standing in her room, here in the house. It’s been taken in front of the mirror and she’s wearing the same outfit as today - it must have been snapped just after she got dressed a few minutes ago.

But that’s not the part that draws my eye and causes my jaw to hang open like a dumbstruck cow.

In the photo, Lorna is staring at the mirror with a provocative smile that makes her eyes sparkle.

She’s lifting the bottom of her skirt in such a way that it reveals most of one thigh, offers a brief glimpse of her freshly trimmed mound, and exposes the fact that my live-in lover isn’t wearing any panties.

The photo is accompanied by the message, “This is what I’m wearing today.”

I almost growl at the picture. That caveman part of my mind has been activated yet again.

I smile and make a silent promise to repay Lorna for this tease later tonight.

Nobody has ever sent me photos like this with such casual playfulness before.

It’s another one of the things I truly adore about Lorna.

Thinking about Lorna brings me back to mulling over the question of hiring a potential housekeeper.

Lorna is right, this place is far too big for a weekly visit.

If we were to take this idea seriously, Teri would need to move in with us.

She’d have to live and work under my roof.

How would she feel about that? More to the point, how would I feel about that?

The question gives me pause. Sharing the house with Lorna is one thing; I had known her several years before, she needed a leg-up, and I wanted to help. This is entirely different.

My mind drifts back to the photo Lorna showed me of Teri.

Young. Blonde. Pretty. Perhaps it was my imagination, but Lorna seemed almost excited at the prospect of inviting another young woman into my life.

She’d also reiterated that the two of us were not in any kind of relationship and that our sex life was something wholly and totally separate from our life in the house. Surely she couldn’t…

“Come on, you old pervert.” I shake my head and laugh. “That’s enough of those thoughts.”

I turn my attention to the legal pad and begin to draft an outline of what Teri, or any potential housekeeper, would need to do in this home.

~ Teri ~

“Order up!” the cook yells for the umpteenth time during my latest shift that only began an hour ago but that already feels like it’s gone on far too long.

I don’t know why the Sunshine Diner seems to have it in for me tonight because in all the years I’ve worked here, I’ve never felt so depressed and alone.

Part of the problem is that I really miss my friend Lorna, who worked here with me for most of those years until a few weeks ago.

I’ve seen so many employees come and go in that time but there was something about Lorna that clicked for me and not just the fact that she was gorgeous - but that didn’t hurt even though I never hit on her, much as I wanted to.

I’m almost sure she knew I’m bisexual but I never made a big deal out of it, mostly because I’m still hurting from the reception that news got the last time I tried to share it with the wrong person.

I’m not saying Lorna would have reacted the same way but once burned, twice shy, as the old farts love to say. And they’re not wrong.

“Teri! Order up!” James yells again even though I’ve got a tray full of dishes on one shoulder and an order of pie on the other.

“I heard you, James!” I scream back and instantly regret it because the manager, Ted, gives me a look like I’m about to set the place on fire which, come to think of it, isn't a terrible idea. I’d be out of another job but at this moment, that sounds like a godsend.

I drop the pie on a guest’s table and ignore the dirty look he throws my way because I made him wait for it and he can’t seem to grasp that we’re understaffed because Ted still hasn’t replaced Lorna.

He said something about there still being a labor shortage due to the pandemic but that was five freaking years ago and how long is he going to use that tired excuse to not do his damn job?

I set the tray of dirty dishes on the dishwasher’s table and he shoots me a dirty look like it’s my fault we don’t have a backup for him either because I’m pretty sure Ted is throttling down our payroll expense so he’ll soothe the owner’s nerves which is a total crock because Nick-the-Greek as we all call him behind his back is a lost cause when it comes to soothed nerves.

I run to the pass to grab the grilled cheese that James has been breaking my balls about and he gives me a ton of attitude like he doesn’t know we’re all dying out front. I half-run to the booth where the customer has been waiting patiently for once when I see her.

Lorna.

And she sees me.

And smiles at me.

“What the fuck, Lorna?” I almost scream and she jumps up and we hug each other for the first time, maybe ever, but at least in a good long while. I’m almost in tears when she finally pulls away from me but suddenly I want to slap her silly.

“What the fuck did you do, up and quitting on me and leaving me all by my lonesome here, you stupid bitch?” I’m half-smiling which is good because I’m only half-kidding.

“Nice to see you too, Teri,” she says in a voice that is so sweet that my teeth hurt.

“Don’t give me that,” I say as I punch her arm. “You didn’t even give any notice and who does that?”

“I had extenuating circumstances,” she whines with a laugh which really is starting to piss me off because this is serious and who the fuck does that and damn, it’s good to see her. I pull her in for another hug and she lets me.

“Teri, this is my friend, Ian,” she says as she backs away from me and points at the geezer sitting across from her in the booth which I just noticed.

“Your friend?” I ask with a raised eyebrow but I turn to the guy, who on second look isn’t half bad, and offer my hand.

“Nice to meet you, Teri,” he says with a gorgeous smile. Suddenly, I’m struck by the obvious. I turn to Lorna and she cocks an eyebrow and half-smiles and I don’t know whether to hit her, hug her, or throw her out on her ear.

“Are you shitting me?” I ask in a tone I immediately regret. “Lorna, really?” I whisper but Ian hears it because of course, he does.

“Hey,” she says quickly. “I know you’re slammed so go do your thing and come by when you’ve got a minute to talk, okay?”

I don’t know what to say so I nod and half-run back to the pass because James is yelling at me again what is going on with Lorna, I wonder as I juggle four big plates and four glasses of water.

I turn to Ted to ask him when he’ll hire another busser or another server or any warm body but he turns away as soon as he sees me coming, the coward.

Why can’t anyone do their freaking job anymore?