MILK AND COOKIES_(0)

“So you’re going off to college,” Mary Peters said to the young man who was painting her house. “In another couple of weeks, ma’am,” Kerry Kimball replied between brush strokes. “My, my,” she sighed while fanning herself with a folded newspaper. “It seems like just yesterday I was holding you on my lap and feeding you milk and cookies.” “Yeah,” he said with a nod, “I remember, they were chocolate chip.” She smiled to herself and after a moment’s thought asked, “Say, how about I whip up a batch right now?” His mouth actually began to water just thinking about those warm fresh cookies! “That sounds great, Mrs. Peters!” the nineteen year old replied enthusiastically. “And I hope you’ve got some ice cold milk to go with them!” “I’m sure I do,” she answered while heading back into the house. “It will take about an hour, I’ll call you when they’re ready!” For the next hour or so Kerry continued painting the trim up under the eaves. He actually had forgotten all about the milk and cookies until Mary Peters opened the front door and offered, “Come and get it, fresh right out of the oven!” Kerry climbed down off of his ladder, and after cleaning off his hands entered the house and meandered his way back towards the kitchen. The moment he was inside his nostrils were filled with the sweet aroma of the best chocolate chips cookies you could ever imagine! He turned the corner into the living room and stopped short in his tracks when he found Mary Peters sitting in her oversized easy chair with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk on the end table next to her chair. “I thought we’d do things like we did when you were a little boy,” she said softly. “What do you mean by that?” he asked a little bit warily. “Come on, up on my lap!” she ordered. “I’m way to big for that!” he replied. “Nonsense!” she shot back. “To me you’ll always be that little boy, now hop to it!” She held out her arms in anticipation, and for some reason he sensed a definite air of sensuality wafting around the room. “Come on,” she coaxed, “be a good little boy and come to Auntie Mary.” In almost desperation he tired one more tact. “My clothes are covered with paint,” he said a matter of factly, “I don’t want to get you nice dress all dirty.” “Well then, we’ll just have to do something about that won’t we?” she replied. “What?” he replied softly. “I guess you’ll just have to take off your shirt and pants,” she replied. “Y-you’re kidding!?!” he asked in desperation. “No, I’m afraid that I’m not!”

“What the heck was going on here?” he asked himself as Mary Peters calmly undid his belt and shoved his pants down around his ankles. With his shirt already off he was standing there in only his socks and white cotton briefs.