The New Neighbor

by Ray Garton

  “It's okay, Jen, don’t apologize," Miss Dupree said with a quiet laugh as she got off the bed and put on a black robe that flowed around her body like liquid darkness.

  Jen could not keep herself from turning to the bed again; she watched the man's erection slowly shrink and droop to the side until it was resting on his thigh.

  Miss Dupree led her out of the bedroom and quietly closed the door, put her hands on Jen's shoulders and whispered, "Don't be embarrassed, Jen. Really."

  But she was. Her face was burning and she wanted to shrivel up and die. "I didn't mean to sneak in," she said. "Sodom was at our door and I followed him over here and there was nobody around. I called for you, but – “

  "It's okay, sweetie, don't worry about it."

  "I'll go now."

  "No-no-no." Miss Dupree toyed with Jen's hair, brushing it from her eyes and pushing it back over the ears as she spoke. "Remember when I said yesterday that we might be able to do something that would get Robby to pay more attention to you?"

  Jen nodded.

  "Well, I think we can. Right now."

  "How?"

  "First of all, you have to promise me you'll do exactly as I say. And you have to promise that it will be our secret. Just between us. You won't tell you parents or any of your friends. Anyone. Okay?"

  She nodded again, but her brow was beginning to wrinkle with suspicion. "Why?"

  "I think you'll know why in a little bit." Miss Dupree stood and took Jen's hand. "Ready?"

  "I guess so."

  Miss Dupree led her into the dark bedroom and to the side of the bed.

  It was Robby. He lay on his back, arms and legs splayed, mouth hanging open as he slept. And he was naked.

  Jen let go of Miss Dupree's hand and started to back away from the bed, but the woman put her hand on Jen's back and gently pushed her toward it again. Jen's eyes traveled down her brother's body, stopping in the middle, where his thing lay to one side, shining wetly. She was startled by Miss Dupree's hands as they reached around from behind and pulled Jen’s coat off, but her eyes did not leave her brother’s cock.

  With her mouth pressed close to Jen's ear, Miss Dupree whispered, "Have you ever seen it before?"

  She looked up at Miss Dupree, hesitated, then nodded.

  "Have you ever touched it?"

  Bluish-white bolts of electricity shot through Jen but, at the same time, thick black guilt oozed up in her throat. What if her parents found out? What would Robby do when he woke and found her there?

  She couldn't believe she was even considering staying there.

  Jen shook her head and mouthed no.

  "Well," Miss Dupree whispered, "if you do as I say… he'll pay more attention to you from now on. I promise. He'll look at you very differently after today." She took Jen's wrist and eased her hand toward Robby.

  Jen resisted at first, wincing at the prospect of touching him and at the thought of what might result, but -

  – she could not forget the memory of watching her brother squeezing thick white fluid from his penis and she could not ignore the excitement she felt at seeing her hand just inches away from it, fingers outstretched and trembling.

  Giving in, Jen let her fingertips brush the end of Robby's penis. It was soft and damp, and when she pressed a bit harder, it gave beneath the pressure like a stiff, dry sponge.

  "Go ahead," Miss Dupree whispered, moving her hand closer.

  Reluctantly, Jen wrapped her fingers around it. It was fat and warm. Her lungs released a long quavering exhalation as Miss Dupree moved Jen's arm slightly so that her hand slid up and down Robby's penis. Then Miss Dupree let go of her wrist, knelt, and began to untie Jen's red high-tops, removing them first, then the socks, whispering, "Let's get your clothes off.”

  * * * *

  Sleep was like a lead weight on Robby's chest, but he remained vaguely conscious of the sensations he was experiencing. A hand on his erection… hot breath on his testicles… a mouth on his nipple… at the same time.

  No, he thought, that can't be… can't be…

  But it was. There were two mouths on him, two soft, breathy voices whispering to each other.

  What had Lorelle done? Who had she brought into the room?

  Robby thought of the man at school with a mangled face. What was it he had said about Lorelle?

  "Souls," Robby managed to whisper, his head rolling from side to side. "Too many… souls… to eat… too… many… souls… "

  He struggled to open his eyes as hands and tongues moved over his body, as a hot, wet vagina slid down his erection. He fought to raise his heavy eyelids.

  Oh, my God, Robby thought, feeling vaguely nauseated. He was unable to speak as he stared up at Jen's sleepy, half smiling face.

  She was straddling him, eyes closed, hands flat on his chest, moving slowly.

  Robby lost consciousness.

  Jen never returned Woody Gibson's call.

  Chapter 12

  More Dark Thoughts

  Karen woke briefly and heard movement outside her bedroom. Just footsteps, and doors opening and closing, no voices. That's the way it had become, almost overnight, it seemed.

  She lay in bed passing in and out of a doze, wondering what time it was. She could not focus her eyes enough to read the digital clock on the night stand.

  Although she had not felt well at work that day, that was not the reason she had left work early. She'd been tired, but not sick. The real reason was that she could not stop thinking about Lorelle Dupree. Karen spent the day imagining her at home, working on something – a piece of sculpture, or perhaps a necklace or ring – and those thoughts made her wet. She’d walked around at work that day with her panties soaked through.

  Only a fraction of the guilt she'd been feeling still remained. Even though she tried to feel guilty, she could not.

  This is something that makes me feel good, she thought. I spend the day at a difficult job, then go home to another difficult job, and there's so little that makes me feel good… so why shouldn't I indulge myself as long as no one gets hurt?

  But, another voice inside her countered, what if someone is hurt? The children? Or George?

  Well… I'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen.

  But the other voice continued: Of course, it's not like George has done a lot to make you feel good lately, has he? In fact, the only time he's affectionate is when he wants you to make him feel good… when his ugly, stubby penis is feeling restless. Isn't that right?

  Karen tried to go back to sleep, but the inner voice prodded her.

  Well, isn't it?

  George is a good man, she thought, curling up beneath the covers.

  True, true. But even a good man follows the orders of his stiff one-eyed skin snake, doesn't he?

  She sat up in bed, barely able to lift her eyelids, and heard something outside the bedroom.

  A sob.

  Another, deep and thick with anguish.

  Jen? It might even have been Robby. But why?

  Karen considered trying to get up, but fell back in bed and lay there, thinking of the two late morning hours she'd spent with Lorelle that day. She’d been so eager – so desperate – to be with Lorelle again that she’d broken all the speed limits to get home as quickly as possible. Once again, being with her had made Karen feel so good.

  But she did not feel good after going home.

  She was lulled back to sleep by the rhythmic sobs that went on and on beyond her bedroom door.

  * * * *

  George was not feeling well either.

  He'd been so exhausted all day that he'd been incapable of getting much done, and his few accomplishments at work were so uncharacteristically sloppy that his secretary had suggested he go home early and get into bed. By three o'clock he agreed with her.

  But he did not agree simply because he was so fatigued. That, he knew, was simply because he'd gotten so little sleep lately.

  Since he'd gotten out of bed that morning – a form
idable task beneath the weight of his exhaustion – he'd been able to think of only one thing: Lorelle's last words to him before he'd left her house and sneaked back to bed the night before…

  Next time, you can tie me up. Or, if you'd like… I'll tie you up.

  He called her several times from his office, but never got an answer, so he tried to busy himself with his work. But nothing could eclipse his thoughts of Lorelle Dupree.

  He knew it was ridiculous. It wasn't like he was sneaking to a motel with someone his family didn't know about and had never met – she lived across the street, for crying out loud. Worse yet, he'd even fucked her in his own bedroom while Karen was asleep in bed!

  So who says you can’t do it someplace safer? he asked himself at his desk over a fast-food lunch he couldn't eat. And, if necessary, we can sneak off to a motel. It's not exactly unjustified, either. For the last twelve years, I've been married to a woman who thinks a libido is an Italian desert. Maybe if Karen had made some effort to overcome her lack of interest in sex… maybe if she'd tried to use a little imagination in the bedroom… maybe then this wouldn't be happening. Maybe if she took a little more interest in me than she does that fucking cat of hers… maybe…

  George left work at three and was home in fifteen minutes. Jen was the only one up. She sat in his recliner wearing her bathrobe. A most unusual expression rested on her pale face. She stared at the television, but did not seem to be seeing it. Her eyes were dark with concentration beneath a huddled brow, but a gentle smile curled her mouth slightly at the corners. She sat with her knees spread far apart. There was something strangely adult about the way she looked, sitting in his chair with contrasting expressions struggling together on her face.

  “Where is everybody?" George asked.

  "In bed. They're sick."

  "You don't look so good yourself."

  "Just tired."

  "You should go to bed."

  She did not look at him, just shook her head.

  "You've got school tomorrow, Jen. If you're not feeling well, you should go to bed."

  "I'm… just… tired," she said with slow deliberation, as if speaking to a retarded child.

  "Well, that's what people do when they're tired, dammit, they go to bed!” he snapped.

  She didn't move.

  "Did you hear me?"

  "I heard you," she muttered.

  "Goddammit, go to bed!"

  He waited until she finally got out of the chair and went down the hall, walking by him as if he weren't there.

  George went to the bathroom, urinated, then washed his hands, freezing for a moment as he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

  Have I missed that much sleep? he wondered.

  Wrinkles webbed from the outer corners of his eyes and his face seemed to sag on his skull like an ill-fitting garment. He ran a brush through his hair and brushed his teeth before going to the kitchen and pouring himself a drink. Coffee was what he really needed, but he knew a couple of drinks would make it easier for him to do what he wanted to do.

  Twenty minutes later, he went to the phone and punched out a number.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi," he said.

  "George! You're home early."

  "Yeah, I was… well, I felt kind of… actually, I was thinking maybe I could… that maybe I'd, you know… “

  Lorelle laughed. "Tell me, George. Has anyone ever dripped hot wax on your bare skin?"

  "Nuh… no… “

  "Come on over. I'll tie you up and we'll see how you like it."

  Chapter 13

  There Goes the Neighborhood

  Robby awoke with a taste of dirty socks in his mouth and a vivid memory in his mind. For a few minutes, he tried to convince himself the memory was of a dream brought on by what had happened yesterday afternoon, but his gut told him it wasn't.

  Sometime during the night, he had awakened to find a ghost kneeling beside his bed, groping under the blankets and between his legs.

  "Let me do it again,” Jen had whispered, as her fingers fumbled for his cock, her face the color of dirty teeth in the sodium glow of the streetlight outside. "I wanna do it again, Robby, okay? Please?"

  "Go back to bed, Jen," Robby slurred, pulling away from her. "Just… go.”

  "Oh, c'mon, Robby. I promise not to watch Entertainment Tonight anymore, okay? I promise. I know how much you hate that show. And… I know how much you love what I want to do to you.”

  Robby had cried himself to sleep that afternoon, his bed shaking beneath the uncontrollable sobs that he could not fight. He'd not only been upset by what he'd done, but also by how much he'd enjoyed it… how much he'd enjoyed Jen's hands stroking his cock… how much he'd enjoyed nuzzling the fine hair between her legs with his nose…

  The sobs almost returned as she kneeled beside his bed in the night, reaching for him.

  "Go away!" he'd hissed again and again, pulling the covers up tight around his chin.

  As Jen left his room, pouting and naked, she'd said something in a sad whisper.

  What was it?

  He sat up in bed, trying to remember, trying to wake up. It had seemed important at the time.

  Robby crawled out of bed, dressed and got his books. He didn't want to take time to shower or eat breakfast. He had to get out of the house and avoid seeing anyone, if possible. Especially Jen.

  Angry voices came from his parents' bedroom. Robby considered pausing outside their door to see what they were fighting about, but didn't want to take the chance of getting caught. In the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face, brushed his teeth and combed his hair, trying to ignore his hollow, gaunt reflection in the mirror.

  Jen was curled in the recliner wearing her bathrobe when he passed the living room. She turned and looked at him, her face empty for a moment, then warming suddenly, as if it had taken her a moment to recognize him. Robby stopped in the living room doorway. He wanted to speak to her, to say something that might begin to make up for what he'd done, but his voice was trapped in his constricting throat because -

  – Jen's hand was beneath her robe, between her spread legs, moving as she stroked herself and smiled at him with her brows raised high above her heavy-lidded eyes, and -

  – Robby suddenly remembered her words as she left his room the night before, spoken in a breathy whisper full of disappointment. She said you'd pay more attention to me.

  He hurried out of the house and into the cold drizzle, lifting his face to the gray sky as he crossed the grass. He breathed deeply as the chilly moisture sprinkled his face.

  Robby's foot kicked something and he stopped, looked down. Four newspapers were scattered at the edge of the lawn where they always landed when the paperboy threw them each day. They were wrapped in plastic because of the weather, but two of the wrappers had torn and the papers inside were soaked.

  Four days of newspapers. It was always delivered early, before Robby went to school, so one of them was probably today's, Tuesday's. Dad usually brought it in and read it over breakfast.

  He hadn't since Saturday.

  He hasn't been feeling good, Robby thought as he stepped across the sidewalk and onto the street. He just hasn't thought about it, that's all.

  Across the street, there were lights on behind the curtains of Lorelle's windows. She seemed to be a very early riser despite the late hours she kept.

  She never sleeps.

  The mailbox was full of mail. The aluminum door hung open a couple of inches and the corners of wet envelopes, sales papers and advertisement flyers stuck out of the box.

  Robby stopped and stared at the box, pulled it all the way open and looked in at the sopping stack of mail, all of it ruined. He usually brought in the mail, and if he didn't, it usually occurred to someone eventually.

  It had occurred to no one.

  Frowning, Robby walked on. Jessie sat in the middle of the road, head hung low, her tail curled beneath her rump.

  "Hey, Jess," Robby called, but his voice was h
oarse and flat.

  The dog's head lowered even more and her tail twitched cautiously over the pavement. Her fur was wet and slicked to her body.

  Robby walked over to the dog and patted her head. "What're you doing out here, Jess, huh? How come you're not inside?"

  Dylan usually let Jessie into the garage at night, especially if it was raining. But Dylan had been sick, too. Maybe he'd forgotten.

  But why wouldn't his parents do it? Robby wondered.

  Jessie hunkered down close to the pavement with a whine, looking up at Robby fearfully, as if he were about to strike her.

  Robby bent down to pet her, murmuring, "What's the matter, Jessie? Huh? What's – “

  She pressed her chin to the ground and whined again, clenching her eyes shut.

  Robby heard someone shouting behind him, a voice muffled by distance and walls. He stood slowly and turned back toward the Garry's house, the last house on the left, as glass shattered. Another voice joined in, both shouting at once. The front door opened, then slammed. Mrs. Garry stalked across the grass to the car parked in the drive, got in and slammed the door. After starting the engine, she revved it and popped the clutch. The car shot backward into the street and turned until the headlights faced Robby.

  "C'mon, Jess," Robby said, slapping his thigh as he backed toward the sidewalk.

  Mrs. Garry shifted gears and the car kicked forward.

  "Jessie, come on."

  The dog remained in the middle of the street, hunched down like a frightened child.

  Robby whistled, made kissing sounds with his lips, and kept slapping his leg as he called, "C'mere, Jess, c'mon, Jessie-girl, come here.”

  The car's speed increased and Mrs. Garry's eyes stared straight ahead as if they saw nothing in her path.

  Robby dropped his books, bolted forward and clutched Jessie's fur, dragging her over the pavement. The dog wailed horribly, pulling her head away from him, as if dodging a blow. Her black claws scraped over the road as Robby heaved her toward the sidewalk, his weakened arms trembling with the effort, his head pounding. The dog suddenly gave a sharp bark and clambered to her feet, jumping onto the sidewalk as Mrs. Garry roared by in her car, eyes front, mouth moving rapidly, angrily, flashing teeth as she shouted silently at no one.