Sylvan Courtyard 9: Crossed Wires

This is the next-to-last chapter in this series, guys and girls! I hope you have fun with it.

Oh, there is a massive digression in this story. You will know it when you get to it. Feel free to skip it... if the subject doesn't interest you.

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Sylvan Courtyard -- Nine: Crossed Wires

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The summer went well, all things considered. Despite having no classes to teach or take, and my research being largely finished until I had a new place to pursue it further, I was far busier than felt right for what was certainly my last 'summer vacation' as a 'student'.

While I still chose to hold back the full implications of that minor scientific insight I had experienced earlier, I did feel obligated to rewrite numerous paragraphs in a section and a half of my dissertation, and I even added another short section, as I found more and more ways where said insight affected my primary conclusions. It didn't alter my conclusions, thank God, but I did understand the implications more extensively--which I suppose was the point of the exercise anyway.

Patty decided to get 'serious' about editing my writing, and since she was essentially living with Jesse full-time by that point, she had easy access to get to my work so she could red-pen the shit out of it... even the parts she had red-penned the shit out of before.

And my mentor had me hard at work in his lab, working on his research. I may have grumbled about this a time or two... unwisely. He only grinned like a madman at me and said that my fellowship meant I was his pathetic slave, and since he was going to manumit me so early, he wanted to get his money's worth before that happened.

I sensed that he felt exploiting grad students was a lesson that he had so far failed to properly teach me, and was making up for lost time.

More importantly, he and I were writing a paper together that was going to make some noise in our field when it came out. And I would be second named author.

I still had time for some fun. There was a memorable weekend camping hike with a former student of mine who had since graduated. It was memorable because she didn't like the feel of clothes on her body when hiking. She hadn't liked the feel of clothes on my body much either...

Jesse and I even won the first Bridge Club duplicate tournament, barely edging out Heather and Henry. I was fortunate that Patty's disdain for Bridge made Jesse available as a partner, because he is really good. Even better than Henry, whose talents came as a nasty shock to me. I had originally been paired with Josie, as usual, but I was glad she had a thing, and I managed to pair up with Jesse instead. Josie is a great partner and fun to play with, but she is not nearly the player Jesse is. She is admittedly much better to look at across the table than Jesse, but I felt the need to win.

Apropos of nothing, I missed out on a chance with Dr. Annabeth Gonsalves (PhD, Spanish Literature) a week later, which will stick in my craw forever. Do not give your students your cell number, or they will interrupt you at tragically unfortunate junctures!

But the summer was coming to an end. I had two final classes to teach that upcoming Fall semester, and Patty and her red pen still haunted me. My mentor suddenly told me I had reduced obligations in his lab, which was great, but his announcement came with instructions to re-do every illustration in sections 9, 10, and 11, so they would "look less like third-grade crayon drawings."

*

And agonizingly, Jesse announced that the next pool party would be the last of the year.

A variety of protesting Post-It notes appeared on the bulletin board surrounding that announcement, but after Jesse posted another announcement that if he had to buy any more kegs this year, he was going to have to raise the rent, the graffiti settled to a dull roar.

I had told no one that I was leaving after Christmas, and I was not going to for another couple of months, until I was certain that I actually was leaving. But I still approached this last pool event ready to have the most fun imaginable. I placed a box containing filled water balloons by the score up on my balcony. In case Shit Got Real, I could retreat to my fortress and rain down destruction on my foes from above.

What prompted my paranoia? I had seen Robert and Frank sneaking in armfuls of big squirtguns earlier in the week...

The day was awesome. Jesse was again congratulated for his weather-witchery in choosing days that turned out cloudless and beautiful for pool events. Josie got tired of this and complained that no one gave her any credit for the magic. Susan told her to relax, we all knew who the witch really was, then loudly added that we all just needed to pump up Jesse when Patty was around, so she wouldn't wise up about him.

Josie still seemed miffed, which I could not figure out. She was already the center of attention. Well, she was certainly the center of my attention for a while, given that the woman had actually come to a pool party in a bikini!

It wasn't anything racy. It was a fairly conservatively cut number in a subtle print with shades of blue and purple. But she looked great in it. She was in great shape, with a wiry body accented by some nice curves, above and below. Like Jesse, Josie always had a bruise or maybe a scrape, and probably a band-aid on a finger or two, all from fixing things around the place for us. That day's bandage, and the abrasion on her thigh in an area where her skin was seldom bare, just made her look a little bad-ass.

But my friend did not look comfortable in that suit. So, of course, I teased her about it, because I am evil that way.

"Nice new set of dungarees, dude," I said to her, offering her the beer cup I had just filled before starting to fill another for myself. An artifact of Patty's arrival had been that Jesse no longer spent all of his time around the pool guarding the keg. Sometimes, he made Josie guard the keg instead...

"All my birkas are in the wash," Josie growled at me, taking the beer and drinking. She shifted on her feet. "Actually, the pole dancing work has got me in good enough shape to brave wearing this," she said, looking around nervously at various guys. "But now that I'm out here wearing it, I am not sure I really am brave enough..."

"Hey," I said, shoving her shoulder lightly. "Too late now!"

She grimaced at me.

"Honestly, you have never, since I've known you, not been in shape to wear that suit, Josie," I said reassuringly. That was true, but... insecurities. We all have them. So I teased her some more. "Why are you nervous now? Is there some guy here who is not paying you the attention you are looking for?" I taunted.

That perked her up. "As if! Like Jesse, I'd never hook up with a tenant! Because if I did, whichever asshole among you guys I chose wouldn't wait 24 hours to start whining about a break on the rent!"

I rolled my eyes. Less than half of us would actually try to take advantage of a situation like that... immediately. "Well anyway, you have to know you always look great in your Al from Home Improvement outfits," I said firmly. I knew that Josie and Jesse had watched as much old TV as I had growing up.

"I do not dress like Al!" she protested vigorously.

"You wear flannel work shirts, jeans, and a tool belt. You are Al," I said firmly.

"I wear khaki or jeans shorts, tied-off flannel shirts, and a tool belt. I don't dress like Al, I dress like Pam Anderson or Debbie Dunning.

I knew this was the case, I just wanted to goad her into saying it and embarrassing herself in a way that wasn't self-deprecating.

"Well..." I said reluctantly. "You are better looking in your work outfits than Pamela Anderson."

"But not Debbie Dunning?" she asked, sudden challenge in her voice.

"Not even close, girl," I sighed, picturing the second Tool Time Girl. "Not even close."

Then suddenly, just as I had expected, Shit Got Real.

Robert and Frank, flanked by several others, burst out of the laundry area with dripping squirt guns, the kind with big reservoirs, and began blasting away at everybody.

"Hey!" Josie shrieked, as a stray stream passed across both of us. She ducked and turned.

Across the pool, Jesse, who once might have lost his shit and panicked at all this, just shouted, "Oh Hell no! Not on my watch!" Then he just outright grabbed Frank and, taking two steps, tossed him into the pool.

Patty laughed approvingly.

But Frank held onto Jesse and dragged him into the water after him, at which Patty laughed uproariously. She was promptly hosed down by Becky, who had another of the squirt guns.

I bolted toward the stairs.

"You are bailing? Leaving me unarmed?" Josie yelled at me, merrily disappointed.

"I am not," I called back, and waved for her to join me.

After a half-second's hesitation, she dashed after me.

"What?" she asked as we pelted up the stairs.

I just chuckled and coded us into my apartment, where I dashed for the balcony with Josie in hot pursuit. Stepping out, I pointed at my box full of ready water balloons. "I saw those squirt guns being brought in earlier," I told her smugly.

"Oh, hell yeah," Josie enthused and we each grabbed a balloon. I quickly took aim and hurled one at Becky, the traitor. I hit her a glancing blow, and most of the water splashed past her as the balloon broke.

There are always innocent casualties in war... Sorry, Dave.

Josie took aim and threw a bead at Robert, who deserved it, of course. She nailed him right in the chest and he was soaked. Many people, including most of the armed ones, looked up at Josie's and my cries of triumph.

Turns out, modern squirt guns can shoot a long way, and we both had to turn away from the numerous streams that fired back at my fortress.

Josie ducked, but spied the big, thin blanket I had out there to wrap up in on cool mountain evenings. She grabbed it and swiftly draped it over the railing. "Down!" she cried at me.

Crouched down as we were, we were safe and sound. That thin blanket might as well have been steel plate against water guns.

"Um, I'm pretty sure there is a sign up on the bulletin board right this very minute about how we aren't allowed to hang things on the railings," I grinned.

"I'm the landlord," Josie grinned back. "Do I have to write you a note?"

We grabbed more balloons and began a well-coordinated series of rise, throw, cheer, and duck. Josie's aim remained better than mine. But I hit my share of targets. Together, we made sure that everyone with squirt guns got what was coming to them, along with selected others whom either Josie and I targeted in the moment... or whom I just hit when I missed someone else.

We were all in our twenties, but we were acting like a crowd of twelve-year-olds. It was awesome.

Halfway through my ammunition, I noticed that Josie had pegged Frank for the third time. "You got it in for Frank?" I asked as we fumbled for more slippery balloons.

"He's a good-looking target... a good target," Josie said, correcting herself too late.

I rose and pegged Mimi. She wasn't armed, but she was wearing a thin coverup, and I felt that I'd rather that coverup be transparent so I could appreciate the minimal bikini she had on underneath.

Josie pegged her brother, who was still in the pool, relaxing and grinning at the mayhem. (And making sure nobody ran alongside the pool without getting a warning. Jesse gotta Jesse.) "Hey!" he called, sounding betrayed.

Josie and I crouched down, away from the answering fire. "So, Frank, huh?" I teased.

"He's a tenant, dipshit."

"There are lots of tenants," I mused.

"Your point?" Josie grinned. She rose, as did I, and she tried to nail Frank yet again. But he was wise by this point and grabbed Becky as a human shield. Becky took the blast like a woman. Both Josie and I took some heavy fire before we could duck back down again.

We went on like that through most of the rest of my box of balloons. Given how good a mood Jesse was in lately and how well my machinations had worked to help him get that way, I pondered a few options to hook Josie up with Frank. I discarded them all because Josie seemed firm about the 'no tenants' rule. Also, Frank was a part-time douche. Also... just... no.

We were down to two balloons, and while no one below knew that, the water gun types had a whole pool to endlessly reload from.

"Follow my lead," Josie instructed. We stood and brandished our last ammo."Enough!" Josie called with conviction.

Some joker thought it would be a good idea to take a shot at me while I was standing still and hosed me. I nailed him in the face with my last balloon. An auspicious time to finally get as accurate as Josie.

"I said

enough

," Josie bellowed again. "We can just keep drowning you rats, or we can call a truce, and Jesse will be able to fire up the grill. Who's with me?"

There was a general cheer. A few gunmen were reluctant to give up the fun, and were tossed into the pool to bring them around.

"All right!" called Jesse. "Chow time!"

We all cheered, and Josie nailed me with the last balloon at point-blank range. "That for not telling me something was up, Mister Prepared!"

*

Sunday, the night after, I was on my balcony, sitting in one of my chairs and working on my laptop. I wasn't doing anything for my thesis, which was feeling temporarily under control, but was instead researching apartments, insurance, etc., out in Colorado.

I saw the light come on directly across from me, and I looked up to see Susan in her apartment. Her curtains were open so she could see me as well as I could see her. She waved, and I waved back to let her know I saw her. She turned back into her apartment and started making something, probably a sandwich, in her kitchen.

I went back to shaking my head at the prices of rental housing out in Rocky Mountain country, and again pondered the wisdom of perhaps buying a condo sooner rather than later. If I was going to spend half my salary on a place to put a pillow and store my skis, I might want to think about trying to accumulate a little equity as well.

When I looked up again, Susan was standing in her kitchen eating her sandwich... topless in those awesome jeans she liked to wear. She saw me jerk in my seat at the sight, and waved at me again. Then she went back to her sandwich.

Was I being teased, or invited? She had done both to me at random times. For now, it was just tease, as she simply turned away from me, denying me a view of anything but her bare back and fantastic, jeans-clad ass. Which was not nothing.

Well, it was something. It was a distraction from my housing research.

Fuck the research. As I began to ignore the laptop entirely, the lights next to Susan came on and Becky entered her apartment, arms full of groceries. She went to close her drapes, but spied me across the way. I waved to her. She just waved back and pulled her drapes open all the way instead, then went back to unloading the numerous bags she had somehow managed to carry up the stairs with her tiny frame.

I looked back at the main attraction and realized that Susan had disappeared. Gone into her bedroom I guessed. She'd be back. Wouldn't she? I could but hope.

Next door, Becky also headed into her bedroom. She was also back first, fast enough I had not even gone back to my laptop. But she had changed clothes, into a long teeshirt, leaving her barefoot with her lithe little legs free and uncovered. Nice. She bustled about industriously, apparently lost in her own world. She did look up toward me at least once, and smiled when she caught me looking her way. But other than that, she ignored me.

Susan reappeared, having changed nothing. 'Thanks, buddy,' I thought. 'The things you do for me...' She plopped down on her couch, which gave me a stupendous profile, and started reading a book. I began to worry that I would be yet again settling for tease, not play, tonight.

I could get by with that. I could especially do so once I realized that Becky was also feeling tease-y that evening. She started doing exercises, including spreading her legs and touching the floor in front of her. While facing directly away from me. The back of her teeshirt rode up plenty far enough to give me a view of some fairly minimal panties.

The little shimmy she put in her ass made me suspect she knew I might be still watching. The way she straightened up and lifted the shirt far enough to flash me her tits, made me... um, more certain.

But then she too went back to her evening workout and ignored me.

Both of them had their drapes open, but I assumed that my only neighbor with as clear a view as mine had gone out that night, like she almost always did. Also, both Becky and Susan were keeping far enough back inside their apartments that they would not be seen by anyone anywhere else in the complex. These were private shows for me. At the same time.

Despite the flash, I guessed that Becky's antics were more or less incidental. She realized that she was in a watchable state, I was watching, and she was rolling with it. But Susan's actions, despite the way she was ignoring me at the moment, were obviously more intentional. The whole topless jeans thing, after all, was my fetish and she knew it.

It briefly occurred to me that this was a helluva coincidence, to have them both decide to play our little games on the same night, but a coincidence was exactly what it was. Despite living next to each other, the two were friendly, not friends. I was certain that I knew more about either of them than they knew about each other. They were not the kind of friends to get together and coordinate torturing their mutual occasional fuckbuddy.

Fuckbuddies.

As consolation prizes went, a bevy of hot fuckbuddies went was right on up there. But that really was what they were. I could not have what I wanted here, but I was lucky enough to have female neighbors who, um, kept the loneliness at bay.

That said, I missed Het. I missed Dana. It wasn't every day anymore. And I had long since passed fantasizing about getting either back someday. Too many formative years had passed apart. If I met up with either woman I had once loved, we would hardly recognize each other's souls, and that would break my heart all over again.

Fantastic scenery that I occasionally had sex with was great, even on nights like this where it was shaping up that the sex part wasn't going to happen, but I deep down still just wanted what every man wants: A brainy supermodel with the lips of a courtesean who only has eyes for me.

Right?

I would find a new love in Colorado when I settled down at last. A lasting love. It might take years, and I was damned sure going to change the way I lived my life while I searched. When I met The One, a bevy of active fuckbuddies out there might make me pass on her. Or her pass me. Or I might mistake her for one of them.

But here? In the meantime? I was going to enjoy the available bevy to the fullest.

Could you stock up on sex?

I kept a corner of my eye on Becky, and several times when I looked, she was providing a nice leg show, but there were no more tits. And even what she was showing seemed mostly unintentional. So I focused more and more on Susan, who was getting more and more... showy.

At one point, she put down the book and stretched on her couch, doing all sorts of wonderful things to her tits as she lifted her arms over her shoulders. Later, she stood up and started puttering around the room as if tidying up. But there was no mess that I could see, and she sure wasn't throwing away anything significant. She was doing a lot of bending and twisting though, which caused a lot of boob dangling and swaying.

After a particularly fine example of the casual, stealth boob flaunt, Susan straightened and looked right at me for the first time in a while. I smiled. She smiled back.