The following story is co-written by me and the hugely talented Black Velvet. She took hold of the fantasy and ran with it, helping to bring part one to an explosive conclusion. I look forward to working with her on Part Two.
*
Brandon was struggling with preparation for his math paper when mention of his name floated up from downstairs.
"No, I'm sorry, he's too busy with studying right now. You'll have to find someone else." His mother's voice was at its most austere. He heard the front door closing and went to investigate.
"Mom, who was that? What did they want?"
"It was nothing, dear. Get back to your books."
Now he had to know. "Mom, tell me. Was it about work? Paid work?" He'd spent enough time putting ads in local mailboxes to expect some return.
His mother sighed. "It's nothing you'd be interested in. Just next door. She wants some work done in that wilderness she calls a back-lot. But I'm not having you do it. I know her kind. Trust me, she'd want it for free or as good as."
"Hey, just because you and her don't get along ..." His mother and the local residents' group had already sent a delegation to number seventeen to complain. So what if the new arrival to Acacia Drive didn't meet their prim criteria? Brandon saw no need to be dragged into the business. "I can work out a fair price," he insisted.
"It's nothing to do with that. You've got your studies to ..."
"It's not your call, Mom." The past few years had been tough for her and he'd tried to play the good son, but enough was enough. "I'm eighteen and if I wanna work weekends, that's my choice. Why else have I been helping out Uncle Bobby all these years?" Digging rockeries and lugging stone around for his uncle's landscaping business had turned him into the tower of brawn he was today. It was time to put his skills and strength to use. Aside from all else the work might take his mind off the break-up with Debbie.
"Where do you think you're going?" his mother cried out as he headed down the stairs.
He stopped to lean down and peck her on the cheek. "You know where. See you later." And he left her standing open-mouthed.
* * * *
Janice was just about to reply to the e-mail when the doorbell rang. Her fingers paused halfway to the keys as she leaned back to get a better view of the front door. She frowned at the tall silhouette, having expected children selling cookies or magazines. No one ever called on her. At least not anyone from this town, and she had not heard a car pull up.
She checked her hair and smoothed her hands over flat tummy and curvaceous hips to straighten her dress. Janice always liked to look her best, even while lounging at home reading disappointing e-mails from her distant husband.
The bell rang again.
She felt the oppressive summer heat rush inside as she opened the door. It was the kid from number fifteen. So he'd followed up on her call despite his zealous church-going mother.
"Hi. I'm Brandon, ma'am." She cocked her head to one side as she observed him. "I live next door. My mother said that you needed some help with maintenance?"
"Come inside. You're letting in the heat." She stepped aside to allow him entrance.
"I ... um... it's nice and cool in here, ma'am." He smiled nervously, like he was expecting her to pounce on him at any second.
"I don't bite. And please don't call me ma'am, I'm not old enough to be anyone's ma'am."
"I'm sorry. I wasn't implying... I... um... sorry, ma'... Mrs. Cooper."
She laughed, a loud boisterous laugh that made her bosom heave gently. "Now that was even worse. Mrs. Cooper is my meddling bitch of a mother in law. Call me Janice."
"Sure, okay. You were looking for me? My mother... um... she's..."
"Oh I know what your mother is, Brandon. No need to explain. Follow me, I'll tell you all about my needs over some cool lemonade."
"Thank you, um... Janice."
She turned and walked toward the kitchen with him in tow, hips swaying seductively, high heels clicking loudly on the marble floor. A mischievous smile touched her lips as she caught his reflection in the glass wall lining one side of the kitchen; his eyes were moving up her shapely legs and pausing at her well toned ass.
* * * *
Dammit, he was doing it again, looking! That was what had almost got him in trouble two weeks ago. Innocently staring out his window, a headful of turmoil at the whole Debbie thing, and there she had been -- Janice Cooper, stretched out in a miniature bikini, applying lotion to every inch of that voluptuous worked-out body. Then settling down to her novel, one hand creeping its way under her string-bikini bottoms. He had watched it all ... Until, that is, her eyes had flicked up and caught his.
Damn! He had looked away, heart pounding, the colossal boner which had sprung in his shorts making him feel a spying pervert. Maybe she'd complain. "Mrs Lane, you have a peeping tom for a son!" He'd forgotten the incident until the walk over to her place. Now he was gawping at her all over again! As she guided him into a chair he diverted his eyes.
"Thank you," he said as she passed a glassful of lemonade. He tried to ignore the heave of her breasts against her flimsy dress as she joined him at the kitchen table. Around her he felt bulky and awkward, sure he was going to spill his drink everywhere.
"My pleasure, Brandon. You're going to be working up a sweat before the afternoon is out, so drink that down." Something about the way she said it made him heat up a little. He sipped nervously. "So are you as experienced as your advertising suggests?"
"Yeah, I've been gardening and landscaping for years. Anything needs doing, I'm good for it."
Her eyes swept his tall, muscled frame. "I don't doubt it." He shifted uncomfortably under scrutiny of her sapphire gaze. "It would be wrong of me to waste having such a strapping and able young man next door, don't you think?"
"Well, I ... What work do you have for me?" he asked in quiet desperation.
