1. Tollie's Garden Pt.1


    Date: 3/15/2016, Categories: Love Stories, Author: Sisyphus, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    not. I liked the exercise and wearing the short skirts. It was kind of sexy and fun getting everyone to cheer for our football and basketball teams. It was also a good thing to have on my college applications. Other than school and babysitting for this snotty woman up the street, I worked on my tan in our big backyard and would lie out there on a blanket with my best friend, Janine, both of us in skimpy bikinis. I’d see Tollie working in the big garden and he’d glance over at us, but mostly he concentrated on digging and planting and whatever else he did. He worked hard, had a lean, tan body and looked good in his cutoff jean shorts and a T-shirt. He was in pretty good shape, probably from the gardening, and he biked everywhere. He didn’t own a car. When he wasn’t working in the garden, he'd sit on a canvas folding chair in front of the carriage house and write on a thick tablet or his laptop. Every once in a while he would look up at us, but mostly he didn’t pay much attention to me and I didn’t pay much attention to him either. To me, he was just an older guy renting our carriage house and we hardly spoke. Sometimes, late at night while I was studying, I'd see him writing or reading and when I’d leave for school in the morning, he'd be out in the garden, usually barefooted. He’d smile and wave to me when I left for school in either Janine’s or Tristan’s car. Often, my mom made extra food for dinner and asked me to take some to him, so I'd drop off the food, sometimes chat ...
    for a minute, then leave and that was that. I think it was her way of getting him to like her, you know, “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” She had to be at the restaurant by four in the afternoon and always made food up ahead of time for me. She was a good cook and made great soups, stews or lasagna. When I'd bring up a covered dish, he'd always pour a glass of wine and ask if I wanted any. I always said no and he never made a big deal about it, but I liked how he looked at me, not flirting, just warm and friendly, a sweet smile. He always had music playing, sometimes classical, sometimes jazz. I liked how he fixed up his place. It was small, but he had floor-to-ceiling bookcases on two of the walls, lots of hanging plants and a bird feeder outside of his window. He had a beat-up green couch with an Indian-style blanket over the back, a big old maroon chair with a small table and lamp next to it. A pile of books and magazines sat on the table and the floor. His laptop and notebook were on a round oak table by the window—that’s where he wrote and ate. His bed was in the corner and always made. It was one room with a faded oriental rug in the center, a small kitchen area with a little refrigerator, a sink, and a four-burner stove. He told me he liked to cook. I also noticed a wine rack with bottles of wine. One night near the end of my senior year, he asked me to join him for dinner. He said he had made some soup and he wanted to talk to me, so I thought, why ...
«1234...1011»