The thunder cracked and the rain pelted against the bedroom window, stirring me from another yet fitful sleep. The blue glow of the alarm clock above my head on the bed board threatened 2:05 AM.
I lay there quietly, wrestling with counted sheep and boring lists to entice my fleeting sleep. The pounding of the rain soothing, yet calling my name, drew my attention. A deep breath and the brain shot into "What the hell" mode. I rose up off the sheets and slipped on my robe, ugly yet comfortable, a symbolic 'blankie' resonating my life more than I was willing to admit.
Strolling through my little apartment in the dark, I peeked out the window in the front door and watched the rain ricochet off the car and pavement. Another streak of lightning and the inevitable reverberation of thunder lit the apartment. Bare footing to the kitchen, I grabbed my smokes from a drawer and a glass of sweet tea and made my way back to the front door and out.
Washed in an immediate burst of damp renewal, I just stood there a moment, a stranger invading the rain, enjoying the wisp of dampness that covered my formerly sleeping body and watched the feeding of the grass and flowers that dotted my tiny yard.
This was my respite, the constant "me time" that I enjoyed. Just being on my porch late at night, watching the natural night life of the tiny town I lived in. While the rolling up of the streets proved to be an urban legend, a quiet safeness rang true and allowed the ping pong balls of my mind to still and just be. Close enough to see the tiny street and a not too far off stop light, yet shielded from otherly vision by the shadows of the covered porch, enough to be comfortable wearing little but that ugly robe and a Marlboro cherry.
I stared out to watch the rain dance. Seating myself in a cheap Wal-Mart plastic chair and plopped my tea, smokes and lighter on the matching table. I felt a soothing wave of relaxation wash over my body. I stretched out my legs and began to enjoy the quiet blessings of the night and the shimmer of the rain.
Another bolt of lightning, close enough to almost blind me, lit again my private world and with the thunder a second sound, one that didn't fit in. I just continued to enjoy the water ballet, concentrating on the arabesque of the rose bush at the edge of the driveway nearest the road. It seemed to shimmy naked in the rain, almost laughing in erotic delight and thankfulness to God for the nourishment He was supplying.
A small flash of light in the corner of my eye drew my attention back to reality. I had been invaded and was suddenly aware of my near nakedness.
He lit his own cigarette, and inhaled, unaware himself of anything but the storm. The dark light revealed his form, standing in front of his door at the other end of my respite. The redness from his cig enhanced his chiseled features and sleepy blue eyes, entrancing the deer in the headlights in me, making me be still and readying my time to bolt.
His body was relaxed, barely covered in thin white boxers, one arm crossing his impressive chest. He leaned back his head and enjoyed the smoky air he pulled through his own Marlboro. He exhaled with loud joy and his thighs seemed to flex and guide the rest of his body to follow suit in complete relaxation. The hand tucked neatly under his arm, opened and spread smoothly across his chest, ruffling the smattering of dark hair tracing it down his belly and to the top of his boxers.
He stepped toward the porch edge as a new flash of light bombed the earth. He quietly counted out loud, "One...two....three...." stopping when the thunder roared, supposedly three miles away. He chuckled softly and turned to find a seat.
His turn to be the deer in the headlights as he noticed me seated, watching him. "Oh God, I didn't know you were out here."
"It's okay man, no big deal. Couldn't sleep and was just enjoying the rain."
"Me, too". He pulled again on his cigarette and looked off into the rain. "God, it's so beautiful". He stretched his hands above his head and pulled himself toward the porch awning. A few drops of rain splashed on his forehead. They gathered at the temple of his dark hair and began to ooze down his cheek, dampening his skin and then leaving a small wet trail across his shoulder, down his chest and pooling in his navel. His fingers quickly followed suit smearing the wetness into his chest hair, seemingly oblivious to his near nakedness and intensifying his uncontrollable sexiness.
"Mind if I join you for a little while?" not really asking, but pulling up the second chair and seating himself. He stretched his legs out to imitate mine and placed his hands behind his head, bulging his massive forearms, and making his abs seem even tighter.
I tried not to stare, and hopefully the darkness wouldn't tattle tale my struggle. While as neighbors we were occasional buddies, I harbored a secret. It seems that unlike any of the others who had lived in the upper part of the duplex, there were occasions that I was able to hear him, although I had told him I couldn't.
It wasn't that I was a compulsive liar, it was that he was such a sweet guy and I knew he was unaware of what I could hear and at the odd times I could hear it. He would probably be too embarrassed to speak with me and I actually valued our occasional exchanges of words and brief times together on the porch.
While we had sat on the porch together several times, and most of the time late at night or early in the morning, this was the first time we shared it in our underwear. So there I sat, sucking away on a Marlboro; me in my CK's and ugly robe; he in is boxers, watching the rain storm. But I now had a different soundtrack screaming through my mind. The sound of the rain and thunder, I could no longer hear; only the sounds of him at his most intimate.
The lightning flashed again, but this time I only heard a different poundingβthat of a headboard against a wall, a bed spring writhing and the sound of he and his girlfriend bringing each other to orgasm. It seems that the only sounds I ever hear from upstairs was that of my neighbor having sex. And not muffled sounds mind you, it was so clear and so distinct that I felt as though I were in the same room, like watching a porno movie with the picture off. I knew the most intimate details of that part of his life, how they moaned, what they said and what they enjoyed doing to and with each other.
And he was completely oblivious.
"God that was a close one."
He was looking straight at me when I snapped back to reality.
"Yeah," I responded assuming he was talking about a crack of thunder I hadn't heard. "It seems to be getting a little harder."
"Starting to blow in a little over here. Are you getting wet?" He asked.
"No, I think my car is shielding me from the spray."
He picked up his chair and moved a little closer to me. I could see that his body was now damp, glistening in rain water, mixed with the moonlight, making him glow.
"There that's better" he said, and then looked at me and smiled.
Another flash of lightning, like a camera bulb popping on the porch.
"Man", he said, "I never noticed how perfect your chest is until now." It was then that I noticed my robe, while bulky as well as ugly, was untied and had slipped completely off my shoulders, resting on my forearms, which rested on the arms of the chair. "Except for there". He touched a jagged scar on the shoulder. It wasn't a sexual touch, just one of curiosity.
"Car wreck," I said.
"How often do you lift?"
"Not nearly as much as I would like to. Use a small weight room at work when I have some free time, wish I had time for a real gym."
"I go five days a week to that one downtown." He said. "You'll have to come with me sometime."