03

It's been over 20 months since I separately posted Neighbor Chapters 1, 2 and 3, which have now been deleted.

I have just edited these earlier chapters and compacted them into one longer chapter. I have five further completed totally new Neighbor chapters to follow on from this piece. These remaining chapters will complete the whole Neighbor story concluding in a surprise ending.

If you are reading this story for the first time, that's great. I hope you enjoy it and stick with me for the rest. If you remember the earlier posting, you may be able to skip this, although its content is critical to a clear understanding of what is to come. You may consider this as a refresh. The new chapters are ready to go and will be posted over the next week or so.

This is fiction arising from my imagination. Any resemblance to places, events or people living or dead is pure coincidence.

Chapter 1 -- A spark is lit

Jim had a passing acquaintance with his next-door-but-one neighbor for about seven years. The young wife, Kelsey, who arrived in the house just married at age twenty-three had matured into a fine young woman with the arrival of her two children. Seeing and walking over to chat with Kelsey, usually outside in the spring and summer months, was not a hardship for Jim. He liked attractive women.

Returning from a walk Jim saw Kelsey planting some annuals in her front garden. She waved at Jim. He strolled over to join her, be neighborly and pass the of day with her. Yet as the conversation progressed Jim sensed this conversation was somehow different. Not so much with the words. It was that Jim suddenly became acutely aware of how very desirable and hot the woman before him had become. She had a great figure and an effervescent, somewhat quirky and challenging personality.

He would have followed her into her house and done anything she asked had she invited him in. She didn't. Jim tried to shake the thought that he had developed a boy-like crush on Kelsey. He hoped he managed to conceal his lustful attraction. He, as a retired older man, felt embarrassed at his own reaction.

Jim liked to write, mostly to work out his anxieties and stress. He wrote stories secretly. This time he tackled his totally inappropriate crush with a fresh story aiming to exorcise his reaction to Kelsey from his system. In his story he became Mike, Kelsey took on the role of Ruth and Kelsey's husband, who he hardly knew, was Bill,.

With Jim's wife, Gee, out for the day, he sat down to write.

******

Neighbor -- getting to know them

The phone rang.

"Mike?"

"Yes." Flat voice.

"Bill here."

I was no wiser. "Who?" With a bit of impatient attitude built into my reply.

"Bill. Neighbor. Two doors down. Ruth's husband." I detected a slight reflected impatience in his attitude.

"Oh. Hi there, Bill." Shook off my earlier edge by sounding bright. I had only spoken to the man half a dozen times over the few years since Bill and his wife Ruth had moved into Marge's old place. "What's up?"

"Can I come over to see you for a few minutes?" Cordial enough, but I was immediately on the defensive.

"What about? Something we can't cover the phone?"

Bill sounded quite calm but rehearsed. "No. I need your advice. Better to be with you."

"No prob. When'd like to come over?"

"You free now? Work best for me. I have a six-pack of wheat beer I can bring."

"Sure. Give me ten minutes and come right in. The door is unlocked." I needed breathing time to gather myself. I had a pee and pulled a couple of glass tankards from the cupboard, not that I liked wheat beer that much.

Doorbell rang. Clearly uncomfortable, Bill just waltzing in. He shook my hand as he entered. It was ice cold. We broke open a couple of beers as we sat down in the family room. I poured mine into a glass. He drank from the bottle.

"So, what's up?"

Bill sat facing me on the edge of his chair, somewhat hunched over, looking at me from under his eyebrows.

"You fucking my wife?"

"Pardon? What did you say?" It came out of me as a sort of explosive exclamation. I sprayed beer over the floor.

"You heard me. Answer." He had balled his fists and straightened his back. I knew I must be careful. As much as he tried to muster an angry dominating posture, his youthful face, light skin and almost blond stubble projected a petulant innocence rather than his desired effect. But there was not much doubt he was angry and on the edge of violence.

"Short answer. No. Long answer remains the same. I have not been fucking your wife." I emphasized the 'not' and tapered the end of the sentence.

Bill jumped in again. "You lying to me?" Louder this time. More anger with less attempted menace.

"Bill. Bill. I am not lying to you. I repeat. I have not fucked your wife. Where's this shit coming from?" I thought I better go on the offensive.

"A note in my letter box saying you go over to see Ruth three or four times a week in the afternoon and stay at least an hour sometimes two or three."

Jesus, that Jane woman. "Ah, I get it. Bill. The note you received probably came from Jane in number 7. She is a busy body. Further she has it in for me. We have a history going way back over 30 years since we first moved in. If you have two hours, I can tell you about it. " I took a deep breath, leaned forward and looked Bill straight in the eyes.

"As recent as a year ago I had my tires mysteriously slashed, and my beautiful climbing roses all suddenly withered. I had no proof to accuse her, so I ignored the vandalism, but I had the reasons and knew it was her."

I paused for breath and another swig of beer. "So, it makes sense that the note you received was from her. Right? She is trying to stir up trouble for me using you. Can you see that?"

Bill nodded. "Kind of." He was now frowning trying to make sense of what he thought he knew. His body relaxed.

I pushed on before he could ask his next question.

"Now for a surprise. Jane was right. I've been going over to see Ruth on a regular basis. But hear me out." Bill had clenched his fists again. I could see his jaw muscles clench.

"I go over two or three times a week, not Jane's three or four. But that's a detail. Sometimes it's just once. And obviously only when you are away, and then, only if you are gone for over a week. You've been taking a lot of two and three-week trips lately with your job. I've seen her a fair amount."

"I repeat. Did you fuck her?" Red, with clenched fists again, almost shouting. He was like a dog with a bone.

"Bill, the answer is still no. Look at me. Look." I stood up and turned a full 360 in front of him.

"I am seventy-two. I know I do not look my age and I am proud of my shock of white hair. What doesn't show is that I have prostate cancer." Bill frowned again, puzzled.

Mike continued, "Once I was a vigorous lover with my wife. Jean and I had a very active sex life until her stomach cancer metastasized and became so bad it was no longer possible. She died you know. One year later, I got prostate cancer and had a radical prostatectomy. They took it out. There was also some hormone treatment and chemo. The only problem with the surgery is that the nerve saving part of the procedure was only partially successful and I can only get a semi-erection that is too soft to allow penetration. No fucking. If you want to see the operation scar, I'll show you."

Bill leant forward with his arms on his knees and looked down at his hands, squirming a bit. "I didn't know that. Did they get rid of all the cancer?"

"There is no reason for you to know that. And yes, I still have the cancer, but it is extremely slow developing." I did not elaborate further. Bill finished his bottle and picked up another.

"My apologies. I thought you were screwing Ruth." Bill looked crestfallen. "Anyway, how did you get to be so friendly with Ruth?"

"Oh, that's easy to answer. A couple of times after you first arrived on the street I got chatting with Ruth as she just arrived home in the car and was taking the kids out of their seats, or as we put the garbage out. I told her if she was ever stuck and needed help when you were away to give me a call. I have a good set of tools and maybe the knowledge to fix things. One of your trips away the fire alarm went off and she couldn't get it to stop beeping. She called me and I managed to get the stupid battery out."

"I heard about that."

"The second incident you may not be as familiar with."

"What d'you mean?"

"Ruth called with a drawer stuck closed. Something inside the drawer had kicked up and was preventing it from being pulled open. I took over a wide paint scraping knife and also a stainless-steel flexible ruler with the thought I could push through the crack at the top of the drawer and jiggle something free."

"I was surprised when she took me into your master bedroom. It was her bedside table drawer that was stuck. Ruth swore me to silence. I wrestled with that darn drawer for half an hour without success. Ruth was giggling as we chatted, and I probed the crack at the top of the drawer. At one point I almost had the drawer open before the offending item locked it shut again. Ruth shook her head and laughed out loud. I persisted. I cleared the lamp and alarm clock from the top and placed the whole table on its back. I did not see the humor in the situation and was getting annoyed when I sprung the blocking item as it fell to the back."

After a swig of beer, Mike continued, "Ruth continued to josh me. As I left, she suggested we must do this again sometime soon. I told her not to overfill her drawers. She invited me over for coffee the following week -- you were still away. We stayed in the kitchen. By the way you did a great job on the kitchen and the rest of the house. And we went on from there."

"Ruthy'll find humor in some of the strangest things. That's one of the things I love about her."

"As you have gathered, our morning coffees together and sometimes afternoon tea have become a fixture when you are away."

"Is Ruthy lonely?"

"Good question. Not in the traditional sense. She is doing good things with the Young Mother's support group she has started. The Yummy-Mummy crowd as I call them. She has her Pilates crowd as well, who she loves to be with. She's bright and energetic." I did not add that I enjoyed being around that energy.

"What she and other young mothers often miss is male company. Not to fuck as you put it, but just to have a different viewpoint and adult conversation. I guess my age also is a factor. I am safe and she foolishly assumes I have gained some wisdom over the years. Someone to talk to."

"I don't understand that completely, but it can be harmless enough I suppose." Bill now sat back on the chair in a much more relaxed posture.

"Look, Bill. I have learned a lot about you from Ruth's ramblings. I am a good listener notwithstanding I have done most of the talking today. I know that Ruth loves you very much. She also admires you. You are great with the kids, you treat her with the utmost respect, and love her deeply. You are already successful by being good at what you do and ambitious to do more. You have created a wonderful home from a somewhat run-down house. The list goes on." I added with a wink, "In fact you sound a bit like me when I was younger."

"I am pleased to hear all that." Bill was blushing slightly.

"Don't get the wrong idea, she doesn't think you are perfect. She could use some more help in the kitchen clearing up after meals. You leave you clothes around when you take them off. You lose your wallet and keys on a regular basis, by not being organized. There are some more faults she identified that I forget. Again, you sound a bit like me until I was trained."

"That's not so bad, I guess. Thanks. I'll look out for those items. Let me know if you learn of any other deficiencies."

I change the direction of the conversation after a few moments thought. "You were brought up in a strict religious household, I gather. And was sent off to a religious boarding school for most of your life." I raised my eyebrows at Bill, questioning.

"You're right. It was heaven and hell together. And, yes, I have some hang-ups from the experience. No, don't get the wrong idea. There was no abuse or anything like that, but the discipline was rigorous and the focus narrow."

"Sex education, for example?" I floated.

"None. I learned a bit from the playground, but since I was such a nerd, I got very little of that. University was the same. Nose down and hit the books. No sports. I was all work and no play. Great focus though."

"I thought that might be the case. Do you watch porn? Read erotica? Just asking." I saw Bill shudder.

"No way. That filth."

"Hold on there. Sexuality is part of the human condition. Miss out on sexuality and it may screw up your life, if you'll pardon the pun."

"Look. My head knows but my heart, or maybe it's my soul, cannot do it - don't know how to soften on this subject."

"You're already on the slippery slope. You do realize, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Bill frowned. "Don't get it."

"You burst in today and asked me if I'd fucked you wife. Right?"

"Well. Yes."

"It was easy to accuse me, but it also shows a lack of trust of Ruth. Your potential jealousy at her screwing me tells me that you think it was possible she was unfaithful to you. You do not fully trust Ruth."

"Hey. Hold on there. That's a stretch from going from my thin sex education to not trusting Ruth."

"I contend if you had a wider view of sex and its manifestations you would have realized on your own that I was a most unlikely candidate to have fucked Ruth. Maybe I shouldn't tell you this, but Ruth thinks you are only a mediocre lover." I was running hot.

"Fuck you. How the hell do you know that, or are just yanking my chain?"

"OK. I extrapolated. She made an allusion to the fact that your love making sessions lasted not much longer than ten minutes, and you were done. At a minimum, anything under half an hour, in my view, is second rate. With my wife, I was hardly into the foreplay after ten minutes."

I noticed Bill did not respond. I thought he'd be angry. If anything, he was tearing up. "Bill you need to get out a lot more -- you need a practical sex education. It's not just about procreation, not matter what you were taught. Making true love is an art and the most profound pleasure two people can share."

We sat in silence.

Bill then asked, "How can I improve?"

"Simple. Communicate about sex with Ruth. I can give you a start. Remember I said we started our chats after I managed to open her bedside drawer. Well what I did not tell you the contents of the drawer. Want to know? I warn you the answer may change your life."

Bill threw up his hands in defeat or despair. "Hit me. I have no idea. Condoms?"

"Five dildos and two other bits of vibrating sex equipment." I let the silence remain. Bill, eyes wide open, held a glazed look on his face mirroring his shock.

"Perhaps you can understand better why Ruth was giggling and laughing whilst I was wrestling with the drawer. Later she told me that had the drawer been in the kitchen she would have her dad, or your dad or brother over to fix it. She thought of me as a safe bet, and she hoped discrete."

"What?" As he came back, his voice was incredulous. "What. Seven masturbation objects? Did I get that right?"

"Yes. You and Ruth need to talk."

"Maybe I have broken Ruth's trust by telling you, but I think it's important for you to know so your relationship to Ruth can flourish."

"What do I say to her? I hear you have seven items to get off with? Yea. Right."

"I suspect she now keeps them in another drawer. I think you should 'accidentally' find them and let her explain. But so you don't go into that conversation cold let me give you an outline. When you are away, she gets very horny, particularly after you talk on the phone, which I gather is every night. She needs relief. She gives it to herself. A different experience every night. Her equipment is named Sunday through to Saturday. Remember your Ruthy is a healthy, high libido twenty-eight-year-old, modern, active woman."

"Named? She gave them names? Really?" Bill gave a wry smile and shook his head from side to side.

"You should ask her about them. Let her tell you herself. But I get the impression even her toys may not be enough. You have to step in and enhance their experience. Get her to use them while you are on the phone, or better still with you there. Better that than her looking for other action elsewhere."

He immediately took my meaning. "Why would you even suggest the idea that she might cheat on me? That's sick."

"It may be 'sick' as you call it but it's true. One day you called at the lunch hour to let her know you'd be tied up in meetings that evening. I happened to pop in to see her for a chat. She mentioned your call she taken about half an hour earlier."

"As we sat down, she handed me a small remote. I had no idea what it was. I quickly learnt. She told me to press the 1 button. The TV did not come on, nor did a radio. I half expected to see a Lego toy she had built come out from under the sofa."

"Instead, I heard a faint hum and asked her if it had just opened the garage door. Sounded like that. I was asked to up the setting to 2. This produced a slightly louder hum, and Ruth brought her hands up to her breasts over her tee-shirt and started to rub her nipples. I did not stop her."

"I'd quickly figured she was using the remote-controlled egg-like vibrator I had seen in the drawer in her bedroom. I turned it up to 7 briefly to see what would happen and she jumped up eyes wide. "You bastard." I turned back to 2 again immediately."

"For the next hour I played her. Bringing her up and then backing off. She stripped off her sweater and her bra as I watched. I discovered she had large prominent -- huge in fact - nipples on smallish breasts, as you must know. She played with them as I played with her through the vibrator. After a while I could see she was tiring, and she pulled up her loose skirt and started fingering herself in front of me. I turned it up. She lay back and gave a symphony of musical grunts for a full minute as she flooded her already soaking panties and the chair."

"Earlier you asked me if I'd fucked Ruth. No I didn't but I brought her off to a shuddering climax. Things advance from there. She wanted me to see her get herself off on her assortment of her other tools. I obliged." I expected Bill to explode, be he just hung his head lower with a resigned look on his face.

He surprised me with his question. "Where were the kids when you were doing all this stuff?"

"Ruth made sure they were fully asleep for their afternoon nap before anything happened. At the slightest sound from their bedrooms she would stop immediately, and we'd go down to the kitchen and just talk. She has what I call a 'Mother's ear'. She could hear them if they blinked. She is a good mother."

"So where's this going?" Bill grabbed his fifth bottle of beer. He was a morose drunk, fortunately. Not a fighting one.

I'd decided to go all in. "After about ten different sessions. One day Ruth was quite straight-forward with me. She trusted me, and my presence seemed to give her enhanced relief for her horniness. She started to talk about cunnilingus. She had never experienced it, she told me. She asked me to help her."

"I had to decide if this was a step too far for me and for us. I concluded, if not me it would be someone else. She had no idea how to even approach the subject with you and your inhibitions. I do not wish to sound noble about this. I loved getting Jean off with my rather long tongue." I poked out my tongue and touched the end of my nose with it.