Jack looked out the window when he noticed the light turned on in his neighbor's bedroom. He glanced at his watch, 11:00pm, bedtime.
He got up from the recliner and, instead of closing his curtains like a respectable man, he turned off the lamp so he couldn't be seen watching. Diane never closed her curtains. Maybe she was just naïve, or even better, an exhibitionist. He didn't care. Her bedtime was always the high point of his day.
Jack saw Diane naked before he even knew her name. It was three months ago during a spring Nor'easter storm. The white stuff piled up a foot an hour. The county plow went by, closely followed by an SUV. The vehicle stopped across the street with its flashers on, in front of the snow bank where the driveway should have been. The driver got out, stood in the headlights' glow, and seemed to assess the possibility of ramming through the three foot bank.
"Must be the new neighbors," said Jack to Rascal, his black lab. "Let's go make a good first impression."
Jack put on his parka and trudged halfway down his driveway, yelling, "Hello! I have a plow. I'll be right over."
The unidentifiable silhouette waved, and got back inside the car.
Fifteen minutes later, the neighbor's short driveway was cleared. And, since he was already out, Jack plowed his own, long driveway. By the time he'd finished, the person across the street had unpacked the vehicle.
The snowstorm intensified, so after Rascal did his bedtime toilet, they went back inside, leaving neighborly introductions for better weather.
Jack's house sits uphill from the one across the road, making it easy to see inside the second story windows. No curtains had been hung yet. No shades. The furniture was delivered a few days earlier. The unmade bed sat in plain sight. Movement in the window caught Jack's eye, so out of curiosity he looked in to see his new neighbor. It was a woman. She unrolled a sleeping bag on top of the mattress and began to hastily undress.
"Must be cold in there. Maybe the heat was off."
He couldn't look away. The view only improved with every fallen article.
"She must like to sleep in the buff, Rascal."
Rascal's tail thumped on the hardwood in response.
Once naked, she turned off the light, turned on a flashlight, and zipped up in her sleeping bag.
Jack slipped away from the window before he was spotted.
That was night number one.
Since then, they'd become friends. They'd shared their life stories. Diane moved back to New Hampshire to be near her daughter and grandchildren. Diane's husband, Larry, died two years earlier in a head-on collision with a drunk driver.
Jack told her about his wife Audrey's unfaithfulness with his best friend. But he couldn't tell her the most important thing. If he told her, she would pity him and think him less a man. He felt less, anyway. Prostate cancer robbed him of the most fundamental adult pleasure. Audrey left three weeks after the surgery, telling him she only stayed until he could to take care of himself. Apparently she was going to leave him before, but felt compassionate enough to help him through the first stage of recovery, for old time's sake. It didn't leave any fond memories.
It had been just over a year since the surgery. Doctor Weismann gave him a clean bill of health. Jack didn't feel healed. But at least the incontinence was over. No more pantie shields.
Now it was June. Diane slept with the windows open to let in the cool night breeze. He stood back in his dark room and waited.
Today, there'd been a new strangeness in her mood. He'd rototilled a garden patch for her. Together, they'd raked the clods smooth. When done, she'd brought him a beer, hugged him, kissed him softly on the lips, and said, "You can plow my garden anytime." Then she winked.
Jack wasn't sure if that was an offer for something more intimate or just playful banter. The beer helped lubricate his suddenly dry throat. No witty comeback sprang to mind. He just grinned stupidly. The rest of the day went on without incident. But the softness of her lips lingered in his memory. He licked his now in remembrance. Jack felt something out of the ordinary lie ahead.
And he was right. First, he saw Diane through the window. Then, unexpectedly, a man stood in front of her. He cradled the back of her head with one hand, pulled her close with the other, and kissed her. Not a chaste kiss, like Jack received. This was an all-out tongue twisting kiss with lots of grabbing and pawing.
Jack's heart sank. So, Diane had another male friend - a friend with benefits. He moved closer to the window to see down onto the driveway. A car with Maine plates sat next to Diane's. The only visitors he'd ever seen before was her daughter's family. This was obviously not a relative.
Jack looked up again through the bedroom window. Events had progressed. Diane stood topless, while her companion sucked one breast and fondled the other. She smiled blissfully, eyes closed, running her fingers through his grey hair.
Jack felt a surge of envy, arousal, and disappointment all at the same time. He groaned when Diane unfastened her lover's belt, unzipped his fly, and pulled out an expanding erection. When she knelt and put the cock in her mouth, Jack turned away and went to bed. That was enough torture for one night, or so he thought. About twenty minutes later she screamed in what must've been a grand mal orgasm.
The next morning the Maine car was gone before Jack got up. "Must've been a slam, bam, thank you Ma'am fuck, huh Rascal."
