Dumpster Dive

by A J Gala

  Part One

  James Fuller | AJ Gala

  Copyright © 2019 by James Fuller and AJ Gala

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Dumpster Dive part 1 -- 1st ed.

  Dedicated to The Authors’ Table. Members, admins, writers, readers—all of you inspire us to create messes like this.

  That’s right. This is your fault.

  T he cloudless night was silent and crisp, the waning of fall making way for the coming of a bitter winter as soft, icy crystals began to form on the most vulnerable spots of nature. By morning the gentle kiss of winter would cascade down from the mountain hillsides, slowly caressing the fringes of the small town of Emerald Falls until the warmth of the sun scared the creeping of winter back for another day; slowly losing the battle.

  The stillness of the night was broken by an otherworldly, shrieking, pained howl coming down from the hills making its way closer to Emerald Falls. The closer the sound got, the less it could be heard as it diminished. By the time the lone, tall, naked figure moved from the shadows of trees into the flickering light of a streetlamp, the twisted sound was just a memory on the wind that no one heard.

  The man shivered, rubbing his hands over his bare arms to stave away the cold seeping into his limbs. He cursed his forgetfulness at not leaving a stash of clothes out around this area. His others had been torn, the change coming on too quickly for him to react in time to undress.

  Breathing out a sigh of frustration and exhaustion, he slowly began to make his way home, praying to whatever deity that might care to listen that none of his neighbors saw him in his naked, dirty state. Life was already complicated enough these last few years. He didn’t need to add public nudity to that ever-growing list of reasons people raised eyebrows at him.

  The sound of talking, grunts, and furniture being shifted around slowly cut through the darkness that clung to him. The sounds started off far away but quickly grew closer and closer until they faded again, only to return close and fade once more.

  Stephan slowly pulled his eyes open, his face crinkling up as the brightness of the morning sun assaulted him. The sounds of movement and people grew louder once more, and he quickly realized he wasn’t within his house, but outside under a blue tarp laying on the ground somewhere.

  “Of course, I am outside, why the fuck not? Why could I ever rely on myself to get home after changing?” he whispered while peering out of the tarp to see where he had ended up. “Double fuck!” He cursed again seeing his almond brown house next door. At least I am close to home this time. I should be able to jump the fence and get inside without being seen.

  He waited several moments, gathering himself; his head hurt something terrible. It always did the morning after a change, for a few hours. Soon, he was able to focus more clearly for the sound of voices to fade. He knew they were the movers. The house beside him had been up for sale for the last several months. The previous owners, Mr. and Mrs. Peachlore, had decided to move further south to warmer climates in their old age. He had heard talk of someone buying it last time he had been at the store but had paid little mind to the conversation. Of course, it had to be today that the new owner would take possession and move in. Just his bloody luck.

  “I can do this,” he whispered to himself, slowly pulling the noisy tarp off and realizing he was still fully nude. “Right, forgot about that,” he muttered and looked over to his place. “Five strides and a quick jump and I’ll be over the fence and in my own yard easy and no one ever need know about this.”

  One final listen to make sure the movers were inside the house and he threw the tarp off, stood, making ready to sprint for the fence when a loud gasp cut through the air like a razor across his soul.

  Spinning around he saw a beautiful, petite woman standing just around the corner half a dozen feet from him. Her bright green eyes, framed by shoulder-length blonde hair, glistened with shock and surprise, but a dangerous hint of intrigue lingered there in the shadows.

  “Oh shit!” Stephan cried out wanting to run, but his legs betrayed him, and he stood like a deer in headlights, his hands quickly covering his manhood.

  “Must have been a hell of a good night to end up naked under a tarp,” the woman said with a small smirk, eyeing the naked stranger in her yard. He was over six feet, his build slight but firm, easily showing off the ridges of his pecs and abs. His hazel eyes radiated embarrassment behind the messy wave of dark hair littered with forest debris. Her wandering eyes shifted lower; his hands covered his size awkwardly and only made her want to catch another glimpse.

  “Yeah.” He looked from her to the fence wondering if he should just run for it and try to save himself worse embarrassment. “You could say that.”

  She glanced at the house next door and a thrill erupted through her, but she kept it from her voice. “So, you’re my new neighbor then?”

  Stephan cleared his throat. “Yeah… yeah, I guess I am.” He could hear the movers inside the house; they were coming down the second-story stairs and would be out of the house soon and he would be exposed to more than just her.

  “You should probably make a run for it,” she smirked again, turning to walk away, “before anyone else catches you in all your tantalizing glory.”

  The sparkle in her bright eyes caused him to grin boyishly; he nodded and quickly ran to the fence and hopped over disappearing from view before anyone else caught sight of him.

  He slammed the backdoor shut, breathing impossibly hard for the short distance he had run, but adrenaline was coursing through him.

  “Well, isn’t that just a fan-fucking-tastic first impression! Not awkward at all, no, really Stephan, that was great. A hot fucking new neighbor and she sees you naked in her backyard first time meeting you, just perfect.” He groaned as he caught his reflection in the hallway mirror. “You’re an idiot and you need to get this shit under control already! It has been three fucking years! Three, damn it!”

  Upon seeing himself in the mirror he realized just how bad of a state he looked, with dirt and mud smeared all over him and twigs and leaves stuck in his dark wavy hair.

  But then he thought about her.

  “Guess it’s not all bad, though.” He came to another realization: he hadn’t even gotten her name. The name of his new neighbor! His gorgeous new neighbor at that.

  “What am I gonna do to fix this? What do people do nowadays to welcome their new neighbors?” He pulled a band t-shirt over his head, shaking loose a clump of dirt stuck to his temple. “Do I bake a casserole? What if she’s on the keto diet? She could be. God, she was slender and perky. A pleasant handful.”

  He had to stop thinking about her or zipping up his jeans would be impossible. Sighing deeply, he stopped and ran his hands through his hair, catching on tangles. “I should not be thinking about this when I clearly have a problem of my own to fix.” He glanced at the calendar on the wall. A Monday just three days away was circled in sharpie. That’s when he would be returning to work in his new shift.

  He had three days to stop a three-year problem. Waking up nude in the parking lot after a graveyard shift was a sure-fire way to get canned… again.

  “Alright.” He carefully zipped up his jeans. “On the agenda for today: bake a fucking casserole, then go see Declan. He’ll have good advice. And beer… hopefully goo
d beer this time.”

  He stopped and stared at his reflection.

  “And take a fucking shower first. Jesus Christ, what am I thinking?”

  He ran to the bathroom, reverted to nude status and started a steaming hot shower. His skin was tender and scratched up from the night before and the water stung at first, but as he massaged the soap into his muscles and rubbed away the pain, he felt more like his old self again. Well, as much as his old self as one who could turn into a raccoon could feel, he guessed.

  He found dirt and grit in strange places and wondered what the hell he had been up to and wondered how many trash cans would be spilled over across town. But he was exhausted, even as he ran his fingertips down his half-hard length. It would take food and coffee before he would perk up in any way.

  Pine-scented man-shampoo. Then, fancy conditioner his ex left behind. A quick brush of the teeth. A rinse all-around. Done. Well, good enough for the type of day this was going to end up being.

  When he was finally out and about, he opened all the blinds in his house. The sky had become a deep silvery blanket of overcast. Rain hadn’t been in the recent forecast, but with the end of fall approaching, he wasn’t surprised. The air was sweet and sticky, perfect for a cold beverage on his hot neighbor’s porch. He hoped the casual, even almost playful conversation they’d had this morning was a good sign that she had no intention of calling the cops on him.

  Cooking was not Stephan’s strong suit, but he knew he’d get points for trying at the very least. Men who cooked always scored extra points with hot chicks! And no matter who you were, you had the means to throw something together in a casserole dish. And no matter who you were, you appreciated a home-cooked casserole over garbage. He’d eaten enough garbage over the last three years to know.

  A handful of hours later, with a cooled tin-covered casserole in hand, Stephan left the house and walked out to the sidewalk, watching the movers carry in the last of the new neighbor’s boxes. She leaned against the patio railing in a loose but curve-hugging black sundress, sipping canned iced tea from a straw. When her emerald eyes caught sight of him, she waved with a glint of roguishness.

  The movers had finished closing their truck. She handed them a check, thanked them, and watched them pull out and take off down the quiet street. Then, she waved Stephan over, who was politely waiting.

  “Fancy seeing you again… so soon.” She took a sip of her drink. “Was certain I’d not see hide nor hair of you for at least a week. This is a very happy surprise.”

  “H-hey.” He swallowed hard. Think of something sly and cool to say. “That’s my favorite brand of iced tea.” Sure idiot, that was great.

  She laughed, tilting her head back. “Oh, this is half whiskey.”

  He raised his eyebrows in pleasant shock. “Oh. Well, fuck yeah even better, girl after my own heart. I’m Stephan by the way, forgot to mention that on our last… um… meeting. If you eat food, here’s a casserole I threw together.”

  “I do, in fact, eat food. Thank you, Stephan. Come inside, set it in the kitchen,” she said, oddly casual considering their last encounter. He was on the edge of his seat waiting for her name. “I hope all the neighbors are so generously kind and endowed.”

  He cleared his throat and followed her inside the dated house, speechless. This was going too smoothly, too easily, and too “Dear Playboy” to be real.

  “By the way, I’m Blythe. Blythe Saintclaire.”

  His stomach fell a little. Blythe was the name of his great-great-grandmother, but he continued to say nothing. His brain was busy registering all her dated and detailed furniture. And gun cases. And ammo boxes and other things that looked like weapons.

  “Welcome to the neighborhood. Ah, what do you do, anyway?” He ran his hand across a very old waist-high marble statue of what appeared to be a werewolf.

  “I’m a virtual assistant to a high-profile editor-in-chief. And a beautician on the side. Want a haircut?”

  He didn’t know if she was joking or not. “Maybe later?”

  The kitchen, as expected, was bare. Boxes of plates and silverware and pantry items littered the trendy stone tile floor. Either Blythe had connected the fridge, or the movers had done it for her. Its low hum filled the large room. All smiles, she sat up on the aged granite countertop, dangling her smooth, bare legs over the edge, and picked through a box of utensils beside her.

  He tried desperately not to look at her bare thighs and the peek of pink Victoria’s Secret beyond them.

  “So, Blythe. You don’t have any food allergies, do you?” God, could I ask any dumber questions today?

  “No way, fuck that. I’ll eat anything. Bring that over. Been awhile since someone cooked for me—well, unless you count fast food.” She found a serving spoon and spatula. “Which one do you want?”

  He set the casserole down on the counter next to her. “What?”

  “I can’t eat this whole thing by myself.”

  “You don’t have anyone coming over later?”

  Her grin was almost sinister. “No, Stephan. I live very much alone. All those guns out there in the entryway are mine.” She gave him the spatula. “Here. Because you’ve got the bigger mouth.”

  He prayed his creation was edible as he stared at the spatula now in his hand. “Ladies first?”

  “Right, make me be the guinea pig. You could be trying to poison me, for all I know. Take a bite with me. If I’m going to die, so are you.” She scooped a portion onto her spoon and beckoned for him to do the same.

  He did. But he spent so much time watching her lips wrap around that spoon and devour his food that his own scoop never made it to his mouth. It dripped down his t-shirt and onto the floor.

  “Look at that.” Blythe smirked and licked the tip of the spoon. “My kitchen floor has been christened within hours of living here; has to be a new record.”

  “Oh, shit,” Stephan stuttered, finally pulling his eyes away from her seductive cherry lips, “sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Fuck, I’m an idiot.”

  “It’s okay, no need to be sorry at all.” She jumped down from the counter and pulled out a dish towel from one of the boxes; leaning down at the waist she began cleaning up. “Few other places in this house I’d like to do that to soon enough. Just not with food being spilled.”

  It took all his control not to reach out and caress the sweet, curved ass poised up in front of him. The bottom of her black skirt slipping nearly all the way up her silky legs, exposing again just a hint of the pink panties beneath. He felt the blood rushing to his cock and had to force himself to look away and steady his thoughts. This wasn’t Penthouse; shit like this didn’t just happen in real life, nor did shit like that happen for guys like him.

  He nearly laughed out loud; then again how often did people turn into animals in real life, too? He wasn’t really that lame of a guy; he had been quite popular when he had been younger. It wasn’t really until this… curse had affected him that he had started to become a blundering idiot.

  “So, can I ask you a question?” Blythe asked, stepping in closer.

  “Of course.” God, her eyes were captivating, and her cherry red lips looked so inviting, and why was she so close to him, like dangerously close?

  “Why were you naked in my backyard this morning? I wouldn’t have thought such a small quiet town would have that kind of ‘party’ action going on.” She enjoyed how nervous she was making him, how his eyes lingered on her lips, neck, and cleavage. “Not that I minded that unexpected kind of surprise. It was actually very enjoyable for me and will make a fun story to tell later.”

  Rubbing his neck, he felt his cheeks flush as her eyes bore into his. She was so close to him, close enough he could smell the sweet scent of roses coming from her perfumed neck. “Yeah… that… well you see…” of course she would have to ask this question, why didn’t he think of an answer and rehearse it before coming over? ‘Cause I’m a fucking moron, that’s why. “…I got drunk with a few buddies last nig
ht and, well, turns out they really are assholes. Instead of giving my passed-out ass a ride home, they drove me here, stripped me down and left me outside in the damn cold.”

  “And because it is a small town, they must have known someone was moving in here this morning and you’d be caught with your…” she smirked again, her eyes glancing down at the outline of his firming cock in his jeans, “… pants down, so to speak.”

  Her teasing eyes and alluring tone made it so hard for him to keep focused and to keep his pants from getting tighter. “Yeah, who needs enemies with friends like that, right?”

  “Well, I for one am glad they are the way they are.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Turning from him she went back to the casserole and took another large bite. “Who knows when I might have met you otherwise. And really, as far as first impressions go,” she glanced over her shoulder at him, “it could have been a lot worse.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess… super excited you’re being cool about that. I almost thought for sure you were going to call the cops or something on me for being a pervert.”

  Blythe laughed so hard she nearly spit out the food in her mouth. “Never even crossed my mind. The cops are great for stopping drunk drivers, but I find dealing with personal issues myself far more effective. Besides, not everyone dislikes perverts.”

  “Remind me to stay on your good side.” He chuckled awkwardly. Is she flirting with me, or just joking? God, why do I suck at reading women so badly? “So, what is a virtual assistant… something, something… doing here in Emerald Falls? Not sure we have that kind of work here, not even sure what kind of work that is, to be honest. Mostly loggers, miners, truck drivers and waitresses around here. Though the hairdresser thing might work out for you. Rednecks need haircuts too I guess.”

  “You’re too kind to worry about me, but I can do most of my work for my boss from home on my computer.”