An entire weekend and nothing planned.

Gina at her dad’s. Patrick on a camping trip with his kids, Eric attending a wedding several states away.

Two whole days of nothing and no one.

At least she can get a few things done around the house. Or spend the time relaxing and recharging. And there’s at all times Occhiobello and flirting with Trevor. The main event of Rose’s weekend, in all likelihood.

She heads there earlier than usual, right before lunch.

She’s gone all out, her hair and make-up perfect. Her shoulderless pink dress shows off her arm and calf tattoos, as well, not to mention highlighting her substantial curves nicely.

Pink high heels, nails, and matching glasses complete her ensemble. Pink all around.

Why does she bother? Chances are low Trevor will take one look at her and loudly announce he’s taking a break. Then take her hand and lead her out to the parking lot to fuck the shit out her in her Outback.

Rose pictures it as she parks. In her vision she’s screaming at the top of her lungs while Trevor fucks her. The back seats are down and the Subaru’s hatch is open.

Frustrated housewives—for some reason, all dressed like it’s 1955—stop and stare. One abandons her cart, shrieking as she runs off. More gather, glancing at each other in shock. One pair falls into each other’s arms, making out.

They point. They stare. They clutch literal fucking pearls. All the while Trevor pounds Rose hard and she screams at the top of her lungs.

The cops show up in 1950s squad cars, sirens wailing. Instead of arresting Rose and Trevor for having sex in public, they establish a perimeter. “Nothing to see here, folks. Move along. Move along.”

Rose sighs and gets out of her car. Too bad.

***

“Shake Your Booty” by KC and the Sunshine Band is playing on the speakers as Rose walks into Occhiobello. Rose sings along under her breath as she browses. A few heads turn her way.

She resists the temptation to actually shake her booty. Mostly.

Rose works her way towards the prepared foods counter, selecting items along the way. Her eyes scan the labels in the salads section, each sensual delight more appealing than the last.

Rose catches it during a lull. Trevor sees her right away, his eyes drawn to her like magnets.

His face lights up. This isn’t just good customer service. She’s certain. It’s genuine happiness when he sees her. Rose may not be the only regular customer he flirts with, but she bets she’s his favorite.

Rose smiles broadly. Trevor hands his previous customer a container of food, looking past her at Rose. “Buongiorno, Rose. How are you?”

Horny as fuck. “Bene. And how are you?”

“Great. What can I get for you?”

Your cock. “Let’s see. A pound of beef lasagna would be a lovely start.”

Trevor gets her lasagna while her eyes browse the wide variety of rice balls for sale. A string of juvenile jokes come to mind.

“What else, Rose?”

Tell me more about your balls. “How’re the prosciutto rice balls?”

“Magnificent. You have to try them.”

Too easy. “I’ll take a pair.”

“Would you like sauce with them?”

“What a magnificent idea.”

Trevor meets her gaze and grins. Rose feels a spark between them. “Happy to be of service, Rose. Be right back.”

I could think of a few other methods you can be of service. Rose waits while Trevor fetches marinara. Her eyes move over the variety of meatballs. They all look so good.

Balls, balls, balls. A one track mind today. It’s a good thing Trevor doesn’t work the meat counter. She doesn’t know if she could withstand making cracks about his sausage.

Trevor returns, smiling.

“How’re you always so pleasant?” she says. “You always have the biggest smile on your face whenever I see you.”

Trevor shrugs, blushing. “I don’t know, Rose. I guess that’s how I am. Or maybe I’m always glad to see you.”

At all times glad to see me? I’m sure. “You’re sweet. Let me have two of the big meatballs.”

“Whatever you want.”

Yeah? Rose pauses. The tone in his voice leaves her wondering. Was that last bit more than inadvertently suggestive? Was he onto her? Time to test her hypothesis.

Trevor packages up the meatballs. “Anything else, Rose?”

“Are there any other meatballs you recommend?”

“The spicy Sicilian. They’re the best balls.”

Yeah. He’s onto me. “How spicy are they?”

“They’ve a kick.”

“I’ll take a half dozen.” Cause I’m a greedy, greedy girl.

“You got it.”

Rose scans the selections on display as Trevor finishes packing them up.

“Anything else, Rose?”

“I’m not sure,” she says.

“Take all the time you need.”

She purses her lips. “There’s so much to choose from.”

“No worries,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t you have any plans for tonight?”

“I wish,” he says. “I gotta hit the books again. You know, midterms.”

“I recall those days.”

Rose starts to ask Trevor what he’s studying when she hears her name called out. It’s her neighbor Danielle. She’s tiny and fashionable and traditionally attractive. Not this gossipy bitch. Not now.

“Doctor Colibrí,” Danielle says. “I thought that was you.”

“Hey, Danielle.” Rose turns back to Trevor. “I guess I’ll take half a pound of the orzo salad and a pound of Penne Bolognese and that’ll do it.”

“Of course.” He smiles and Rose senses he’s disappointed their conversation has ended. Thanks, Danielle.

Trevor finishes packaging up Rose’s order while Danielle tells her the neighborhood gossip.

Rose takes the final package from Trevor. “Thanks, Trevor. See you around.”

“Have a good one, Rose.”

Back to Danielle. Such-and-such is getting a divorce. Another neighbor smokes pot on his back porch. Someone should talk to him. And hadn’t Rose heard about Danielle’s oldest boy’s latest triumph? He’s joining his dad’s accounting firm.

Rose nods along, waiting for her opportunity to break away. It takes longer than she wants. At the first awkward pause in Danielle’s prattling, Rose jumps into the gap. “Okay, see you around.”

And she’s free. She glances back. Trevor catches her eye, a sympathetic smirk on his face.

She should’ve told Danielle to shut the fuck up and worry less about everyone else’s company.

Or maybe not. The last thing Rose needs is an enemy like her.

***

“He sounds hot,” Violet says.

“He is,” Rose says. “It’s not like anything will ever come from it, though. Too bad.”

“I’d say.”

They’re sitting at one of the long picnic tables in the brewery. Rose had to grab something from her office on the way back from Occhiobello. She decided to drop in to say hello to Violet.

A scattering of customers are there, including a pair of guys in their twenties who keep glancing their way. Violet is oblivious to their glances, of course.

Why doesn’t she grasp how hot she is? Even in her t-shirt and jeans, she’s an ideal BBW. Big tits and ass in abundance. Beautiful features, too. Her hair is in a ponytail, a few stray red locks on either side of her face.

Why not just kiss her? Right there, in front of everyone.

I bet her lips are soft. Sweet to the taste, too, and responsive. Her body must feel amazing, also. All that woman pressing against her, curves in droves.

Violet is called away by an employee, a issue with one of the taps. Rose watches from across the room as Violet studies the problem. Violet bends over, checking something, her big ass thrusting outwards.

Damn. Rose’s pulse spikes. The two guys sitting nearby stare alongside her. It’s not hard to infer what fantasy is playing in their brains. Or inside Rose’s.

Rose takes a sip of her beer and sighs. It’s been too long since she’s enjoyed the touch of a woman. That needs to change.

***

Rose spends the rest of the day running more errands and relaxing at home. A few Sicilian meatballs and some lasagna go into the oven for dinner.

She pours a glass of wine and looks through the book Eric gave her as she eats. She returns to the picture of the multi-colored hummingbird again.

It would look good on her back, right below her neck. She’s been considering it for weeks, returning to the image almost every day.

She settles into her couch afterwards. Patrick has given her a student pilot’s handbook to study. It’s a weighty tome, over a thousand pages. She’s determined to commit the salient points to memory.

The first chapter describes the right attitude towards flying. No cutting corners. Never. If you’re someone who likes to take shortcuts, piloting isn’t for you. Sound advice.

Rose reads on, absorbing the concept of the four forces which act on an airplane in flight. Thoughts of Trevor intrude and she puts the book down after a few minutes. What does he look like without his shirt? How skilled a kisser is he?

Her mind wanders to Patrick. How he fucks her with determination and skill. Like he appreciates making love to her for the honor it is. Notions of Eric intrude, and the fantasy they shared. She should make it come true for him somehow.

Enough. Rose goes upstairs and grabs the vibrator and lube.

She spends the next half hour in bed watching porn on her laptop and fucking herself with the vibrator. She cums twice, the last to a video of two guys nailing a BBW with red hair and huge tits.

Rose throws on her pajamas and goes back downstairs. She pours another glass of wine and opens the book again, pen in hand for annotation. Back to the four forces on an airplane in flight.

She can concentrate again.

***

Sunday, no plans. Boredom.

What to do? She should study further. Rose tore through five chapters of the book last night, highlighting passages and adding notes in the margins.

She wants to know so much more, though. The history of flight. What about women and aviation? A cursory google search leads her to the Women’s Auxiliary Special Pilot Service—the trendy WASPS—from World War II. Her sort of badass ladies.

The county library headquarters is open on Sundays, isn’t it? She looks online and searches the catalog. There’s a book about the WASPS On the shelves.

The library it is.

***

A library run. It never gets old.

This is her church, her temple of learning. Books on thousands of subjects, all waiting to be read. A million interests to be unveiled. Queries to be answered. All here.

Rose finds her books and a bunch more on assorted topics. She checks them out and slips them into the cloth bag she takes on library runs.

The library’s main building is a modern structure whose construction absorbed a 19th Century brick church which is now a coffee place. It has an entrance on the street and off the library’s front lobby. Rose decides she can use a cup and goes in.

She stops in her tracks. This is too good to be true.

Under one of the stained glass windows sits Trevor, an open textbook in front of him. He’s all alone. He sees her, too, smiling and waving. She returns the greeting.

Holy shit. Rose does a quick assessment of herself. She never gets too dressed up for library runs. She’s wearing capris and a Doctor Who t-shirt.

Get a hold of yourself. She takes a deep breath. The capris show off her ass and the shirt highlights her tits. Funky blue glasses match the graphics on her chest. She’s done her make-up and her hair looks nice. She’s not dressed-up but still hot as fuck.

Rose runs through the situation as she waits to order. She glances in Trevor’s direction again and catches him checking her out. Good sign.

She looks his way again. He’s seated at a two-person table, a backpack on top of the empty chair and only one cup on the table. He’s alone.

Rose orders her coffee and approaches his table. She’s thought what she’d do if a situation outside Occhiobello emerges. This will be a day long remembered.

Trevor looks up. A broad smile crosses his face. “Hey, Rose!”

“Hey, Trevor,” she says. “Studying for those midterms?”

“I’m trying. I like to come here. There’s too many distractions at home.”

“What are we working on?”

“Biology,” he says. “It’s not going well.”

Biology. “I have a degree in Bio.”

“You do?”

“Want me to take a look?” she says.

“I couldn’t bother you,” he protests, trying to hold back a smile.

“No bother. Let me see.”

Trevor moves the backpack onto the floor. Rose sits and leans over his textbook. He explains what he’s having trouble with.

They’ve never been in such physical proximity before. His fresh, clean aroma fills Rose’s nostrils.

“You just have to understand why carbon is such a special element,” Rose says.

“Okay.”

“It bonds with almost everything,” Rose says. “But the trick is understanding why.”

What Rose wants to say: “Carbon is my favorite element. Not gold, not platinum. Know why? Because she’s the easygoing slut of the Periodic Table. She bonds with a ton of elements. Multiple partners at the same time. Over ten million combinations. Yeah, she gets around.”

Instead she goes through the science with him. He’s clever, but Rose can tell he hasn’t gotten a good foundation in high college and it’s hurting him now.

Rose walks him through everything, step by step. He takes careful notes and when she asks him to explain it all back to him, he grasps the material.

“I can’t believe how well I get this now,” he says. “Thank you so much. You didn’t have to do this.”

“Nonsense,” Rose says. “Now let’s take a break from studying. Talk to me. I want to hear more about you. What’s this study of biology in pursuit of?”

“My dream.”

“Okay,” Rose says. “And what’s that?”

“To be a nurse.”

Didn’t see that coming. “How does one come to that dream?”

“My mom had breast cancer a few years ago,” he says. “She’s in remission.”

“Great to hear.”

“I was floored by the nurses who took care of her. I thought, ‘these are the ones making a difference.’ I wanted to join their ranks.”

A sweet boy. Doesn’t mean he’s not a stallion in bed. “How wonderful.”

They chat further. Rose mentions she’s divorced, letting him process the information. She alludes to having no plans for the afternoon, too.

“It’s good to have an unhurried Sunday,” he says.

“Oh, sure.” She tilts her head. “But I get bored, though. Restless.”

“Are you one of those people who always has to be doing something?”

Or someone. “Yeah. It’s my nature, I suppose. If I don’t have something to keep my mind occupied, I get myself in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” His tone is more innocent than flirty.

“All kinds,” she says. “But I’m glad to help you with your studies.”

“Thanks again. I wish I could make it up to you.”

Time to go for it. “You know, I could use your help moving a couch.”

A lame pretext. But in the split second she has to come up with something, it’s all she manages.

“I can do that,” he says. “Do you live close by?”

“Not far.”

“I can help you right now,” he says.

“Are you sure?” she says. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“After how you’ve helped me, I’ll do anything you ask.”

I know you will. “Let me text my brother-in-law before I forget. He’s supposed to move the couch for me next weekend.”

Rose sends a text to one of her girlfriends. They at all times text each other the identities of any new hookups and make sure the guys know.

“No need for you to move the couch,” she says out loud as she types. “My friend Trevor from Occhiobello is coming over to do it for me.”

She clicks send and looks up. “There. Shall we?”

Trevor follows her in his car. Rose feels a pang of guilt about the text. She doesn’t even have a brother-in-law. But if Trevor is a psychopath—he’d be an award-winning actor, if that’s the case—he’s having second thoughts right now.

Trevor pulls in behind Rose. His eyes are wide. “You live here?”

“My humble abode,” she says.

Rose looks around as Trevor follows her inside. No Mrs. Driscoll anywhere. There’s an extra car in her driveway with out-of-state plates.

Trevor’s mouth drops as he looks around Rose’s living room. “This place is incredible.”

“Thanks.”

“Is this the couch you need moved?” He points to the sectional.

“It can wait. Why don’t you have a seat? Let me get you something to drink. Beer?”

“That sounds great. Sure.”

Rose gets out two bottles. “Is right out of the bottle okay? Or do you like it in a glass?”

“The bottle’s fine.”

Rose pops the tops and sits down across from him. They each take a sip and Trevor looks around the room. “This sure is a nice place.”

“Thanks,” Rose says. The poor boy’s nervous as fuck, repeating himself and avoiding looking at her.

No sense beating around the bush. Go straight in. “Are there girlfriends in the picture, Trevor?”

“Not at the moment. I’m too busy with school and work.”

“No time for romance? I’m surprised girls aren’t swarming around you.”

“I wish,” he says.

They make eye contact, Rose peering into his dark brown eyes. Damn, they’re pretty. Time to move in.

Rose put her hand on his knee. “You know, I can’t help but notice the way you look at me whenever I’m at Occhiobello.”

She can feel his leg shaking. How nervous is he?

“What do you mean?” he says.

Rose meets his gaze, raising her eyebrows. Smiling warmly. Hopefully putting him at ease.

“You know what I mean,” she says. “It’s okay, Trevor. If you’re attracted to me, you don’t have to be shy about it. I’m attracted to you.”

His eyebrows go up. “You are?”

Rose nods. “Oh, I am.”

Rose leans forward, brushing his cheek with her fingertips and kissing him. He hesitates at first, then returns her kiss with enthusiasm. His lips push against hers. Soft at first, growing in eagerness. Their tongues meet. They kiss for a long time before withdrawing.

“Wow,” Trevor says. “I didn’t expect that.”

“You liked it, though?”

“Well, yeah.”

Rose squeezes his hand. “You know, I have the whole afternoon free if you’d like to get better acquainted.”

Trevor’s eyes widen and he grows pale. Rose worries he might cry. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah. I—I can’t believe this is happening. It’s like a dream.”

Rose smiles. “Sometimes dreams come true. Come on.”

Rose takes him by the hand and leads him upstairs.

They reach the bedroom and she kisses him. Pulling him towards her. He responds, his mouth and tongue attacking hers in a frenzy. Rose slows him down with the steady twirling of her tongue. Showing him the way.

Rose starts to pull up his shirt.

Trevor pulls back. “Rose, are you sure about this?”

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m not very experienced, you know,” he says. “With sex.”

Rose puts her hand on his cheek, holding it. “Sweetie, it’s okay. I wouldn’t have expected you to be too experienced at your age.”

He looks away. “I’m not experienced at all.”

Oh.

Rose takes his hands in hers. They sit on the bed. Trevor looks back at Rose.

Rose smiles warmly, squeezing his hand. “Sweetie, are you saying you’re a virgin?”

“Not by choice.”

“It’s okay.” Rose feels a newfound sense of responsibility for him. If this is Trevor’s first time, she’s invited him to more than a hook-up. A lot more.

Her priority is now to make it as perfect a first time as she can. Safe and loving. Basic, too. No dom/sub play. No anal or mutual masturbation while narrating threeway fantasies.

“It just hasn’t happened for me yet,” he says. “I’ve only dated once or twice, but the girls in this town are all princesses. Most of the ones I went to school with weren’t my type, either. Not like you.”

“You mean big gals?”

“Yeah. Also, older.”

“I get it, sweetie,” Rose says. “If you want to leave, it’s fine. I’ll understand if this is a little much to spring on you. I’m happy to invite you over again if you need time to process this. Or you can stay.”