Tottenham Temptation

The knock on the door was sharp and impatient. Jay knew who it was before he opened it.

"Mrs. Williams. Hi."

Claudette Williams stood in the hallway, arms crossed, doing nothing to hide her disappointment. She was fifty-three, widowed for two years, and built like a woman who'd never skipped a meal in her life. Wide hips, thick thighs, breasts that her conservative blouses could barely contain.

"It's the fifth, Jay. You know what that means."

"I know, I know. Look, I'm a bit short this month. Work's been—"

"Work's been slow. Same thing you said last month." She pushed past him into the flat, her heavy perfume filling the small space. "Third time in six months. You know I can't keep covering for you."

She turned to face him, and despite the situation, Jay couldn't help but notice how her dress clung to her curves. Mrs. Williams had always been attractive—Trinidadian women aged like fine wine, his grandmother used to say—but lately, he'd been noticing more and more.

"How much you short?" she asked.

"Three hundred."

She sucked her teeth. "Three hundred pounds. And you expect me to what? Just wait?"

"I'll have it by the fifteenth, I swear—"

"The fifteenth." She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You know, my husband used to handle the properties. Since he passed, I've had to do everything myself. The stress is... considerable."

She sat down on his sofa, her thick thighs spreading slightly, her dress riding up. She didn't adjust it.

"You're a good-looking boy, Jay. Strong. Young." Her eyes traveled down his body. "My husband, God rest his soul, he wasn't able to... perform his duties for the last few years. Medical issues, you understand."

Jay's mouth went dry. "Mrs. Williams..."

"Claudette. We're having an adult conversation now, so you can call me Claudette." She patted the seat beside her. "Come. Sit."

He sat, hyperaware of her proximity, the warmth of her thigh against his.

"Here's what I'm thinking," she said quietly. "You can't pay rent with money you don't have. But there are other forms of payment. Other... services a young man can provide."

Her hand landed on his thigh, warm and firm. "I've seen you with your girlfriends. Heard things through the walls. You seem to know what you're doing."

"Mrs. W—Claudette—"

"Shh." Her hand moved higher. "I'm a lonely woman, Jay. Widowed. My children are grown and gone. What I need is someone to... tend to me. Make me feel like a woman again."

She found what she was looking for, and her eyes widened. "Oh my. Is this what the girls have been screaming about?"

Jay couldn't speak. Claudette's hand was expertly working him through his jeans.

"Here's my offer. You take care of me—properly, regularly—and your rent concerns disappear. Nobody needs to know. Just between us."

She stood up and unzipped her dress, letting it fall. She wore plain white underwear, but on her body, it looked like lingerie. Her stomach was soft, her breasts heavy and full, her hips wide enough to get lost in.

"Well?" she asked. "Do we have a deal?"

Jay answered by pulling her onto his lap. She gasped, then laughed, grinding against him.

"Oh, I knew you were a smart boy."

She freed him from his jeans, stroking him with practiced hands. "My husband was never this big. Lord have mercy."

When she lowered herself onto him, they both groaned. She was tight and hot, and her weight on top of him was incredible.

"Oh God," she breathed. "That's it. That's what I've been missing."

Claudette rode him like a woman possessed, her thick body bouncing, her massive breasts swinging in his face. She grabbed his hands and placed them on her hips.

"Hold me. Hold on and don't let go."

He gripped her soft flesh as she moved faster, her cries filling the flat. When she came, her whole body shook, and she squeezed him so tight he couldn't hold back either.

They collapsed together, breathing hard.

"Rent's paid for the month," she panted. "With interest."

"When's next month's payment due?" Jay asked, already hardening inside her again.

She smiled that wicked smile. "I think I'll need weekly installments. Starting now."

Their arrangement continued for months. Every Tuesday, Claudette would come by to "inspect the property," and Jay would give her exactly what she needed. Sometimes it was slow and sensual, candles lit, her teaching him exactly how to please a mature woman. Other times it was fast and desperate, her bent over the kitchen counter, demanding he take her hard.

Jay's friends noticed he seemed less stressed about money. His job situation hadn't improved, but somehow, rent was never a problem.

"You got a side hustle or something?" his boy Marcus asked.

Jay smiled, thinking about the text from Claudette that had just buzzed his phone: "Coming over early today. Wear the grey joggers. You know the ones."

"Something like that," he replied. "Something exactly like that."