Love Thy Neighbor

Author's note: This story is an independent sequel to "Laura's Fire", published in the Romance category, and "Being Free Together", published in Lesbian Sex category.

All comments and ratings are greatly appreciated.

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Laura was laying in a hammock stretched between the large trees at the back of the lot. Foliage cast a bright, dappled, light green shadow over her. She swung lazily side to side, listening to hammering noises that wafted out through the open windows. Sky above was light blue and had that metallic tint it got when it was hot enough. There wasn't a cloud in sight.

The noises stopped and she smiled. She closed her eyes and lay still, letting the hammock come to a stand still. She tried to estimate how long it would take for Tommy to get to her.

She could smell him before she could hear his footsteps rustling in the dry grass below his feet. He moved gracefully for a man of his size. He wasn't huge but he was muscular and taller than she was, and she wasn't so short herself. She smelled him, the warm scent that was him, he had been sweating while he was working.

She heard a clink, he was probably setting something down on the table nearby. Something to drink no doubt. Maybe iced tea.

He kissed her cheek and she shivered from the sudden touch. He squeezed in the hammock next to her, and she giggled when it swung wildly. It was crowded and he was half on top of her, holding onto her like it would keep them from falling off. He had only his shorts on and she could feel the heat of his sweaty skin through the thin summer dress she was wearing. He nuzzled his face into her neck and sighed in contentment.

"Here you lay chilling while I slave," he mockingly complained.

"Can't say this is chilling," she replied.

"No," he agreed. "Is it too hot for you? We can pick the next project somewhere up north again."

"This is really nice for a change," she said. "Don't worry."

"I don't," he said and kissed her neck. It was almost ticklish but arousing nonetheless.

"Are you taking a break?" she asked. "For how long?"

"For as long as it takes," he said and kissed her again.

He kissed slowly up her neck to her ear, then followed the edge of the reddish birthmark she had on her cheek, straying from it to get to her lips.

"Are you writing something hot today?" he asked but didn't give her a chance to answer before kissing her again. They caressed each other with their lips, he touched the arch of her upper lip with the tip of his tongue and traced it slowly. He slipped his hand under her dress and touched her thigh. She loved the feeling of his rougher skin on hers, his hands were hard and calloused now that he did so much physical labor.

This was the fifth house they were working on. Or he was, to be specific. They had settled into a routine; she contributed to the buying price of the house if he couldn't afford all of it on his own, but she rarely did any work. She was handy herself, but he was really good at renovating and he loved doing it. Sometimes she helped along with something that needed two people to do, and it was nice to work with him, he was patient and nice even if she screwed something up.

She was mostly writing. She had written one book, soon to be published, and its characters had been so captivating she was working on a sequel. She had gotten a publishing deal despite refusing to participate in any and all of the publicity stunts the publisher had requested, she wasn't a sociable person and definitely didn't want to get exposed to any attention. The story had been good enough to sell itself and she had gotten her way.

In Laura's opinion it was an ideal life. It was just the two of them, drifting from place to place, unbound by schedules and any conventional routines. They'd had pets in the beginning, she'd had a cat and he'd had a dog, but since they'd died of old age they hadn't gotten new ones to keep their life simpler. They weren't rich but they weren't getting poorer, and she could always seek out another job as a librarian if things went south. For him it wouldn't be so easy to find employment due to his criminal past, but so far he was doing just fine by renovating houses to add value and then selling them again.

And to be with Tommy. She had been teased all through her childhood and adolescence because of her birthmark, and it had made her a social hermit longing for love but unable to find it. Then she had been reunited with her childhood neighbor, Tom, who had taken her in after her house was destroyed in a fire. The rest was history, as they said.

Sometimes she worried if it would be enough for Tommy to just be alone with her. He was more sociable and outgoing, and currently they spent almost all of the time being just the two of them. They moved around, depending on where they found the next house that sparked his interest to buy and fix up, and so it made little sense to try to bond with anyone. They rarely even talked with anyone else. But they did talk amongst themselves, they talked about everything, it was so intriguing to be let in on his soul like that. And to let him into hers.

Sex was also marvelous. She didn't have all that much previous experience, but she had trouble imagining it could get any better than this. He was a little over forty and she a little under, and they still had enough stamina to do it often enough. It had been good from day one, but now they were venturing deeper into it, testing it out together, and it was only getting better.

They had discovered that neither of them was very kinky in real life, but they had open minds and were willing to try things and talk about them, trying to figure out what it was about fantasies that they found arousing. They both harbored a love for erotic literature and it was a great source of inspiration. It was an important part of her book as well, and making love often and writing about it seemed to feed each other just nicely.

Tommy's palms were rough but his fingertips were very gentle. He had reached high enough to establish she didn't have panties on, and now he sighed in happy surprise as he slowly slid his fingers along her wet labia.

"I'm thinking it won't take that long," he said playfully and dipped a little deeper. She moaned quietly and opened her thighs a bit wider, causing the hammock to swing again. He stroked her, making the movement grow slowly until he reached her clitoris on the way up. He kept building it, sliding up and down, taking his time. She kissed him with more passion, drawing him closer, willing him to go faster.

He didn't go faster but he pushed his finger into her. She hissed and tried to lift her hips to his hand but he didn't let her, he kept her body in place with his and continued his slow exploration of her pussy. He kept sliding into her, going up almost to her clit, then back down.

Her breathing was getting shallower and faster, and at just the right moment he let her lips go and kissed back down her neck. He gave her a little more room to move and she pushed her hips to his hand, making his finger slide all the way in. He let it stay in for a few seconds, then drew it out slowly, and when he pushed it back in he added another finger. He circled her clit lightly with his thumb and started working it in earnest.

He built up the speed and she was with him, and he was right, it wasn't all that long before she came. She was squeezing his fingers and moaning softly, her thighs trembling with tension before she slowly let it go, relaxing while still pulsing against his hand, letting it ebb away. He withdrew his hand slowly and she let her thighs back together, shivering when the movement momentarily added pressure to her still sensitive clitoris. He lifted his head from her neck and smiled down at her, putting his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean.

"Oh my God, Tommy," she said warmly. "I love your breaks."

"And I love you," he said very nicely and bent back down to kiss her.

"You're so sweet," she said. "You wanna cum?"

"I think I'll save it for tonight," he said. "Or did you have something in mind?"

"You know what I have on my mind," she said. "I'll see you later, then."

He kissed her once more and got up carefully, rocking the hammock so much anyway that she giggled again.

"Oh, and I brought you some iced tea," he said.

"Thank you, honey," she said. "You're the best."

He went back inside and she watched him go, smiling fondly. She would be looking forward to tonight.

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Behind the high white board fence Deborah was frozen in place, her eyes widened in shock. She was hanging the laundry out to dry, hot days like this were just perfect to get that nice outdoor scent on the sheets. She was standing between the fence and the lines with sheets, and she was happy there was something between her and the house, so David couldn't see her. She supposed her expression must be...what? Shocked? Surprised, at the very least.

She knew the house next door had been sold to someone who planned to renovate and sell again. It was good, old Ezekiel had probably let it go before he died, and she was glad it was sold and not just left to gather dust empty. It was better for the neighborhood. She hadn't yet seen the couple that had bought it, the fence between their yards was a high one and she hadn't ran into them anywhere else.

But now she had heard them. They sounded normal enough, not young, not old, but what they were saying was what upset her so. It had sounded like...it had sounded like...yes, what had it sounded like? There was one long pause that was so loaded it had made her blush. And she had let out a few very...private noises.

Not that Deborah had ever let out a sound like that. It made her strangely hot to think there might be a sound like that inside her.

They had sexual relations with David, of course. She was twenty five and her husband David was forty, and he had always said he had wanted a pretty young wife. They were religious and had strict rules on how to go about it, though. Sometimes she wondered how he knew the rules, she herself had never discussed the specifics with anyone, and most certainly not anyone in the congregation. But David seemed to know, and she had never questioned any of it.

It would be in the evening, and it would be on weekends. When they first got married two years ago it might be during the week as well, but things had settled since. He would tell her to go take a shower, and when she would come to the bedroom he'd be laying in bed, sheets around his waist, looking at her. She'd turn off the lights and get into bed as well, laying on her back next to him. He would spread lube on her...downstairs and push inside, coming on top of her, and then he'd do it until he finished. They had been trying to get pregnant the whole two years but so far they hadn't succeeded. She had once asked if they should go to see a doctor about it, but David had just said it was in the hand of God.

Sometimes it felt nice when David was doing it. Sometimes it took a little longer, and she thought she was maybe getting strangely wet before he was finished. In the beginning it had hurt a little, but then he had taken to using the lube, and it didn't hurt anymore. She was grateful he was so considerate and took so good care of her.

But the couple next door...what had they been doing? Out in the garden? She knew there was a hammock stretched between the large trees near the border of their properties, she had spied over the fence once. So maybe they had been there.

For the death of her she couldn't fathom what he could have done to her to make her sound like that. And she'd asked something from him, something so strange she had trouble wrapping her mind around it. She'd asked if he wanted to come. Come where? He was already there with her when she asked. And he'd answered he'd save it for tonight. Save what? She couldn't fill in the gaps and her mind kept mulling it around but it kept making no sense.

She best go back inside. There was more laundry to do, and since tomorrow was Sunday she best get it done today, because Sunday was a day for church and not labor.

David wanted to do it that night. For some reason she kept remembering the noise the neighbor lady had made that afternoon, and again it was strangely slippery.

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On Wednesday Deborah was picking up her parcel from the post office, David had given her permission to buy new curtains for the living room. The neighbor lady happened to be there at the same time and they were in adjacent counters.

Deborah knew who she was, of course. She knew everyone else here, so there was no doubt. She tried to spy on her but maybe she wasn't surreptitious enough, because after they'd collected their packages she addressed her.

"Good morning," she said and smiled. "I think we're neighbors?"

"Yes, I believe we are," Deborah answered courtly. "You bought the old Ezekiel's house, if I've understood correctly."

"Yes, at 14 Elm Street," the woman said and extended her hand. "I'm Laura."

"Deborah Ellis," she answered and shook her hand shortly. It was soft and slender and touching it almost made Deborah flinch. She wasn't used to touching anyone, the only time she touched even her own skin was while washing it. She couldn't expect earthly people to understand her religion's customs, and she knew it was polite to greet in this manner.

Laura was a little taller than her and older as well. She had straight, brown hair in a ponytail and gray eyes. She wasn't wearing makeup but her lips were red and her brows and lashes were dark regardless. Deborah felt gray and colorless compared to her, her hair was a shade of dirty blond and so were her brows and lashes.

The most distinguishable feature on Laura's face was a birthmark on the left side of her face, it was reddish and covered half her cheek and her ear. She was slender but not thin, she had full breasts and round hips. Deborah thought she looked feminine and somehow fertaily maternal. She had a fleeting suspicion their infertility might be her fault, that she was too scrawny to conceive.

"Darn, this is heavy," Laura said and heaved the box better into her arms. "My book's out of the press and I think the publisher sent me a hundred copies. I only asked for one, but I guess they didn't believe me."

They walked outside and Laura put the cardboard box at the back of her car. Deborah found herself lingering. She was curious and even when she was embarrassed by her nosiness she stood by and looked at the box. Laura tore it open and peeked inside.

"Yup, at least twenty," she said. "You want one?"

Deborah didn't know what to say. She had read books, of course, even fictional books, even after graduating. Before she could answer Laura had taken a copy and given it to her.

"Here you go," she said. "Just toss it if you're not interested. I'll see you later!"

And she got into her car and drove away.

Deborah walked to her car with the book. She hid it under her parcel in order to drive home and look at it there. David wouldn't be home until Friday, he was on some sort of a business trip. He didn't explain his job and she didn't ask, it wasn't her place to ask. She would pack his suitcase for him as per his instructions and when he came home she'd wash his clothes and put the suitcase away. She had two days to determine whether to tell David about the book.

The thought stopped her. Why wouldn't she tell? And would that be lying?

She drove home and carried her things inside. She ironed the new curtains and decided she would hang them in the window after the afternoon tea. It was good to keep a steady schedule, even on the days she was just alone, and now it was time for tea.

She made herself a cup and sat by the kitchen table to drink it. She drew Laura's book closer and looked at the cover. "The Dark Years" was printed on top above a picture of two people standing close together, portrayed in front of the window so that they were only silhouettes against the white, flowing curtains. She started to read.

The protagonist was a woman. Deborah leafed ahead to get an overall feel of the book. Her eyes fixed on a sentence and she paged back until she found it again.

"You wanna cum?"

It was the same sentence she had asked him on the hammock, she was sure of it. But why was it spelled like that? She read the following text more carefully and her eyes grew wide.

Oh, sweet Lord.

She thought she definitely shouldn't read this. If something was sin it was this; there was no doubt in her mind. And yet she couldn't turn her eyes away. Her cheeks grew hotter and hotter as she went through the text.

It described a...carnal...encounter between the protagonist and a man. She began to understand the word "come" hadn't been misspelled, but that it was used to mean something entirely different than she'd thought. The words describing the protagonist's feelings were also strange to her, and yet she clung to every one, and it made her somehow restless.

Her heart was pounding after she'd read the passage. Oh, this was definitely not a book to show David. It was a book she shouldn't read herself. It was something to burn in the fireplace. She should...she should stash it in the barn and read it when David wasn't home.

The thought scared her, it was so rebellious and sinful and strange. And yet she knew that was exactly what she was going to do.

She hung the curtains next. She stood on a stool and reached to get the old ones loose from the clips. Something in the way she stretched her hands up made the fabric on her dress and the curtain to press against her front, and she shivered at the touch. She got the first curtain ready and got down from the stool, looking down at herself. To her amazement she noticed her breasts looked somehow different. Somehow...pointed. She touched one carefully, and jolted at the touch. Her nipples were hard, they were standing out, they were like small rocks. She stared at them in mute puzzlement for a while, shook herself a little and climbed to get the other curtain.

That evening before taking a shower she stood naked in front of the tall mirror in the bedroom and looked at herself. Her breasts looked normal again, nipples were a little elevated but smooth and round, not hard and pointed. Could she be pregnant at last? Maybe that was causing changes in her body.

She read the book in bed and to her excitement and horror found out there were multiple similar scenes in the book, some portraying things she never could have imagined herself. It made her hot and flustered again, and it was very difficult to get to sleep.

—#—#—#—#—#—

The next day Deborah found herself meticulously weeding the flowerbed that was closest to the fence between the two lots. She was spending a lot of time doing it and debating with herself if it was slothery or if she was just being thorough. On some level she knew she was doing it because she wanted to see if the couple would be in the garden again. Or hear, at least.

She moved a little towards the edge of the bed to reach yet more weeds. She noticed there was a knothole in the fence and in spite of herself she went closer and peeked.

There was the house, and there was the hammock. And on the hammock was Laura. She had on a short and flimsy summer dress of thin yellow fabric, it was so thin it was almost see through. She was almost sitting, leaning towards the opposite end of the hammock, her legs perched in front of her. And in her crotch...Deborah couldn't really see, her thighs shadowed it...it almost looked like she didn't have panties on, but that couldn't be, could it?

Laura glanced towards the house and Deborah realized she had been reading. Now she looked at the man, what had she called him? Tommy? Who was walking from the house with two glasses.