"Hey, stop picking my flowers!"
The little girls shrieked gleefully and ran for the opposite side of the yard. They stopped near the fence and began tossing the freshly plucked impatiens buds up into the air, then jumped up and down as the blossoms fell about them like pink confetti.
Sheila regarded her flower with a scowl. "Unbelievable," she said. She placed her hands on her hips in exasperation. "I'm not going to have a single flower left by the end of the summer."
"I told you to put fake flowers out here," Dave replied. Sheila shot him a searing glance. Dave laughed out loud, knowing full well that artificial flowers would never do for his picky neighbor.
"Sure, and a couple of plastic flamingos, too," Sheila said sarcastically. In spite of her annoyance, she laughed at the situation. She was glad the kids had a nice yard to play in, even if some of her plants took a beating. Sighing, Sheila bent over to pull up a weed that was invading the carefully manicured bed.
Dave stole a glance at Sheila as she bent to pull the offending weed. Her legs were thin and well shaped.
Nice
, he thought to himself. His neighbor had a great figure that he never grew tired of looking at. It was a hot day, nearing ninety degrees. Sheila was barefoot and wore a sleeveless denim dress that hugged her shapely form.
"You missed one," Dave said as Sheila straightened.
"Where?" Sheila asked immediately. Dave grinned broadly, and she realized he was trying to get her to bend over again.
"God, you are such a pig, Dave." Sheila said as she pulled her dress down self-consciously. Dave roared.
This was typical banter for the two of them. They had lived next door to each other for almost three years and spent time together nearly every day. Their daughters were the same age and were constant companions.
The two families had become close. Sheila's husband, Mike, was good friends with Dave. They fished together, hung out together, and helped each other with projects around their homes. When they had first moved to the neighborhood, Sheila had almost been jealous of the amount of time Mike was spending with Dave. But once she had gotten to know Dave and his wife Tricia better, Sheila was thankful to have found such good friends.
The truth of the matter was that she sometimes felt lonely staying home all day with her two children. Dave was also a stay at home parent, while Tricia worked long hours as an advertising specialist. At Mike's insistence, Sheila had begun arranging play dates for the girls. She felt awkward about it initially. She was afraid Tricia might get angry but that had not been the case. The two couples were happy their children got along so well and encouraged them to play together often.
"Feel like doing me a huge favor?" Sheila asked.
Dave grinned at her. "Sure, what did you have in mind?"
Sighing, Sheila ignored him. Although she knew his insinuations were made lightheartedly, it sometimes annoyed her.
"Can you help me carry that old door out to the curb? Tomorrow is trash pick-up," she said briskly. She and Mike had just finished remodeling their bedroom. It was the last room they had worked on in the old colonial house. Sheila hadn't really noticed just how uninspiring their bedroom was until after they had fixed it up. It had been painted stark white when they bought the house, and aside from hanging up some old curtains she found in a box, Sheila hadn't done anything to the room for the next three years. The kids' rooms and the kitchen were the first orders of business, then the bathrooms. Finally, their private area had been painted and new furniture purchased. It was a much needed improvement in Sheila's estimation, and she was very happy that she and Mike had picked out the new things together.
"Oh, yeah, no problem," Dave said. They walked across the yard to the back door of the house. Sheila stopped before entering.
"Girls, we're going inside for a minute. We'll be right back," Sheila called to the children.
Dave rolled his eyes. "They probably wouldn't have noticed that we were gone, you know."
"True. But I want them to know where we are. Just in case they are looking for us."
"You worry too much, Sheila. You know they are fine out here for a couple of minutes by themselves. That fence Mike put up is escape-proof." Dave chuckled to himself. The dilapidated chain link fence that had surrounded the yard for years had come down within two months of Mike and Sheila moving in. In its place was a beautiful white picket fence. Their daughter had figured out how to unlatch the gate in a matter of minutes, so Mike had installed an elaborate locking mechanism. It was a bit much, but at least they didn't have to worry about their children getting out of the yard and roaming the neighborhood.
Sheila laughed and shook her head in agreement. She led Dave into the house and up the stairs. "Baby's sleeping," she said quietly as they passed the first bedroom.
"I could use a morning nap, too," Dave said.
"You and me both," Sheila commiserated. "I haven't been getting enough sleep lately."
"New bedroom too much for you?" Dave teased.
"It's working out just fine," Sheila said evenly. She smiled slightly. Dave could take that any way he wanted.
The old door was leaning against the wall in the hallway. Dave glanced into the newly made over bedroom. It wasn't something he would have done in his own house, but he liked it nonetheless. The walls were sponged with warm hues of orange, yellow and red, giving the room the aura of perennial sunset. The centerpiece of the room was definitely the bed. Sheila and Mike had not been able to agree on anything that they had seen in the furniture stores, so instead they had designed and built a headboard. It was a massive mahogany slab with a gently curving top. Sheila had applied layer after layer of stain until the wood seemed to glow. The final touch had been to install two small polished chrome lamps on either end of the headboard. Dave had made fun of his neighbors for the lamps, saying it was really sad they had nothing better to do in bed than reading.
But Dave knew his neighbors did more than flip through magazines in that bed. Mike did not mind sharing information from his sex life with his friend, so Dave was aware that it was active and enjoyable. As Dave glanced at the headboard, he felt suddenly uncomfortable. Mike had told to him how he and Sheila had christened the bed. As he was lying propped up with pillows against the headboard, Sheila had climbed into bed with her husband and given him a blow job until he was hard. Then Sheila got on top and rode him while both hands grasped the headboard, using it for leverage to help grind her pussy down on Mike's stiff cock. Mike said she had climaxed several times that evening. The couple had declared the headboard a huge success.
"I'll grab the bottom if you don't mind going down the stairs first," Sheila said as she bent to grasp the door.
Sheila's voice broke Dave from his reverie about her exploits in the bedroom. "Ah, no. Let go, I'll get it," Dave waved her away with his hand.
"Have it your way."
Sheila knew he wouldn't let her help. Dave was not the kind of man to stand around and watch her do manual labor. And it wasn't as if he needed any help. Dave was not a tall man, but he had a powerful build. He lifted the door easily and started down the stairs. Sheila followed.
She watched Dave as he descended her staircase. He was not an unattractive man, although Sheila didn't think of him as good-looking. She actually never thought of him in sexual terms at all, which was strange considering all the comments he had lobbed her way. Dave was just the neighbor, and a friend. But there was one thing about Dave that completely disarmed Sheila, and that was his smile. One look at his devilish grin just melted her. Even when he was teasing Sheila unmercifully, she couldn't stay mad at him when he flashed that smile. The contrast of his bright white teeth against his dark complexion was dazzling.
As the couple reached the bottom of the stairs, Sheila mentally reprimanded herself. Dave was a good guy. He was here helping her out again, wasn't he? Besides, he couldn't possibly mean all those things he said. He was one of her husband's best friends. She was certain it was all in fun. Still, Sheila wondered to herself.
She looked at Dave's bulging shoulder muscles as he carried the door. Sheila suddenly felt a slight twinge between her legs. Mortified, she tried to ignore the sensation and ran ahead of Dave to hold the back door open for him. He easily navigated the old door outside and headed across the lawn. When he reached the fence, he set the door down on its end so he could lift it over the fence.
Sheila came up behind him. "Careful, Dave, the old screws are still in the hinges, and they look sharp," Sheila cautioned.
"Yes, mom," Dave answered her smugly. He rolled his eyes. Grasping the door with both hands, he hoisted it up over his head. As he set it down on the opposite side of the fence, the top hinge swung down and the screws sticking out scraped his arm. Sheila looked at her neighbor, but he made no sound.
"Think they will take that with the rest of the trash?" he asked. He turned and started to walk toward the other side of the yard where the kids were playing.
"Oh, yes, they take just about anything... Dave, you're bleeding."
Dave glanced at his arm and shrugged. "Just a scratch, mom, stop worrying."
"Yeah, but that hinge was rusty and covered with old paint. Go inside and wash it. Please, Dave." Sheila looked at him plaintively.
Dave sighed. He knew she would fret about his minor injury until he washed it out. "Okay, okay. But it's just a scratch. Really."
"I know, but I'm not going to let you get blood poisoning on my account. I'll get you something to clean it with," Sheila said as they walked back to the house.
Dave washed his hands at the kitchen sink. Sheila appeared at his elbow with some alcohol, cotton balls and a band-aid.
