This is my entry into the Summer Lovin' 2021 contest. I hope you find the story interesting on different levels, the sexual education of a young woman and the complicated relationship between friends and lovers with an older man. Please vote for this story. Thank you.
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There was a knock on my door, which is rare in the rural desert outside Tucson. My neighbors and I live on at least an acre, we are a tight community, friendly, but we rarely just drop in on each other. We call or text. I was wondering who would come inside my gate and knock on the door.
I opened my front door to see a tall woman. Well groomed and professionally looking. Her long blonde hair flowed gracefully over her shoulders.
"Mr. Keller?" she inquired.
"Yes," I responded.
"My name is Karen McDonald," she said while extending her hand to shake mine. "I am a Realtor who is representing the investor who recently bought the property next to yours."
Art, my next-door neighbor, passed away in April. He was survived by his wife who was incapacitated. When he died his son put his mother in a home and sold the property.
"Did you know the previous owner of that property?" she asked pointing in the direction of Art's house.
"Yes, I did," I replied. "My wife and I were good friends with Art and Claire."
"Well, I noticed the house is handicapped equipped," Karen explained. "Yet, there doesn't appear to be a ramp for wheelchair access, like yours. You look fine, is your wife handicapped?" she asked timidly not sure if she was prying too much.
"My wife had a stroke several years ago," I offered. "She past six months ago."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she responded sincerely.
"Art had a metal, ramp that his son removed when he sold the house," I explained.
"That's what I was wondering," the Realtor said. "I have a client who requires handicap access and she would love to rent the house. I was trying to figure out what to do about ramp access."
"You can have one built like mine, which you see is long with a slight pitch," I explained. "I did that because I was my wife's caretaker and I wanted it as easy as possible on me physically. Claire, Art's wife, had a powered wheelchair so the metal ramp was not a problem for her."
"OK, that makes a lot of sense. The owner doesn't want to spend a lot to rent the house so maybe the metal ramp would be better," she concluded. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Keller," she said extending her hand once again to shake mine.
A few weeks later I noticed a crew installing a ramp on the neighboring house.
June had been hot and now that July was coming in I prayed for the monsoon rains. The saguaros appeared skinny after several years of drought, less than normal rains. These tall cacti had a spring of exceptional blooms, out of desperation for survival or to portend a rainy fruitful summer. I hoped for the later.
It was a stormy Thursday, first day of July, in the afternoon when I saw a car and pull up next-door at Art's old house. The wind was blowing fiercely, thunder and lightning in the distance. I observed Karen McDonald getting out of the sedan, running up the ramp and opening the front door. She ran back to the van.
"Shit, we have to get Mom up this ramp before the lightning strikes and kills us all," a young woman cried out.
"Chill out, Nikki," I heard yelling from the van.
These were to be my new neighbors, so I felt an obligation to go over and help. As I approached them, Karen noticed me.
"Mr. Keller," she called out. "Thank you for coming over."
"What can I do to help?" I asked.
"Can you get the wheelchair off the rack in back of the van so I can get my mother on it?" asked the young woman with a sense of desperation. I did just that and bought it around the side of the van where a woman sat in a swiveled chair, dark brown eyes and long flowing black hair. She had a large bust, noticeable cleavage. One good arm and hand, the other amputated below the elbow, two stubs for legs.
"Ready Mom?" the young woman warned as she reached up, picked her mother up like nothing and set her in the chair. Just then the sky unleashed a torrent of rain. By the time we made it up the ramp and, in the house, we were all drenched.
Karen's phone went off. She answered and stepped off to the side. I took the opportunity to introduce myself.
"I'm Ryan Keller," I said to the two women. "I live at the adjacent property," getting my bearings, "over there," pointing in the direction of my house.
"I'm Mary," said the woman in the wheelchair. "This is my daughter Nikki," she introduced the young woman. Nikki had the beginnings, the immature attributes of her mother's beauty. A little chubby with undeveloped breasts, same dark exotic eyes and short black hair.
"The washes are running bad and several roads are closed," Karen informed us. "Unfortunately, the moving truck won't make it this afternoon."
The house was barren. No furniture and they had few belongings amongst them.
"Maybe we should go to a hotel then," Mary suggested.
"If the moving truck can't make it here, how are we going to make it back to the freeway hotels?" Karen replied.
"Let me get some towels, blankets and, if I can remember where it is an inflatable mattress for you tonight. Also, I can loan you a couple of lamps," I offered. "It will be dark in a few hours." I noticed they only had the overhead lights in the kitchen. "Think of it as a camping trip," I said trying to lighten the situation.
The rain was still coming down hard but the wind subsided. Nikki followed me to my house. My dog started barking like crazy as we entered.
"Take it easy, Daisy," I told my little dog. Still, she ran up to Nikki and kept yapping. "Don't worry Nikki, she's all bark and no bite."
"Ok," Nikki said timidly.
I grabbed a few large black trash bags to load towels, sheets and blankets in. I found the inflatable mattress and pump. We were ready to head back to Mary and Nikki's new home when I thought we all needed something to make the day brighter.
"Wait," I told Nikki. "One more thing, or several more things." I grabbed two bottles of wine and four glasses and put them in the bag with towels.
Before we broke out the towels, I opened up a bottle of wine and poured us four glasses. I handed one to Nikki and she looked over to her mom.
"It's alright Nikki," Mary said in response to Nikki's stare. "Just sip it slow to get used to it."
We all dried off as best as possible. Nikki had retrieved a suitcase from the van so she and her mother could change into dry clothes. I helped set up the mattress on the living room floor. It was getting dark and we finished off both bottles of wine.
When Mary and her daughter were in the bathroom changing, Karen took me aside.
