The Neighbor

by Heidi Lowe

  My eyes rolled into the back of my head as her kiss graduated from my thigh to my throbbing center. The feel of her moist tongue on my now equally moist sex at first made me tremble all over, but as she gradually found her rhythm and became more familiar with my cavern, I eased into her.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, working away at my sex and not coming up for air. Her tongue was forceful in its lashes, skillful and unrelenting in her lust to see me come undone. “I knew you'd taste wonderful,” she said, before shoving her face between my legs again to finish what she'd started.

  Before long I became aware of my gentle moans, coos, slightly choked as they escaped my throat. With each back and forth thrash, circling and stroking of her diamond tongue-stud over my sensitive nub, the moans grew louder.

  “Fuck!” I growled, my hands latching onto the alcove walls for support. I was wailing like a banshee by the time her hand snaked beneath my blouse and sought out my breasts, pulling them from the bra and stroking roughly over my already rigid nipples.

  I wanted to hold off climaxing so that this feeling would last forever, that she would have no choice but to service me indefinitely, but I didn't have the strength. My body had never been put through such strenuous paces before.

  My release came hard and loud, and left me shivering, my skin clammy with sweat. When I opened my eyes, the room spun for a moment.

  “That was fun,” Casey said, having finally removed her head from my crotch. “More fun than I've had in a long time.” Her mouth was glistening with the juices of my excitement, and she licked her lips ravenously, a mischievous glint in her eye.

  “Is this why you wanted me to come this evening? So you could take advantage of me in your bathroom?” I had virtually no energy left in me to laugh, but she seemed to get the message that I was kidding.

  She chuckled. “You're the one who took advantage of me... and my tongue.” She started to her feet, and then she froze. Her face became a ghostly white. “Oh shit.”

  She was looking behind me, outside the window. I spun around to see what had spooked her. Not what, who. My son, Adrian, standing by our bathroom window, looking right at us.

  *****

  “Oh my God, oh my God!” I screamed, looking through the glass at my son, whose horror had seemingly rendered him immobile. Then he darted from the room.

  “This is bad. This is really bad.” I retrieved my panties, slid them on and shoved Casey aside before unlocking the bathroom door and hurrying out.

  “Sabrina, wait,” she shouted, but I was too busy crashing through the guests and down the stairs, fleeing from the house of temptation, in a rush to do damage control. I dashed outside just in time to see Adrian sprinting down the street, but not before shooting me a look of repulsion.

  I knew it was pointless pursuing him in a skirt and heels. The kid could run like an athlete, something he didn't get from my side of the family.

  “Fuck!” I felt so helpless as I watched him disappear from view. I went home and took up my seat waiting on the couch, waiting for his return.

  Panic really set in an hour later, when the nails on all of my fingers had been bitten down to the cuticles, and my son still wasn't back. A quick glimpse at the clock on the mantel said it was a quarter past ten, which wouldn't have been such a problem if he didn't have school the next morning. Plus, his cellphone was off. I'd tried it several times, but each time it went straight to voicemail.

  My face perked up when I heard a knock at the door. He probably forgot his key in his rush to get away from me. Hopeful, I hurried to let him in.

  “Adrian,” I said, throwing the door open. A feeling of disappointment coupled with nausea overtook me upon seeing that it wasn't Adrian but the person who had caused this mess – Casey Fucking Adams. “Oh, it's you.”

  Guilt and desolation corrupted every line on her face. Gone was her jovial energy, her infectious smile. “Hey. I just came to see if everything was all right.”

  I gave a derisive snort. “Is that supposed to be a joke? Well, let's see: My son's been missing for over an hour. It's late, he's angry, he hates me... and he has school in the morning. So no, everything's not all right.”

  “Sabrina, I'm so sorry.” She reached out to put a hand on my shoulder, presumably to show her support, but I pulled away, looking at her hand with disgust.

  “Yeah...”

  “Look, we'll find him. If we split up, drive around, we'll probably spot him.”

  I didn't have a better idea.

  “Fine.” I grabbed my keys and we headed out, stepping into our cars and speeding off into the night, my car tailing behind, struggling to keep up with hers.

  He could have been anywhere; it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. After Casey and I split off into different directions, I slowed the car to a crawl, checking every side street, every alleyway, extra vigilant in search of my teenage son. Anxiety-filled and losing optimism with each passing minute, I couldn't help thinking the worst. Florida could be a dangerous playground for teens on the run. I dreaded to think who he'd run into on these means streets. I just prayed he was hauled up at a classmate's house, safe.

  Half an hour had already passed when, on the passenger's seat, my phone dinged. Casey's name flashed on the screen. I pulled up to the sidewalk to take the call.

  “It's me. I've found him.”

  “Thank God! Is he okay?”

  “He's fine. We're heading back to your place now. I'll stay with him till you get back.”

  “Thank you.” I didn't want to be grateful to her, but she'd just spent half an hour searching for my son when she was supposed to be hosting a party. I could extend some gratitude for that.

  Ten minutes later I stepped into my house, taking a deep, lung-rattling breath for the confrontation that was to come. I found them both in the living-room, Adrian sitting on the couch, looking like he was seconds away from choking someone, his eyes narrowed into demonic little slits. Casey stood by the door.

  “My carpet-munching mother returns,” he spat, cutting me a look of pure hatred.

  “Hey, don't talk about your mother like that!” Casey demanded, a rouge tint coloring her face.

  Adrian shot up before I could tell Casey to step down. “So just because you went down on my mom you think you can tell me what to do now? I don't have to listen to you, dyke!”

  “That's enough!” I shouted, stepping between Adrian and Casey, seeing the hatred in my son's eyes and fearing he might strike her.

  “Is this why you divorced Dad? So you could screw chicks?”

  “Our divorce has nothing to do with any of this,” I said, as calmly as I could.

  “Bullshit!”

  Staring back at my son, the boy I'd carried for nine months, had raised for sixteen years, sacrificed everything for – even my happiness, remaining in a loveless marriage for years – I couldn't fathom how he had come to be so hateful. I sensed that this outpouring of bile was a build up, only spurred on by what he'd witnessed earlier that night.

  “I don't care how upset you are right now, but you don't ever speak to me like that. You got that?” My embarrassment was suddenly overtaken by my fury.

  “Whatever.” He barged past me, past Casey, and stormed upstairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

  I sniffed back my tears, my back to Casey. I felt her gentle touch on my shoulder. It took me a moment to collect myself, to find my own strength so that I didn't need hers. Then I shook her hand off. I spun around to face her. “Just get back to your guests.” I didn't try to disguise the spite in my voice. I wanted her to hear it, see it, feel it and know what she'd done.

  “Sabrina, come on–”

  “What?” I screamed, making her jump. “I told you I didn't want this – I told you I didn't want you. But you had to keep pushing. And now look.”

  “That's not fair. I didn't force you. This isn't all on me.” I waited for her to match my volume, my fury, but she didn't. Her feeble defense of herself almost made me feel sorry
for her.

  “Just go. And stay the hell away from me and my son.”

  I stared into watery brown eyes that reflected the pain of their owner; I saw the hurt my words had caused. I prayed she wouldn't try to make another plea, because I already felt bad about the way I'd spoken to her.

  “If that's what you want,” she said in a quiet voice. She gave me one final pained look before turning and leaving.

  Adrian was up earlier than usual, crashing through the house as he got ready for school. His noisy maneuvers dragged me from my slumber. I stumbled out of bed and found him in the kitchen eating toast.

  “Good morning,” I said, sitting down at the table with him. He cast his eyes up slowly to meet mine, giving me a glare that made the hairs on my skin spike up. He didn't speak, only bit into his toast.

  I sighed. “Look, I'm sorry you saw what you saw.”

  “So am I.”

  “It was a careless mistake that will never happen again.”

  “Really? Because the way that skank was talking, she sounded like she was trying to be my new dad!”

  I bit my tongue, holding back the reprimand I so desperately wanted to give him for using language so foul. But coming to Casey's defense would have only made things worse, so I kept my mouth shut.

  He laughed humorlessly. “No need to guess who the guy is in your relationship.”

  “It's not a relationship. And I'm not gay, if that's what you're worried about.”

  “You looked pretty gay when I saw you getting screwed by our female neighbor!” Another humorless laugh, followed by a disgusted twist of his lip.

  “Well, I'm not. We all make mistakes. And I promise this is one I have no intention of making a second time.” Except, I hadn't just made it once. That was the second time Casey had brought me to climax, and the second time I'd enjoyed it. He didn't need to know that, however.

  He threw down the remainder of his toast. “Whatever.” He picked up his school bag and stormed out of the house.

  I reclined in my chair, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. He didn't sound too convinced with my promise never to give in to Casey again. Did he think I couldn't keep away from her? Well, I could and would. It was better for everyone that way. Casey Adams only complicated my life, and I'd moved back to Florida to avoid precisely that. I wasn't about to let some floozy with a nice smile ruin my family, no matter how well she gave head.

  The strained atmosphere in the house continued. I'd thought I'd seen Adrian at his most hateful when I'd uprooted him from his hometown and moved him to Florida, but that was nothing compared to his attitude now. For two weeks, whenever I entered a room he would promptly leave it, without saying a word. We became estranged in that fortnight following the incident, and it frightened me because I didn't know how I would ever get us back on track.

  To make matters worse, Casey stuck to her word: she kept her distance. I thought I would have felt relieved that she wasn't hanging around anymore, tempting me with her beauty, her smile, her drop dead gorgeous figure, but instead I just felt lonely, empty. It was our friendship I missed more than anything. Her laughter, her carefree demeanor. The saying was true: You don't know what you've got till it's gone. And even though she was only a few meters away, seconds away, she might as well have been a million miles away, all because I'd made a stupid promise to my son.

  It came as no small relief when Adrian's Geography class went on a week-long trip to Nova Scotia. I thought the break would have done us both some good.

  “You got everything?” I asked him as I pulled up to Fort Lauderdale International airport. He'd barely said a thing the half hour drive, only sat in the passenger's seat playing on his cell. When I attempted to start up conversation, he switched on the radio to drown my voice out with some Aerosmith.

  “Yup.” He climbed out and retrieved his holdall from the backseat. At the entrance, his classmates waited, many of them being embraced by their parents.

  I stepped out of the car and spread my arms wide, hoping Adrian got the message. He stared at me both perplexed and appalled, as though the very idea of giving his mother a hug was inconceivable. But he reluctantly stepped into the embrace. His body was rigid, making it obvious he did it grudgingly. It only lasted a second before he pulled away, said a stiff goodbye and ran off to join his buddies.

  “Be safe,” I shouted after him before climbing back into my car and driving off.

  An hour later, after stopping at the grocery store, I pulled into my driveway. A light rain had started on the drive back, and it was now hammering down as I collected my shopping bags from the trunk. I made a dash to the door, juggling my two bags, and tried to let myself in. That's when one of the bags, heavy with rain, split, and my shopping came tumbling out; vegetables, cheese, deodorant and a bunch of other stuff rolled across the lawn.

  “Shit!” I left half the shopping on the floor, let myself in and dropped the still intact bag onto the kitchen counter before hurrying back outside to retrieve the rest. I stopped dead on the doorstep, but my heart continued racing at an unsustainable pace.

  “You looked like you needed a hand,” a soaking wet Casey said, a cucumber and squash in her arms.

  We didn't speak while we collected everything off the floor and brought it inside. And when we were done, she stood in my kitchen, an awkward silence floating between us.

  I was the first to speak. “You want a towel?”

  She shook her head. “I'm good. It's something I do, going out in heavy rain and getting drenched. I like the way it feels. Therapeutic, you know.”

  I didn't know, but she made it look like fun. She made everything look more interesting, no matter how absurd it really was.

  No! Don't let her weasel her way back in. This is how she gets you. She tries that sweet girl act to make you think she's harmless. But even poison can taste nice.

  Okay, so comparing her to poison was a bit extreme, but nothing else seemed to fit. She'd come to my rescue and by doing so had wormed her way back into my house. Well, I wasn't about to let her back into my life.

  “Thanks. You should go now.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “I'm trying here, Sabrina...”

  “You're wasting your time. I meant what I said – it's best we don't see each other anymore.”

  “Best for who?” Her voice was raised. “Because I'm pretty miserable right now, being so close to you and not being able to talk to you. And from the looks of it, you're not exactly having the time of your life.”

  “How the hell would you know how I'm doing?” I demanded. “What, did you think that the end of our three-month-long friendship would force me into depression?” I gave a mean laugh, more like a cackle. “You're not that important, Casey, despite what you tell yourself. And my life is much better without you in it.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. She didn't need to speak to tell me how severely my words stung; it was all there in her eyes. She turned and slowly made her way out of my house, without looking back. I knew instantly that she'd gotten the message, loud and clear. Only, it was a message I now regretted sending.

  Peace and quiet was overrated! Just the clinking and clanging, the stomping and banging around the house was enough to quell that lonely feeling. Even being actively ignored was better than having no one around to actively ignore you. Three days into his vacation, I started missing my son. But I started missing Casey much sooner than that. Did it make me a bad mother that I craved the girly conversation, the booze-filled gossip sessions about “the harem” and the colorful characters that populated Casey's bizarre life, more than I craved my son's company? Did it make me a bad mother that I worried more about the impact my nasty words had on Casey, than the impact my lesbian affair had on Adrian? I didn't know the answer, nor did I care. The fact was, it was my broken friendship that kept me up at night, not Adrian's reaction to me getting some. I didn't have to apologize for having sex, and I certainly didn't have to feel bad.

  Fou
r days had gone by since Casey and I had our little spat. Four excruciating days. I'd given myself a break from the day job because I couldn't string an enticing sentence together to save my life. The words just wouldn't flow.

  Gardening. That would keep me occupied, even if I hated doing it alone. The front yard needed some sprucing up. A cat or some other asshole animal had taken a crap on my lawn a few days earlier, when Adrian was still here. He'd watched me from the living-room window as I cleaned it up and swore profusely. He'd been unable to stop chuckling.

  I dragged on some old clothes and headed outside. The afternoon sun hit me instantly, the glare stinging my eyes. I hurried back inside and tore the place apart searching for my sunglasses. When I returned, I noticed the red Porsche pulling into Casey's driveway. Seconds later she stepped out of the car, but she wasn't alone. A gorgeous, leggy blonde in the shortest skirt I'd ever seen climbed out with her.

  “Baby, don't forget the bag,” the woman said, pushing her shades onto her forehead.

  Baby?! When did this happen?

  I watched the scene unfold, watched Casey obligingly do as she was told. And before I could turn around and run back inside without being spotted, as she closed the trunk, her head twisted in my direction. Caught. For the longest five seconds in history, we stared at each other, motionlessly, her face unreadable. She was the one to look away. She let herself and her guest into the house, and when the door crashed closed it felt personal, as though she was closing it on me; on us.

  I never did get any gardening done that day. How could I have concentrated on a task I hated at the best of times when my imagination was running wild, conjuring up all sorts of unsettling images of Casey with that woman. She was everything I wasn't, and apparently already familiar enough to use vomit-inducing terms of endearment like... baby!

  My thoughts ran amok, putting me in a frenzy I couldn't get out of for the rest of the day. By the evening, having helped myself to a bottle of Merlot, I was well on my way to drowning my sorrows, and able to admit what had caused them. Jealousy. It cut into me like a knife, ate away at me like a disease. Even I wasn't immune to it. I'd never felt it, not like this.