The Man Next Door

God, I loved my husband.

Will was tanned, blonde and gorgeous. His hair was careless, his eyes intelligent and grey, and his lips forever curved in a smile. He could have had any woman he wanted. And for some reason, he wanted me.

Of course he never relied on his looks. Truthfully, he was hardly aware of them. When he first approached me in college I thought he was going to ask to borrow a pen or something. Instead, he sat down beside me and chatted with me. After four classes he asked for my number. After six we were a couple.

I wasn't a looker. Kids weren't running away from me or anything, but I'd never been considered a beauty. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a face too serious--according to my mother, at least.

When we first started dating, both sets of our friends were puzzled. Will's friends confessed he had a penchant for blonde Amazon-like girls with perfect proportions and red manicures. My friends couldn't believe he didn't have tattoos. I went through a Bad Boy stage right before we met.

Somehow, someway, we made it work. Like I said, I loved him and he loved me.

He was a teacher. I was an accountant. We married young and were always stressed out. After we were husband and wife, our passion obviously cooled. The love was still there, but we were exhausted all the time. Sex dwindled from daily to weekly, and eventually to monthly. Our lives became domestic. Familiar. Humdrum.

The biggest thing that could happen to us next would be parenthood, which we assumed was right around the corner.

And then Jackson moved in next door and shot our whole American Family Plan to shit.

__________________

Fall was just beginning to make its presence known when Will and I had our first big fight.

"Ashley, what the fuck do you want me to do? Seriously." Will threw the steak he just grilled onto the counter.

"I don't know- say 'no' for a change?"

He rubbed his face in exhaustion. "I don't even get why you're making such a big deal out of this."

"Um, maybe because you already come home at 7 every night by the time you make it across the bridge." I hated how I sounded- like an immature, petulant teenager. I just couldn't help it. "Now you signed up for extra help 3 nights a week. Fuck if I know what time you'll be home now."

"This is extra money for us, Ashley. It won't be forever." Will took a deep breath and gave me a soft look that usually melted me. "Try to understand, babe. It's not that I don't want to be here."

He went to touch me and I shifted away, still pissed and frustrated.

"When you get home you're like a zombie. You're not home to have dinner with me. You don't even kiss me. You're too tired, too cranky. It's like--you work yourself so hard. And for what? You're just a--" but I stopped myself before I said the words that would undoubtedly wound him. Too late, it seemed, as his face changed.

Will's eyes narrowed. "Go on. Say it. Say what you've been dying to say ever since we got married. That I'm 'only' a teacher. That I was supposed to be a big name author, and I'm just a teacher." He stepped closer and I backed away. He was fuming. "Say it."

Minutes passed. He finally looked away from me and grabbed his keys.

"Where are you going?" I asked meekly.

The slamming door was his only response.

_______________

When he still hadn't come home by 10, I took a bottle of red wine with me out on the porch. It was a clear night. I felt like I could see every star. It was chilly but I didn't feel like running in for a blanket, so I took a swig straight from the bottle.

I almost spilled the whole thing when I heard a low laugh.

"Slow down, Sweetheart. What will the neighbors think?"

A man stood in the driveway next to me, silhouetted in his porch light. I could make out the glow of his cigarette and that he was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Something about him made my stomach do a little swoop, even though I couldn't see his face. I rolled my eyes. How 2007 of me. Back then, he'd be just my type.

I watched him breathe out smoke. It was a hypnotizing sight.

"I just moved in last week. I'm Jackson."

"Oh, right," I said, finally finding my voice. I remembered seeing the moving van. "I meant to come over and say hello."

"Oh, yeah?" I could hear the smile in his voice. He came more into the light. He was scruffy with copper-colored hair. Deep green eyes scanned down my body, cataloguing my yoga pants, my ratty t-shirt. My hair was in a sloppy ponytail and I was sure my face was a mess from crying. I wished I had fixed myself up a bit. Then I realized how foolish that was. What the hell did I care what he thought of me?

"My name is Ashley." I smiled and nodded back at my house. "And my husband is Will. Welcome to the neighborhood. Hope you like it so far."

Jackson rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Not impressed with it just yet."

My smile froze. Odd. "Really? How come?"

He shrugged a shoulder and didn't answer. The look in his eyes as he took another drag of his cigarette sent a shiver down my spine. He hadn't answered my question but I persevered, hoping to shake off the awkwardness.

"And your wife? She liking it?"

A slow smile spread across his face. "Don't have a wife. I moved in here because Margaret is my mother and I figured I might as well."

Margaret Miller was my old neighbor who just moved down to Florida with her husband. Still, they never mentioned any children and I never saw him visit before. My confusion and suspicion must have shown on my face because he laughed.

"Mom never told any cozy stories?"

I was uncomfortable and I had the distinct feeling he was enjoying making me so.

"Don't worry about it, Sweetheart." He flicked some ash away. "I'm not her favorite person."

There was a magnetic quality about him, some intense vibe he radiated that made me want to get closer.

"Your mom and I weren't that close."

"That makes two of us," he laughed. He rubbed his eyes and then gazed at me for a while, something indecipherable in his eyes. It wasn't amused or lustful. It was just... interested.

I couldn't remember the last time I felt like an interesting person, someone worthy of a stranger's attention. Sure, sometimes guys still whistled when I passed by them on the street, or a man hit on me from time to time at the bookstore, but it wasn't the same anymore. I typically wore my wedding ring (which currently set my ring finger on fire). That was a powerful deterrent. Also I wasn't so interested in the world around me anymore. A part of me had given up on mysteries and excitement. That part was being utilized for snipping out coupons and sniffing out sales at supermarkets.

Suddenly I became aware that we were gazing into each other's eyes for God knows how long. Even noticing that wasn't enough to get me to look away. The pleasurable burn between us made me breathe faster and with greater effort. Reflexively I touched my ribcage and his eyes followed the motion.

The connection was broken when Jackson dropped the butt and stepped on it. "Bedtime for me." He smiled at me. "Nice to meet you. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around again real soon." Then he drifted back to his house.

I let out a rush of air. I hadn't known I was holding my breath.

________________________

I fell asleep alone some point after midnight. When I woke up the next day, I could hear Will showering. Normally when we fought we resolved matters by pretending it never happened, but this was so big that I wasn't sure how it would go over.

He walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips and cooly regarded me as he pulled out clothes.

"Bathroom's free," he said, tugging some socks out of the drawer.

"Will--" I began, but he held a hand up.

"Just forget it. I know you didn't mean it. It's fine."

But it wasn't fine. I knew it by the way he held his shoulders, how he wouldn't meet my eyes, how he fiddled with his tie in annoyance.

"Can we just--"

"Ashley." He turned around and finally looked at me. "Forget it. I'm over it. I promise."

The steel in his eyes made me keep my mouth shut. The coward in me was relieved we wouldn't have to go over the nastiness again, but I knew it wasn't healthy. I was also still a little ticked off that he'd signed up to teach extra credit. The little time we had together was precious. How could he sign over even more hours of it-- and without even consulting me?

"I'm sorry," I blurted before he could leave the bedroom.

He paused and looked at me over his shoulder. "I know."

"I didn't mean it."

He turned his head back and looked down at the carpet. "I know that, too."

"I hate it when you're mad at me."

Will blew out a breath and shook his head. He spun on his heel and sat next to me on the bed, dragging my body onto his lap. He pushed some of my hair back and put a hand on either side of my face.

"I know being married to me isn't always what you thought it would be."

"That's not true, I'm--" but Will put his finger against my lips.

"I know you inside and out, Ashley. I can tell when you're unhappy." He sighed against my throat. "I'm trying here. Really trying. But you have to meet me halfway."

He pulled back and focused his grey eyes on my hair. He always loved my hair.

"You're right. I'll be better."

He gave me a slow, delightful kiss that made me want to drag him back beneath the blankets where it was warm and I was ready. Back in the day we'd already have been naked and connected. I might have even been on my second orgasm.

Now Will had mastered the art of pulling away. My lips weren't as hypnotic anymore. My pussy could wait. His hands didn't need to touch base with me every five seconds. My mother warned me that this could happen, that the frantic days of impatient fingers and insistent tongues wouldn't last.

Will took his mouth away, as predicted, and smoothed down my hair with his hands. "You don't have to be 'better'. I just want you to realize it can't be hearts and flowers all the time."

Then I felt like a terrible person. Will was working himself ragged to make sure we lived a comfortable lifestyle and I was getting grouchy because I couldn't persuade him to fuck me all the time.

This time I kissed him, nibbling a little on his lower lip just because I couldn't help myself. He moaned into my mouth but was still able to extract himself from my hold. He sat me down on the bed, laughing as I tried to bring him back with me.

"Who am I kidding? I like you this way." He gave my lips a lick.

"You'll like me even more when you get inside me."

Will grinned but let go of me. "I've gotta run. I'll try to be home for dinner, okay?"

I nodded slowly. He pinched my nose in an affectionate way and then he was off.

I debated whether or not I should masturbate. If I didn't, I'd probably be irritable all day. If I did, I'd probably be late.

And lately masturbating was making the situation even worse. Every time I had a tremendous orgasm with nothing for my pussy to clutch but my own fingers, I became even more desperate for the real thing. It was like a mirage of a great feast to a starving man-- cruel, and it only made the hunger even more uncontrollable.

As much as I wanted to be done with it, to shower and dress for work like a normal grownup, I couldn't ignore that slippery satin between my pussy lips. The silk panties I wore were twisted as a result of my unconscious and involuntary thrusts against the bed. The desire for a quick cum was too great and so I rolled completely on my back and began to envision a really dirty scene with Will.

One hand climbed up my nightshirt and toyed with a nipple. I pretended it was Will's calloused fingers rubbing and squeezing. More wetness seeped from me below. I tightened my thighs, luxuriating in the pressure on my clit. My thighs pushed up into nothing.

Frustrated there was no hard cock to greet me, I pushed my other hand into my panties. Immediately and roughly I started fucking myself with my fingers. I gyrated my hips, humping back against my hand. Cries tore out of me.

Still, my orgasm wouldn't come.

I figured it was because I hadn't really primed myself. Even though I felt ready all the time now, it wasn't always enough. I ripped my shirt off and tossed it somewhere. My panties followed. Now I was naked beneath the comforter-- one of my favorite feelings in the world. So privately naughty.

I removed my soaked hand from my cunt and got my nipples juicy. The cool air blew against them, promptly turning them even harder. My slick pussy begged for more, so I went back to slowly circling my clit. I let a finger enter me. Then I slipped another one in, and then another, and then another. Eventually I worked back up to the speed I started with, pushing my fingers in and out as fast as I hoped my husband's cock would.

And then the strangest and most unwelcome images came to mind.

Jackson-- watching me.

Jackson-- blowing on his cigarette.

I envisioned his full lips, just a little shiny from him licking them after each slow drag.

"Oh, God," I moaned to myself. My fingers slid easily through my wetness.

It didn't matter that I just met him, or that I hardly knew him. My body writhed in pleasure. I knew I was building up to an exquisite climax. It had been so long and it was just so close. The naughtiness of the whole situation ratcheted up the excitement.

A new fantasy played out in my head. My neighbor fucking me, his strong body moving inside of me, on top of me. I pictured that clever mouth of his in that cocky smile and gave my dream man a smile of my own.

My fingers worked quickly and expertly against my clit, teasing in and out of my hole until the bedsheets were soaked beneath me.

Then I knew it was upon me. I was going to come. I kept sucking in air--one breath, then two. I heard myself gasping, inhaling pleasure with each intake of oxygen.

Finally I peaked in a shivering, toe-curling, mind-shattering orgasm. My breath escaped me in a whoosh. I came back to myself, one body part at a time. My mind was the last to the party and I instantly was ashamed of myself for thinking of my neighbor that way. I was married. Not to mention I hardly knew him; how could the idea of him having his way with me turn me on so much?

I glanced at the clock and saw I had no time to fret over this new disturbing development. I showered as fast as I could, put on my favorite plum dress and black pumps, and did my makeup in the car on my way to work. Just as I was running up to the front office door, I heard my friend Cathy call my name.

Cathy was my coworker and good friend. She was almost fifteen years older than me but sometimes it felt like I was the more responsible one. She was a tornado, ripping through person and place with astounding speed and skill. Cathy was on her second marriage and was a highly sexual person-- and proud of it.

As we exchanged the normal morning pleasantries, I thought of Jackson again. When we sat at our desks that were helpfully next to one another, I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I masturbated to thoughts of my new neighbor this morning," I said in a low voice.

Cathy automatically dropped what she was doing and gave me a wicked smile. "Oh? Is he sexy?"

"You have no idea." I bit my lip and fidgeted, making sure no one else was around. "Do you think that's okay?"

"Hell if I know," she shrugged. "Probably not, but if you aren't doing something bad, you aren't living." Cathy's shrewd blue eyes took in my defeated posture and rolled her eyes. "Oh, God. You Catholics." She rolled away from her computer and looked left and right down our aisle. "I have my own fantasies. We all do. Trust me; it's natural."

"Really?" Experience told me that if Cathy said something was okay, that typically meant it wasn't okay, at all.

She grinned at my suspicious tone. "I fantasize about my landscaper."

"But I actually met this guy!"

"So, I know my landscaper! And I've fantasized about other guys I know. Like Sam." She nodded her head at the gorgeous man a few desks away. I looked over my shoulder and caught his eye. He gave me a luscious grin and I'm pretty sure I blushed. "Like I said, it's natural. They do it about us, too, dearie."

"I know, I'm just feeling guilty because I fantasized about him right after Will and I had this great big fight."

Cathy shook her head. "Thank God for the ability to fantasize."

"So you've never acted on an impulse?"

She snorted. "What? Can you imagine what Steven would do to me?"

"If he found out."

Cathy shook her head in amusement. "Sometimes I wonder which one of us is the bad influence."

_____________

Jackson was getting his mail at the end of his driveway when I pulled up next door. My stomach did a little flip when I took in his faded jeans that hung attractively from his hips and the simple but tight black shirt he wore. His eyes met mine through the windshield and he grinned.

I rushed out of the car, embarrassed to have been caught checking him out.

"Evenin'," he called out.

"Hey. How are you?"

He flicked his fingers against the wad of envelopes he had. "Tired. Been a long day."

I noticed a motorcycle sat a few feet from him, further up the driveway. He noticed my eyes were stuck on it.

"That's mine when I don't feel like riding the truck. Hope the noise won't bother you."

"Oh, no," I said. "I'm sure it won't."

Dreams of Jackson on his bike, soaring on dark highways with my arms around his waist came unbidden to my mind. As if he could read my thoughts, he tiled his head and gave me an assessing gaze.

"Ever been on a bike before?"

I just shook my head.

He gave me a soft smile. "Maybe I'll take you out one day."

"That would be awesome," I breathed. "I've always wanted to ride one, just once."

"You have a good night, Ashley," Jackson said, lifting his chin as a sign of goodbye. I watched him walk up the driveway and forced myself to look away and do the same.

Will came home early that night. We went out for sushi and talked about work. Mostly my mind was on that motorcycle. It was as if I could already feel the vibrations beneath my thighs, that throbbing energy working up my spine, my hands pressed against Jackson's tight stomach.

"Ashley?"

I climbed out of my fantasy and came back to my husband. "Yeah?"

"You're miles away tonight."

I took his hand and squeezed. I hoped his proximity would ward off the evil thoughts my mind was conjuring up.

When we got back home I instantly spotted Jackson smoking outside with a couple of other men. My heart stopped when I realized Will would finally meet him. And of course I was like a giddy schoolgirl passing by her crush in the hallways at school.

Jackson's eyes were already on me when I got out of the car.

"Will, come meet the neighbor."

My husband followed me, not even questioning how I knew Jackson already.

He came over to us immediately. His buddies hung behind.

"Hey, Ashley." He nodded to my husband. "You must be Will."

Will put out his hand. "Yeah, nice to meet you."

"You, too." Jackson's green eyes had heat in them when they swung back to me. It was so indecent for him to be looking at me like that in front of Will. It was indecent for him to be looking at me like that, period.

Nervously I glanced at Will. He was oblivious to the whole exchange.

"Your wife is a great lady," Jackson said.

Will smiled politely. "Thanks, I think so, too."

"And adventurous. I'm gonna give her a ride on my bike one day."

I could practically hear the wheels in Will's head turn. Finally he was making the connection that I knew this guy and I hadn't mentioned it to him. His eyes shot to me and I read the confusion and uncertainty there. "Oh, really?"

My cheeks burned. "Yeah. Jackson was nice enough to offer. I thought it would be exciting so I accepted."