My parents bought a new place and we'd just moved in. The house was very nice but it was going to take some time to get it (and us) properly organised. Mum was running around, trying to decide what furniture she wanted where, what she wanted to get rid, what she wanted to buy new.
It turned out that new covered all curtains and blinds. The few that were in the house were total crap. I pulled down the blind in my room and I really pulled it down. It came off its rollers and landed at my feet in a crumbling heap. Quite frankly, I considered that the condition of that blind was superior to the condition of my curtains. I pointed out to my mother that curtains and blinds had better be right up on top of her to do list.
There was a large double garage that had a lot of junk in it. It also had a lot of useful stuff according to my father. When he wasn't rearranging furniture for my mother or being dragged down to the shops to look at new furniture (and curtains, I hoped), he would be in the garage, trying to sort out the mess.
What really got me about our new place were the gardens. At some stage they had been lovely, well organised and thoughtfully arranged. Just not recently. Now they were an overgrown shambles. I mentioned this to my father.
"That was one of the attractions of this place," he said, his face perfectly bland. "Knowing how you like gardening I thought you'd see it as a challenge."
A challenge? Carving your way through the rain forest with a rusty machete, looking for a rare plant, would be a challenge. It would also probably be simpler that restoring this shambles back into a proper garden. However, I had my orders, however subtly given, and I turned my attention to the garden.
I didn't have to be back at work for a couple of weeks so I had plenty of time to start sorting things out. With the amount of amazing tangle in there I insisted that Dad get a mini skip so I had somewhere to dump everything. Then I pointed out that it would be a bit hard for me to dump the garden rubbish in the mini skip when he'd filled it with junk from the garage and maybe he should get it emptied and replaced.
The first few days went well. I was basically tearing out garbage and trimming overgrown bushes and it wasn't too long before you could get a decent idea of what the garden would eventually look like. Then came the first really hot day, warning that a hot summer was coming. After a few hours sweltering in the heat I decided to give the garden a miss for a few hours. Hopefully it would cool down a little in the late afternoon.
Mum had dragged Dad off to the shops again and I had the house to myself for a few hours. I came in from the garden, grotty and smelly and sweaty and hot and sticky and generally with a severe case of the irrits. I stripped off and took a shower, washing all of my discomforts away in a stream of warm water. (Not hot. Not in this weather.) I padded back to my bedroom, nude, feeling naughty and free.
Once in my bedroom I flicked on the air conditioner. This was the first time I'd required it. Why was I not surprised when it didn't work? I SMS'd a message to Dad telling him that he might like to check out modern air conditioners while he was out. He SMS'd "DAMN" back to me. Language, Dad.
We didn't have any fans. Our previous house had working air conditioners and we hadn't needed any. I went and opened my windows wide, hoping to catch what breeze there was. I also looked out at the garden, noting the work I'd done and the work that I still needed to be doing. Satisfied with my progress I then backed up to my bed, spread my arms wide, and just flopped backward onto it.
I just lay there for a few minutes. A little voice told me I really should get up off the bed and do some work around the house. There were still plenty of things that needed to be done. Boxes to unpack, things to be put away, some cleaning to be done. Hop up, get some clothes on, get to work, the little voice said. Stuff it, I said in reply. Everything can wait while I relax.
I really should have listened to that little voice. I was lying there, eyes shut, completely relaxed, and someone spoke to me, and that someone was not the little voice.
"Very nice. Very nice, indeed. You look quite lovely lying there like that."
Talk about an 'oh, shit' moment. I was alone in the house, naked, lying on my bed in a manner that was displaying everything I had and now I find I was not alone in the house. My eyes popped open and I was looking with horror at a large figure leaning against the doorway to my bedroom, admiring me.
I just froze for a moment or two, and he took the opportunity to keep right on looking. No apology and backing away. Not from this man. Then I snapped out of it and convulsed into a sitting position, arms folded across my breasts and legs firmly together.
I also recognized the man. I'd actually spoken to him several times across the fence. It was Tom, from next door. He was also a keen gardener and had given me a few tips while I was working. He'd offered to come around and help me if I thought I really needed it. So far I hadn't.
"Wh-what?" was about all I was able to say.
"I saw you cavorting around in here and thought I'd better come over and see if you needed some help," Tom said, "Especially when you stood in the window letting me admire you."
Oh, geez. I'd completely overlooked that a window in Tom's place was opposite my window, and I had no curtains or blinds yet. Thanks, Mum. I said to put those things on the priority list. Not only that, I'd been standing at the open window, boobs hanging out, wishing for a breeze and inspecting my garden. I flicked a glance at the window and, to my chagrin I was abruptly reminded that they were full length windows. It wasn't just my breasts that I'd had on display.
I looked back at Tom and the rotten man was looking amused.
"You know, when a man such as myself sees a nubile young woman making such a blatant display of herself there's really only one course of action open to them," he said, and the regretful look was he gave me was a masterpiece of more in sorrow than anger.
I could feel myself going pale. Unfortunately I could also feel an odd excitement starting to burn inside. An unwanted excitement. For god's sake, he was an old man. Nearly as old as my father.
"You're going to rape me?" I whispered, hoping I sounded horrified and not expectant.
"Rape you?" Tome exclaimed, sounding genuinely shocked. "For shame for even thinking I'd do something like that. No, I was thinking that your behaviour has been inappropriate and you needed a little gentle correction. I mean, flashing at the window. Shocking."
"Then what do you think you're going to do?" I demanded.
"Oh, I thought a spanking might help guide you to watching your future behaviour. Of course, if you'd prefer to be raped. . ."
His voice tailed off suggestively.
"No! Anyway, if you've got any complaints about my behaviour why don't you just take it up with my parents?"
"You're an adult," Tom pointed out. "I can't see your parents having much control over what you now do apart from looking at you in a disappointed way and shaking their heads sadly. And I really can't see your father giving you a spanking dressed the way you are."
He was right on both counts. If my mother knew I'd been flashing the neighbours (even though it was accidental) shaking her head sadly would have been just her reaction. As for my father, he wouldn't dream of spanking me, even if I was fully dressed. He'd be scandalised if he saw me naked.
"All right, you've made your point. I apologise. I was distracted when I found the air conditioner didn't work and I just automatically opened the window."
"And you opened them very nicely," said Tom, smiling.
He turned and looked up at the air conditioner. He thumped the wall next to the power point it was plugged into and it burst into life.
"Old Mrs Martin used to kick it," he said, indicating a scruffy patch on the plaster. "There's a loose connection. You just need to get an electrician to take a look at it."
"Oh. Thank you. Ah, if you don't mind I'd like to get dressed now."
"You're forgetting something," came the amused response.
The hell I was. I was hoping he would.
