View From the Window

Adrienne

"Oh my God, I am so clumsy." Adrienne was mortified. If this guy only knew about last night, he might not be so friendly. She took the hand he offered, and almost leapt to her feet, mostly because he pulled her all the way up. "Must do some physical labor in his job," she thought to herself.

"Hey, I'm sorry I startled you. My name is Bret Martin. I live next door. Looked like you were having a hard time. What are you doing – trying to get that roll of carpet out?" Bret smiled at the woman and was relieved to see that she returned the smile. Damn, she had a gorgeous smile, and huge, dark eyes you could get lost in. He brought himself back to reality, still smiling at her. "Why don't you let me take care of that for you? I'll take it out to the curb. Won't take but a couple of minutes."

"Oh, you don't have to do that – and actually, that is just the first of three. And to think, I had thought I'd just kind of stack them up on each other and pull them all out together. By the way, I'm Adrienne Morgan." She stuck her hand out to shake his, and was surprised at the pleasant tingle coursing through her body as their hands touched again. This was one hot man. Briefly it crossed her mind that she couldn't imagine any woman telling him "no."

"Well if there are three, then I am definitely taking care of this," Bret insisted. "I hope you don't find this sexist, but I just think this type of chore is something that a man should do." In response, Adrienne stepped aside. "Be my guest then, Bret."

It took longer than the predicted couple of minutes, but Bret didn't even scratch the doorframe getting all three carpets out and up to the street. Even though the morning air had been crisp, the sun had come up now, and both Bret and Adrienne had broken a sweat from the exertion of moving the carpets. Adrienne thought it only neighborly to ask him if she could get him a cup of coffee or a cold drink. She moved through the open living room door, motioning for him to follow. "It's the least I can do to thank you for moving that carpet for me. I guess I underestimated what a job it would be. Come on in."

Bret followed her, appreciating the rear view. As he entered the living room, Adrienne continued on, into the kitchen he supposed, unzipping and taking off her sweatshirt before throwing in onto a box, next to which were several gallons of paint and a bunch of dropcloths. She had a tank top on underneath, the kind Bret's brother called a "wife beater." And underneath that, curves. . . . all of them very apparent to Bret. She turned to face him. All he noticed were her breasts, unrestrained. He felt his cock start stirring in his pants, and moved over to stand in front of the kitchen sink, hoping she couldn't tell. But she seemed oblivious, turning to get him a cup of coffee, as she said over her shoulder, "If you need to wash your hands, there's soap on the sink and a roll of paper towels on the counter. How do you like your coffee? I don't have cream, but there is milk."

A few minutes later, Bret and Adrienne stood in the kitchen, talking like old friends over coffee. She told him about the deal she had made with the landlord, and how much stuff the previous tenants had left. He asked to see the rest of the house. "I've wondered how much room there was upstairs. From the outside of the house, it doesn't look like much."

"It's not, "Adrienne agreed, "But it really is a very charming and cozy space. I'm going to use it for my study. Come on and take a look." With Adrienne leading, Bret took the stairs two at a time. They entered Adrienne's study, and he immediately noticed the bay window, as well as the window seat.

"Very nice," he said, as he moved over to the window. "You're really in the treetops here in the summer. Does the window open?" He began looking for a latch.

"The middle part does. . . I checked it last night when I was cleaning the window." Adrienne moved a little closer to the window, and wrestled with her thoughts. "Should I just buy a damn shade and be done with it?" she wondered, "Or should I tell him I can see in?"

"Oh, you were here last night. I didn't know you'd been back before now since you and your friends moved all that junk. I started to come over then, but the three of you looked like you had it under control." Bret smiled at her as he spoke and then turned to look out the window. "Boy, that pecan tree next to this wall needs some trimming. . . want me to take care of it for you? You don't need those branches rubbing on the roof, and it would improve your view."

Adrienne just blurted it out in a rush of breath. "Actually, Bret, the view this time of year is pretty good. Is your couch Italian leather?" Bret looked at her, puzzled, and then back out the window and slowly down – into his own house. "Oh my God," she thought. "I am so busted."

Bret

He looked back out the window. What the hell was she talking about? There wasn't a single leaf to be seen, and even though today was sunny, most days lately had been pretty overcast and gray. His eyes moved downward as Adrienne asked about the couch, and over the fence, he saw Cynthia pulling out of the driveway. She wasn't even going to say good-bye this time. She had only left him a note, reminding him about putting the garbage out on Wednesday, with a PS asking him if he'd load her bags in the car. The limited discussion they'd had this morning was through the bathroom door while she was getting ready. "No, Cynthia and I couldn't afford Italian leather when we first got together. Why do you ask?"

"Bret, I can see in your house from here. Oh, don't worry, I'll get a shade, but last night as it got dark, and a light went on in there, I could see pretty clearly." Adrienne had turned and busied herself with a box of books behind them. Bret stood speechless. What had she seen? Had she been there when Cynthia and he argued? Or was it afterward? He tried to remember if Cynthia had turned the lamp on before or after they had come into the den together. He looked at Adrienne, much busier in the box of books than was necessary, and suddenly realized what she meant. He felt a mix of embarrassment and arousal, and wondered just how long she had watched - and if it had turned her on. His thoughts crowded over each another in a dizzying rush, and as he looked at her back, he wondered how she would be in bed, on all fours – that incredible ass his for the taking . . .

He cleared his throat, and Adrienne stood and turned to face him. "The shade's on the 'to-do' list," she said. "I just thought you should know about the view."

"Well, thanks for the heads-up. But I wouldn't want you to go to any expense on my account." He grinned at her as he walked toward the door of the study. "Hey, Adrienne, thanks for the coffee. And it was really great to meet you. I'm going to get out of your hair now, and let you get back to work. Do you mind if I go ahead and trim that pecan tree for you? We've had the usual winter slump at the nursery, and I need some exercise."

________________________

She was painting the walls in her study. From the extension ladder, Bret could see Adrienne working, rolling paint on the walls with smooth, sensuous movements that accentuated her ass and the curve upward to her back. Once, she had turned and stuck her tongue out at him when she sensed him watching her. At midday, she had opened the window, and asked him if he wanted some lunch or something to drink. He'd taken the offer of a coke, and pulled the screen off the window so she could hand it out to him. She set the screen inside the room, and when she bent over, he could see the rosy color of her nipples. He surreptitiously adjusted his hardening cock in his pants as he contemplated taking her nipple in his mouth, sucking gently at first, till it stiffened in his mouth and he heard her moan. He had only a fleeting moment of guilt as he daydreamed about fucking the woman he met only this morning. Cynthia sure as hell didn't want it – why should she begrudge someone else?

He finished trimming all the branches, and leaned on the windowsill to ask Adrienne for the screen. As she handed it out to him, a sudden blast of wind threatened to take the screen into orbit and both of them held on tightly to it. It did not escape his notice that Adrienne's nipples responded quickly to the cool breeze. He let his hand pause momentarily on hers as he took the screen and replaced it. "I'll be going now, unless there's something else you need, Adrienne."

Adrienne

"Unless there's something else you need," she thought. "Whoa girl, this is a married, albeit sexually frustrated man, and you are a newly divorced woman – a potentially deadly combination." She had noticed the bulge in his pants a number of times when she had turned to look at him working, and felt a slight thrill that she had not completely lost the ability to make a man rise to the occasion.

"Oh, no, you have gone above and beyond the call of neighborly duty, Bret. I wish you'd let me pay you for trimming that tree for me. I really have a thing about paying my own way, and I hate to be indebted to anyone."

Bret grinned at her as he lowered his tools to the ground, watching to make sure everything got down safely. "It was my pleasure, Adrienne. Maybe you can make me some dinner sometime. That ought to make us even. . . Guess I'll go on home now and clean up. But you just let me know if there's anything you need. Are you staying here now, or waiting till the official moving day?"

Adrienne paused before offering her reply. "I know it sounds silly, but I brought a sleeping bag and thought if I had finished this room, I'd just sleep up here tonight. The movers are coming in a couple of days with the rest of my stuff. I'll have to get the rest of the interior of the house painted by then."

"It's not silly at all, Adrienne. I think it's cool that you are pumped about moving in here and starting a new page in your life. Just let me know if there's something you need. I should be around here for the next few days." Bret started down the ladder.

Adrienne briefly watched him go, then turned around to the mess behind her. Her aching muscles demanded a long, hot bath, complete with a glass of wine. She had the candles packed away somewhere in the bags in the car. Just what the doctor ordered, she thought, as she began to drag the drop-cloths toward the stairs. As she considered the newly painted room, complete with unobstructed view, she wondered what she might see if she looked out the bay window tonight.