Calling All Neighbours (Calling All... Book 4)

by Tara Ford

  “No I have not – never,” he grunted in horror.

  The tone in Joe’s voice suggested that he was aghast by her questioning. “Sorry, of course you wouldn’t have. I’m being silly. Forget I mentioned it. Goodnight darling. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” Lowering himself back on to the pillow, Joe stared up at the ceiling. “Can’t believe that you’d ask me a question like that.”

  “Neither can I. Sorry.”

  “No, I mean it’s ok to ask me. It’s just that you’ve obviously been thinking about it since I mentioned it. Don’t take everything so seriously babe.”

  Snuggling into his side, Tiff wrapped her arm across his firm stomach. “I’ll try not to. Let’s just forget that I said anything. Sorry Joe. Night, night.” She cringed at her questions and was horrified to think that Joe thought she wanted to try out watersports with him.

  She really was going to try not to take everything so seriously in the future.

  Chapter 2

  Peering through the window of the smallest, back bedroom, Tiff could just see the young woman who lived on the left side of the square at number 3 Sycamore Close. She was lounging on a recliner, in her back garden, soaking up the warm sunshine. The slim, well-proportioned woman reached under her chair and pulled a lever, allowing the backrest to recline further. She was wearing lime-green shorts and a lemon t-shirt. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun on the top of her head and over-sized, dark-rimmed sunglasses with silver arms concealed her small, attractive facial features. A rickety looking wooden table stood beside her and on the top, rested a paperback book and a tall glass of, what looked like, orange juice.

  Tiff knew that there was also a large black dog living next door as, on occasion, she had seen the woman being whipped out of her house and dragged across the green by the frenetic pace of the unruly creature. Yet there appeared to be no sign of the animal in the garden today.

  There was also a young girl who visited at the weekends. With long blonde hair, a pretty face and perfectly presented attire, Tiff assumed that she was the daughter of the woman. The young girl looked to be around seven or eight years old and although she hadn’t been seen very often, she had certainly been heard. With the whining, screeching, and demanding coming through the walls each weekend, Tiff was sure the girl was a spoilt brat and got everything she wanted. Every Friday evening the girl would be delivered to the house and picked up again on the Monday morning by, Tiff could only guess, her father.

  Stepping back from the window, Tiff continued to watch the woman as she removed the sunglasses from her face and placed them on the top of her head, just below her bun. She yawned and stretched her arms and legs. Taking a quick sip from her drink, she began to remove her t-shirt.

  Tiff moved back another inch or so, not wanting to be seen spying on her new neighbour. Well she wasn’t spying exactly but more intrigued as to where the little girl and the dog might be as there was no sign of either of them.

  Pulling the t-shirt over her head the woman’s ample, curved breasts plopped out on to her chest with a wobble. She was topless. Half naked. Revealing her womanly figure.

  Tiff gasped and stared hard through the window. How could the woman be doing that in her garden? The neighbours might see her. More importantly and more worryingly – Joe might see her.

  The woman’s seductive figure could be appreciated and admired by either sex, but Tiff did not want Joe to discover his very own topless show right from the comfort of his own home. A jealous twinge trickled through Tiff’s mind. How could she stop the woman from going topless in her own garden? Obviously, she couldn’t. How could she stop Joe from ogling the woman’s breasts, given the chance? She couldn’t. Wouldn’t any red-blooded, young man be mesmerised by the hot blonde baring all in her garden? Or any man, of any age, for that matter. Tiff decided the answer was most definitely, a big fat yes.

  Sighing heavily, she continued to watch as the woman stretched her arms back behind her head and closed her eyes. As she did so, her large breasts lifted and pulled together slightly, creating a deeper, more provocative cleavage. Tiff tutted to herself. She knew she was being unreasonable by having envious thoughts. In comparison, she was a small-breasted woman with slightly too wide hips – a typical English pear-shape. The woman next door had the ultimate of figures, as far as Tiff was concerned. She had a perfectly proportioned hourglass shape. Basically, everything was in the right place and of the right size. Tiff frowned as an image of Joe in the bedroom, sat in an armchair with a pair of binoculars, entered her mind. Shaking her head, she took one last look at the woman, left the small bedroom and closed the door firmly behind her. Very firmly.

  Week three and they still hadn’t done anything productive to brighten up the tired décor in the house or start any of the other niggly little jobs that needed doing. Drippy taps, creaky floor boards, flaky paint, frayed carpets and draughty windows were just a few of those tiresome tasks, not to mention the weeds in the front and back gardens, broken fences and unwanted bushes.

  Joe and Tiff had been fully aware of the amount of work they would need to do but somehow, since they’d moved in, not one thing had been done. It seemed that they’d moved into their new home, set their belongings in the appropriate places and spent the last three weeks just getting through each day. Going to work every morning, coming home in the evenings, cooking tea, watching the TV for a couple of hours and then falling into bed exhausted. The weekends had been taken up with Joe’s website building and Tiff’s housework regime of running around the whole house with a hoover, just to keep the copious amounts of dust down and perpetually filling the washing machine with its next load. Thank goodness the weather had been on their side and dried their clothes on the wobbly, rotary washing line which was barely standing upright around the side of the house. At least the washing was above par. Although, Tiff did expect to find it all laying in a muddy heap one day, when the ancient rotary line died and crumpled to the ground.

  Unable to get the image of the half-naked woman out of her head, Tiff headed down the stairs with a laundry basket full of dirty washing.

  “I’ve finished upstairs. Just need to do down here. I’m not going to spend every weekend cleaning this place from top to bottom though. We’ll have to do something about the dust – I don’t know where it’s all coming from?”

  Joe looked up from his laptop. “The carpets. The wallpaper. It’s everywhere babe. Once we start decorating it’ll settle down.”

  “When will we ever find time to do that?” Tiff huffed. “We haven’t got any time off work for months yet.”

  “I’m going to make a start – tomorrow. We agreed the first job would be to paint the picket fence white.” Joe smiled warmly. “What do you think? Might even meet some of our neighbours.”

  That was exactly what Joe would want to happen. Meet his neighbours. Make new friends. Ogle the sexy woman next door…

  “OK. It would look nice. And especially if your parents are coming over in the next few weeks. Suppose we could start from the outside and work our way in.”

  “Exactly. And certainly while the weather is good at the moment. It’ll soon change and then we’ll have to wait until there’s a hint of summer before we can do any painting outside.”

  Tiff nodded agreeably. “OK, It’ll make a good first impression when everyone comes round, I suppose.”

  Both sides of Joe and Tiff’s families wanted to visit and see the new house. Tiff was an only child but Joe had two brothers and a sister. They had all said that they would visit at some point, apart from Joe’s oldest brother who lived in Germany and only returned to the UK now and again. So Tiff’s frantic hoovering and cleaning sessions were more to do with the possibility of someone coming to see them and inspect their new home at a moment’s notice. At least if the place was clean then the countless other little jobs could be overlooked or noted as ‘a work in progress’.

  “Oh, and I’ve been thinking about the small back bedroom,” add
ed Tiff. “I might use it as my craft room. Nice view of the fields, out the back.”

  Joe nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll get it decorated for you, babe. That’ll be another job done.”

  “No. I can do it myself. I would err… quite like to do that actually.” Tiff stumbled, as images of a giant-sized pair of breasts bouncing around the garden next door, flickered through her mind.

  “Choose the colours and we’ll both do it.” Closing the lid of his laptop, Joe continued. “Shall we go into town and get the paint today? I’ll need to pick up some white for outside anyway.”

  Tiff nodded her head and grinned. “OK. Let me put this load on first.”

  “I’ll nip upstairs and gauge how much paint we’ll need for that back room,” said Joe, pulling himself up from the dining chair and stretching his powerful arms above his head.

  “No! I mean – it’s OK,” she blurted, falteringly. “I mean – I’ve done it. Measured it. Yes, I’ve done it already. You’ve got to be quick to keep up with me. It’s err… “

  Startled by the urgency in Tiff’s voice, Joe frowned questioningly. “What about the skirting boards? Some of those need replacing don’t they? I’ll check before we leave. No point decorating and leaving rotten skirting boards at the bottom.”

  “Oh yes. I forgot about them. Wait. Stay there –” she said, dropping the laundry basket on the table with a thud. “I’ll go and look – right now.” Racing away, Tiff stumbled at the foot of the stairs and screeched, “Ouch!”

  “Tiff,” called Joe, “what are you doing? What’s the mad rush?”

  Feigning laughter, Tiff picked herself up from the bottom step. “Nothing darling. Thought I’d help out by doing the measuring for you. Stay there – I’ll be down in a minute.” Taking the stairs two at a time, she reached the top and halted. Listening out for any movement downstairs, she walked across the narrow landing and entered her newly appointed craft room.

  There were two skirting boards that needed replacing. One of them was badly scuffed and chipped and the other one, under the window, was covered in grubby green stuff and brown streaks, both of which Tiff had tried to scrub off in the first week of moving in. Pacing the length of the first wall, she tried to gauge the size of board they would need. Four and a half metres, she thought to herself. Reaching the window, she peered out again to see if the woman was still in her garden.

  “You’re getting a bit possessive about this room, aren’t you?”

  Startled, Tiff turned around. “Ooh – you made me jump. What are you doing up here?”

  Joe laughed. “Tiff – what’s got into you? I live here – remember?” he said, leaning on the doorframe. “It’s like you’re scared that I’m going to take the room away from you. It’s yours, babe – chillax. I want to make it look nice for you though.”

  Tiff stepped back and perched her bottom on the windowsill, obscuring as much of the window as she could.

  “You’ll need this,” said Joe, holding out a tape measure across the small room. “To see how much wood we’ll need.”

  “Did it in my head, but I suppose I can do it accurately.” Tiff leant over and stretched her hand out, trying to reach the tape measure without leaving the window. “Throw it,” she said as she realised she couldn’t reach it.

  Joe shot a quizzical look as he threw the tape across the room. “What about the window?”

  “What about it?” Tiff snapped.

  “I was just going to ask – do you want blinds up there?” Joe edged towards the window.

  “No. No blinds,” she shrieked, in a panic. “Don’t need to measure it. I’ll… I’ll just paint the frame. It’ll be nice to have a bare window – you know, to look out of when I’m crafting.”

  Joe nodded his head, “OK, your call babe but calm yourself down. It’s like you’ve become crazily obsessed with having this room.” Halting in the middle of the room, he peered up at the ceiling. “White for the ceiling?”

  “Yes and err… lilac for the walls. I like lilac. It’s calming.”

  “Go on then,” said Joe, glancing amusedly at Tiff. “Measure up and we’ll go into town.”

  As Joe disappeared from the room, Tiff turned around and peeped out of the window again. The woman next door had sat up. She was liberally slathering sun lotion over her chest, rubbing it in with circular movements around her breasts. The sun glistened on her skin making her appearance even more alluring. Tiff watched admiringly. If only she had a body like the woman’s. It was an attractive sight, if she had to be honest, not that she was that way inclined at all. Nevertheless, she would not want Joe to see the woman. Ever.

  Tiff was not worried about Joe’s fidelity. Although he was a little flirtatious in his manner, she knew that he loved her dearly and did not have eyes for anyone else. The problem stemmed from Tiff and her own insecurities. Her low self-esteem had improved slightly when she’d met Joe but old habits were hard to shift and gradually, she had slipped back into her old ways. Always wishing she didn’t have small breasts and large hips and always wondering whether she was good enough for Joe. Always fretting about her abilities in anything and being far too judgmental on herself. She worried whether she was good enough for anything and that included her job too.

  At a mere 25 years old, Tiff had been in her job for the last six years. She loved it. It was varied, interesting and well paid. She could work from home or alternatively, go into the studio, which more often than not, she did. Her working hours were flexible and as long as her production rate met the requirements, she could pick and choose her days off. She liked to work weekdays only, that way she could spend time with Joe at the weekends. Only on a very odd occasion had she done some extra time on a Saturday, during the busy seasons. As a stone-craft artist, her profession was, in itself, an enviable position to have.

  The only downfall with her job and her new home was the small green she had to walk around to get to the house. Although picturesque, the position of the house was not best placed for carrying crates of stone-craft backwards and forwards from the car, which was parked in a lay-by on the main, Oakwood Road. Tiff had suggested to Joe that she worked more in the studio and brought less work home to do if they were to buy the house. So the fact that they didn’t have their own drive was not going to be an issue for her. She was adamant about that. The house had been too good an opportunity to miss out on, just because it had no road access. Stone-craft or no stone-craft.

  Artistic in nature, Tiff had been excited at the thought of having a purpose made craft room once they moved in. She liked to make countless, unique greetings cards to sell at car boot sales, local village fayres, school fayres and anywhere else she could find to sell them. She could put her artistic skills to anything, creating beautiful cushions, jazzy fabric picture frames, plush baby or wedding album covers, jewelry, decorated plastic keyrings and so much more. She was highly talented, yet she was her own worst critic too.

  Dropping the sun lotion on the floor beneath her chair, the woman next door stretched back again and basked, semi-naked in the hot sun, in the confines and privacy of her own garden. Her round, oily breasts rose up and down as she breathed in and out.

  Tiff shook her head in annoyance. Annoyed more by her own lack of confidence and insecure nature than by the huge pair of tits undulating in the sunshine, next door.

  “Right, I’ve got the measurements – let’s go,” said Tiff, holding a scrap of note paper in her hand. “Lilac indoors, white for outdoors and six metres of skirting board.”

  Joe grinned and nodded his head. “You’re on the ball today, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but how will I fit the skirting board on? Do we have nails?”

  Eyes wide in amazement, Joe replied, “Tiff – I’m shocked. Since when did you become a DIY enthusiast? You want to fit the skirting boards yourself? And you can stick them on with Gripfill but shouldn’t we be doing it together?”

  “I was thinking that we could do a job each. I want to learn how to do these th
ings now that we have our own house. And… and I want to do the craft room myself – It’ll be fun,” she lied.

  “OK, I get it,” said Joe, rubbing his brow in puzzlement. “Well I think I get it. You never cease to amaze me Miss Cuthbert. I take it I’m doing the fence then?”

  Tiff smiled warmly. “We’re going to make a great team, you and I.” Holding up her hand, she beckoned to Joe to high-five her. “Gently,” she reminded him as his mighty hand clapped hers.

  Chapter 3

  The previous day’s afternoon outing to the local DIY store had taken far longer than expected and Joe and Tiff had eventually arrived home at 11.15pm. By that time, they were tired and it was too late to carry heavy things across the green so they had left all of the paint, paint brushes, rollers, skirting board, saw, hammer, packs of different sized nails and two tubes of Gripfill in the car overnight.

  Their shopping trip had turned into coffee and cake in a nearby cafe and a spontaneous visit to the cinema. Joe had then decided that they should try out the newest carvery in town for an evening meal. Tiff had been worried that she was not dressed for the occasion but Joe dragged her along, saying that their money was as good as anyone else’s and he didn’t want to go all the way back home just to get changed. It was a place to eat, not a fashion show.

  Joe liked spontaneity and had been known to drag Tiff along to some of the most bizarre events during their time together. Like the time his rugby club were holding a charity event for the friends and family of the junior teams. Joe had picked Tiff up from work, even though she had her own car in the studios’ car park, and whisked her away to an evening of heavily competitive Bucking Broncho – Guys versus Gals. Tiff had no option but to hitch up her flowing, denim skirt and join in the rodeo. Straddling the mechanical horse, with her eyes tightly closed, she squeezed her toes around her flip-flops straps, while her dangly ear-rings flicked painfully across her face. That was one occasion that Joe had completely forgotten to mention to her beforehand.