Neighbors Pt 04

Damn it, he snores loudly.

Aymie rolled onto her side and glared daggers at Derek, who snoozed away beside her after their afternoon of fucking. They'd done every position they knew at least twice, and she'd gotten off half a dozen times. Derek himself managed to climax twice throughout their trist...but Aymie still wanted more. She always seemed to want more.

She climbed out of the bed gingerly, pulling on a pair of loose sweats and a white tank top, and shuffled out to the kitchen for some water. Her heart and her mind were all scattered and torn between feeling regret, satisfaction, and embarrassment all at once. Regret was obvious -- she'd spent most of the afternoon picturing another man under her, over her, and everything in between while Derek pleased and teased her, not to mention the fact that she'd exposed herself to another man in the window of the bathroom, and had nearly driven herself to orgasm because of it. The thought of it made her sick to her stomach. What had come over her? Embarrassment struck her deeply for her behavior in front of Mr. Davis. She had never behaved in such a lewd manner, especially to someone she wasn't even seeing exclusively. She was very private when it came to sex. The only person she ever even spoke to about it besides Derek was her mother, and that was only to assure her that yes, she was being safe and using protection and no, Derek wasn't taking advantage of her in any way, shape, or form.

But seeing that look in Mr. Davis's eyes while he watched her in the window, seeing the way he reacted to her and observed her so intently, as if eyeing over her every curve and contour, made her pussy quiver, and that felt indecent. He probably thought she was some kind of exhibitionist, that she loved showing off her naked body to anyone and everyone who looked, and loved being watched, which was not the case. She was shy, reserved, and typically kept her sexual urges in check. At least...until today.

Even now, standing in the kitchen and sipping at her water, she could feel her body giving off a dull throb. An ache that asked her for more; more stimulation, more pleasure, more sensation, more, more, more! It was almost a sense of desperation and it made her feel dirty. She was a good girl. This was wrong of her, to be so needy.

She watched as her mom's car pulled into the driveway and Rosaline hobbled out. Her limp was heavy today and Aymie felt her shoulders tensing, and her stomach tightening at the thought of losing her day of freedom. She felt bad for her mother's discomfort, of course, but Mr. Davis's words from earlier had hit her deeply; her life here was like a gilded cage. But her mother needed her. She couldn't just walk away.

Rosaline stepped in the front door and smiled at Aymie, though she looked exhausted.

"No drinks with the girls today?" Aymie asked her, sipping her water.

"Not today. Bit too tired, I think."

Rosaline kissed Aymie on the cheek and headed past her into the other room. "Derek here?"

"Yea, he's sleeping. Once he gets up I'll ask him to go home."

At that moment, Derek walked out with his jeans hanging loosely from his hips, and his t-shirt back on. His hair was a mess and he had a lazy smile that screamed of his satisfaction and Aymie blushed. He kissed Rosaline on the cheek as she passed by him, and she gave him a pat on the shoulder. After, he headed out to wrap his arms around Aymie's waist and tug her in close. He smiled lovingly down at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Aymie lay her head on his chest and took in his smell -- he smelled like sex, and it made her thighs clench.

"I should go, baby. But this afternoon...mmm. You need to invite me over for days like today more often." He grinned at her.

Aymie chuckled once and then nodded. She couldn't look at him. "Noted. It was fun. Text me when you get home, alright?"

He kissed her fully on the lips, lingering there for a long moment before he pulled back. "Love you, babe. I'll see you."

"Love you too."

He pinched her backside before giving her a wink and heading towards the front door, then out to his car. Aymie watched him leave, feeling that pang of guilt in her chest all over again. She felt dirty, impure, and selfish. She didn't like it.

"Honey, can you help me in here real quick?"

Aymie took in a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. It was going to be a long evening.

Several hours went by, the sun went down, and a chill settled on the house as Aymie and Rosaline settled into the living room for the night. It was a Tuesday evening, so Aymie knew her mother wouldn't be up much longer with work early the next morning. They'd picked out some chick flick rom-com to watch together and her mom was already half asleep on her recliner. Aymie had spent the earlier part of the afternoon taking care of dinner, helping her mom shower, massaging her knee and her opposite foot, and helping out with the dirty laundry. It didn't seem like much to think about, but the tension in Aymie's shoulders told her otherwise.

She couldn't help but think of what Mr. Davis had told her about earlier, about her existence being like a gilded cage; pretty, appealing, but a cage nonetheless. She'd never heard it put that way before when she spoke to someone about it. He seemed to understand, to really get where she was coming from. Aymie always feared that she sounded like a whining child when she spoke about her mother or worse, that she sounded like an ingrate. Her mother didn't make her pay rent, she didn't make her pay any bills at home, and Aymie herself didn't have to work. Between Rosaline's part time job and her disability checks, the two of them got by okay. For Aymie to be so frustrated with her on such a constant basis just felt so childish.

But Mr. Davis didn't seem to see it that way. He agreed with her, allied with her, and made her feel safe speaking about it. He didn't chastise her thinking, didn't make her feel worse than she already did. If anything, he gave her a new perspective and she smiled as she remembered the attentive look in his eyes when they'd had tea earlier.

...That wasn't the only look he had. She tightened at the memory of it, when he stood so casually beside her, but so close that his smell enveloped and tantalized her. He looked as though he wanted to kiss her then, and she would have let him. She was shocked at how intensely her want for him was, after just a few hours spent together. She barely knew him,but her pussy seemed to quiver at the very thought of him. He was so much older, so much more experienced...there was so much he could teach her.

Aymie shook her head and ran a hand over her face. Her mother had begun snoring on the recliner so she shut off the movie and stood, getting ready to wake her mother up and help her to bed when she heard a faint, hesitant knock on the front door. Who would be stopping by this late at night? She waited for a moment to ensure it wasn't some stupid kid playing a prank. To her surprise, the knock came again with a bit more force behind it.

She walked quietly over to the door and opened it up just a crack. Her eyes widened as she looked at Jackson Davis, standing in the doorway.

"Hi."

----

He should have said something. Damn it all, he should have said something! Something more than an invite to come back for tea, anyway. Jack cursed himself and his hesitance as he replied to a work message on his cell phone, thankful that he wasn't back at the office. Ted had managed to reschedule with the rainforest woman, for which Jack was grateful. He'd left her very rudely, that was true, but what choice did he have? He couldn't stay at work while Max was going into surgery with some mystery woman he didn't even know. Well, he thought he didn't know. If he'd realized it was Aymie Ann, he might have stalled a bit longer. But even then, he would have missed the opportunity to talk with her and sit next to her and smell her and fantasize about her.

Jack slapped himself on the cheek. It was the hundredth time he had to snap himself out of his lust fueled fantasies since Aymie had left an hour ago. Luckily work was busy today and he spent the majority of that time replying to emails, coordinating shipping times, and scheduling material deliveries. It helped him keep his mind off of Aymie Ann's delicious body.

He felt an ache in his legs that informed him it was time to get up and stretch. He closed up his laptop, took the glasses from his face and set them both on his desk. He peeked over at Max, who was still half asleep in his dog bed. Poor guy had hardly moved since they'd brought him home earlier other than to lift his head, occasionally wag his tail, and shift positions one time. Jack gave Max a pat on the head as he wandered out to the kitchen for a drink.

Once there, he reached for a fresh mug but then realized he hadn't cleaned the mugs from earlier, when Aymie had joined him for tea. He picked up her mug, rinsing it and wiping the pink lipstick stain from the rim of the glass before loading it into the dishwasher. That shade of pink looked so lovely on her pouty, full lips. He would bet that she was very good with those lips. Shaking his head, he filled up his own mug with water, downed it, and then wandered back through the house to take a break on the back deck.

The afternoon had grown to be quite sunny. There was a gentle breeze that wafted across the neighborhood, shaking the trees and scattering pollen and the smell of spring across his deck. He stepped outside and inhaled deeply of the afternoon smell, feeling his spirits lifting from just that scent.

Was he daring enough to approach her again? Was it worth the risk? Maybe he'd interpreted her body language the wrong way, and Aymie hadn't been giving off the signs he'd been reading. Perhaps she didn't want him to kiss her at all, didn't look at him the way he'd thought. Typically Jack was a good judge of these things but...maybe this girl just got to him and muddled his judgement. Was it worth the potential backlash if he approached her and was wrong? She'd go to her mother, her mother would go to the whole damned street, and everyone would be talking about Jackson Davis, the dirty pervert next door who made a pass at the Monroe girl half his age. It made him cringe to consider.

...but what if she did want it? What if Aymie did want him to kiss her, did look at him with hungry eyes, and did send him all the signals that she wanted more? There was something between the two of them that was nearly tangible. It hung thick in the air between them in his kitchen, like electric sparks that danced around them and drew them close. It was palpable. Intense. Passionate. He needed to know more. Was he fooling himself, or did she feel it too?

Jackson looked up towards Aymie's house, and let out a soft sigh. If nothing else, he should at least apologize if he came on too strongly, grabbing onto her like that as she went to leave. It was inappropriate, whether she wanted him or not -- if she wanted to leave, he should have let her go. He resigned to head over to her place later tonight and offer an apology. Plus, he still had to deliver her afghan back to her.

As he mused and considered, his eyes fell on Aymie's bathroom window. Typically, she kept the curtains closed but she'd opened up the window today and he had an unobscured view into the room. What he saw come into view set his eyes to widen, and his heart rate to quicken. She was there, completely naked, wiping herself down with a washcloth.

Fuck. Fucking...fuck. This girl was powerfully attractive. She had an envied, hourglass figure, all hips and curves and softness in all the right places, with flawless skin and hair that cascaded down her shoulders and back in chocolate waves that made him want to run his fingers through them. He caught himself staring, taking her in. Her breasts sat perky upon her torso and she wiped them down with the cloth, causing her nipples to harden. Jack wondered how they'd feel between his lips, his teeth. She looked flushed, her cheeks red and hair wild and messy. Had she just had sex? He'd seen her boyfriend's car pull up into her driveway. Perhaps they'd spent the afternoon fucking.

That thought brought an intense twinge of jealousy to his chest. Another man's hands on her body, another man's lips on hers, another man's cock buried inside of her was too much for Jackson to think about right now. Aymie turned in the window and caught sight of him looking at her, and his pulse quickened even more. He should go. He should go inside and forget what he'd seen. He really was the dirty pervert who lived next door, watching this young girl naked in her bathroom.

But then Aymie did something he didn't expect. She dropped her washcloth and stepped fully up to the window, giving him an unobscured view of her perfect, naked body. His eyes widened even more. She knew he was looking at her. She knew...and she didn't turn away or hide from him. It made his cock twitch. He watched with hungry eyes as she slid her hands up her body, cupping her breasts and tweaking each nipple into a stiff point. One hand slid down between her legs and out of view and Jack watched her mouth fall open as she touched herself. Fuck, she was playing with her pussy right in front of him, panting and watching him watch her. Did it turn her on? She looked so deliciously dirty, a grin on her face as she pleased herself in his view. He gripped himself tightly in his pants, feeling his cock growing harder by the second.

As quickly as it began, it was over. Aymie looked over her shoulder and called out something, then turned back towards him. There was a look of embarrassment on her cheeks and she grasped for a towel, hiding her beautiful, lush form from him and disappearing out of his view soon after He couldn't help the grin that came to his lips at the sight of her, hot and horny and breathless, with a look of urgent desperation on her face. She wanted him, and she wanted him badly.

He knew it. He knew she wasn't all prim and proper all the time. She was shy on the outside, but a sexual deviant smoldered beneath the surface, begging to get out. That made him strain. God, if he could get his hands on her...he could show her everything that she was lacking with that boyfriend of hers. Obviously something had to be lacking -- she wouldn't have been touching herself in front of another man if there wasn't. A deep seeded curiosity came to him and he wondered just what it was that she was searching for when she looked down at him from her window.

He had to see her. He had to talk to her, at least. Even if it didn't lead to anything else, he had to know what was going through her head, why she would do something like that. Something so impure and raunchy and taboo...with her boyfriend right in the next room.

A call on his cellphone forced Jack back to the moment and he shook his head, adjusting himself in his pants and headed inside to find his cell and take the call. It was all he could do to keep himself distracted from the temptress next door. It was going to be a long afternoon.

The time seemed to move at a complete crawl. Of course, when he needed them most, there were no more calls or messages to his cell. He must have checked his company accounts, taken stock of their current warehouse storage, and checked on Max no less than a dozen times. He decided to cook his dinner rather than order in, and found some ridiculous and convoluted recipe to try in order to keep his mind off of Aymie and her display.

It wasn't working. He'd read an ingredient and think of her skin. He'd add a teaspoon of this, and think of her hands. He'd mix in a dash of that, and think of her breasts, her expression. It was at the forefront of his mind. He had half a mind to call a doctor about his hard on lasting as long as it did -- it was going on five hours now. Granted, he wasn't fully erect that whole time, but it was still enough to begin irritating him. It was like he was fifteen all over again, all hormones and sex drive and uncontrollable boners.

On some level, he felt a bit of relief. It had been a long time since he'd been so worked up by a woman, let alone so damned quickly. He could still get an erection of course, but it was typically by himself with some raunchy porno on his phone to keep him titillated and his hand wrapped around himself alone in his bedroom. He was pushing 50 for Christ's sake, and men his age weren't exactly known for their stamina and fast refractory periods. But something about Aymie stirred him to his core, awakening a deep-seeded need that was hidden in his body, one he had assumed was disappearing more and more every day. It was comforting to know he was wrong.

He scarfed down his meal and fed Max, pleased to see that the golden retriever ate his entire meal as well. He was still groggy, whining from the pain in his legs now that his meds had worn off. Thankfully the vet had provided Jack with a bottle of painkillers for the pooch, and he gave Max one with his meal. Within twenty minutes he was back to snoozing in his dog bed, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Jackson's breathing was much less measured. He fetched Aymie's afghan from the drier and folded it neatly, packing it up in a bag before he put on his jacket and shoes and headed out the front door. It was a short walk to the Monroe house and his legs felt like jello while he walked. His heart pounded in his chest. What was he even going to say? How did you bring something like this up?

Before he knew it, he was knocking on the door. His hands shook and his breathing came in strange, uneven gasps. There was no answer at first, but he saw the lights on in the living room so he knocked again, a bit harder. Was she going to ignore him? To ignore this?

To his relief, the door opened a crack and he saw Aymie looking out at him timidly, in plaid pajama pants and a white tank top, her brunette hair tied up in a loose bun.

"Hi."

What kind of an opener was that? Christ, he really was acting like a teenager. Aymie hesitated for a moment, her eyes wide with surprise before she shut the door again, leaving Jack on her stoop with her afghan in hand. He heard a thud on the other side of the door, and could swear that he heard her gasp.

Was she really going to make him talk through the door? He looked over his shoulder for any other neighbors who might be awake. God forbid he give away his intentions to the whole damned neighborhood.

"Aymie...I just want to talk." When she didn't answer, he continued. "I have your afghan too. Can you open the door?"

He heard the handle on the door jiggle, like she'd set her hand on it, before it went quiet again, so he spoke up once more.

"...I know you're probably embarrassed about this afternoon. But I don't want you to be. We're both adults. We can...talk about it."

He sounded like some kind of a counselor and he cursed at himself under his breath. This was stupid. Clearly, she wasn't interested in what he had to say. He must have misinterpreted her, or taken things a step too far by showing up at her doorstep. He felt his chest grow heavy with the realization. Still, he waited for her response but after a solid minute of nothing but silence...he had his answer.

"I'll leave this outside. I'm sorry to have bothered you, honey. Have a good night."

His tone was dejected and monotone, but he couldn't help it. He'd built up this moment in his mind to be some electric, passionate meeting when in reality, all it was was some old, perverted man trying to regain some lost youth or outdated sex appeal. It made him sick to his stomach. Jack turned around and began down the stairs toward the driveway, aiming to cross the grass patch and return home.

The front door to the Monroe home opened, then closed again quickly. That made Jackson stop in his tracks.