The guy, Mr. Off the Script, had clearly moved in across the street. I saw him on the porch a couple of times, occasionally even kicking back with a friend. He nodded to me once or twice in a totally harmless and neighborly way. It made me grind my teeth. Through the window of his place, a large screen showed that video games were usually the evening's entertainment. I shrugged. If he'd rather shoot fake people in a game than shoot a hot load in my kind of willing, kind of reluctant pussy, that was his choice. I had locked him out anyway, but it would have been nice to see him try to get in. I was so conflicted, but I used those feelings to keep myself from going over and doing something rash. I'd survived for a long time with only my toys, and the last man in my life was a less than stellar catch. Once burned, twice shy.
I hated that his proximity was making me feel needy and frustrated. I'd hoped to continue our game, and tantalized him with closed curtains a few nights running. Then I went back to open curtains, but no dice. He was not playing my game. Maybe he was playing me. Worse, maybe he was done with me. I chose not to entertain those thoughts too much. I'd always been confident in my attractiveness, and I wasn't about to let some guy who occasionally hired himself out for sex get the better of me that way.
Anyway I had other things to take my mind off the matter. Work was busier than ever and my persistence and long hours were paying off. Someone also dropped a flyer under my door at home reminding me that the neighborhood barbecue was coming up this weekend. That was tomorrow. I'd enjoyed this event the past few years and this year would be no different. Some really nice people lived around here. I bet they had no idea that a sometime sex worker and a frustrated exhibitionist were playing out some twisted game of sexual dominance. I laughed to myself as I prepped the dishes for the potluck.
Making food always soothed me and I lost myself in the process for a while. I made my failsafe cold pasta salad, with heirloom tomatoes, fresh pesto, and creamy mozzarella. It looked amazing and I knew it tasted great. A last splash of white balsamic vinegar brought the dish to perfection. That finished, I had to decide on a dessert. I always thought this barbecue was a little tamer than it could be. So many staid and sedate wives who could release their inner hotwife... hmmm. Boozy popsicles seemed like a no brainer. Inspiration hit; tequila sunrise pops! Those would go like hotcakes. Obviously I would warn people, but these would be potent. I grinned to myself as I prepped the ingredients and placed the popsicle molds in the freezer.
The day of the barbecue dawned hot and sultry. It was nice to be able to delve into my non-work wardrobe. I had the cutest sundress that was just dying to be a part of my summer. Butter yellow, it hugged my boobs and showed off my complexion to perfection. To be honest, I felt a bit like Belle wearing it; that dress might have been the girliest thing in my closet. But even I could acknowledge that I looked damn good in it. I left my hair down, sweeping the brown waves over one shoulder. Coral lipstick, and I was good to go.
I picked up the glass pan of pasta salad and headed out the door, turning left toward the park where the barbecue was always held. The park was a beautiful space abutting the development, wooded on one side with a jogging path, and meadow with a few picnic tables. When I arrived the tables were already laden and my neighbors were milling about enjoying themselves. Someone had brought buckets of water balloons and the neighborhood kids already had some all out warfare going. I decided to steer clear of the water fight; no bra and a wet dress would not be conducive to keeping my dignity. I was pretty sure this cloth would turn transparent, displaying my large nipples to the interested community. Yeah, no thanks.
As I placed my casserole on the table, I saw my mystery guy talking to Janice, the busybody retiree. She was sweet and harmless enough, but that woman could gossip like no tomorrow. And if she thought you had a juicy morsel of news to impart, her conversational style would start to feel more like a highly trained interrogation. She couldn't know I was off balance around the nice young man beside her. I schooled my face to blandness as they headed my way.
"Hi, sweetie," she sang out. I contained a grimace. Effusiveness was never my style. Beside her, mystery man tossed me a commiserative half smile. "This is Van. He just moved into our neighborhood last week; somewhere over near you I think. Van, this is Isabella. You'll want to get to her pasta salad soon, it goes quick." Satisfied with herself, Janice strolled off, leaving me facing Van. We shook hands, while I tried not to think about where those hands had been - all over my body in the most intimate way... His palm was warm and callused. I knew I was blushing, but I opted to look him directly in the eye.
"It's nice to finally meet you," Van said, looking down into my face. I was getting a good close up look for the first time, so I stared back with equal frankness. Light brown hair with golden highlights, and big, friendly hazel eyes beneath strongly marked brows - I was hit by the fact that he was not only hot and really masculine, but also cute. For me there was a distinction. I bet Van could do some great puppy dog eyes. I was into it. Boy was I ever.
