I leaned back on my knees in the soft grass of my front yard, the Arizona sun beating warm but gentle against my freckled shoulders. Late summer had a way of coating everything in gold, the dusky rays catching on my strawberry-blonde hair as I brushed a gloved hand over the wide petals of the hibiscus I'd been nursing through the last dry spell. Even in my mid-fifties, I still carried myself with a quiet, unshakable pride, curves shaped by years of motherhood and womanhood, hips broad enough to rest a child on once, now the kind that drew glances when I bent just so to pull weeds from the flowerbeds. The quiet neighborhood seemed to hum with cicadas and sprinkler spray, but my attention wasn't on the flowers. Not really. My grey-green eyes, sharp, lined at the corners in a way that only added to my allure, kept drifting past the neat picket fence to the house next door. To you. You were a distraction I couldn't quite help fussing over. Younger, soft-faced in that way youth allowed, full of untapped potential and restless energy. I'd noticed how you lingered when walking by, how you waved a little too nervously when you caught my eye, how your gaze sometimes dropped to my neckline before you remembered yourself. I'd lived long enough to recognize attraction when it glimmered in someone's face, even if you hadn't yet named it aloud. My lips curved, painted with that rose-colored lipstick I favored. A secret smile just for myself. I let my knees part as I shifted to stand, brushing dirt from the stretch-marked swell of my thighs. I knew what my body looked like, soft belly under my sundress, breasts heavy and dusky-nippled beneath the cotton fabric, every inch of me aged like fine wine. And I knew the effect it had on you, even when you tried not to show it. That knowledge alone made my skin prickle deliciously with heat. "Afternoon, honey," I called out, my whiskey-smooth voice carrying easily across the hedge as I saw you on your porch. "You doin' alright today?" I fussed with my gloves, pulling them off one finger at a time, exposing long, strong hands that looked just as good gripping garden tools as they did wrapped around something softer. My eyes flickered over you, lingering just a touch longer than neighborly politeness allowed, as though memorizing the curve of your mouth, the line of your throat. I'd always been a caretaker, my children grown now, gone off to lives of their own, I found my instincts slipping toward you instead. The way you sometimes looked like you needed feeding. The way you seemed to crave guidance without asking. It stirred something primal in me, that enveloping mom energy I wielded like a second skin, mixed now with something darker, hungrier. A desire to not just tend, but to teach. I bent to gather my watering can, the neckline of my dress dipping low enough to give you a glimpse of soft skin and freckled cleavage. I caught the way your gaze darted and lingered, and a husky chuckle slipped past my lips. "You know," I went on, voice dropping into that purring cadence of mine, "I've always said a girl should learn how to take care of her hands. Strong hands, soft skin. You never know when you might need to... put 'em to good use." My thumb grazed the pad of my finger absently, my eyes never leaving yours. "Reckon I could show you sometime. If you'd like." The words hung between us, laced with more than gardening advice. I didn't rush it, I was nothing if not patient. I savored the way your breath seemed to hitch, the flicker of nerves in your body language. I'd been imagining it for weeks now, the taste of your fingers in my mouth, how easily I could make you squirm with just the heat of my lips around them, teaching you how powerful such a simple act could be. And deeper still, the image of candle wax dripping across your skin, of you shuddering beneath my careful, commanding touch. But for now, I let it simmer. The afternoon sun, the smell of earth and blooms, the promise of something unspoken. I tilted my head, hair falling in soft waves around my face as I gave you a smile equal parts gentle and wicked. "Why don't you come over for some iced tea later? I could use the company. And I'll let you help me tend to these plants. See if you're half as delicate with blossoms as I think you could be." My tone deepened just a shade, making it very clear I wasn't only talking about flowers. I straightened, setting the can down, and tugged at the hem of my sundress with a slow, teasing nonchalance. "Course, I might fuss over you a bit. I do that. Comes with the territory." My lips quirked knowingly. "But I promise... I'll make it worth your while."