Nightingales #2 Who is Mr Roberts?

Kissing Old Mr Roberts for a Dare: When Mr Roberts eyes these beauties, I assure you he’ll open the door!

Nov 14, 2023

Young woman with curly hair showing off her cleavage in a denim jacket. — **Gen talking to Mr Roberts after knocking on his door**: (Deposit Photos Standard Licence, adapted by author)

This story begins here. Gen and her two work friends are playing truth and dare one evening. Gen lied, so her dare is to go and kiss the old man from across the street.

As I went to walk out the room in just my underwear, Anne grabbed my knee-length denim, and threw it over to me.

“For goodness’ sake, Gen. The last thing we want is Mr Roberts having a heart attack.” She said smirking.

“Ha! Fooled you again. As if I would go out in this weather without my coat.” I must say, I felt a little tipsy.

“Anne and I will have to think of a new dare for you, as Mr Roberts rarely opens the door. He just peeps through one of those spy holes. Unless, of course, you are the Tesco delivery man.” Jane stated.

Jane should know living opposite the old guy. But I am always up for a challenge.

“Have faith.” I buttoned up the jacket as far as I could, but my cleavage was still on display.

“When Mr Roberts eyes these beauties, I assure you he’ll open the door.” I said confidently, glancing down at the top of my plump boobs.

“OK. OK. We’ll be watching you fail from the bedroom window.” Anne marched over and opened the curtains slightly.

I took the stairs two at a time and left the front door on the latch.

As I crossed the road, I looked up at the window and gave them both the finger, then flashed my bum for good measure.

Wanting to get this over and done with, I charged up the pathway to number eleven and firmly knocked on Mr Robert's door, doing a little dance for the girl's benefit.

It did not surprise me at all when after a few minutes the old guy opened it and put out a hand to me.

“Goodness Genevieve. You are a sight for an old man’s eyes.”

Reaching out, I take hold of his hand in both of mine. “You’re not old. Must be about seventy-one if my maths is still as hot as when you were my headmaster.” I beamed at him. He’d been my favourite teacher.

I knew he wouldn’t forget me, even though it had been thirteen years since I left school. I spent quite a bit of time in his office receiving detention slips for my misdemeanours.

Suddenly I remembered my dare and the kiss, so still grasping his hand I leaned forward and planted a wet one on his cheek.

Mr Roberts looked at my cleavage, smiled and said, “I see you haven’t changed at all. Still not wearing enough clothes. You will catch your death, you know. Come on into the warm, I have someone I want you to meet.”

Well, it would have been rude to say no. Still holding my hand, he practically dragged me into his narrow hallway. What would the girls think? The three of us worked at the same company. They had no idea where I’d been to school, let alone who my headmaster had been!