Girl Next Door

by Nicci Haydon

  Girl Next Door

  Nicci Haydon

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2016 Nicci Haydon

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Part 1

  Part 2

  Strawberries and Cream

  Poolside

  About Nicci Haydon

  Part 1

  Katrin leaned in against me, her lips brushing my cheek, the scent of citrus drifting over her skin. “Men are not the best for sex.”

  “What do you mean?” I giggled, but her smile said she wasn’t joking. It was more conspiratorial. Her eyes stared deep into mine.

  It was their house warming. The whole neighborhood was invited, but we’d hit it off immediately. While our husbands talked about sport and cars we wandered out into her garden and gazed at flowers while we chatted about love and sex.

  “Come here when our husbands are at work. I will show you.”

  Her fingers brushed my shoulder, but I flinched away. Mumbled a hasty excuse. Got out of her way.

  Then spent the next week trying to keep her out of my head.

  ***

  To look at her, you would have thought she was asleep. Laying back on a sun lounger, head tilted a little to the side, dark skin glistening with a sheen of sunscreen. She looked so peaceful, so serene.

  But she wasn’t asleep. She was watching me as I was watching her.

  I knew, because I’d seen her head turn. It was the smallest of movements, just an inch, but it caused her hair to fall differently, caused the shadows to change over her face. The big sunglasses, old fashioned like they belonged to some eighties bubblegum-pop princess, hid her eyes. But I could feel her gaze undressing me.

  Katrin loved the sun, adored it. I’d seen her out there in her garden every day that week, dressed in a parade of tiny bikinis. This one was white, crocheted so that her nipples were visible, lighter nubs of flesh pressed against the fabric.

  I took a deep breath, knowing I’d been caught looking, wondering what that meant. Part of me wanted to turn and leave. The larger part wanted to stay. Martin was at work. The kids were at school. Nobody else would find me here. And what if they did? I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  But I wanted to.

  “Pull yourself together, Monica.” I whispered to myself, my voice echoing in the empty bedroom.

  Katrin licked her lips, smiled, and ran her hands down the sides of her body, started playing with the ties on her bikini briefs. Suddenly my mouth felt dry. I wanted to gulp, but didn’t dare.

  Youth dripped from Katrin, the way that condensation drips from a cool glass on a hot day, making you desperate to quench your thirst. Her breasts were firm, her skin unblemished. Her hair was black satin, straight and short. She twirled a finger around the tie that held her briefs in place, then pulled it away and let it fall free. As she did the same with the other, and I knew that if she only stood they would fall away, I felt my panties start to stick against my skin.

  She reached a hand beneath the fabric, and I let out an involuntary sigh.

  Taking the hem of my dress in my hands, I lifted, pulled it up, over my head, dropped it to the floor. I saw her smile widen when it was gone. My bra still covered my breasts. I unclipped it, took it off, let her look at me while she masturbated.

  When she threw her briefs aside it was too much. I watched her fingers stroking along her lips, dipping between, exposing sensitive flesh, and I reached a hand down inside my own panties. I was soaked already, my fingertips slid easily along my pussy, made me gasp as they flicked against my clitoris.

  As Katrin started to move, I did too. Her back arched and my shoulders tensed. Her knees bent, bringing her legs up, spreading her pussy wider. I threw my head back and released a low moan.

  We masturbated together, me looking down on her, her gazing up from behind her shades. There were other houses that overlooked us both, but we didn’t care. Let them see. In that moment I would have continued even if Martin suddenly came home and caught me.

  Within minutes I was ready to orgasm. I felt my body rocking, had to brace a hand against the window frame to steady myself. Katrin caught her lower lip between her teeth and squirmed on her seat. I mewled and cried, then closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window.

  When I opened them again, she was gone.

  I changed my underwear, dressed, and went back to my book.

  ***

  “Katrin -“

  “Monica!” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I enjoyed today.”

  I hesitated, nodded, then realised that she wouldn’t see a nod over the phone. “Me too.”

  She laughed. “I saw that.”

  “I was thinking… I mean, if the offer is still open…”

  “Yes.”

  “When… I mean, I’m not sure -“

  “Come tomorrow morning. Let yourself in.”

  I could feel my heart thundering. “OK.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Part 2

  I hesitated, looked around to check I was alone, took a breath that was meant to steady me. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and bright pink roses. They grew thick beside Katrin's door, planted by Rebecca, who'd lived there before her and gave me a knitted cardigan when Oscar was born. Something told me that Katrin wasn't the gardening type, though. Or the knitting type.

  “Maybe she'll get a man in,” I muttered to myself, looking over the rosebush. I smiled and added, “For the roses, not the cardigans.”

  I'd seen neglected gardens in the neighbourhood before, overgrown, messy, not the kind of thing that people appreciated around here. I tried to think whether I could recommend someone, but came up blank.

  Footsteps on the path outside the gate made me feel like I should hide. Which was stupid, since Katrin's fence was six feet tall and nobody would care if I was standing at her door anyway. It wasn't like I was doing anything wrong. She invited me here, after all. I wasn't an intruder, just a neighbour. A friend. I laughed at myself, then remembered why I was there and my face went bright red.

  The footsteps continued right past the gate, on up the hill.

  “What are you doing, Monica?” I asked myself. “Are you going to stay or are you going to run away?” I took a breath, weighing up the advantages of each, told myself to make a choice.

  I raised my hand and knocked on the door. It sounded feeble, more like an embarrassed tap. The kind of knock that you hear from the relief postman who has a parcel to deliver but is sort of hoping you're not home. Confidence was never something I had a lot of. The thick double-glazing probably absorbed all of the sound.

  Should I try again?

  No, she'll have heard it.

  I didn't want to make myself seem too eager. Katrin had only been my neighbour for a couple of weeks, but somehow we had latched onto each other immediately. At her housewarming she had smiled, invited me to join her in the garden, just the two of us, and started up conversations about love and sex. She whispered something about men not being the best for that, and I had giggled in respons
e.

  Then she touched me.

  It was nothing inappropriate, but just a little too intimate. I got embarrassed and ran away.

  A week passed before we had that moment. No physical contact, we weren't even in the same building, but I watched her and she watched me.

  I hadn't intended it, or maybe I had. It's difficult to know for sure. I certainly never would have initiated it. But Katrin is younger than me. I'm not sure how much younger, but it's enough to mean that she's not so hung up about these things. When I was in high school my friends still teased girls with words like “dyke” if they cut their hair too short. I guess hers didn't.

  She had a bit of an accent. Faded, but still there. German I think. So maybe that was it.

  Nobody was coming to the door. I knocked again, a little harder, then doubted myself. What if it was all just a game? What if it meant so little to her that she'd gone out somewhere, or was laughing at me? I glanced over at the living room curtains, but they weren't moving. There was nobody hiding behind them.

  Then I remembered. Let yourself in. That was what she said on the phone. Would I dare? It seemed like such an intrusion.

  I took a step back from her door, gazed up at the windows on the upper floor. There was no sign of movement.

  Let yourself in.

  I glanced around the garden again. The lawn was tidy. Not freshly cut – that smell must be coming from one of the neighbours' gardens – but somebody had done it since Katrin had moved in. So maybe she already had a gardener? I wondered who it was, and whether I might be able to get their number, whether they might give me a deal.

  The gate was still shut, just as I left it. Hardly siege defences, but nobody would see...

  The handle turned and the door opened with a quiet pop. Warm air greeted me. Not stuffy, although summer had definitely arrived. This was the kind of warmth that you get from a carefully maintained environment. Just the right humidity to be comfortable. That was something special, but then Katrin and Tristram didn't have any kids, so they had the money for a little extra comfort here and there.

  “Hello.” I announced my presence tentatively, my voice squeaking on the first syllable so that the whole word sounded like 'lo'.

  Her voice sailed lightly down the stairs. “I'm in the bedroom.”

  “It's Monica,” I called. “From next door.”

  Her laugh was high pitched, breathy. “I know.”

  I felt so embarrassed. Of course she knew. After we masturbated together I phoned her, arranged to come round this morning. But for what? Not a natter over tea and biscuits. Not an invitation to the WI club, or to try to persuade her to join the local amateur dramatics society – though they were desperately low on numbers.

  As I closed the door behind me, pressing it home gently with a click, I saw the table that stood just inside the door, and noticed the photograph standing on top of it next to a set of keys. Katrin and Tristram in front of the whitest beach in the world. Smiling, beautiful. He was older than her, but very handsome. A loose shirt did little to hide the muscle underneath. She was mesmerising, lithe and dark in a red dress that clung and billowed in a tropical breeze. And they looked so happy together.

  Like Martin and me, I thought, and felt light headed.

  What was I doing? Twenty-one years of marriage. Happy marriage. Martin had always been my world, my everything. He had given me three gorgeous children, a loving home, had provided for us all and more. It wasn't fair on him for me to be here, to be doing... this. Lust destroys marriages. It destroyed my parents' marriage. They never got past my dad's infidelity.

  “Are you coming up?” Her voice was close. The stairs led up and around, from the end of the hall straight ahead of me. She must be standing at the top. It was the same layout as my own house.

  “I'm not sure I...” My voice trailed off. I licked my lips. “I don't think I can do this. Sorry, Katrin. Sorry.”

  I turned around and grabbed the door handle.

  Her laugh made me stop. Not mocking, not at my expense. Just light and happy and infectious. “Monica, please don't go. It's nice to have you here.”

  I let go of the handle, turned my head, and there she was, leaning over the top of the stairs so that her head poked, upside-down, into the hall. Her short hair fell like an inky waterfall from the top of her head. Her eyes met mine in a smile that said we were friends. And said so much more. That there was a connection between us, that we'd both felt it, that if I left now then it was only putting off the inevitable.

  “Please,” she said, so I nodded and followed her upstairs.

  ***

  Katrin took my hand as I reached the top step, but didn't look back. She led me through to her bedroom, then turned and grinned at me, cocked her head on one side, spread her arms wide, palms out, fingers splayed. A pink cotton dress, the colour of a September sunset, fell loosely over her dark skin and ended as soon as it touched the tops of her bare thighs, rippling and swaying as she moved.

  “You look so beautiful,” she said, and it caught me off guard.

  Few people had ever said that to me. Not since I was a little girl, and those were the predictable ones. Mom. Aunties. Old ladies that my mom knew and who felt obliged to say something nice. I'm not sure any of them meant it. Since then I'd been told I was hot, told I was sexy, told I was seriously fuckable. But beautiful...

  “Thank you,” I managed. “So do you.” It was true, but it still sounded lame. It always does when someone else says it first. “I love your dress.”

  She didn't miss a beat. “You can take it off me if you like.”

  Her smirk was playful, challenging. She threw her head back and fell backwards. No hesitation, no fear. Katrin had faith that she would land safely, that nothing bad would ever happen to her. The bed creaked as she bounced down onto it, soft sheets folding themselves around her outstretched arms. I didn't quite know how to react, it had been too long since I was as carefree as her. I couldn't be like that. It seemed childish. But I found myself staring at her chest, at her nipples poking up against the loose fabric of the dress, making little folds that fell away to firm breasts.

  When she laughed it shook her whole body, made the springs squeak with delight, made her stomach tense and release beneath the pink cotton dress, soft and hard, soft and hard.

  The dress was just long enough to make shadows between her legs. I couldn't tell if she was wearing panties or not.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “I... this room is lovely.” It was sparsely furnished, no clutter. Just an enormous bed, white sheets, windows that looked out over the cul-de-sac. She had a dressing table and a fitted wardrobe with slats, and everything was painted lilac and white. “It's so feminine.”

  “I want you.”

  I took a step back, but she lifted the hem of her dress. Dark purple thong panties rose sharply from her crotch, wide bands strapped over her hips, purple in the middle with black edges. She lifted her legs onto the bed and raised herself, spreading her thighs wide. The panties pressed themselves firmly into her pussy, formed a darker line in the fold between her lips.

  “I'm so much older than you...”

  She laughed. “I don't care if you're a hundred. A thousand.” She lowered herself, sat up, crossed her legs, patted the bed in front of her. “Sit with me.”

  I did as I was told, and felt stupid and weak. I had to make decisions for myself, whether that was to stay with her or to run home. “This is really what you want?”

  She leaned forward, stared into my eyes. Hers were grey, flecked with green. They rose a little toward the corners and were rimmed with dark, long lashes. I would have looked away, avoided her gaze, except that I saw such desire in her eyes. The touch of her fingers on my cheek made me flinch. Her fingertips were cool, soft, ticklish. She traced the lines of my cheeks, then wrapped her hand around my head and pulled me towards her.

  Her kiss was warm and damp, her lips moist with lust. At first I tried to pull away, unsure, n
ot of whether I wanted it but of whether she wanted me. Martin and I didn't kiss. Not like this. A peck on the cheek, a hasty kiss goodbye, no passion. I wasn't sure if I would be able to meet Katrin's expectations. But as her lips moved against mine, and my eyes drifted closed, I tentatively pressed my tongue forward and felt her mouth open to let it pass. The squelch of our lips meeting and parting made my pelvis contract, forcing me to squirm against the bed as moisture dribbled from between my legs.

  When her tongue licked against mine it made me forget my doubts.

  She tasted of mint and smelled of citrus, strong and sharp like the crack of a whip. I reached a hand up between us, caressed her shoulder and slipped the strap of her dress away. She dextrously slid her arm out of it and I felt the cotton go loose around her breast. I knew that if I only pulled myself away from her then it would fall and reveal the nub of her nipple, erect and ready to be licked. Instead I felt her press herself forward against me, pushing me back, her smaller body suddenly heavy and eager as she fumbled with the lowest button on my blouse.

  I had dressed for her. The blouse was the most modern looking thing I owned, a gift from my step-sister, who was always trying to make me more fashionable. I'd felt odd putting it on, the first time I'd done so since she gave it to me. It was tight around the bust and across my stomach, and made me feel self conscious as I looked in the mirror. I looked away, thought that I was too fat, too old, too motherly to pull it off.

  As she unbuttoned the blouse, revealed my stomach, she pulled back from me and looked down, spread her fingers wide and traced around its bulge. I closed my eyes and shivered from her touch, tried to ignore the screaming inside my head that told me I was ugly. A fingertip flicked inside my belly button and she laughed as I flinched.

  A heartbeat later I felt it, her tongue, soft and wet and warm, slipping inside my belly button and licking, clicking against the sensitive flesh inside. I opened my eyes and looked down at her, dark hair falling about her face as she bent forward, legs tucked neatly underneath and to the side of her. Her lips made a seal around the edges of my belly button and she sucked, gently. I sighed and ran a hand through her hair, watched it shimmer in the sunlight from the bare window.