Kathy
Friends celebrate Thanksgiving together
My neighbor, Jake, was unloading his trunk with bags of groceries when I drove up. We had been living side by side for over five years. He was always pleasant to talk to but we had never really had a real conversation. It was always the weather or other light subjects. I was divorced and I think he knew that but I had no idea of his history.
Feeling neighborly I walked over and offered to help him carry the bags into his house. Maybe I was feeling a little curious also. A single guy, I never saw a woman coming or going or a man for that matter. What did he do for company? Was he a hoarder?
Naturally he refused, said he had it under control, I insisted. He gave in and I grabbed two bags and followed him in. I was shocked. The place was a neat and clean. Knick knacks were on the fireplace mantel and on shelves. Great photos hung on the walls I love good photography. The carpet looked freshly vacuumed. Not a sign of dust anywhere. My first thought was I need to hire this guy as a housemaid. The kitchen was the same. I was very impressed.
He offered me a cup of coffee and I accepted after I said I was ok and he offered a second time. He brought out a pie from the refrigerator, apologized, telling me he had made it a day ago but it still should be good. It was the best key lime pie I had ever tasted and told him so. He had the grace to blush. I loved it. Housemaid my ass, I needed a cook also and an interior decorator and he certainly qualified.
That night lying in bed I was wondering what was I missing. Why wasn't there women storming his house? He kept it clean. It appeared he was not a stranger in the kitchen. I had peeked in his garage as I was passing his home several times and it looked clean at least from the street. Maybe the basement was full of freezers and dead bodies?
I prayed that being curious didn't kill this cat. I waited a week and waylaid him on a Saturday morning as he was cutting his lawn. Did I mention his yard was as neat as his home? I waved and he waved back. That was all I needed so I walked over. He shut down the mower and we exchanged pleasantries for ten minutes or so. It seemed he was comfortable talking with me.
I finally got around to my question, I wanted to know where he had purchased the wonderful art he had hanging on the walls in the living room. It turns out his hobby is photography. When I was raving about how great I thought it was he invited me in if I wanted to look at some of it.
There were landscapes, flowers, close ups of stuff I couldn't identify and portraits. I study each one as he explained the location or the time. The first portrait was a niece and he had taken for her graduation photos several years ago. The other was a woman about my age except very lovely. A catch was in his voice as he explained she was a close friend. I suspected a very close friend and foolishly asked where she is now? He hiccupped and when I glanced at him a tear was running down his cheek.
I felt so bad; I had opened a wound and said, "I am so sorry Jake. It's none of my business. Please forgive me."
"No, it's ok. We were very close. She passed away a few years ago. She allowed me to photograph her many times and I have those memories."
Open mouth and insert foot. "She was very beautiful; may I see some of the others?"
Without a word he turned and led me into the hallway. On the walls were three very large and very tasteful nudes of the same woman. She truly was a wonderful woman, hair I would kill for and a body I would kill for. One of the photos was of her standing facing the camera without trying to hide anything. A Mona Lisa smile, one arm behind her back and the other hanging by her side, her breasts were small and firm, a narrow waist with full hips, a patch of dark hair hide her sex and one leg was kind of hitched to the side and the other holding her up.
Another was a half body shot, from maybe just below her breasts. Her nipples were firm and standing out proud like maybe she had just teased them before the camera clicked. Again she had that smile that was asking the age old question.
The third was a back side photo. She appeared to be walking away and looking back over her shoulder with that same smile. Her ass looked as good as her front. One cheek was raised up and the other down just as you would expect from someone as they walked.
"May I look at them a little longer?" I asked. "She was truly a very beautiful woman. That body, that smile, I love it. I would have loved to have known her. I'm so sorry for your loss. She must have been so very comfortable with you to allow you the privilege of photographing her."
He said I could look as long as I liked and when I was ready he would brew a fresh cup of coffee. I must have spent over twenty minutes looking at them. The smell of the coffee and something sweet drew me to the kitchen. Over the coffee and sweet rolls we chatted. Sometimes about his photography and sometimes about other stuff, we agreed on the state of the political chaos and did not agree on religion.
We parted as real friends. I felt kind of close to him. Which is strange, after my divorce I had sworn no more men in my life. I had a few lady friends that I enjoyed spending time with. No that that kind of time, lunch, movies, gardening, talking types of friends.
Over the rest of the summer we would see each other at odd times and always stopped to spend anywhere from five to thirty minutes chatting. No subject was off limits it seemed. Even the religion we disagreed on, sometimes almost violently.
I debated with myself. I really wanted him to take my pictures. Like the ones I saw in his hallway. Me naked and looking like those I saw. I may not be a raving beauty like his friend but I do look good. My parents blessed me with good genes. I'm almost six foot tall, well I'm five foot ten inches, good cheek bones and long thick dark brown hair. My body will stop all but a blind man to take a second look. My breasts are medium size, a large b or small c depending on how the sizes run. My stomach is firm and flat with just a hint of a womanly pouch. Long legs and I think shapely feet.
It was close to Halloween. Jake rang my doorbell and asked if I could give him a hand with something that needed four hands for a few minutes. He was putting up some silly decorations for the trick or treaters. It took almost an hour before we were done. It had been a warm fall and we were both sweating. He offered some apple cider. I accepted. He warned me it was spiked with vodka after he poured me a glass of it. I should have refused it. Vodka makes me stupid.