The Borrowed Kitchen Read online

  Then they came downstairs to look through the master bedroom and en-suite. They took some time in the master bedroom, which did cheer me up. It was a big room with twin walk-in robes. Now, I’d never planned for my husband and I to use both of those. That would have just been too indulgent. No, one of those little enclaves was to be a nursery.

  Finally they made it through the dining room, lounge, laundry and adjoining office. I was almost beside myself by the time they made it to me. When they did, it was as if the very planet stopped spinning.

  His thick dark brown hair was cropped short and his eyes, oh boy, they were so beautiful and brown I remember hardly noticing anything else about him while he stood in me looking about. When I managed to drag my attention away from those glorious eyes, I took in his clothes and build. He was in his late twenties, tall and tanned with the lean build of a long-distance runner or cyclist. He wore simple cargo pants and an old t-shirt with a band logo on it that was so faded and washed out it wasn’t even legible any more. I remember thinking his young wife must really love him or she’d have thrown out that old shirt ages ago. Nor could I blame her. I’d have let him wear just about anything. His name was Mitch and I liked him – a lot. Can you tell?

  Her name was Sally and I didn’t like her one little bit, even if she did let Mitch keep that old rag of a shirt. She was a slender little thing about two years younger than Mitch. She had shiny blonde hair, bright white teeth and perky little breasts that pointed up at the sky. Her big, wide-set eyes were as blue as the oceans on postcards from tropical beach resorts. Her skin was clear and pale, with a slight olive tinge. She wore minimal make-up and her nails were short and glossed only with clear polish. She wore simple cargo pants as well, with runners and a green plaid shirt tied at the waist.

  Wholesome? Hardly. My solid Catholic upbringing enabled me to know trouble when I saw it. I just knew she’d been one of those girls - the popular ones. She’d been the object of every boy’s fantasy in school, just as she’d been the object of every other girl’s secret hatred. Ooh, she was just so disgustingly nice it made me want to smack her in the head with my cupboard doors. Sadly, I didn’t know how to do that until much later.

  Mitch ran one strong hand over my enormous kitchen bench, admiring the workmanship. His hand came away filthy from the dust, but the smile on his face told me he didn’t care about that. He knew he’d found a house that wasn’t just one of these slap-dash boxes, put up fly-by-night construction companies using unskilled labour and dodgy materials. He saw quality. He saw potential. He saw a life-long future, filled with love from his wife and kids to come, orbiting me like planets revolving around a sun, owing their entire existence to my light and warmth.

  He looked around at the two stoves, then on to the cavity where we’d planned to put in the fridge-freezers. Then he simply gazed at my walk-in larder. He ran his finger along the granite again then looked at the dust on his finger a little sadly. It was clear he thought it a shame I’d been left to the elements this long.

  Sally wrinkled her nose at the dust and grimaced at the idea of having to do anything in the way of renovations. Still, she embraced Mitch, pressing her body up against him the way only horny young wives can.

  He responded the way the husbands of those horny wives should. He picked her up and held her close, one strong hand cupping her ass, one hand working up from the base of her neck into that mass of shiny blonde strands. She wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her ankles together, locking herself tightly against his crotch. She kept her shoulders back so her breasts were pressed up firmly against him while she took his face in both hands.

  They left me then. Mitch carried her out easily and upstairs, presumably to one of the bedrooms, but it might have been the hall at the top of the stairs. (That area would have been much cleaner than the downstairs: all the windows up there had been completed and I was pretty sure they were all shut.) Then he proceeded to make love to her. Hard, and loud. I remember being glad the human me had insisted on using such strong supports and extra-thick floorboards. Nothing in me rattled, though I could feel every movement as my joints and corners felt the minute changes in pressure.

  Even so, I was horrified. To think such behaviour was going on in my house! Sure, I’d enjoyed sex with Ashleigh, but only after he and I were wed, and nowhere near to the degree that these two did. Our love life had definitely been the in-bed, lights-off variety. I’m not sure these two even made it to a bedroom, and they sure as goodness didn’t turn off any lights.

  Later, once the noise had died down (honestly woman, was he that good?), I heard the water in the pipes running lightly so I gathered they’d given themselves a quick rinse in one of the upstairs bathrooms. What they used for a towel baffles me to this day. When they came back downstairs, Mitch was talking to someone on his mobile phone, while Sally came into me and started poking around. She had a look on her face that told me loud and clear that while she’d enjoyed every minute of their lovemaking, she also enjoyed knowing she’d cast her spell on Mitch.

  That was when I realised I had my special talent. I could hear the thoughts of certain people within me. Thrilled by my little discovery, I hovered close to that blonde head of hers. Her thoughts were so clear. I dared myself to go further. If I could move my consciousness about the kitchen, cupboards and all, maybe I could see the world from inside her head.

  Goodness me, what a thing! Not only could I feel her thoughts as if they were my own, I could see through her eyes, feel what she felt and smell what she smelled. Of course, these sensations weren’t nearly as strong as they’d have been had I been experiencing them myself, but they were there. They were just muffled, as though I was feeling through cling wrap, and watching through misty glass. Funnily enough, her hearing and sense of smell were very strong indeed — far stronger than the other senses. It took me a few moments to realise that I could taste too. Then I got out of her mind like a fox from a hen house. She could still taste sex — a mixture of her own secretions and his semen. Aaargh!

  Sally was almost in a daze, so strong was her happy little post-coital daydream. She saw a few more years of living together as husband and wife in happy amorous abandon. She saw boozy dinner parties with dancing and flirting with Mitch in company so he’d ravish her again and again after the guests had gone. She saw the master bedroom set up with the curtains and pillows she wanted, then she saw two of the upstairs bedrooms decked out as twin offices for them both with the study as their shared mini-library. Her office would have her computer and her microscopes and tanks for her spiders, his office would have his white-boards and printers and screens.

  Spiders? Ick! I concentrated on those thoughts for a moment. So, she was studying. Huh. Who’d have thought that little blonde head could study more than Who Weekly? A masters, no less! I didn’t like the idea of the subject material, but she seemed very sure wolf spiders were quite harmless. She thought the surrounding bushland was the perfect place to find them, and the cleared area of land to the rear of the house leading all the way down to Tomahawk Creek would be perfect for studying their movements.

  Moving on-wards, she saw a blonde daughter and a brown-haired son. She saw kids playing in the yard. She saw wives she met at the farmers’ market being jealous of her fit, good-looking writer husband, and even more jealous of her as she remained slim and sexy thanks to the gym she was going to set up in what I had originally designed to be the rear sitting room and porch.

  And, she saw cooking. She had such plans for me. To her, I would be more than just another room in the house. I would be her palette, my bench-top her easel and the dishes she would create, her masterpieces.

  It was then I realised that except for the gym, I had probably had similar thoughts while Ashleigh and I were building the house, only I had definitely wanted more children than she did. Still, that brief moment of empathy wasn’t enough to make me like her. My thoughts were interrupted then when Mitch came back into me. He was smiling.

 
‘Good news,’ he told her.

  Sally looked up at him. Her heart was beating very fast now. And? she thought to herself. And? C’mon, don’t just stand there you big goof. Tell me!

  Mitch’s smile broke into a wide, sloppy grin. Oh how he loved teasing her. He knew her. He knew she thought she had him wrapped about her little finger. He knew she was convinced he thought she only let him do certain things in bed, when all the while she actually liked it. He knew she thought the way she cupped his balls while she rode him and the way she sucked and nibbled at his neck and ears, as well as the little tricks she used when she was going down him, were all it took for her to make him do anything she wanted. He could read his pretty little wife like a book.

  Oh, I liked him even more when I discovered that, though I was very doubtful that any woman could find pleasure in being corn-holed.

  ‘He’s coming around here now with the paperwork. Standard terms are a ten percent deposit with the balance in thirty days, but I offered immediate settlement if I got a discount.’

  Sally’s brain went into overdrive. She threw herself at him again, kissing him again and again. This time, her passion was much more loving and triumphant than erotic. She’d got what she wanted.

  In between kisses, she asked him, ‘How much?’

  Mitch pulled away. ‘They wanted eight-eighty with thirty days. Now they’re taking eight-sixty. We can be in here in a fortnight.’

  Sally did the math in her head like lightning. She was a lot of things, but she wasn’t stupid.

  ‘That’s twenty-five thousand left in out budget! Forget Ikea. I’m getting us nice furniture.’

  The nearest Ikea was two hours’ drive away. I’d been there. It was impressive, and the furniture seemed fine to me, just not to my taste. I prefer my furniture more traditional than that modern European stuff. I like it strong and heavy. Built to last, not to fit in a flat-pack.

  Mitch nodded. ‘Without leaning on the bank.’ And it’s all thanks to the movie, he thought. But those royalty cheques are gonna keep getting smaller and the column only pays so much. With Salls studying full-time, I better keep writing… He leaned back and tilted his head at her. He really was a terrible tease!

  ‘Are you sure you want to live all the way out here in this little town? I mean it doesn’t matter to me. Since the column got syndicated, I can do my job anywhere. You’re a city girl, born and bred. Now you’re in the sticks.’

  Sally pushed him backwards until his back was against my larder door-frame.

  ‘Exactly! You know what I always hated about being in the city?’ She asked him this as she began wrenching his belt undone.

  Mitch grinned again, his passion rising. He knew what she was about to say, but didn’t mind her little clichés at all. After all, he knew what was coming and Sally was very, very good with her tongue.

  ‘Damned neighbours! Out here—’ she said, nuzzling his hardening cock through his briefs, ‘nobody—’ she pulled the briefs down with her left hand while her right took him mid-shaft, ‘can hear—’ she brought her left hand up to tease his balls with her thumb, fore and index fingers while her ring finger and pinkie gently massaged along the base of his cock and along down to his perineum, ‘what we’re doing!’

  I was gobsmacked. This was something I’d been told happened in those adult movies sold so readily on the internet nowadays. I’d never seen one, and I’d certainly never tried doing anything like this with my husband.

  She gave his cock a few long wet licks, noticing how even though he’d given himself a good rinse, she could still detect herself on him. It was a saline musky flavour that she smelled rather than tasted. Then she took him deep into her mouth and began working him in and out. She loved that he kept his pubic hair above his cock neatly trimmed and that on and around his cock and balls shaved completely. It made what she was doing to him so much more fun.

  She loved that her control over her gag reflex was so good and that it produced so much saliva. Keeping her right hand clenched around him and pressed up against her lips, she took him deep in to her throat rhythmically, each time, moving just that little bit faster. He was hard. So hard he didn’t bend at all when his silky smooth glans hit the back of her throat. She clenched her fingers around him, loving that he was so firm yet encased in such smooth, delicate skin.

  Mitch had to spread his legs a bit wider and lean back against the wall. The pleasure he was feeling was robbing him of all rational thought. All he saw were colours through his tightly-clenched eyes.

  Sally relished the feeling of him hardening in her mouth. Breathing in through her nose, she inhaled his warm musk — a cocktail of sweat, the scent of his Palmolive soap she’d come to love on him, and even her own fluids from just minutes ago. Oh, that smell turned her on even more. She began squeezing with her left hand, as well as using more of her saliva as lubrication along the base of his cock. She loved the trick of then using her little finger to swirl around his rectum. She couldn’t help but moan, and didn’t care at all about the slurping noises she was making as she took him in and out of her throat like a piston.

  I’d have been so self-conscious of that noise it would have ruined the whole experience for me. Compared to Sally, I must be an awful prude. She loved it.

  Mitch loved it too. He reached down and held her head. He was gentle but firm. As he sensed he was about to come, he raised his hands off her head so she knew he wouldn’t hold her onto his cock if she wanted him to withdraw and not come in her mouth.

  Sally knew this signal. There in that moment, she really did love him. As she always did, she took him deeper into her mouth, spreading out the fingers on her right hand so that she was only circling his cock with her thumb and forefinger and her nose buried in the fuzz above his groin. She moaned louder and made some more slurping noises. Her pinkie finger pushed its way inside his ass, probing towards his prostate.

  Mitch came with a loud groan. Sally swallowed it all and knelt there with him still in her mouth, squeezing out every last drop until he began to soften.

  Mitch’s heart was beating so hard and fast now he could feel his pulse in his teeth.

  ‘Fah… Fuck!’ he breathed.

  Indeed! That was one heck of a performance. Neither had faked anything and they’d both enjoyed it to the (ahem) hilt. I’d stopped feeling embarrassed from seeing this display, only to be embarrassed again by being so fixated on it I’d not seen Jim walking up the driveway.

  Sally heard the knock at the door before Mitch did and got up quickly. Bam! Just like that, she put on her sweet, innocent smile she’d used to fool her father for so many years. She reached into her bag and took out some Tic-Tacs. She popped one in her mouth and then one in Mitch’s as he struggled with his pants. Then she sauntered out to the front door to meet Jim.

  Mitch looked around at my walls and benches for a few moments while Sally greeted the agent at the door. He was faster to recover from his young wife’s amazing attentions than she realised. Even as he’d been buckling his belt, he was already planning just what he’d need to do to get the house right for them. His mind was crystal clear, for which I was very grateful. I may not have been able to see the rest of the house myself, but through his sharp mind, I could. And it was beautiful.

  When he followed Sally out to talk to Jim, I was left alone with a whirlpool of thoughts twirling in my mind. These two certainly did love each other, even though they seemed to have different agendas. Could I cope with them living in me for the next few decades as they hoped? Could I stomach watching them do that to each other all the time?

  Wait. Eight-sixty? The land alone had cost us more than a million dollars. I’d sold my small townhouse in Yarra Junction, and Ashleigh had inherited a smaller property on Luscatia Park Road in Hoddles Creek on the other side of Yarra Junction. Even then, we’d had to sell our souls to the bank.

  Fuming to myself, I withdrew as far away from the open space as I could — the farthest cornice in my larder.

  It took
them a little more than a fortnight to move in, but it seemed to fly by. Before I knew it, the noise of local tradesmen coming and going lured me from my funk. My white-goods appeared, my bare light-bulb grew a new fixture and the two rooms I’d not yet painted before I died went from bare plaster to subtle pastels.

  With the furniture and rugs in the house, I was less able to discern movements throughout the house by the pressures changing on my joints and hinges. I could still feel it, just not as strongly. Maybe all that extra weight had a dampening effect. Maybe the house just need working in. Either way, I found it both pleasing and frustrating. Something in me wanted to know where everyone in the house was at every moment, but it was nice to feel as if I wasn’t going to jam or squeak.

  Aside from the furniture, the only other change they made was to have an electrician install an extra phone line and wireless router for their modem. Mitch was soon online and able to keep earning that lovely salary of his. Sally would never need to work a day in her life.

  Funnily enough, Sally surprised me. While Mitch set himself up in the study, just as my dear dead husband had planned to do, she rolled up her sleeves and got to cleaning. It took her two days to clean me properly, but she did it without a single complaint that I heard or even a moment’s regret that I could read in her mind. Granted the two of them seemed to live on pizza and wine for those first few days while they settled in, but then who could blame her for not wanting to cook in a kitchen that had been left bare to the elements for three years?