Just Across The Fence Ch 01

Nothing special here, just an old fart's testosterone-fueled adolescent fantasy about old people screwing like [much younger] bunnies. If that's not your thing, then...move along, move along, these are not the 'droids you're looking for.

As ever here, anyone depicted having sex is eighteen years old, or older. In this case, a lot older. And in any case, no sex in this first part.

What, you're still here? OK, then, hope you find it entertaining.

Chapter 1. Meet and Greet

You just never can tell when and where you might have an encounter that could change your life. Certainly, I would never have expected anything so extraordinary from a lazy Tuesday morning in May, when I decided to mow the lawn after a late breakfast.

May in Oklahoma is smack in the middle of tornado season, and storm systems had been tracking through the Sooner State every five or six days for over a month. The forecast called for more storms that evening, so if I wanted the grass cut before the weekend, Tuesday was my window of opportunity. Enough precipitation had fallen in the past several weeks to have the lawn thick and lush, and I really preferred not to let it get any higher. The morning was warm enough that I knew I would not have to worry about heavy dew making the mowing difficult.

Once I finished cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast, I donned my usual attire for yardwork: T-shirt, gym shorts, and ankle boots. I greased up with SPF 50 sunblock to protect my super-fair skin from sunburn, and headed out into the attached garage to get started.

To reach the area where I keep the mower and yard tools, I had to squeeze between my workbench and the front end of my pickup truck, and there I came upon a sight that stopped me dead in my tracks.

Years ago, I had installed narrow windows in the stud bays on the back wall of the garage, above the workbench, to let in as much natural light there as possible. Stout burglar bars made it unlikely anyone would ever break in, and I had hung some cheap, gauzy cheesecloth curtains to make it difficult for a prowler to look inside to check for stuff worth stealing. On a sunny day like today, they worked like a poor man's one-way mirror; I could look out and see my yard behind the garage just fine, but from outside no one would be able to see me.

Behind my garage ran a narrow strip of lawn about fifteen feet wide, with a four-foot chain link fence separating my yard from the property behind mine. I knew that home had been vacant for some time, as the elderly homeowner, a good friend of mine, had moved into a senior living center. [Seems funny, me calling him elderly, since we're about the same age.] A lawn service had been taking care of the yard. But it was immediately apparent that the home now had a new occupant.

My neighbor's backyard was heavily shaded by large trees, for the most part, but directly behind the fence there was a modest patch of full sunlight, and in that spot a woman was stretched out on a chaise lounge, obviously working on her tan.

I say obviously because at first blush I thought she was entirely naked, but then I saw she was in fact wearing the skimpiest string bikini I think I have ever actually seen on a woman with my own eyes. Tiny swatches of blue fabric barely concealed her crotch and nipples as she lay on her back, and the fabric was so soft and malleable that very little imagination was necessary to know what was underneath. I had to wonder why she even bothered. Beside her on a small patio table stood a glass of iced tea and a bottle of tanning oil.

I don't like to think of myself as some kind of peeping Tom, but I was so taken aback by the unexpected and spectacular sight that I found myself rooted to the spot, staring, mesmerized.

She wasn't young, by any means. At a guess, late forties, brunette with some gray creeping in. Obviously fit and healthy, very nice figure, not exactly slender but certainly not overweight. Nice tits, 36D or so, and long, very shapely legs. I could not see her eyes, as she dozed in the sun, but I thought her face quite pretty. Even the younger guys would take a second look, but at seventy-three, I found her stunning. Unbidden, my cock started to take notice of her, as well.

"Don't be a fool," I told myself [and my ever-hopeful cock], emerging from my dazed reverie. "You're dreaming, if you imagine she would ever be interested in you." I tore myself away from the enthralling view and got busy with my yardwork. I did, however, decide to hold off on mowing the backyard until she had finished her sunbathing. I was sure that trying to chat with an attractive [and practically naked] woman, a stranger to boot, might prove embarrassing.

Checking after lunch, I saw that she was gone, though the chaise lounge remained. I pulled out the mower once more and, going around to the back yard through the side gate, got started mowing again.

On my second trip around the perimeter of the yard, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Looking around, I saw my new neighbor coming across her backyard to the fence, apparently intent on speaking with me. Unfortunately [or perhaps fortunately] the bikini had been replaced with apparel somewhat less revealing, but still very welcome; shorts, a halter top, and sneakers. She still looked scrumptious to me. I shut down the mower and stepped over to the fence to greet her.

"'Afternoon," I said as she walked towards me. "I guess we're neighbors now. I'm John. Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Well, hello, John, I'm Beth," she replied. She reached the fence, and we briefly shook hands.

"Nice to meet you, Beth. I hadn't realized anyone had moved in," I told her. "Not surprising, really, since I don't spend too much time outside once it starts to get hot."

"I've only been here a couple of days," she explained. "Still unpacking boxes. Damn, I hate moving."

"Yeah, it's a bitch," I agreed.

"Um, I couldn't help but notice that you waited until after I was done working on my tan this morning, to start mowing back here," she commented, a bit hesitantly. "I really hope you weren't offended on account of the skimpy suit I was wearing. I would hate to get off on the wrong foot so quickly with my new neighbors."

I chuckled in amusement, and said, "Beth, let me tell you, the day I'm offended by the sight of an attractive lady like you catching some rays in a bikini, will be the day you can call the loony bin and tell them to come pick me up, because it will mean I've finally lost the few marbles I have left."

"Oh, my," she exclaimed, blushing slightly. "Well, at least I'm glad you weren't upset. And what a sweet compliment! Thank you."

"You're quite welcome," I replied. "I wasn't offended in the least. I noticed you when I was in the garage, and decided to wait because the mower would have sprayed you with grass clippings. I also wanted to give you some privacy."

"That was very considerate of you, John," she said. "If you mow in the afternoon, that won't be a problem, because I can only sunbathe in the middle of the morning."

"Why is that?" I asked, curious.

"One of the things I love about this place is all the magnificent old trees," she said, waving her hand at the numerous mature oaks, hickories, and pines growing not only in her yard, but in her neighbors' as well. "But one of the downsides of so much foliage is that only this narrow strip along our common fence gets enough sunshine to be worth sunbathing in, and then only for a couple of hours in the morning."

Without a second thought, I told her, "Well, you're more than welcome to come over here and sunbathe in my yard anytime you like. As you can see, it gets lots of sun all day long." I felt compelled to add, "Of course, I suppose you might think I'm only suggesting that because it'll make it easier for me to watch you."

"Thank you, John, I might just take you up on that. I moved here from Michigan, and it's been six months since I've been able to get out in the sun any," Beth replied. "And no, I wasn't thinking you'd take advantage like that, at all."

"Well, you probably should be thinking it, because I very well might," I confessed, and she giggled.

"But I'm a little old to be climbing this fence, in a swimsuit," she observed, "So I guess I could just walk around the block to get over there. In my bikini. And back. Every day. Where everyone in the whole neighborhood will see me. I don't suppose that would cause any talk, would it? What do you think, John?"

"Well, of course I'm pretty sure it would," I responded. "Lots of old retired folks like me around here with nothing better to do than worry about other people's business. But you don't have to walk around the block to get into my backyard. You can just use the gate in the corner, over there."

"Gate?" she asked, surprised. I pointed, and she leaned out over the fence to see what I was talking about: a thirty-inch-wide gate between her yard and mine, in the corner, hidden from her view by an overgrown privet hedge along her side fence. And as she leaned over towards me, peering along the fence to get a better look, the better look that I got of her cleavage was very rewarding indeed. I was almost sure it was deliberate; was she teasing me?

"I don't remember that being there before," she said, clearly a little puzzled.

"The Atkinson's kids and ours got along so well, Fred and I put in that gate about forty-five years ago, so they could play together without having to climb over the fence and back every day," I explained. "Trim that hedge back a little, and you can easily use it to get over here whenever you want. But...wait...what did you mean, you 'don't remember...'?"

"I lived here for the first four years of my life, Mr. John Miller, until Mom and Dad split up, and Mom and I moved out of state with my new stepfather," she told me, amused by my astonishment at her statement, and that she already knew my last name.

I stared at her, incredulous. "Hang on, you mean to tell me," I sputtered, "That the cute little pigtailed pixie princess that used to run screaming around that yard when we bought this place almost fifty years ago...was you?"

"No pigtails anymore, but yes, one and the same," she affirmed, still chuckling at my obvious amazement that the strikingly handsome woman before me was in fact the child I barely remembered from so long ago. And I had to redo my estimate of her age; she had to be about fifty-two or so.

"But...wait...her name wasn't Beth," I protested. "It was, um...."

"It was Liz," Beth supplied. "My name is Elizabeth, but Dad liked calling me Liz. After we left, Mom made me start using Beth instead, mostly to irritate Dad, I think."

I continued to stare at her, bemused, and she explained further. "I worked out a deal with my half-siblings from Dad's second marriage. I'm the conservator of Dad's estate, and I'll get his house when he passes. I'll buy the others out of their shares. For now, I'm paying Dad rent to live here."

"So you moved back here to manage his affairs?" I suggested.

"One of us had to, because his dementia has made it impossible for him to handle it anymore," she said. "It made the most sense for me to be the one, because I can find work in my field no matter where I live, and I kind of needed to get out of Michigan, get a change of scenery, anyway."

"Listen, Beth, I'm dying to catch up with you some more, but I also want to finish the yard today," I told her. "Would you let me take you out to dinner tonight? Nothing fancy, just a comfy little diner that I know."

"That sounds wonderful, Mr. Mil...er, I mean, John," she replied, slightly flustered. "I like to cook, but I haven't really got my kitchen stuff unpacked yet, so I've been getting by on delivery and takeout. What time?"

"I'll pick you up at six, if that's OK," I told her. "Strictly casual, no need to dress up for this place."

"Great, see you this evening," she told me. We shook hands briefly again, and parted ways.

--------------------

That evening when Beth answered the door, I saw that she was dressed just as she was when we had met at the fence, except that she had swapped the halter top out for a simple blue sleeveless blouse. I still thought she was cute as hell. "You look very nice this evening, Beth," I told her as we got into my pickup.

"You like these clothes better than what I was wearing when you first saw me this afternoon?" she inquired mischievously.

"You make whatever you're wearing look good," I assured her, and she laughed.

"Well played, John, thank you," she replied. "Serves me right for trying to tease you like that."

She went on, "You're looking very handsome yourself, too. Honestly, I find it hard to believe that you're in your early seventies, even though I know it's true. You don't look much over sixty."

"Thanks," I told her. "I know I have been lucky to be blessed with extraordinarily good health, considering my age, and some, uh, unique health risks that I have to deal with. I have many friends, even some who are younger, who are having to try to cope with serious health issues. A few of them have died, and that's hard to wrap my mind around."

"My own dad is one of your friends struggling with health issues," she observed. "And speaking of Dad, when I was at the care facility the other day, dealing with some administrative business for him, I happened to get a look at the list of people who have come to visit him since he went to live there."

"You've picked him up and taken him to lunch once a week, every week since he moved there, for the past two years," she said, reaching over to put her hand on my shoulder, her quavering voice betraying that she was deeply moved. "Even though it's a three-quarter-hour drive from your house, each way. It means the world to me to know that he was still able to see a familiar face, and talk with an old friend, from time to time, while I lived too far away to do that kind of thing for him. Thank you, John, from the bottom of my heart, for being so kind to Dad."

Now I was sniffling, too. "Your dad was my neighbor for almost fifty years," I said. "My kids, and his, your half-siblings, grew up together. I can't even begin to remember how many times our families went camping and fishing together. Our kids went to the same schools, played on the same Little League and soccer teams, even went to the same church. Heck, two of them even married each other. When we both worked downtown, the two of us carpooled to work, for at least ten years. He's one of the closest friends I have. When his second wife, June, died four years ago, I was almost as broken up over it as he was. Going to see him is as much therapy for me as it is for him, even if nowadays I have to remind him who I am when we get together."

She stared at me in disbelief. "Wait a minute, my half-sister Janine is a Miller, you mean, her husband Mike...?"

"...is my son," I confirmed. "Your half-sister is my daughter-in-law."

"Mom might have known about it," Beth said regretfully. "But she wanted nothing to do with Dad and his second wife's family, and didn't want me to, either, so she never would tell me much of anything about them. My stepdad was in the service, and we were living overseas most of the time while I was growing up. I can't believe I never made that connection, though."

We drove on in silence for a couple of minutes, and I flipped open the console cover between the seats, pulled a couple of tissues from the pack I kept there, and offered them to Beth. She accepted them with a smile, and began to wipe her eyes. I took a handful myself, and did the same.

"Don't want the folks at the diner thinking we just came from a funeral, dressed like this," I quipped, and she laughed.

"No, that wouldn't do," she agreed.

The Woodward Diner was only moderately full when we entered, and I guided Beth to my accustomed booth across from the counter.

"John Andrew Miller, what the hell are you doing in here tonight?" demanded the buxom middle-aged waitress who stormed up to our table in mock anger, pretending to be upset that I would dare show up on a Tuesday. Her name-tag proclaimed her to be Sue. "This ain't Wednesday!"

"Special occasion, Sue," I told her. "Meet my new neighbor, Beth. Beth...Sue. I told her I was taking her to the finest eating establishment in town...but we wound up here instead."

"Hey, buddy, you walked in here on your own, but if you keep bad-mouthing my son's cooking like that, you'll need some help from this poor deluded lady you brought in with you to get back out," she warned me. Beth was staring at the two of us, wide-eyed.

"Oh, pay no mind to us, sweetie," Sue assured her, handing us the menus. "We rag each other this way all the time. What are you drinking, honey? I already know what this old reprobate wants."

Beth ordered iced tea, and Sue hustled away. "Wow, do you two really carry on like that every time you're here?" she asked.

"Pretty much," I replied. "But she does the same thing with most of her other regular customers, too."

"She's...very lively," Beth said, staring over at Sue, who was busy getting our drinks ready. "And...she seems vaguely familiar, somehow." She turned to look at me. "Should I know her?"

"You might," I answered. "Her last name is Woodward, now, but her maiden name was Kincaid. She grew up in the house next door to you on the north side. When she was a kid, everyone called her Susie."

"That's...Susie Kincaid! Oh my God!" Beth whispered, shocked. At that moment, Sue loomed up beside us again, bearing our drinks on a tray. She was clearly intrigued with Beth, staring at her, perplexed.

"Sue, do you remember Liz, the little girl who lived next door to you, when you were little?" I asked her.

Sue's eyes flew open wide in shocked surprise, and she just managed to set her tray down without spilling our drinks. "I...I was sure I knew you from somewhere..." she stammered, her eyes tearing up. "My God, girl, I cried non-stop for a week when your mama took you away..."

"Me, too," Beth replied. In a flash, she was on her feet, and the two women were locked in a tearful embrace. Everyone in the place turned to look, and when it was clear the occasion was a happy reunion, a round of applause broke out.

When they separated, the two women sat down opposite me, and Sue told one of the other waitresses to cover for her for a while. I simply sat, and watched, and listened, bemused-and ignored-as the two childhood companions caught up and recalled what they could of their long-ago friendship.

After about twenty minutes, the place was starting to fill up. Reluctantly, Sue rose and said, "I gotta get back to work now, honey, but we have to get together for lunch tomorrow. Meet me here at 11:00?"

"I'll be here," Beth promised. Sue took our dinner order and got back to work. Beth looked at me.

"You brought me here just to meet her, didn't you?" she demanded.

"If I knew, and didn't bring you here, you'd have been angry at me, wouldn't you?" I asked her in turn.

"Furious," she agreed. "So, again, thank you. Do you have any other surprises tonight that are going to make me cry?"

"I hope not," I said. "I'm running low on tissues in my truck."

"Well, then, I guess I'll just have to shut down the waterworks, won't I?" she said.

Casting about for something a bit less emotional to discuss, I said, "You said you were sure you could find a job in this area. What kind of work do you do?"

"I'm an RN," she replied. "COVID has created a shortage, in some areas a critical shortage, of health care workers, all over the world. This area is no exception. Hospitals and clinics are paying big sign-on bonuses for RNs, LPNs, and medical techs of all kinds."

"In a week or two, once I get the house organized, I'll start accepting assignments from a temporary employment agency that specializes in placing health care workers. I plan to insist that my assignments be to different facilities, no more than one week at each one. That way I get to experience the workplace culture at a variety of different places, so that when I'm ready to settle on one, I'll have the info I need to choose wisely."