I fucking hate the sound of lawnmowers. Why does everyone like summer so much – it’s hot and sticky and these machines are everywhere. Mowers, blowers, weed-cutters, hedge trimmers.
At least these idiots are going now – leave us in peace, you cunts. Especially now. Especially today. I haven’t had a moment alone with Charlotte in weeks. Yesterday at the pool party her tits were totally out of control; at least half the guys there, even the ones my age, had moments were you could see them hide their cocks from growing into tentpoles.
“Bye, Guys,” I say as I step out of the car. Three teenage boys, all sweat-stained and staring at the ground, grunt back as they close the gate on the trailer and pile into a white Tommy’s Lawn Care truck. A quick wave and they’re gone.
And suddenly it is quiet. Those boys were apparently the only lawn crew in the area. I can feel my heart flutter a bit – it’s like I’m a teenager again. It’s just going to be us two. Charlotte and me. There’s no logical explanation for why she makes me feel like this: she’s half my age and I actually like her mother more than her. Tits are a bit smaller, but her confidence and self-possession is incredible. Charlotte, on the other hand, is young enough that she still flirts with every guy in a ten-mile radius. It’s embarrassing to watch them trip over themselves to please her.