Heather Brown - Wild housewife

A man in a raccoon costume was roller-skating around the stage and singing "Red Sails in the Sunset" in Pig Latin. As incredible as this sounds, what was even more incredible was that I was sitting there watching it of my own free will.

One of the panel of so-called celebrities gonged him and I felt a stabbing twinge of sadness. I was so depressed these days that rejection, even if it occurred on The Gong Show, stuck me like a knife. For a painful interlude there, I felt like I was the schnook in the ridiculous attire, being told that I wasn't wanted.

As another Gong Show contestant was hustled into the wings, I couldn't help feeling that my only companion, the television set, had betrayed me. At least when Let's Make A Deal had been on everyday nobody was rejected just for being a jerk. Now, on The Gong Show, all the misfits were receiving nothing but ridicule.

The Gong Show was almost over. A woman who had tap-danced underwater to "Fascinatin' Rhythm" was today's winner.

After a half-dozen commercials, a soap opera came on. I couldn't stand those things. Those people with all their problems-it was too much like real life.

Itching with frustration, I switched off the set and got up from my chair. Unfortunately I had nowhere to go but to a pile of dirty socks and underwear that needed washing, or a kitchen floor that needed something drastic done about its yellow waxy build-up.

I decided to pace for a while, smoke a few cigarettes, and try to burn away some of my tension. If I didn't calm down, I might do something desperate.

As I circled the living room, I found myself thinking about my husband. If only he would get a regular job instead of driving those damn cross-country trucks.

Although Ernie was gone sometimes for two or three weeks at a time, I was just supposed to carry on as though he came home every night at 5:30 like other men. When he did show up, he expected everything to be perfect. What if he got in off the road today? The house was a mess.

Over the years I had tried on more than one occasion to let Ernie know how I felt, but it always ended up in a shouting match. He never failed to remind me about all he'd done for me. "What haven't I bought you?" was how he always summed up h is side of the argument.

I couldn't deny that he was right, of course. Ernie was very generous with his hard-earned money. We had a house in the suburbs, and it was full of the latest gadgets. However, what my husband failed to understand was that none of it meant a thing to me.

For one thing I felt totally out of place in the suburbs. All of my neighbors had doctors, lawyers and businessmen for husbands-I felt embarrassed to admit that my husband drove a truck for a living. Consequently, I had no friends.

Now that she was growing up, my daughter was of no help either. Susan was a teenager now and had her own life. She seemed to want to be away from home as much as possible.

So most of the time it was just me, myself, and I. And, to tell you the truth, I was thoroughly sick of my own boring company.

When I was in the middle of my third cigarette, within minutes the doorbell rang. Even though it was undoubtedly just a salesman, I found myself excited. I was so bored that it would be a treat to talk to anybody from the outside world.

The guy standing at the door was a tall, handsome young man, probably in his early twenties. He was much handsomer than the usual run of door-to door salesmen.

"Hello there," he said with a smile. "My name is Brad Stevens and I represent the Mighty Atom Vacuum Cleaner Corporation."

"I already have a vacuum cleaner," I informed him.

"Not like the Mighty Atom," he grinned enthusiastically. "I guarantee you'll want to throw your present model away after you see a demonstration of the Atom. May I come in?"

Why not? I had nothing better to do. Besides, maybe I could get him to do some of my cleaning.

Once he was inside the door, Brad immediately went to work setting up his display model in the middle of my living room. I watched him intently not because I was interested in what he was selling, but because he was so good looking. It felt good being alone in the house with such a handsome man.

"Look at this section of carpet I've vacuumed," he said after scouring the area between my chair and the television set. "See how much brighter the natural color of the fabric is after just a few seconds of the Mighty Atom."

I pretended to be impressed, but that was only so he wouldn't leave. The only thing I was interested in was the company of the salesman, not his product.

Then he was eagerly showing me another feature of the Mighty Atom. "You just flip this switch," he pointed out, "and instead of sucking in, the hose blows out hot air. Perfect for drying your stockings and lingerie when you're in a hurry and it's raining outside."

When he insisted on a demonstration, I passively agreed.

"Feel that air," he said, holding the attachment out in front of him and pointing it at me after reversing the suction. "Isn't it something?"

Abruptly I felt a warm blast between my legs. When I looked down, I saw that my skirt was flying up around my thighs.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" the salesman enthused. When I lifted my gaze to his face, I saw that his blue eyes were riveted to my exposed legs.

Immediately I blushed. In my usual apathy, I had not taken the trouble to put on any underwear when I'd dressed this morning. My skirt was within a couple of inches of the bush of my cunt, and there was nothing to stop this stranger from seeing it if I made a false move.

"Is there something wrong, ma'am?" he asked, still aiming the blast of hot air between my thighs.

"I-I think you'd better turn it off," I stammered self-consciously.

"Don't be embarrassed about me seeing your legs, ma'am," he startled me with his frankness.

"I-I beg your pardon."

"You have beautiful legs," he said with obvious sincerity. "I really enjoy looking at them."

"Please," I begged, but before I could stop him, he had raised his sights a few crucial inches. Now my hem was fluttering around my waist and the bearded triangle of my pussy was as obvious as the nose on my face.

I knew I should grab my skirt and pull it down, then order this impudent stranger from my house. However, this was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in weeks. The uncontrollable tingling between my legs told me so.

"I'll bet you get lonely sitting around here all day," the salesman stated as the hot air continued to blow my way.

"As a matter of fact I do," I admitted.

"I'll bet you were happy when I knocked on your door," he said demonstrating a keen understanding of the psyche of a bored housewife.

"Look, I'm satisfied with the vacuum cleaner I already have," I exclaimed, attempting to cut him off before things got out of hand. "And I have a dryer with a special delicate setting for my underthings."

"Is that where your panties are now?" he leered.

"No," I replied. "I just forgot to put them on this morning."

"I'm glad you did. Ordinarily, demonstrating vacuum cleaners can be a very uneventful job, even with a product as versatile as the Mighty Atom."

Now I panicked. It was clear that he was not about to back off.

To my surprise he switched off the motor and my skirt fell back into place. However, when I looked down and saw that the crotch of his pants was tautly bulging I was not so naive as to think that I was off the hook.

"Don't be afraid," he said, closing the gap between us and placing his open hands on my bra-less breasts. "You know you want it, don't you?"

"No, actually the vacuum cleaner I have has three years left on the guarantee," I lamely stated.