The Neighbor 9

He was a tall man, not too tall, just right she might say. His hair was a blondish brown, eyes as brown as eyes can be, his build was muscular, but evenly cut. His smile was his best feature, that is what she dreamed about when she fell asleep with him on her mind. A man that she has never touched, or even spoke to since she moved in next door to him, about six weeks before. Her heart pounded when he was outside working on his house, washing his car, weeding the garden, no matter what he did outside in the hot July sun, he was topless. His dark brown skin made golden from the blistering sun, his smile whiter and prettier because of it. His shoulders were his next best feature, excellent shoulders. Ones that made you feel secure if you were walking beside him, ones that called out strength. He was definitely a man that she could fall for and to be honest, probably already had.

As she moved from the window her dreaming spot as she liked to call it. her thoughts of the neighbor lingered in her mind. She wondered often of him, what he would do at night all alone. Was he lonely like her? Did he have friends that he spent time with? What did he do for a job? She saw him leave at the same time every morning, she saw him come home at the same time every evening. She worked from home, she was not a recluse, but close. She loved the way he looked in the mornings, fresh, ready to tackle the day. He left his house in a business suit and tie, he drove his fancy black car out of the driveway, she noticed he was always careful to watch behind him, how kind she thought. She wondered if the drive into town was a long one for him, or maybe he had to drive all the way into the big city to work. Possible he was a banker, maybe a lawyer, one that fought for rights of children or something worthwhile such as that. The possibilities were endless.

He only left her thoughts for moments at a time, when she had to take an important business call that didn't allow her mind to wonder. Then as soon as she said goodbye, there he was again, walking through her mind as if he belonged there, as if for some reason he just moved in and set up residency. She would think about how soft his hair would be on her fingers as she ran them through his curly locks, what would his skin taste like to the touch of her tongue, what kind of strength laid in his fingertips if he were to touch her. She had to find away to leave him in the dreaming spot if only for a little bit so that she could get some work done. Her book would never get to the publisher at this rate.

Work, wasn't really work, it was an outlet for her creative spirit. Her words would flow on the page, nothing spectacular, but her words none the less. She was working on a novel about her Granny's family. A book that her Granny would be proud of. The southern woman would be proud of anything her oldest granddaughter wrote, but Emily was trying her best to keep this as authentic as possible. Following stories that she had been told since she was a little girl, she was trying to compile them in chronological order, keeping them just as they were told to her, from the beginning of her great great grandfather picking cotton, to present day when her grandfather (pa pa) working for the state department, on land funding. Hard, but gratifying work she had ahead of her.

The time had come for the neighbor to come back home. The nameless body that pulled into the driveway must have had a hard day at the office, his tie was already removed, the grimace on his face was a sure tell sign of a stressful day. His hair was messed up, walking to his front door he was still running his fingers though it, like trying to tame the curly locks, and frustrated that he couldn't. She sat in her dream spot and watched as the frustrated neighbor fumbled with his keys in the door, and entered his home. The door closing behind him, only led her mind to wonder how much she wanted to help him, to hold him in her arms and whisper to him how everything would work itself out. How she desired to tell him, what she thought about sitting there in her dream spot, how she longed to yell "hello" across the yard, and pray he would respond kindly. Night falls, the darkness across the street was discouraging.

Off to bed, her thoughts still with the neighbor, wondering if his sleep was restless, or peaceful. Hers would be restless until she convinced herself that he was ok, that he was sleeping soundly. She laid there in her bed, her thoughts drifting through her mind like clouds through the summer sky. Thinking of him, how did he sleep, on his stomach, his side, his back. Did he wear cute little man pj's to bed, or plain boxers, or maybe he slept in the nude like she did. When he slept did he snore, or lay quietly. She wondered what it would be like to have him next to her. Would he sleep with his arms around her, would he cup her bare breast in his hand, would his thumb run across her erect nipple, would his breath on her shoulders be so warm, would he kiss her shoulders and hold her close to him. Would she be able to resist kissing him, would he desire her so much and complete her most every night.

These random thoughts that float through her mind, are the thoughts that keep her awake for a few moments longer, the kind of thoughts that make her womanhood pound with desire. The wetness so warm between her fingertips as she touches herself, wondering what his fingers would feel like touching her. Would he be tender, would he consume her totally, would his erection be so hard against her body begging to be let inside her. Would she accept him fully, would she open her world to him and let him in slowly at first. The thoughts getting hard to block out, she wants the neighbor now more than ever, her fingers wet with her own juice, willing herself to orgasm. Off to sleep, to dream of him as she lays in a peaceful rest, knowing that someday.. Just someday she would say hello to him, and he would say hello back.