by Belle Brooks
“The one that boarders the west and the east, right? Gillespie Street?”
“That’s the one.” I smile.
Banter seems well informed. He must have been living in Hoffman awhile to be able to locate exactly the land I’m talking about.
“I happen to know the man who owns that property.” He runs his hand through silver hair.
My eyebrows launch to my forehead. “You do?”
“I do. Old friend. How about I tee something up for you. A meeting. A discussion?”
“I’d really appreciate that, Mr Banter.”
“Of course, son, what are neighbours for if they can’t help each other out?”
“Wow. Thanks.” What else can I say? I can’t believe it.
“I’ll give you a call. Let you know the time. What’s your number?”
I’m quick to take the mobile phone Banter retrieves from his pocket and holds out for me. “What would you like me to save the contact under?”
“How about Crossley?” The corners of his lips curl upwards.
“Done. Mr Banter, again, thank you.”
“Have a good night, Mr Crossley.”
Taking the stairs to the upper level, I can’t help replaying the laid-back environment tonight provided. Drinks flowed. Alan fell flat on his arse twice, getting overly cocky in the demonstration of a one-handed and one-legged cartwheel. Shit! The things these lads can convince others to do is uncanny. But the kid had fun. He laughed, he smiled, and it was a whole lot better than the misery that’s been plaguing his expression over the last couple of months. Blocker’s dump truck cigarette trick that turned into the smoke puffing dragon got some more laughs. Casual dinner and great company—as far as I’m concerned, there’s not much else we need in life than this.
As I near the door of the master bedroom, I catch a slither of light shining brightly through the small gap between the door and the frame. I’m certain the door was closed completely and the light switched off when I left the room earlier. Pressing my hand below the doorknob, it opens halfway, and I lighten my footsteps to more of a tiptoe as I make my way through the walk-in closet.
What the fuck?
Blocker stands by the window with the wrench he had this afternoon dangling loosely from his hand.
“What are you doing?” My voice projects rather loudly.
“Shh.” He places his finger against his lips. “Come here.”
I follow his instruction and stop beside him, intrigued by what could be so fascinating outside.
“Mate. Best view from the house, I’d say,” he whispers.
Why is he whispering?
“View is on the other side of the room to where you’re standing off the balcony, you dick. You—” I stop, my sight catching the vision Blocker is referring to through the window overlooking the neighbouring property. Long auburn hair flows down skin shadowed by soft lighting. This skin stretches over a tight rounded arse and continues down long pin legs.
“Hot pink. My favourite colour on a thin-lined G-string.” Blocker is gawking shamelessly, and I find myself drawn to this same floss of material parting in two directions from her slit and moving in separate directions onto either hip bone. “You lucky son-of-a—”
“Mate. What are you doing in here, anyway?”
“Hot neighbour, who gives a flying—”
“Blocker. Give the woman some privacy, will you?” Drawing the shade seems like the appropriate thing to do given the tongue now hanging from the corner of my friend’s mouth.
“You’re a fucker … you know this, right?”
Rolling my eyes, I clip him upside the head.
“Ouch. What did you do that for? I just about bit off my tongue.”
“You’ll survive. Seriously, what is with the wrench?”
Running his free hand along his prickled chin, he smirks. “Some honey named Alicia came around this afternoon. Oh, man, she was a fine piece of arse. Anyway, she said the spa wasn’t working, and they forgot to tell you this morning. Alicia was all flushed when I took my shirt off and told her I’d happily fix it and not to worry about sending a tradesman out. I think I might have a shot with her.” He winks before waving the wrench at my face. “She left me her card, so—”
“But where did you get the wrench from?”
“From a mate. He brought it round.” He rolls his eyes.
“Who?”
“Franco.”
“Your cousin Franco?” I can feel my fists clenching.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want that sleaze in my house.”
“He wasn’t. I ran outside and grabbed it off him.”
“Shit. Just don’t ask him in here, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Well, is it fixed?”
“What?”
“The spa?”
“Yep. Was just about to leave when I heard a noise and peered out your window. I’m glad I looked down and not just outwards … otherwise I would have missed the strip show. Tank, you should have seen her in the dress she had on covering the pink G-banger. I reaped such a reward, let me tell you.”
Shaking my head, I slap Blocker around the ears one more time. He stumbles backwards and reaches for the back of his skull, rubbing the slap away.
“Mr Responsible. Lighten up, will you?”
“Piss off, will you?”
“Fine. I’m going. Thanks, Maverick, for fixing my spa for me.” The sarcasm in his tone makes me laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, you greedy shit.”
“Yeah.” I sigh before we complete the signature handshake we invented in high school.
“Laters.”
“Laters. Hey, lock the front door on the way out?”
“Sure.” He flips me off and exits the room with the wrench in hand.
Temptation glides through my veins. Every part of me says I should leave the shade down and walk away, yet my male caveman instinct demands for it to rise once more. It wins when I lift the shade.
Nothing but pitch-black. Probably for the best. I can’t help wondering, though, what this woman looks like … well, the rest of her, not just the tight arse I saw before.
I don’t have to wait long when flickering candlelight causes my breath to catch in my throat. At first, I can only make out a feminine silhouette standing by what I believe to be a bed. The silhouette reminds me of one of those ladies you see on semi-trailer mud flaps. She has the same hourglass figure, no doubting it.
The lighting brightens further, and it’s then I catch her hands sliding up underneath her hair. This woman is hypnotic, and I can’t peel my eyes away from her bare skin. She’s completely naked but the pink G-String she was wearing when Blocker brought this view to my attention.
When her hands resurface, a necklace dangles from her fingertips. It swings like a pendulum as she stills. Is she watching it move backwards and forward like I am?
Her body rotates, and I will her to keep turning so I can see her face. She doesn’t and halts when the side of her breast is exposed. I have this overpowering want to wrap her in my arms, covering her nakedness. I don’t want anyone else gawking at her. Look away, Tank. I can’t.
She bends at the waist, and one of her nipples stands erect. Is she cold or aroused? The necklace is gone when she shifts her body full frontal to the window and slips her finger between her lips into her mouth. Can she see me?
A shadow appears behind her. Holy shit, does she know someone is walking towards her? She must do, because the soft features of her face are relaxed, almost expectant.
Her fingers brush her neck, scooping up her long flowing hair and tucking it all over one of her shoulders. The shadow becomes clearer behind her, and it’s then I know it’s a tall man, fully clothed in a suit, who is encroaching from behind. Her fingers run down her throat, over her chest, and split in two different directions until they brush over her pointed nipples and rejoin, skirting her torso. Close the blind, Tank. She’s with someone.
He wraps his hands under he
r arms and cups both of her ample breasts into his hands, and without a second more passing, I pull the string until the blind falls shut. What am I doing?
I’m hard as a rock when I climb into the warm flowing shower, and I try to think about old Tessa in the buff in hope of removing the vision of my hot-as-fuck neighbour from my mind. Something needs to extinguish my impossibly growing erection. This temperature is not working, because her hourglass shape remains far beyond any grotesque vision I try to summon. Whether I open or close my eyelids, she’s there, on display for me in a private show.
Reaching for the tap, I twist it with one complete movement and suck a quick breath as the now freezing water stings my skin below my belly button.
What is her name? I need to learn her name.
After finishing my shower, I wrap the softest towel I have ever used to my skin, whilst looking into the mirror spanning a huge portion of the wall. “Don’t be a perv,” I whisper. She’s taken, and obviously, she doesn’t know you can see her from your window.
Turning sharply, I walk from the bathroom back to the blind and grasp the cord. I must … No, I want … No, I need to see her. I control the temptation, and I don’t allow myself to raise the shade. Instead, I move away and opt for climbing under fresh bedding, letting my hand run the length of my torso until I grasp my again growing erection and replay her every movement in my mind.
Chapter Nine
Monday morning, and the three of us and Roxie have settled into our new environment. I’m only wearing boxer shorts when I come to bang my fist hard against the door of Alan’s room, but he’s either ignoring me or he’s dead. My knuckles sting when for the fifth time I knock with a hard force. No answer. He better be bloody dead.
“Alan, you shit, are you decent?”
There’s finally a soft groan in return, and without needing any other form of invitation, I open the door wide and barge my way in. He’s curled up in bed with only the tip of his head poking out from under the blankets. I still for a moment and wait to see if the blankets move with the up-and-down rhythm of breathing. It does, which means he’s ignoring me.
“Alan. Get up. You have school to attend today. Did you not take me seriously? When we were leaving the hospital I told you your dumbarse was going back to school.”
“I’ll go tomorrow.” His voice is gruff.
“You’ll go today. Uniform is sitting on the desk. Go shower and put the darn thing on. Breakfast is twenty minutes away. If you make me come back in here I’m going to whoop your arse.” I don’t close the door on exit, and when I make my way towards the kitchen I’m grateful for the smell of cooking bacon.
“Morning, Finlay.” Tessa smiles in my direction.
“Shit. Was I like this at fifteen?”
“Yep. You were a pain in my arse.” Two things about Tessa is she doesn’t hold her tongue and she always tells the truth.
Sitting at the breakfast bar, I watch Tessa drop a piece of bacon to the floor.
“Floor hungry?”
“Well, not so much the floor as the midget flea bag standing between my legs.”
Roxie. She’s a garbage disposal unit.
Perching myself up on my elbows, I shuffle until I can bend over the bench enough to see the floor and Roxie doing exactly as Tess said. “Go on, get, you mongrel.” I try to scold Roxie. Instead, I say this with a definite tone of humour laced in my words. Her black nose points upwards and when she looks me in the eyes, I know she’s not taking me seriously in any way.
“Leave her alone, Fin. She’s not hurting anyone.” Tessa’s tone changes pitch when she looks at the floor and says, “He’s a big, bad boss, isn’t he, Roxie?”
Safe to say, Roxie has Tessa wrapped around her finger.
“Bitches. Can never get them under control.”
“You better have not referred to me as a bitch, Finlay, or you’ll starve.” Tessa’s back is turned to me when she sternly says this.
“Sorry,” I relent immediately.
“Yeah, you better be sorry, mister.”
“Whatever,” I huff under my breath.
“Did you say something?” Bloody hearing of a bat has our Tessa.
“Nope.”
“I thought as much.” Tessa is the boss of this manor. Arguing this fact would be mute.
Tapping my fingers against the marble, I find myself drifting off in thought, and again I’m struck with the vision of the girl who lives in the top bedroom of the house next door. Who is she?
Yesterday morning, I walked down to the mailbox at least five times, even though it was Sunday and the mail isn’t delivered on this day. I’d hoped I might catch a glimpse of her walking around the yard, or maybe she’d be coming or going in a car and I’d be able to catch a glimpse of her through the car window. It never happened.
Last night, however, I hovered by my window, shade up, eyes planted in the direction of her room in the hope she’d appear once more. It was only a short wait until she stood unaware of me enjoying her as she removed all her clothing. This time, she stripped right down beyond her underwear. She’s like forbidden candy to me. Candy I want to lick and suck every bit of.
I’d stared as she reached behind her back to unzip the fitted dress she was wearing. I could see her clearly as her dress slid away almost as if for my enjoyment. I’d wanted her to be alone. She was. Even when she’d disappeared and then reappeared with a towel wrapped around her, she was by herself. The lights went out after she slipped on a slimline negligee, and I assumed she had turned in for the evening. I wish I could have removed her beauty from my mind with the sudden darkness, ending a delightful show she hasn’t even been aware she plays the lead part in, but I couldn’t. My neighbour is like crack. My neighbour is going to be my addiction—I just know it.
I want her to be mine.
I need to be the man who encroaches from behind and grabs her voluptuous breasts.
Continuing to tap my fingers against the bench has me still wondering if she’s in a relationship, or if the guy who was in her room the first night I came to be here was no more than a mere hook-up. Here’s hoping it’s the latter of the two.
“Are you fucking happy? I look like a tool. Tank, you cannot expect me to wear this.” Alan is not a happy camper.
Swivelling in my seat, I try desperately to hide my delight when I scan his new outfit. I’m tragically failing. “What’s wrong with it?” I snicker.
“I look like a tool. A tie? Really? What am I supposed to be, a male version of a girl scout or something?”
I laugh due to the strained and taut expression he displays.
“Laughing, really? Great. I’m not going to this bloody school.”
“You look adorable,” Tess adds in her two bobs’ worth. “The red and white stripes on the tie look good against your white button-down shirt, and the grey tailored shorts fit you nice. I like it.”
Fuck, I love Tessa.
“Hey, Ms Simon, how about you take a few hard sucks through your nose? Your brain needs more oxygen if you think this looks nice.”
Tess giggles before turning back towards the stove once more.
“Watch your mouth.” I’m still laughing.
“Well, she does need more oxygen. Tank, come on. Don’t make me go.”
“Sit your butt in the seat and be nice or Tessa might just spit in your breakfast.” I pause, scanning his uniform right down to the grey, almost knee-length sock. “You’re going. Get used to it.”
“Fine,” Alan huffs.
The three of us devour our breakfast like savage wolves. Unfortunately, listening to Tessa’s raspy breathing has me thinking about this nurse situation. What if Tess goes downhill fast? I mean, she’s capable now, but for how long? I’m going to just have to ask her what she wants.
After every hungry bite, Alan restarts his fight not to go. I have to give him credit, though; he fights like a warrior hell-bent on taking control of this situation. He won’t win.
“Mr Tumbling, I’m ready
to take you now.” Rance must have let himself in with little regard for the formalities that come with being given a key to the house for emergency purposes. I’d expect nothing less from him.
“Not going,” Alan spits.
“Hey, little shit, you’re going to school. Tank is doing you a favour, so take your crutches and get yourself in the limo.”
“Limo.” I’m chuckling. I can’t help it. Rance is dressed in a black suit with a top hat and all. Why?
“What are you laughing at, you git?” Rance spins and even does a little tap recital for our entertainment, which has Tessa snickering. “I’m looking schmick, mate. You just can’t handle my professionalism. When you hired me as this young fellow’s driver, keeper, whatever the hell I am, I took it deadly serious.”
“Limo? Really?” I cock my eyebrow.
“You said ‘buy a nice transport car’. I heard you. Come on, you’re sending him to private school and …” Rance leans forward and places his hand in a way that shelters his mouth. It’s pointless, because he doesn’t whisper. In fact, he speaks loudly. “Not sure if you know this, but the kid is missing a leg, and I want him to have a chance. High school is rough. You want him to have some sort of a shot at the hot teenage pussy pool, right?” Rance wiggles his eyebrows, like this will sell his point.
“Yeah. Okay. I’m up for that.” Alan takes his crutches to his armpits. “Let me get my backpack.” He disappears and on return he says, “Rich girls, here I come.” Alan winks at me before taking a green apple from Tessa’s outstretched hand in passing. “I’m all for the hotties.” He follows this statement with a ferocious bite out of the apple. “So juicy and sweet. The girls better be gorgeous, is all I’m saying.” He taps Rance on his arm when he reaches him. “I like the way you think, Rance.”
“Dude, the suit—don’t crimple my expensive suit. After all, I didn’t pay for it.” Rance smirks as he flips me the bird, and the two of them make haste to the front door.
