Thread: Don't Stand So Close To Me  (Johnny and Mim)

The ride back to his house wasn't much different than the ride to Mara's. His gaze inevitably gravitated towards the girl, taking in the sight of those plump mounds on her chest, and the ever-growing band of exposed thigh between her socks and her skirt as the hem was gradually raised. Before long, they were back at his and his wife's house--a charming, well-kept two-story home in a neighborhood not too far from Mara's. Quickly dashing from the car, parked in the driveway, to the front door, Johnny opened it up, entering first before kicking off his shoes at the door. Turning, Johnny stood still and watched those wet socks get slipped off the girl's slender legs, revealing him with even more of her skin. It was odd--even though she was pulling clothing off in front of him, Johnny felt more exposed than Mara might've. Here she was, standing in his house. His own private living quarters. Johnny was the kind of person who liked to keep his home life separate from his work life. There wasn't so much as a personal photo on his desktop. But here, it was all out in the open the sofa and loveseat, with their ugly, 10-year-old floral upholstery the cluttered, unorganized bookshelves the countless little assorted trinkets that Johnny and Sarah had collected in their travels, now sitting on one shelf or another. Here was his life, out in the open. Our little secret, yes, he murmured back to Mara. This was--what--the third, fourth 'little secret' involving her that he now had? He didn't want anymore. Hm? his attention turned to the picture Mara was referring to. Yeah, that's Sarah, he replied--and then abruptly felt a twinge of insecurity from the way Mara said 'nice.' Well. It's not a very good picture of her. The lighting is all... he trailed off, waving his hand in the air as he stumbled to defend his wife's looks from this high school girl. Just...wait here. Disappearing around the corner, Johnny walked into the small laundry room, next to the kitchen. Inside were his and his wife's washer and dryer, as well as a drying rack, a few hooks hanging from the wall, and a couple of stacks of his and her laundry, neatly folded but not yet taken upstairs to their closet. He knew that his robe was in here somewhere, remembering that he'd just washed it. Finding it on the table, he unfolded it, and held it up. It was a thick, frumpy white robe made of bulky terrycloth. It was long, extending to his mid-calves, meaning that it would probably drag a bit on the floor if Mara were to wear it. It was just then that his eye caught something hanging on one of the hooks. The only other robe in the house--Sarah's. In contrast to his, it was made of thin, grey silk. The two flowing ends were held together with a sash, and the material only extended down to just above his wife's knee. It wasn't exactly lingerie, but it certainly left much less to the imagination that his robe. Taking it off the hook, he held it up, and then looked down at the terrycloth one on the table. Johnny was faced with a choice that should have been quite easy to make he could do the responsible, rational thing and give her his own robe, or... Here you go, he handed the article to Mara once he emerged from the room. Just be careful with it that's my wife's robe. His own had been hastily refolded and slid to the back of the table. You can change in the laundry room, just around the corner. Pop your clothes in the dryer, and just turn the knob.