It's funny where you will find inspiration. I was driving down the street and happened to spy a young woman working in her flower garden. She wore tiny, tight short-shorts and was down on her hands and knees. She was displaying a fine little butt pointed at the street. Clearly, she was not aware of the little show she was providing to passers-by, or maybe she was... I could plainly see her panty lines and the idea for this story was born.
This is loooong, longer than I normally write for one chapter. I became very wrapped up in the backstory and the romance. To be quite honest, there is little sex and it's mostly at the end. I hope you stick with it and enjoy the journey of two pretty ladies.
I'd like to thank my editor, drbob80. He took a story that was a mess in places and made it readable. I'd also like to thank leftylooo for reading and giving me encouragement.
About ten years ago, I moved into a new home in the suburbs. It's an average sized three-bedroom home on a cul-de-sac in an upper middle class neighborhood. I have a good job in a relatively stable industry so I felt confident this would be my home for a long time. The downside of my good job is that I work long hours and don't really have much of a social life. Sadly, the majority of my social life consisted of attending the many block and house parties put on by the homeowner's association.
It's not easy being the only single female in a family oriented subdivision. At the homeowner's association parties, many of the
good
family men would sidle up to me, figuring that since I was single, I would be
gagging for it
(as the British say)
.
I was not. At these parties, I tried to make certain that I always stayed clear of the men and hung out with the women. I didn't want them thinking that I was after their husbands. For the most part, I succeeded in that endeavor. Marci from down the street became a particularly good friend.
Occasionally, there was a new wife who took offense to her husband talking to me. It rarely happened, but when it did, it didn't last long. The other ladies seemed to know that their men didn't interest me and would talk to the offended wife. Eventually, I became good friends with all of the wives because I never failed to hold their men at arm's length and beyond.
Several years ago, the economy took a sharp turn for the worse. Many people lost their jobs and some were not able to recover. There were some families from our little group who lost their homes and had to move away. A few were able to find work locally, but others were forced to move away to distant cities. In any event, we all lost touch with the friends that left our little enclave. Homes that were lost had been foreclosed and sat empty. The lending institutions made certain that the grass was cut, but the lovely little flower gardens became overgrown from lack of attention.
After a couple of years, the economy began to recover and house flippers bought some of the homes. However, there was one house on my street that didn't sell to a flipper and was looking sadder and sadder. It actually sat empty and forlorn for more than three years.
Then, some time ago I noticed a moving van parked in the driveway with movers carrying furniture and other items into the garage and house. I didn't see anybody that seemed to be connected to the house, so I had no idea who had purchased the home. I was thrilled because there was somebody in it and I hoped that the rundown appearance would soon begin to improve.
++++++++++
I am an avid runner. Even though I work long hours, I make time every day to run; it's my time, my sanctuary. Most days my run takes place early in the morning, but my schedule occasionally interferes with that. When that happens, I will run late in the day.
This week I had had a series of meetings at six-thirty in the morning and I didn't have enough time to run and get ready without getting up at an ungodly hour. So, I was relegated to running late in the day. It was about three weeks after the new neighbors moved in and I had yet to see them. I assumed that while the exterior of the house didn't look bad, except for the weeds in the flower beds, the inside of the house must be much worse, therefore taking up most of their time. When I ran, my route took me past the house on the way out and then again on the way back. I would glance at the house each time I went by and didn't see that anything had changed.
One Saturday morning, I ran by, glanced at the house and didn't immediately notice anything out of the ordinary. However, as I was turning my head back, I barely noticed a tiny movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked back and slowed down (almost stopping) because I didn't see anything which would have caught my attention. As I was about to give up, thinking that the movement was a figment of my imagination, I saw the bottom of a young woman poking out from the weeds in front of the house. As my mind caught up with what I was seeing, I thought '
Oh My God!'
and then stumbled over my own feet, nearly face planting in the street.
I managed to regain my balance before I fell, but the image was burned into my retinas and my brain. It was only a split second look, but the image it left was mesmerizing. She wore tiny, tight, black short-shorts. Her butt was tight and I imagined it to be very firm. The most memorable part of the image was the panty line. Every inch of the line was clearly defined under the shorts. Even though it was just a split-second glance, I swore I saw the groove of her womanhood.
I am in pretty good shape from running an average of five miles per day, but I was out of breath by the time I got to the intersection at the end of our street. I ran in place for a couple of minutes, trying to recover my breath. As I recovered, I thought about what I had seen. I became convinced that the vision burned into my memory was absolutely too good to have been true. I rationalized that I had been so surprised to see someone in the yard, that my imagination had run wild. My breathing now having returned to normal, I resumed my run, determined to shake off the ridiculously inaccurate memory as well as the stress of the week. I had two routes that I ran regularly; one was just shy of five miles and one that was about eight and a half miles. When I reached the intersection that determined my route, I never hesitated and took the eight and a half mile turn. I let the endorphins do their job and ran smoothly and effortlessly, letting my mind clear itself of clutter.
I barely thought about the vison in the black shorts as I ran. Evidently, my subconscious had been working on a problem from yesterday's meeting, because I suddenly had an inspiration. I had turned the idea over and over in my head when I realized that not only would my idea work, it would solve an upcoming labor crisis. I was overjoyed. It was then that I became conscious that I had been running on autopilot, because the turn for my street was just ahead. As I assessed my condition I realized that I was breathing normally and my heart rate was just as slow as it would have been if I was sitting at my desk. It made me smile. I wished I could bottle this feeling.
I turned down my street and remembered the imaginary girl and her incredible bottom. I looked and was disappointed to see that she wasn't there. To further my disappointment, I realized that she truly must have been a figment of my imagination. After I got home, I showered and then spent the next several hours on my computer firming up my ideas on labor. By the time I went to bed, the vision in the short-shorts was all but forgotten.
++++++++++
She was a distant memory over the next several weeks as I ran, but didn't see her. I barely thought about her. On another Saturday morning, I glanced at the house. I didn't see anything, as usual, and just kept running. I took my long route and felt really good as I turned down my street. Little did I know that I was in for a big surprise.
I looked over as I approached her house and was awestruck to recognize the bottom in the black short-shorts. Not only was she real, but the vision was better than I remembered. As I passed, she got up from her hands and stretched her back, letting me see the whole of her butt and her back. The panty line that had tantalized me was revealed to me to be bikini style panties and, under the white tank top she was apparently braless for there was no bra outline. The pride I always had felt in having my breath after the run quickly dissipated, as I was suddenly breathless.
I stumbled once again, but, this time, I was unable to regain my footing. I shrieked,
"Oh Shiiittt!"
as I went down, skinning my knees and my hands in the process. I stayed down for a moment, mentally assessing the damage.
I was startled by a soft voice asking, "Are you all right?"
My head snapped up and the wearer of the short-shorts was kneeling in front of me with a concerned expression on her face. I was mesmerized and speechless at the vision of Amy Adams in front of me. Of course, I knew it wasn't Amy Adams, but she could have been her sister. The strawberry blonde hair, the startlingly pale green eyes, cute upturned nose, gorgeous face seemed to be all Amy Adams. I stayed down, staring at her, speechless, my mouth working soundlessly.
She started to giggle. I frowned and it made her laugh harder. "I'm sorry," she snorted," you look like a baby bird, with your mouth opening and closing." I still was unable to respond, her beauty overwhelming me. It should have pissed me off, that this person that I didn't even know making fun of me, but it didn't.
"Come on," she snickered, "I know you can speak, I heard you swear quite loudly!"
I blurted the thing that was at the front of my mind, even though it didn't answer her question. "You look just like Amy Adams!"
I was stunned by her answer, "Of course I do. That's 'cause I
am
