I was 13, a few months away from 14 when my neighbor saw me looking down her top as she wrote me a check. She was a 24 y o woman I thought was as pretty or prettier than most of the girls in the few Playboys or Penthouses I had seen. I had met her husband twice and could understand why she wanted a divorce. He was an a**. They had been separated for almost 2 years and had lived separately for a little longer than that. She had cried a little explaining that a little. We had become pretty close friends over the few years we had known each other. Not only was I her paper boy I did odd jobs around the neighborhood and she, being alone in her house, was often in need of help with manual chores. She told me not to apologize when I noticed her noticing me looking. “Your a handsome young man and it’s normal don’t worry about it.” I explained that it wasn’t just down her shirt I was looking. She was very pretty, which made her blush a little. Me probably a lot but I couldn’t feel it since my face was half frozen. It was the middle of a New England winter.

We had one of our more intimate conversations with a second cup of coffee. One that she didn’t spill any tears over.
Our eight month affair began a few days later in such a natural way I never thought anything was weird about it. Never heard about pedos or molestation back then. She lovingly taught me all she knew about guys and girls, life and s**. We shared most of the s** stuff all the time we could except for gross things that were only told me for personal knowlage. When her hard fought for divorce went through it was a tearful good bye when she sold the house and moved back to her home town.