“Have you got the time, Honey?”

Despite shivering in the November night, I managed to insert a key into the front door of my lodgings while glancing up the dark street. She stood two doors away and, like the naive teenager I was, I turned a little so that the dim light of the streetlamp fell onto my cheap wristwatch.

I peered. “It’s a minute after eleven,” I said, my breath forming brief clouds of fog. 

The red end of a cigarette glowed then she exhaled dramatically, a plume of grey smoke rising above her blonde hair. Peroxide, no doubt. 

“Thanks. May as well call it a night.” 

She dropped the cigarette onto the freezing flagstones and I watched a stockinged leg appear from within her long black coat. No evidence of a skirt, just a glimpse of thigh as she ground the toe of a heeled shoe on the burning ember. Then the folds of her coat closed again.

“Night, Honey,” she said and disappeared inside number fifteen.

What a dummy I am. Shaking my head, I unlocked the door and entered number eleven. Have I got the time? Jeez, how obvious was that? And I’d told her a minute after eleven. She must be laughing her knickers off. If she wears any.

“Is that you, Thomas?”

Everyone else called me Tom or Tommy. “Yes, Mrs. Barnard, it’s me,” I said, hanging my overcoat on a hall peg.

The stocky figure of my landlady emerged from the front room. Hair in curlers under a headscarf, she wore a thick housecoat, arms folded under a matronly bosom. She smiled at me. “I was just off to bed. Do you want any supper?”

“No. I’m fine, thanks.” And I was, except I needed to pee after drinking several beers and walking home in the cold. “I’m going straight up to bed. See you in the morning.”

Watching my urine streaming into the toilet bowl, I chuckled. Too much beer. Dulled my senses. A minute after eleven. What an idiot! But there’ll be another time. Hopefully.

~~~~~

Three nights later, an even colder one, I was heading towards my digs, only this time I was walking down the street. I saw her standing in the shadows; same long black coat. As I approached, I wondered if she’d want to know the time.

“Have you got a light, Honey?” She showed me a cigarette in her right hand.

Ah, a different approach. “Sure,” I said, fumbling in my coat pocket for matches.

“Don’t waste a match, Honey. One off your hot end will do nicely,” she said, winking and putting the cigarette between her lips. Hmm, deep red lipstick.

“Right,” I said as she grasped my hand and lifted it toward her face. She united the ends of our cigarettes and sucked. Hers lit and she took it from her mouth, blowing smoke to one side.

“Thanks.” She smiled, still holding my hand in surprisingly warm fingers. “I don’t suppose you have the time, do you?”

Even under the dull lamplight, I swear her eyes twinkled and gleamed.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” My turn to grin.

She squeezed my hand, "Good," then let go. “I hoped you would. It’s not often I come across a nice polite young man like you.” She drew on her cigarette. “Handsome, too,” she added, smoke filtering from her mouth as she spoke.

“So,” I said boldly, having mentally primed myself for this encounter, “I guess time is money. Shall we go inside.”

She chuckled, rather croaky and I thought it might turn into a smoker’s cough. But no, she turned and opened the door. “Come in,” she said, “it’s hotter in here.” 

I bet it is.

I followed her down the narrow passage. Turning left into a back room, I guessed the layout was the same in all these terraced houses. Furnishing was minimal but there was a soft pink glow from a table lamp beside the double bed. 

She faced me. “So, neighbour, what’s your name?”

“Tom. Some call me Tommy. And you are?”

“Ruby,” she said, stubbing out her cigarette in a glass ashtray and handing it to me. “Don’t take offence, but I need to see some money before we go any further.”

“Course.” I extinguished my smoke, put down the ashtray, and pulled back the flap of my overcoat. I fished out a few notes from my trouser pocket. 

“Okay.” She swiftly plucked two notes from my grasp. “This gets you hand and mouth. Two more, Honey, and it’s the full works, condom included.”

Ruby opened her coat, revealing her only clothes: stockings secured to a white garter belt. Below a slight tummy bulge, a dark bush — No peroxide there — and her plump breasts were topped with… well, ruby nipples. She looked in good shape for her age. I guessed early forties. But what did I know, a mere nineteen-year-old youth?

“So, what’s it to be, Tom?”

The answer was coming up from my groin. I handed over two more notes.

“Lovely.” Ruby pointed to a dark corner. “Put your clothes on that chair over there.”

My cock was rising steadily by the time I’d stripped and turned around. Ruby, having removed her coat and shoes, sat on the bottom edge of the bed. “Hmm,” she hummed and beckoned me with a crooked finger.

Wrapping her nicotine-stained fingers lightly around my shaft,  she stroked slowly and blew warm breath on my dome while I reached down to tease her soft nipples. They gradually hardened but not as quickly as my cock did when she popped me into her mouth. Ruby bobbed her head down my length, at the same time unfurling a condom. What a treat. That trick alone was almost worth my cash. Almost!

“Arggh,” I muttered as she sucked on my helmet. I twitched, throbbed, squeezed her nipples, and Ruby let me plop out and looked up into my face. She grinned, then edged backward along the bed. On her back, knees raised, she popped a finger in and out of her hairy pussy, and declared, “I’m all yours, Tommy boy.”

I doubt that a greyhound has been faster out of the traps. I eased her thighs wide, settled between them and guided my cock to her hole. Ruby reached down and took over. What a professional. She put me between open lips, thrust her hips, and I sank inside with a loud sigh. 

“You feel good, very good,” she muttered in my ear as I pounded up and down, aware of the bed groaning beneath us and the headboard rap-rap-rapping on the wall. Later, I’d wonder if next door had heard — then again, they were probably used to it — but right now I was in fucking heaven.

Ruby clutched my bum cheeks and bucked her bushy mound against my groin as I plunged up and down. With my face pressed next to her cheek, I heard her sharp involuntary gasps as I drove furiously into her depths. Was that me grunting? I was aware of squashing her soft belly and tits, of her nylons brushing against my sides. I felt so hard, so aroused, I was glad that the condom dulled some of the stimulation. Otherwise, it would have been all over in a flash and I wanted my money’s worth. 

But, when Ruby drew her knees up to her chest, I was done for: my whole length disappeared into her dark tunnel and I instantly unloaded, pulsing and pumping into the condom.

“Attaboy, that’s the way.”

In a matter of seconds, I slumped on her, sweating, panting, my cock twitching in stupendous satisfaction. Exhilarated, almost to the point of being delirious, I could only muster, “Thanks, that was great.”

Resting into the mattress, legs stretched out and arms by her side, Ruby said, “My pleasure, I’m glad you had the time.”