The folks across the street had already been moved out for a week before I saw who moved in.
Wow! I mean, she wasn't a knock-me-over beauty, but what I saw was very nice. Very nice indeed. About 5'4", a little chunky but it looked nice, like a gymnast, you know? Short light brown hair. And when she bent over to pull some weeds -- a nice round ass!
She came over and introduced herself one day when she was walking her puppy. Turns out her name is Jenny. Real pretty brown eyes and a nice smile.
Pretty soon I noticed a car was be parked in her driveway Sunday morning when I went out to get the paper. It was the same car I saw there the night before. Guess Jenny had a steady.
Then one Saturday night I was sitting on my porch having a beer and reading by porch light like I enjoy doing to unwind. I saw a Mercedes pull up in front of her house and a female pop out, run up to the mailbox, reach under it for the key, and went inside. From across the street in the dark it looked like Jenny -- and I know that's where she leaves her key after locking herself out one day. I wondered what happened to her car (it's definitely NOT a Mercedes) but thought nothing else of it.
Sure enough, about ten minutes later boyfriend's car pulled up. And, sure enough, it was still there in the morning.
A couple days later I had to go across the street because the mailman delivered to the wrong house again. She looked really cute in a white hoodie and pink sweatpants.
"How's your car?" I asked, just trying to strike up a conversation.
"What do you mean?" she asked. I wondered if she thought I was making up a line.
"You were driving that Mercedes. I thought something happened to your Honda."
Suddenly her eyes went blank.
"That's my sister's car. I've never driven it."
"Oh, I just assumed it was you because you used your spare key, and your boyfriend came by a little while..." I caught myself, but not in time.
"Uh oh," I thought.
Jenny's eyes narrowed.
"Ron," she asked. "Are you sure you saw someone coming in here?"
"Yes. I saw the door open and saw the lights from inside and thought is was you, then I went back to my book."
Her face drained.
"That fucker," she whispered, not knowing I could hear.
"That was my sister Kelly," she said next, trying to smile. But I could tell she was upset.
"I'm sorry," I quickly replied. "I just thought you might have needed help with your car..."
"It's okay Ron, it's not you." Then she could not keep it inside any longer.
"Did you see my boyfriend's car here that night?" she asked, forgetting I had just told her I had.
Right now I didn't want to say anything.
"Please, Ron," she asked sweetly.
I nodded "yes".
"Ron," she continued. "I need to know. Was he still here in the morning?"
This time I spoke. "His car was. I don't know about him."
She nodded this time. Then her eyes lifted like she was thinking of something.
"Ron," she asked. "Could you help me with something? I know you're a writer."
I wasn't sure how she knew that, but I do write some so I agreed. Hell, I wasn't going to pass up some one-on-one time with Jenny even if it was to help her with her college homework or whatever the hell she needed. Maybe not college -- I guessed her to be about 27.
"You ever break up with somebody by e-mail?" she asked strangely as she led me to the den just to the left of her front door.
"I'm a little old for that," I admitted -- I have her by quite a few years. "You can't do that."
"You can if he spent the night with your sister," she snapped back angrily, but not at me.
Then she turned on her computer and started writing an e-mail. I asked if she wanted me to leave. Instead she actually asked me to help her write it!
I leaned over her shoulder -- damn she smelled good -- as she wrote. It was getting to be a VERY long e-mail she was writing. Plus, she kept changing things.
She shifted her shoulders a couple times. Just to be nice I leaned down and started rubbing her shoulders. They were very strong and very tight.
"Mmm," she smiled without turning from her computer. "I might have to hire you for that."
I laughed and told her it was my pleasure. She had no idea how much it was "my pleasure".
She kept typing and I kept rubbing. Then suddenly I found myself focusing more on her bra strap than on her shoulders. I started wondering what was under there, knew I'd never find out, and was about to leave.
"Do you do upper backs too?" she asked in a sad voice.
I decided it was the least I could do and started moving the heels of my hands over her upper back. After a while I started to move them a little lower -- I wanted to get as much of her as I could so I could have something to think about that night. You know what I mean!
"Do you trust me?" I found myself asking.
She turned, confused.
"This hoodie is in the way," I replied, and moved my hands underneath so I could give her a decent back rub. It was not sexual -- it was friends.
She acted as if I wasn't even there as she continued on the e-mail. I could tell from the way she was now pounding on the keyboard she was very angry.
I pressed my hands deep into her back and gave her the best back rub I could. Right now she was an unhappy lady and I had an opportunity to do something nice for her.
"That feels good," she whispered, for the first time acknowledging what I was doing.
"Good," I replied, stupidly but lost for anything to say. What I wanted to say probably would have got me slapped!
By now her hoodie was near her shoulders. All was well -- until I caught a glimpse of the white backstrap of her bra.
Just then she reached up and patted my hand.
"You're a good friend, Ron."
That did it. To hell with "friends". I wanted sexual!
I started moving my hands closer to her sides as I rubbed. For one, it was part of a decent backrub. But for another I wanted to be sure what I was going to do.
Finally I couldn't wait. "Hell," I thought. "All she can do is never talk to me again."
I took a deep breath, let my hands move up her sides.
Then let them slip over her chest.
Instead of screaming at me she moved my hands away.
"I thought you said I could trust you," she said in a not-quite-but-close-to-angry voice.
Actually, I never said that but it wasn't the time to argue with her.
"What the hell," I said to myself. "You won't get a better chance than right now, while she's pissed off at her boy toy."
"You can," I replied. I compromised and moved my hands to the sides of her bra. "I would never hurt you."
At that moment there were only two possible adult responses as to how the evening would end. We both know which one I wanted.
"You deserve so much better," I whispered.