The Girl Next Door

by Jordan Blake

  Extremely sexy art.

  Seeing her after all these months, and looking so delicious, my brain jumped back to the first time I’d seen her. Really seen her. Not just glossed over her presence as “that kid from next door,” but actually noticed her as a woman.

  It had been on the day of her 18th birthday party the summer before. All afternoon, I’d heard the pool party raging on, with splashes and laughter and music filling the air between our houses. It was nice to hear people having fun. My ex and I had been in a downward spiral for years, and the tension in my house was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I’d escaped to the backyard just to sit alone in the sunshine and listen to the sound of happiness drifting across the fence.

  But then I heard it. One particular voice standing out from the crowd, saying my name. Calling me over to the fence. I’d walked over and saw Dakota standing on the far side of the pool. When we made eye contact, she smiled and waved, then dove smoothly in and swam across underwater. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her graceful form under the twisting ripples of the surface of the pool.

  She swam over to the steps closest to where I stood in one long, underwater jaunt. When she reached the cement stairs, she surfaced, brushing her wet hair back from her face with both hands as she climbed out of the pool. The whole thing was like a movie. Although it was happening in front of me, in my mind it was brightly backlit and playing in slow motion as a booming bassline track pumped underneath the scene.

  She stepped over to the fence and I wished her a happy birthday, then we stood there chatting for about five minutes. I don’t know what the hell we talked about, my mind had been completely consumed with how fucking hot her tight little body looked in the bikini she’d worn.

  God damn. She’d been pure sex, and I hadn’t been able to think about anything else all the rest of the day. In fact, the mental picture of her smooth, tan skin with drops of water sparkling on it like diamonds had gotten me so worked up by that night that I’d even made a pass at my wife. Yep. I’d tried to get laid, for the first time in months.

  It hadn’t gone well. To say the least.

  I didn’t even care, truthfully. In fact, I was a little relieved to have the freedom to sit alone in the den, absentmindedly flipping channels and letting my mind run wild with thoughts of how sexy the scantily-clad Dakota had been that afternoon.

  That’s when I realized it was all over but the paperwork. Less than a month later, my ex had moved out. I’d thought that my attraction to Dakota had just been my subconscious’ way of letting me know that my marriage was really and truly over, but seeing her this afternoon had crushed that idea like a bug. If anything, she’d looked even hotter in her jeans and t-shirt than she had in her skimpy swimsuit, and I was hard as a rock thinking about her.

  Shit. I needed to get a bullet out of the chamber if I was going to be anything but a total drooling moron at dinner that night. I grasped my cock in my hand. It was painfully hard at this point. I stroked myself, picturing Dakota’s sweet body at the pool party, imagining what it might look like if I’d reached over the fence and ripped off the tiny pieces of fabric that had covered her.

  Imagining her swimming naked, putting on a show just for me. Stepping out of the pool and smoothing back her wet hair just like in real life, but this time her nipples would be hard from the bracing cold of the water, rivulets running down her belly and swirling between her legs and over her sweet little pussy—

  “Oh, fuck!” I grunted as the ever-faster and ever-harder strokes of my fist tore a load from me. I shot my wad all over the shower floor, my brain full of Dakota’s imagined nakedness.

  When my breathing had returned to normal, I shook my head and resolved to let that be the last I thought about it that night. Otherwise, there would be no getting through dinner. This wasn’t a date. We were simply two acquaintances getting to know each other better. That’s all it was.

  After a moment’s consideration, I grasped the shower knob and turned the temperature down until my skin jumped at the cold temperature of the shower. I nodded to myself. Yep, probably for the best.

  Hopefully, it would be enough to do the trick.

  4

  Dakota

  Oh, God!

  I glanced up at the clock on my bedroom wall for about the millionth time in ten minutes and was relieved to see that it had only moved forward 30 seconds. I still had a little bit of time before I had to walk next door for The Dinner.

  Panic flooded my veins as I pulled on outfit after outfit, tossing the rejects haphazardly around the room. Everything I had here in my closet at home was from high school—and, boy, did it look like it! I couldn’t think straight.

  Finally, I settled on a plain black tank top with dark skinny jeans and boots. Plain as it was, it was the most chic ensemble I could put together out of my high school leftovers, and it would have to do.

  I was a bundle of nerves. I didn’t think I’d been so nervous about anything in my life since…well, ever.

  I was going to make a move on Mr. Sheffield. I couldn’t quite believe it, but I knew it was true. I could feel it in my bones. The time was right, it was a now or never sort of a thing. It was just…how exactly do you go about seducing someone, again? That wasn’t exactly information that had been handed down as part of my education, and I didn’t think that movies and television were exactly reliable sources.

  Then, an idea occurred to me. Of course! What did I always do, anytime I needed to know how something worked? What was my go-to source for reliable how-to information?

  Just Google it, silly!

  I sat down at my desk and opened my computer, navigating to Google and typing in, “how to seduce an older man.”

  Blue links and black text filled the white screen. I sighed in disgust and frustration as my eyes scanned them. It got worse as I clicked into a few. An article on Vice that included the phrases “pendulous moobs,” “ailing prostates,” and “white back hair.” I shook my head.

  Not. Applicable.

  Next, I dove into the treacherous world of SnagThatSugarDaddy.com. Again…not advice that applied to my situation.

  Why isn’t there a SoYouWannaDoYourHotOlderNeighbor.com? Huh? Where my girls at?

  Article after article about going after older men for their money and ignoring their bodies. What if you wanted them because of their bodies? Where was that information?

  I glanced up at the clock again.

  Oh, shit. It was time to go. I grabbed my keys from the desk, put them into my back pocket, and headed down the stairs. Apparently the only advice I was going to have time to look up was the useless kind. When it came to seduction strategy, I was completely on my own.

  5

  Dakota

  I pushed the food around on my plate. The problem wasn’t that it was inedible. What I’d managed to choke down was, in fact, pretty tasty. I was just far too nervous to eat, knowing what I was about to do. The mental images that I’d researched kept popping into my mind, the ones that had encouraged me to boldly make my move in various ways, had me in turmoil. Everything inside me swirled with a confusing—and not entirely unpleasant—mixture of terror and lust. Trying to work up the courage to say something naughty or touch him was so scary that I felt a little lightheaded.

  On the other hand, knowing I was so close to actually feeling his hands and lips on me? God, it made me dizzy for a whole other reason. My head spun, my belly was full of tingling butterflies, and heat rushed from my core out to my extremities every time I worked my nerve almost all the way up.

  Oh, I was hungry all right. Just not for salad and pasta.

  All my life felt like it had been leading up to this moment. Like everything had been a rehearsal. And now that it was time for the performance I was suffering from stage fright.

  Glancing up, I was struck by luminescent gaze of the clear, light brown eyes of the man that had been my childhood crush staring back at me. The man that had unintentionally set the bar for what a real man was s
upposed to be. And that bar was what I’d held every guy I was even remotely interested in up to and they’d all come up lacking.

  Drew Sheffield had them all beat on every front. There was no other person, that I had met at least, that exuded sex appeal like the man seated across from me did. It wasn’t that he tried to be sexy, he just was; from his effortlessly disheveled sandy blonde hair that was just long enough that I itched to run my fingers through it. To his large caramel-shaded irises surrounded by a thick bed of dark lashes that made my insides burst into flames when his heated gaze was focused on me. To the square jaw that was always peppered with just enough stubble to give him a rugged edge and his full lips that I’d fantasized being against my skin more times than I could count.

  And that was all above his neck…

  I couldn’t let myself get started on his massive hands that held scars and were work-worn from his years in construction before he started the architectural firm which kept him behind a desk and offsite. Or his broad shoulders and muscular arms that looked like they’d been carved out of marble. Or his washboard abs that put Calvin Klein underwear models to shame.

  Drew Sheffield was a fantasy that could actually become a reality if I used my words and spoke. Or better yet got off my ass, which seemed to be glued to my seat and acted on what I wanted.

  He smiled at my still-full plate. “Not very good, huh? Sorry about that. But I did warn you. My cooking skills are still in the formation stages.”

  I shook my head. “No. I like it. I just…my mind is somewhere else.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” He looked genuinely interested. “Like I said, it’s been pretty quiet around here. I could use the conversation.”

  “Umm…” Yes. I wanted to talk about where my mind was, I just wasn’t sure how to begin. I wasn’t sure how to make him see me as anything more than the girl next door.

  “How’s school?” His deep voice rumbled as he made small talk.

  “Good,” I answered lamely, nodding my head.

  “I bet the guys are lining up. You probably have to beat them off with a stick.” He paused and stared at me with a look that I felt between my legs. He inhaled slowly before he practically growled, “I know if I was twenty…hell, ten years younger…”

  My pussy clenched with need at not only the hungry rasp in his voice but also the words themselves before they’d trailed off.

  “If you were ten years younger you’d what?” I asked boldly, or at least as boldly as a person could when their voice barely registered above a whisper.

  His only reaction to my breathy inquiry was a twitch of his jaw as his copper gaze held mine with a force that I’d never experienced before. My heart was beating wildly in my chest as the energy between us grew increasingly electrified. I waited, holding my breath at what he would say next.

  I could see a war behind his honey eyes. He was battling with whether or not to answer my question and I said a little prayer that good would come out on top. Or maybe evil…I wasn’t sure. Whatever side was him telling me what he would do if he was ten years younger was, that’s the side I wanted to win.

  I saw the moment the battle was won. A flash of decision sparked in his golden star and an invisible wall was constructed between us. In an instant the sparks that had been flying between us were extinguished and before he even spoke I knew that the side I’d been rooting for was not the victor.

  He broke our stared and turned his attention back down to his plate as he answered with a commanding, “Never mind.”

  The finality in his tone caused a thrill to race down my spine and my panties grew damp. My entire body vibrated with desire at his authoritative demeanor which I was sure was meant to indicate that the subject was over. Out of instinct I squeezed my thighs together and my inner walls spasmed, seeking release.

  It was clear that his intention was for me to drop it, instead it incited me to want to push it even further. He could make every cell in my body come to life without even trying. Without even touching me. I had to know what it would be like if his hands were on me, if his mouth was on me.

  I knew that this was it. It was now or never. I took a deep breath and worked my courage up to the sticking point. I stood and walked over to his chair, ready to make my move. Before I made it around the table he stood as well. As I took the last two steps to close the distance I was overwhelmed by his presence. He stood a good eight inches taller than my five-foot-four inch frame and I had to tilt my head back to look up at him.

  “Dakota?” Concern filled his deep, hypnotic voice.

  Do something, my inner voice screamed.

  My head was spinning and I was light-headed. If it was possible to get drunk on arousal, being this close to Drew had me well over my legal limit. I wanted to lift up on my toes, to press my lips to his, but my limbs felt like noodles. I was surprised I was even standing of my own accord.

  It seemed that doing something was out of the question, so my inner voice piped in with, say something!

  I was trying to come up with the perfect words of seduction when a line appeared between Drew’s brow as he asked, “Dakota…are you okay?”

  It was then that I realized that I’d just stood up, walked over to Drew and stood silently looking up at him...like an awkward mute. Obviously seduction was not my forte. Embarrassment overtook me and I flustered. Composure fled my brain, as did words. Reasonable words, at least. I blurted out, “Sick!”

  His brows drew tighter together as he repeated, “Sick?”

  “I’m sick!” I sputtered, and then before I could stop myself, I ran right out the front door.

  Worst. Seduction. Ever.

  6

  Drew

  Fuck! What the fuck just happened?

  I couldn’t decide if I was an idiot or a saint. Maybe neither. Probably both.

  Dakota had been in my house, looking at me like I was an ice cream cone on a hot summer day and instead of acting on it, I’d done nothing. Her face was flushed with arousal and the sexual tension was so thick it had made my chest tight. But, instead of addressing it, instead of grabbing her by the arms and crushing her hot little body to me and claiming her with a kiss, I’d acted as if I didn’t know why she was standing in front of me, breathless with need. My inaction had caused her to get so nervous she’d faked being sick and run out the door. And I’d let her go. Yeah. Idiot, for sure.

  “Fuck!” That time, the exclamation didn’t stay trapped inside my head.

  Dakota was any man’s wet dream, and I’d been fantasizing about her non-stop since her eighteenth birthday. Her long, shiny, dark curls and deep onyx eyes. Her red cheeks and lips that made her look like a perfect china doll. And damn, it wasn’t just her looks. It was something about the mixture of innocence and sensuality she put out that was beyond intoxicating. She had a body with the curves of a woman and wide eyes that showed the innocence of a girl. The combination made my head spin and my dick hard in a way I couldn’t ever remember happening before.

  The day I’d been at the fence like Wilson from the nineties show starring Tim Allen, Home Improvement, and seen her coming out of the pool like a real life Phoebe Cates in that iconic Fast Times at Ridgemont High scene was still fresh in my memory. It played over and over on repeat and I was unable to stop it, though at first I’d tried. I told myself it was inappropriate to think of the girl next door that way.

  But that feeling changed a couple months later. I’d been sitting at my desk and glanced out the window to see Dakota driving away, her car packed with boxes and bags. As soon as the thought hit me that she was off to college, that she would live on her own, that she was a real adult… holy shit. It was on from that day forward I stopped fighting my base, primal desires. All of my sexual fantasies revolved around her. What she would look like naked. What her perfect, perky breasts might look like before I lowered my mouth to engulf them. What her tight little pussy would feel like as I drove my cock into it. What her face would look like when I made her come.
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br />   I reached up and wiped away the sweat forming at my brow. Dammit, my cock was rock-hard. There was no getting around it—every time I thought about her in any kind of sexual way, even if it was a flash of an image that lasted a fraction of a second, my cock was going to immediately harden. No amount of thinking about baseball or nuclear war would tame that sucker, either. There was only one thing to do; I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. Again.

  7

  Dakota

  I walked into my room later that night after soothing myself with an abundance of comfort-pints of Ben & Jerry’s, planning to look at morose GIFs on Tumblr. It was one of the only things that made me feel better when I was upset. In a twisted way, it was like I felt less upset just knowing there were people out there who were far sadder than I was.

  I was saved from that uber-emo pursuit by the sudden chorus of Annie Waits by Ben Folds blaring through the room. I had to laugh. That would be my roommate calling. Her name was Annie, and she amused herself by sneaking onto my phone when I was asleep and changing her own personalized ringtone in my contacts directory to different songs with the name “Annie” in the title. It had started out with the simply-named Annie by Mat Kearney, and since then we’d had Annie, I Owe You a Dance by Tim McGraw, Antique Annie’s Magic Lantern Show by Marian Henderson, and Annie Use Your Telescope by Jack’s Mannequin.

  When I’d asked her what she would do when she ran out of Annie songs, she’d just shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to move on to Anne and Anna.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense. It’s not even your name.”