A Voyeur's Fantasy Comes True
COVID-19 sent college students home early from the spring '20 semester and among them was a back door neighbor, Lauren. Although we had lived in our home for nearly thirty years, we were not acquainted with Lauren's family. They had a dog that socialized with our dog through the back fence and we occasionally waived at them, Lauren, her younger sister, Lizzie, and her mom and dad, when we called our pup back into the house as did they.
As spring moved into summer, Lauren began lying out in her backyard two to three times per week, sunshine permitting. Our neighbors did not have a pool. Lauren would faithfully drag two chairs from her patio to the middle of the yard. She sat in one and propped her long legs on the other.
She was a lovely twenty something college student. She wore two-piece bathing suits to soak up the sun varying from bikini to more conservative.
Why do I know so much about her sunbathing practices? I am a voyeur.
The neighborhood did not provide many opportunities to enjoy spying on others. I took in the many walkers that used our street as part of their daily route. Two local colleges had their track and cross-country runners traverse our streets in their training. Sadly, our nearby neighbors included a dear ninety year old, a retired couple next door, and another older couple that attended church with us. Lauren and her family were the more interesting subjects by far.
Using birdwatching as my ruse to keep a pair of binoculars on top of our refrigerator, I used every chance I could when my wife was off to swim at her sister's and Lauren was stretched between the two outdoor chairs to gaze upon her young body.
The view was not great, and her swimsuits were the extent of her exposure. I guess the naughtiness of my watching was part of the excitement I enjoyed. She was a beautiful girl and I believe the female body to be God's greatest work of art. For the entire summer, when the planets aligned, I enjoyed this lovely creature.
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COVID-19 eventually released us from its grasp and people clamored for interaction with those outside their "shelter in place" companions. Having discussed a block party for years, I decided it was time to make it happen.
I sought out a couple neighbors that I knew would be reliable partners in the endeavor and we planned a block party. Our street was only a block long in its entirety, and I suggested we invite everyone on the street and ask each household to invite their back door neighbors. With no alley behind either side of the street, back door neighbors shared more in common than most of the homeowners who faced our street.
I estimated a potential crowd of 100-125. A neighbor owned a local brewery and offered to supply the beer. I suggested we have a specialty drink for the non-beer drinkers. We would have plenty of wine as well. With the most important part out of the way, we commandeered a few grills and decided to ask for pitch--in sides with brats and dogs the meat for the affair. A friend would supply live music for a portion of the evening and he would leave his sound system for recorded music if the party went past his last set.
Knowing this needed to be a family affair, the invitation said 6-9 pm, but it was communicated that adults could stay as long as the music played and the drink lasted. Many arranged to take the kids home and return.
As studious as chemists, the planners and I concocted the specialty drink. We had some ladies sample the mix and with their seal of approval, we offered the Madison Mix, named after our short drive. We included it in our advertising along the block. Let's just say it was as potent as it was refreshing, and we suggested that everyone walk to the party.
Our June date finally arrived. College students were out, and those adults that worked in the local schools had finished for the year as well. There was a definite "let's get summer started" vibe to the gathering as neighbors young and old filed into my backyard with music in the air along with the smell of grills a-cooking.
The block party was a success with many asking that it be an annual event. As expected, parents arranged for the younger set to return home so they could continue to enjoy the night. There were more college students in attendance than I realized might be as they reacquainted and took advantage of the free booze. My friend's live stylings ended and the kids hooked up their playlists. The driving beats and melodies had neighbors dancing.
As I stood near the beer coolers, watching the dancing while reveling in the success of the event, a young voice startled my trance-like state.
"Hey, Mr. Dyer, this has been great! Thanks for organizing it and inviting us back door neighbors."
I turned to see Lauren. I had not seen her earlier and she was ravishing in a colorful sun dress that drew attention to her braless chest and her long legs extending from the ultra-short hem. Lauren's auburn hair draped over her nearly bare shoulders. I shook myself after realizing I was staring at her.
"Oh, Lauren, I'm sorry. I was daydreaming. Thank you and I am so glad to see you and your friends enjoying yourselves." I rallied to respond.
"We are having fun, and the Madison Mix is kicking my ass!"
I smiled and encouraged her to enjoy the party. She joined her friends and a few parents as the sound system blared "Play That Funky Music".
As evening turned to night, my planning partners had reached their limit and only a handful of the college kids remained. Surprisingly, a slow song arrived on the current playlist and the dance area on my basketball court filled with the last of the revelers for what would be the final dance. A warm hand pulled me to dance.
