Picet Fences

Let me tell you how the temperature of Frank & Wanda's fantasy-sharing in the late morning of the hottest day of the year, previously told in

Rear Window

, rose even higher when their view shifted to the front yard. The grass on the other side seems at least as green as on their own.

• ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ • ♥ •

Dust particles danced in the sunlight filtering through the blinds. It reflected on the polished metal as the fork's prongs punctured mellow skin. Red liquid stained once white cloth. Wanda's voice breaking the silence was clad in drama.

"Oh, how I love it!"

Frank watched a blood-red drop getting caught before running down her chin and being sucked off from her finger, and said, "You really like to make a show, don't you?"

Hand on her bosom, Wanda recited, "O Romeo, Romeo... retain that dear perfection... take all myself."

"Honestly, sometimes I feel like your amateur acting nights rubbed off on you a bit too much."

Laughter filled the shiftless summer air before another tomato slice vanished into Wanda's mouth. "Funny. You never complain about my role-playing skills when we're upstairs."

"Because your bedroom performances are such a delight. But this..."

"Stop beefing, it's just salad," she said through chewing teeth.

"Can you blame me? You're the only mouth-watering delicacy in this room." Frank stared suspiciously at the intimidating piece of lettuce Wanda had fished from the carnivore's nightmare his salad bowl was.

The green leaf moved in hypnotic circles on the end of her fork, "Just one more bite, darling."

As the threat of the incoming vegetable drew nearer, he dodged her attempts to feed him.

"Stop that, and open your mouth like a good boy."

Frank leant back further, on the edge of falling over with his chair, and shook his head, tight-lipped.

"Open up, you know it's good for you," Wanda wooed, her voice artificially sweet.

"Nnnnh," Frank pushed through clenched teeth.

"Drop that jaw," the honey in her voice was gone.

Still, his head shook violently.

"Mmh, if not the stick, would you like the carrot instead?" Wanda mused, a saliva-laden finger turned her white top's fabric semi-transparent, a dark pink circular patch beneath becoming visible.

Frank's jaw dropped involuntarily.

"Oh, it's so fulfilling to see you working on your button issues," Wanda exclaimed triumphantly.

Grumpily munching the bit he was fed with, Frank looked down and asked, "What's wrong with my buttons?"

"They were threatening to come off and hit me in the eyes."

Frank sucked in his belly and bathed in denial, "They would never..."

"Mmh, what a sight, Mr Sexy-Abs. For how long can you stay like that?" Wanda teased, wiggling her eyebrows as her trigger finger moved under her left shoulder strap.

"You're so ineffable."

"Flattery!" More good-natured laughter filled the room. Ebbing down, it was quickly replaced by the midday heat heightened by her finger running down the neckline of her tank top, stretching and pulling at the soft material. "It might get you somewhere."

"I really wish I knew who sent you down your evil ways."

Her finger's movement became even more alluring when Wanda leaned forward as if she was about to share her most treasured secret, "You remember the Bennett's pool party last month?" Not waiting for Frank's acknowledgement, she continued, "You said hello to Steve and Keisha too, didn't you?"

"Yeah, hadn't seen them for ages. They looked good."

"Good? Good? Boy, they looked fantastic!"

"Can't tell, only had eyes for you."

"Awww, so sweet," followed by a quick punch to his shoulder, "but still, sweet lies are lies, Mister."

"Ouch, you really should train less. That one hurt."

"No," Wanda's finger dug into Frank's chest, "You should train more. Especially after I learned how much losing thirty pounds improved their love life."

His eyebrow climbed a bit higher.

"While you were being drawn to the grill like a moth to the flame, Keisha told me, in every damn graphic detail, how they overcame the steak coma and turned dessert time..."

"What's a steak coma?"

"Can't remember when we returned from

that

barbeque? Where your innocent wife got totally spoiled by some yummy people she hadn't seen in years, bragging about their nighttime activities." Her eyes closed for a moment, lost in the memory. "That sight alone when Keisha's tongue played with that darn carrot stick. All the while Steve's chin glistened with juice from the peaches he ate." She sighed.

"He had several of them, and each one left his mouth more sticky than the other." Wanda scooped up a rivulet of salad dressing flowing from Frank's lower lip. "Looking over from where we stood, his teeth sunk into the dripping pulp, I swear I could hear him suck each fruit dry, even from yards away. And to make it even worse, that sucker came over, a plate with cut figs in one hand, and a banana for Keisha in the other. You can't imagine how they relished their fruit. Food porn, literally!" Absent-mindedly, her coated finger pushed its way inside her mouth.

An audible pop announced it was clean before Wanda went on in a different tone, "But then, when wobbly-knees-wifey returns home, guess what she finds on the couch downstairs?"

"Ummm..."

"Yeah, Mr Lumberjack himself, deforesting the whole of Canada. Full-on asleep with a meat overdose. Gosh, I was so..." Another smack to Frank's shoulder.

"What did you do?"

"I kept our bed warm all on my own." Leaning forward over the table, she put heavy emphasis into each syllable, "All. Night. Long. Until I felt like plum pudding and forgot my name. And that's why..."

Coming back from her past debauchery, she found Frank's eyes had traveled down. "Stop daydreaming!" But her actions betrayed her words. Her punching hand had started caressing ever so softly the tender flesh begging for attention, a kind of shadow play projecting her state of arousal on the silver screen of her tank top.

"And that's why we'll try to avoid those steak comas. Understood?"

Frank's answer didn't need a thousand words. He took a cherry tomato, sucked it halfway in and sank his teeth into the taunt skin, further and further stretching it. For a moment, his gaze left her eyes and found something more enticing further down. The poor red thing trapped in his mouth grew closer and closer to eruption.

"You know, in the old times, they called those love apples," Wanda chipped in, pointing at the red fruit.

All his control gone, the tomato split in half, squirting its innards in every direction. Wanda screamed with laughter.

"For being such a naughty good boy, eating all your fruit and veggies, you deserve the best reward." Jumping from her chair, she fled to the kitchen.

Frank's hopes flew high. "Bring an opener for the bottles too."

"Oh, no, not what you think." Looking around the doorframe, her eyes overly full with innuendo that even Henry Miller would have called obscene, Wanda purred, "But with cream inside."

Shuffling through the kitchen, she asked, "Will you make yourself comfortable on the couch? We'll do some spooning soon."

The sound of her feet returning across the cool tile floor of the kitchen behind him was complemented by her voice, "Close your eyes, it's a surprise."

The shock came fast, its chilling touch to his neck turned out to be a tiny ice cream box, "The best they have, Milky Mandy said."

"Milky who?"

"Mandy. Supermarket. Dairy section. Anything ringing a bell?"

"Err..."

Rolling her eyes, Wanda insisted, "You know her. Small brunette. Cute button nose she broke in a bar fight. Hazel eyes. Always wears three different earrings in her left ear that never match." But still she didn't see the reaction she was looking for. "Never thought I would ever do so." Holding up her cupped hands a few inches in front of her chest, she repeated, "Milky Mandy?!"

"Oh,

that

Mandy!?"

"You are such a visual guy!" she scolded him, before sitting down.

"Mmh, welcome on my lap." Frank grinned, looking down over her shoulder. "Am I in for a double-treat?"

Running the back of the spoon across her décolleté, she said coolly, "First of all, those twins are not on the table."

"Yet?" Frank asked, but his demands were ignored.

"And second," a spoonful of ice cream filled her mouth, "I want you to think about the word double-weight for a minute." Grinding her bubbly butt harder into his groin, Wanda shoveled another bite down her throat.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know what I wondered for the last few days?"

"No?"

More ice cream didn't find its way into his sweet-toothed mouth.

"I was wondering what happened to Mr Salty Caramel?" Her squinted eyes met his when she looked over her shoulder. "Which, if you haven't noticed yet," the cold of the dessert had made its way into her stare, "is my favorite companion on my home spa Saturdays." With that, she licked the spoon clean.

"Oh, what happened, what happened?" Frank mused for a long moment, eyeing the already half-empty tub of ice cream just out of his reach.

"Yes," Wanda insisted with a hop on his lap, eliciting an 'oof' out of Frank, "what did happen?"

"Weeeell, you know what might loosen my tongue?" Frank's futile attempt to grab the spoon earned him nothing more than a defying look.

"Deserve it!" Wanda dipped the spoon's tip into the melting mass and held it up, the bait warming rapidly.

The tiny morsel's swift deglaciation had a prompt effect. "Okay, okay. You remember the veggie casserole on Monday?"

"Yeeeah?" Her glare so startling the Spanish Inquisition would have felt like a playdate. "Go on!"

"Looking for the broccoli in the freezer, some peas must have slipped from an open bag. And when I was about to put Mr Caramel back to his cryogenic sleep, I slipped on those greenie meanies, and, POW," facepalming himself, "fell, face first, on the hapless boy, spattering the poor fella all over the floor."

Wanda listened in devout silence, shaking her head in disbelief.

"But lucky you, not the tiniest stain was left behind on your precious kitchen interior thanks to your more than able consort." With a smug grin, he pounded on his chest.

"I'd rather say some sort of con!" Wanda hissed, ate the runny leftovers, and with the spoon sandwiched between her fingers and Frank's left nipple hard, she twisted hard "That's for being one lousy liar." Turning around some more, she applied the same therapy to his right side. "And this is for not even trying to invite me to clean up the mess you made. Even though I suspect it only happened in your fantasy when you midnight-snacked what wasn't yours."

"Oooooh," Frank cooed, "if I'd known you love to lick the floor..."

Wanda jumped up, her full stature of five feet seven and three quarters of an inch - bun not included - towering over him. "Shirt off."

That side of her was a rare sight, and it always caught Frank off-guard. "What?"

"Take off that shirt. Now!" The temperature felt inside the living room fell a few dozen degrees.

"But..."

"Need help?" The ice cream and spoon abandoned on the table, her fingers opened the scissors she had pulled from the nearby workbasket.

"No," he squeaked, fumbling with the topmost button to no avail. "What will the neighbors think?"

"Huh?"

Frank bobbed his head suggestively in the direction of the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the freshly mowed front lawn.

"Mmh," Wanda held her breath for a moment, sat down on his lap, this time facing him, and listened to the sounds of the washing machine taking care of the absent curtains somewhere in the depths of the house.

Frank looked at his wife who seemed to be lost in thought, never realizing the scissors' threat until it was too late. "Hey, stop it! That's my favo..."

"Nope," another button learned about gravity. "Had your chance."

"I..."

"

I

," Wanda drowned him out, "think Anne and Lionel, for a change, would like a show as well."

"What do you mean?"

With the next button free of its threads, Wanda put away the scissors annoyed by the slow process, and yanked open the shirt, sending the rest of the buttons flying, and satisfied with her neat work, grabbed the ice cream again.

The sudden coldness of half a spoonful on his chest soon forgotten as her warm tongue licked up the sweet treat. Her eyes held an impish gleam as she looked up, a grin spread across her mouth, sharply sucking in the fruity aroma and his already stiff nipple elongating in between her insatiable lips.

Coming up for air, Wanda finally said, "Come on, don't tell me you've never noticed Anne is more than devoted doing her gardening whenever you both are out there?"

She spread more ice cream across his chest and licked up every sugary trail that dared to touch his upper abs. "And don't tell me you've never noticed her skintight shorts and barely-there tops?"

The next dollop of mango flavored dessert made his mouth water; spread around his lips, but not staying long enough for his own tongue to sample the taste as Wanda's was quicker.

"Told you I would have loved to help cleaning."

The spoon scraped along the small bowl's bottom.

"And unlike you, I do like to share," Wanda bantered with Frank, feeding him the last remnants that would have looked like a miserable trifle even on a teaspoon.

"Now tell me," Wanda said as she leaned forward and looked him deep into his eyes, "was it our dessert or thinking about your voluptuous neighbor that caught the attention of your lower department?" Her fingers embraced the striking bulge in his shorts.

"Of cour..."

"No, no, take a minute, think about it. Now that I made the point for the ice cream, I think it's only fair for Annie's arguments to be heard too," rubbing her groin against his, she added, "and more importantly, felt."

"You really don't nee..."

But Wanda's lips sealed around his, quickly escalating into the scandalous French version of kisses stealing his breath and words right out of his mouth.

"But I'd love to make her case." She stood and continued. "It's really hard to miss her show whenever you're out there as well, you know. So fascinating to see her parading in their front yard, trying to draw your eyes", her hands slid down over her own seductive curves as her hips swayed from side to side, "to her hot...se-xy...bo-dy."

On their way back upwards, her hands gripped the hem of her top, exposing more and more of her midriff, coming to a stop just under her tantalizing mounds now squeezed together.

"Have you never wished the tiny pieces straining to hold her melons in place would fall victim to a sudden case of wardrobe malfunction?"

Waiting some seconds to see his eyes go glassy - a clear sign his mind was working in visualization overdrive - she raised her hands above her head, fingers still holding on tightly to the white top.

It took longer for the realization to set in, but finally Frank's dropped jaw lifted just in time to swallow the pool of drool that had formed in his mouth. His eyes followed the wide arc with which Wanda sent the top into a distant corner of the living room.

"Wouldn't you love to see her get down to gardening like this." But the miming that followed meant to illustrate her words didn't look anything like planting and pruning. It reminded him more of her high school cheerleading days, and the one-time hubby-exclusive performance after watching that infamous 'Home Stripper in 10 Days' tutorial video. But those memories were tainted; it had ended not only with a bruised ego but slapped cheeks too, and not in any sense of kinky thinking. Yes, one could imagine the finger-raking across his chest was evocative of furrowing. The plucking grip on his erection being a vague metaphor for weeding. But Frank found no word in his limited vocabulary of landscaping for her warm, damp breasts sliding down the slope of his forehead, dangling on the cliff of his eyebrows for a moment, then slamming shut his eyelids and, supported by her helping hands, giving his nose the most sensational tit job in recorded human history.

The vivid twitching in his shorts slowly died down as Wanda watched in amusement, hands on her hips, never minding any lucky passerby catching an unhindered side glance over the hedge. During siesta time on Saturdays, their number was usually rather limited.

"Now, if I have all of your attention again, let's address the point why she goes weak at her knees whenever you trim that hedge out there." It was Wanda's turn now, to nod suggestively in the direction of the window.

Still mesmerized by what was on display in front of him, Frank babbled, "Umm... maybe... because... she doesn't like the sound of the clippers?"

"She doesn't like the... You mean if she bends over like this..." With her hands on the low coffee table, Wanda bent down, her tush pushed out so far she pressed Frank deep into the cushions of the couch. She burst out laughing, "Surprisingly, you have a point there," her hips wiggled from side to side, "I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, and it completely masks the moans you make."

"What moans?"

Changing her sideways movement to an up-and-down motion, with some more gusto of her hips pressed into his groin, produced exactly what he had asked about.

"Amazing, all I can hear is my own lecherous panting."

The clearly mock sighs took on a more sincere tone with every moment passing by. Her hips' gyrations grew more urgent until she leaned down further, pushing her butt higher.

"You ever realized she goes commando?"

"You mean she's not...?" Frank coughed, trying to sit up straighter, "How can you tell?"

"Oh, you don't recognize no-panty-lines when you see them?" She asked, winking an eye, and shaking her ass.

"I said 'see' not 'touch'," Wanda berated him teasingly, clearly aware where his hands were aimed at.

Rising from her bent-down pose like a cobra following the snake charmer's lure, she gave him one more wink over the shoulder as she made her way to the window, wiggling out of her conspicuously last piece of clothing.

"Is that," she slapped her bare ass, "what's in you guys' imagination that gets you all hot and bothered?" Wanda asked, half of her front side unveiled to the outside world. "I'm pretty sure that's what's on Lionel's mind when he watches you and Anne going at it on the front lawn."

"He does... hey, we don't... what?" Frank tried to catch up.

"Oh, yeah," Wanda started, seemingly scatterbrained by the path her hand had taken, now slowly moving somewhere on her center front. "One fateful forenoon a few weeks ago opened my eyes to the front-runner on his watch list."

Her voice sounded more distant, her hand's play became more expressive when she continued her story. "There's that one hour when the morning sun lights up their bedroom window to clearly see what's going on inside - ours, in contrast, overcast in the shade hides me well enough that Lionel never feels watched, but instead lets all his inhibitions go."

Widening her stance, Wanda, still half-hidden in front of the window, seemed to replay that part of her memory with more than just words.

"He - unlike other husbands I, for the sake of anonymity, won't name here - was cleaning the windows when he stopped in the middle of the process and became the first of the front row audience to watch you both enacting 'A Midsummer Day's Wet Dream'." Wanda turned so Frank could savor her whole profile accented by the daylight like a cutout. "Actually, what were you two debating across the street?"

"Mmh?... Oh nothing, just pleasantries. Like how well her roses tolerated the pruning in February, how accurate my trimming was going, you know. Umm, what else?" Frank dug deeper into his memories, "Oh yes, I complimented her last month's paint job of their picket fence. Lionel's attempt a few years ago was so lousy, didn't you say so yourself?"