Obligatory disclaimer: all characters depicted in sexual situations are over 18 years of age. Any resemblance to real people living or dead is purely complimentary, and should not be construed as meaning that I give a fuck. Have fun reading.
A soft sigh crossed her lips. School was over until fall, and since sheâd already done every possible course offered in previous summers, she had little to do beyond some studying to ensure she stayed as far ahead of the class as possible. Graduating early was high on her list of priorities, then off to a good school, and never coming back to the quiet little town. The prospect of having nothing to otherwise left her a little blue. Sheâd already finished her daily studies, which was why she now sat with her chin on her hands, resting on the window- sill. Staring outside at the soft summer day seemed far preferable to listening to the younger kids squabble, or watching the mindless soaps her mom insisted were âstoriesâ. She had however, already exhausted the possibilities in predicting which way the breeze would move the leaves, the clouds were less than inspiring, and the scent of the morning glories outside her window was beginning to pall.
The low rumble caught her attention briefly, until she realized it was just the man next door working on his chopper. Bored and thinking back, she remembered that sheâd not heard that engine running for more than two years; not heard it or even seen the bike since the car that used to park next to his truck wasnât there any more. A little further thought⌠sheâd not heard music over there, or seen flocks of bikes out front either. She couldnât even remember the last time sheâd seen the man; she did remember the way he looked though.
Letting her thoughts wander seemed as reasonable a thing to do as anything else todayâŚ. She eased into reverie.
* * *
The next house on the street was older than the rest, and shabby. It had been the old farmhouse, and was just left over when the developers went away. The kids would tease each other that it was haunted, but they knew better. Her parents had been happy that it finally sold, talking about maybe having people to play bridge with again, or golf. The happiness turned to shock when a few days later they heard a loud rumbling engine go by, and saw the big black bike turn in and stop by the porch. Jennifer had been weeding the flowers out front, and had a good view of the man getting off the bike. Her first thought was that he looked very tired; he leaned over stretching, then bent backwards with his hands in the small of his back: even fifty feet away she distinctly heard the popping.
She stared; he looked nothing like Daddy, or the teachers, or any of the other men sheâd seen. He shed his worn black leather jacket in the heat and tossed it on the bike, then reached behind his head and untied something: she stared even harder as reddish-blond hair fell to his waist. The worn jeans and T-shirt he wore hid neither long lean hard muscle nor the grace of his movements as he went up and unlocked the door. Mom had come out and bundled her inside just then, and she didnât see him for a few days.
The next time she saw the man he was on the roof replacing shingles. He wore no shirt in the heat, and the sweat glistening as it coursed along his body caused a funny feeling at the pit of her stomach. She got used to the sight of him over the next few weeks; he was always working on the house, painting, replacing this and that. Dad quit bitching about the tattoos when he saw that the house was looking better than it had in years; Mom quit whining when she saw the weeds cut down, and the flowers growing happily around the now-cleared yard.
The next day a bunch of bikes rumbled by, and a few pickup trucks; they all parked in the shade around the old house. Dad stared in renewed disbelief as around twenty scruffy, bearded men, and a few women milled around. The women went into the house, opening every window, some of the men carried in cleaning supplies. The rest of the men stripped down to jeans and boots and began tearing down the rotten old fence out front.
They piled the rotted wood into a clear area and surrounded it with weathered rocks. By the time the sun was going down there was a new fence erected. Dad started to look a little less stormy, and when the women trouped out carrying food he looked nearly normal. The normal look went away when the insistent throbbing of rock and roll music started; he pulled the shades and insisted everyone stay inside. Three days later Jennifer had her twelfth birthday and became Jenny.
Mom and Dad stayed grumpy about the man over the next few months, except on the weekends the man was away. The earnest disapproval she felt emanating from them intrigued her, especially when she finally asked Dad why. He just said âWe stay away from people like that baby: they arenât like us.â She knew that wasnât an explanation, and when she asked Mom she just shuddered. Jenny continued watching, and gradually started thinking of the man as âhersâ, just because she could.
That feeling lasted until the day she saw him driving his truck home, loaded down. When the car pulled into the drive behind him she thought nothing of it. When he scooped up the woman who climbed out and carried her over the threshold Jenny got a bit pissed.
She slowly got over it, and noticed other things⌠the man smiled a lot now. The woman was undeniably pretty: tall and willowy, long auburn hair and flashing green eyes. Over the next few years Mom and Dad gradually got to know them, loaning tools back and forth and trading recipes. August began sitting for Jenny and the younger kids when her parents wanted to go out. Jenny learned things about makeup from her, and clothing, and when her period came August was the one she ran to for help.
She began spending time over at the old house, and noticed Johnny even more, but in different ways. She saw the glow in his eyes when he saw August, and the way his hands moved when he played guitar or was building something. She watched his hands when he was petting one of the dogs or stroking one of the cats; strong hands, that moved slowly and gently⌠that flutter low in her belly came back sometimes.
She and August began talking about boys, and Jenny became Jen. She knew the two of them were very happy together, and was completely shocked the day she came home from school and found a bundle in her room with a note on it: âIâm leaving kiddo, these are for you; have a Happy fifteenth birthday.â