Please leave me constructive feedback, maybe I will repost this story with your feedback in mind? Have fun reading. I had fun writing.
As you can imagine, none of these characters are real, this is a fictional world and it allows us to step outside of ourselves. Even if just for a minute.
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"I want to fuck your wife." I just rang the doorbell and told him.
The movers were gone. The landscaping guys had come and gone. The house next door, much nicer than mine, well that is easy, because all houses around mine are nicer, it looked like someone moved in.
OK, I bounce. So, I have a different schedule than most people in this neighborhood. I like to spend time outside, nothing too strenuous, since I spend plenty of time in the gym, but my porch is my favorite room. I drink lemonade and watch life happen, right in front of me. Oh, the people that warm up to me find me very helpful as I help and do simple tasks. For instance, I take their trash out while they are on holiday, I fix stuff that suddenly craps out, and I come when there is an emergency, like the woodchuck under the porch or when their cat is way high up in the tree.
A few weeks ago, I saw them pull up, realtor in tow, the executive type, dry-clean everything, shiny expensive car, out of his league pretty wife, and with a big smile that says: "I want this."
So it was no surprise to me to see them move in.
Well, it had been a week or two, and after the first week, he started a rigorous schedule. Leave at 7:30 AM sharp and return somewhere around 5:45 PM. Except today. He got home at 3:30 PM. Must be that he had an appointment that got cancelled on Friday afternoon. Yeah, right.
All this week I saw her busy around the house. A bunch of service people stopped by. I saw the cable guy, the rodent and pest control guy, some gay looking dude - probably an interior decorator since he showed up again the day after with a bunch of furniture, and people like that.
But that wasn't the important part. The important part was that while I was sitting there, sipping my lemonade, I watched this hot woman parade around - maybe slightly self-conscious - in her designer grade hot outfits. Yes, I watched, I did... It was summer and it made me have spring type of thoughts...
How could you not? I am sure that every man around - well, maybe not the gay dude - would agree that she was something every dream starts with. Oh, you don't even want to know how those dreams end...
OK, so after a week of watching this woman parade in front of me, it was time.
I rang the doorbell. It was Friday, maybe 4:30 PM. He opened the door and with an annoyed frown over his dry-clean white shirt with stylishly embroidered company logo he almost grunted at me, in a questioning way: "Yes?"
He had to look up. I was almost a foot taller than him.
Also, in my dark T-shirt, which was substantially too small after it made it through the wash and drier, I must have looked "present." Let's call it that since I can intimidate the worst drunk at the local club.
"Yes?" he repeated, now with obvious signs of chagrin.
I don't like to pussyfoot around, so with a courteous smile said: "I want to fuck your wife."
Oh, you have never seen such a small guy lose his shit this fast. I just stood there, somewhat bewildered, while he lifted himself up by holding on to my neck, screaming straight in my face: "Who the hell do you think you are, saying stuff like this" and "Where do you get the guts to even consider asking a question like that!"
I have to admit, I was temporarily taken aback by the vigor of his response.
All I could say, while he was trying to choke me, was: "Sir, I advise you to let go of me right now."
Maybe it was the chill in my voice, maybe it was that I was a second away from throwing him over the fence.
All that happened in a quick second. A second in which I thought to myself: "Shit, this guy is really not very open minded!!" Here I was, trying to be open and straight with the guy and all I get was this half weight trying to do jungle gym on my body? This guy has to work on his communication skills! His wife was super-hot, the least he could do was share.
He slowly, icily let go. As we were both standing back on the pavers of his entry, he said, or really tried to say in a managed way: "You good-for-nothing, you don't go near my wife, or I will kill you, I swear!"
Well, I have been threatened way worse. And have been threatened by more scary people than this executive dude. But I decided not to make a fuss about it. So, I shrugged my shoulders, turned around on my heels and walked back to my porch with my still cold lemonade.
He slammed the door shut behind me. I am not sure, but would have bet that he was going on for quite a while after, judging by the sounds in the house. You know, the sounds of breaking glass and such.
Saturday morning is my favorite time of the week. On top of that, the weather was gorgeous, almost inviting for some kind of outdoor activity. I decided to wash & polish my '66 Mustang after I would get back from the gym.
Right after I left in my daily driver, some hothead passed me on the residential streets of our subdivision. Oh, wait, that is the new neighbor, I realized after he did the familiar single finger wave to me.
On Saturdays I always kept my workouts brief, after all it was the weekend for me as well. Also, I really wanted to get back to my Mustang. Don't get me wrong, it was a great car, but it wasn't as great as it looked. A friend of mine who was a sports car bodywork expert decided to pay off a debt and redid the whole exterior. It was a beautiful two tone black, a slim stripe to go along with it and he pestered me long enough that it needed some hot wheels to top it all off. OK, call me a push-over, I ordered the wheels and swanky tires and after my friend put them on, we spent the evening on the town. Good thing we didn't get pulled over, that is all I can say.
With warm water, turtle whatever wax and some kind of silicone soap, I walked up to my Mustang that I just rolled out of the garage.
"I have never been asked like that!" a gigglish female voice exclaimed.
OK, now it was time for all of my muscle body to take a breath. It is easy to be tough when you are in your element, but now, caught off guard by this hot chick?
Oh, hot, let me tell you. She was wearing her hair in two large curls, almost old fashioned, off to the side. OK, not hot, but very pretty. A simple white T-shirt, OK also not hot, but her boobs were trying to tear the cotton by simply stretching it. Also, I know you would pay me if you got to stand this close to the nipples behind that shirt that were trying to poke through. And simple jean shorts, OK, on legs like this any shorts would have grabbed your attention, except that the scissors she had must not have been working right because the cut at the back must have gone way North of the plan. I told you, this is a Trophy wife. Oh, and some TROPHY!
Yes, I am quick with words. I have to, it is my job. But most of my opponents are well liquored up, so the bar isn't very high. Now, add this level of distraction, and me trying to be gentlemanesque, I know that is not a word, so insult me about a second language and such, but I didn't know what to say.
"Oh, you blush?" She said. "Well, I knew I can make almost any man blush, but I haven't even started trying yet." She said in a giggle.
OK, now I knew I was in trouble.
Remember the executive dude, not very open minded, that threatened to kill me? Mmmm.
"I don't think you ever have to try." I replied. "Somehow that is just one of your natural powers."
She ignored everything I said. It almost sounded rehearsed, and said: "We are having a house warming party for the neighborhood next Friday, I would like it if you came too."
"Maybe you would, but I know for sure your husband isn't in the same frame of mind." I replied.
She didn't listen. All she said, while she whipped her long hair around was: "See you then." while flashing a big smile. She looked back a second time, just to make sure I was still checking out her shorts. I was.
The week went by in its usual fashion, the biggest change was that right at 7:30 AM and again at 5:45 PM it went "honk, honk." I must have some kind of fan. I just shrugged my shoulders. But all that immature behavior, it sure made sure I was going to pay a visit during the open house.
Well my Friday didn't go as planned. I ended up doing some kind of project for one of my friends and it took way longer than expected. When I rolled my Mustang into the driveway, I couldn't help but notice all the cars in the driveway next door, on the road, the lawn, everywhere.
Wow, these new folks, they either have a lot of friends, or the whole neighborhood is much too curious for their own good, or some people are on his payroll and just simply can't not go.
I thought to myself: "I like my simple life." as I waited for the garage door to roll up.
But, with a crowd that large, I wouldn't get noticed as easily, I thought to myself.
I parked the Mustang, changed my shirt, not that I have that wide of a wardrobe, I usually wear dark T-shirts, but I picked out an especially new one, since I felt it would suit the party atmosphere better.
And I headed over. Across the lawns, no fence here, only on the front, along the road.
Ding, Dong it sounded after I hit the doorbell.
Almost immediately the door swung open. Several guests, none of which I recognized, other than the dry-clean pressed shirts and the similar embroidered logo, spilled out.
I tried to introduce myself, but it appeared most of them were already deep into the Merlot, or whatever fancy drink that was going around.
Some young waitress looking girl was carrying a tray, and I grabbed a slender glass. It was a white wine, something soft and crisp. Great, I smiled to myself, as I don't drink that much on a regular basis and this was actually sort of refreshing.
Out in the crowd, I suddenly noticed her. Yes, the sweetest smile, and a presence no-one would miss. Oh, and now she was wearing a dress, a dress that would immediately cause an accident at any busy intersection. Her boobs, that already were not that shy, simply commanded attention. And while the dress was long, the high split, oh how would anyone be able to not keep an eye on what part of thigh - or more - would show through a split like That?
She had already noticed me, and was hastily, not really the right word, energetically, trying to get to the front door. After all, with this enormous volume of drunk people, that is where I got stuck at.
She hugged me, and I hugged back, in a friendly way. Never mind that I felt her boobs push on my chest and some of that dress rubbed over my jeans. And little Mr. Bouncer, let's just say he started waking up in a hurry...
"Oh, Jake!" she called out over her shoulder, "Look who is here?"
I tried to look through the people that were obscuring the view, but I did not see the little man. But at least I now knew his name was Jake.
"Oh, Jake will be so excited to see you" she said.
"I can't wait" I told her, suddenly realizing I didn't know her name.
