by Heidi Lowe
The horror must have shown on my face, because the girl said, “Don't listen to anything he says, he gets a kick out of being outrageous. He was ignored as a child.”
The others laughed, and Mr Outrageous threw a cushion at her as he pouted.
“If I could just leave this with you–”
“No, you don't wanna do that. We'll just open it... and say you did it.”
Why was everyone so curious about what was inside? Even Casey's friends wanted to know what she'd ordered. At least I wasn't alone.
I was ready to turn down their invitation of joining in whatever crazy shindig they were having so early in the morning, when I heard footsteps descending the stairs. I didn't know what to expect when I spun around and saw a woman coming down the stairs, wearing just a patterned red bra and a towel wrapped around her waist. Little droplets of water clung to her chest and arms, her sun-kissed skin so perfectly smooth. I certainly didn't expect her to be beautiful. Attractive, yes, but nothing like this. Her long, wavy, dark brown hair fell to her navel, heavy with water. She scrubbed at it with another towel.
“Hi.” She gave me a lopsided smile of uncertainty, her brown eyes sparkling.
“Uh... Casey?” I could just about get those words out. But anything more than that would have been too much to handle. I'd never seen anyone so beautiful before in the flesh... literally in the flesh. I'd just met her and I'd already seen way too much. I found that I couldn't now look away.
Of course this was the woman from the stories, the same person Rachel and Denny had slandered the day I'd moved in, and then a couple of days later at Rachel's house. Watching her then, how impossibly stunning she was, I could believe any woman would lose their husband to her. It would have been impossible to compete.
“That's me.” She smiled again, her teeth blindingly white.
“I'm Sabrina. I just moved in next door.”
“Well howdy, neighbor.” She extended her hand, and all I could think as I shook it was that there was nothing holding her towel, and it didn't look very secure. “Welcome to the neighborhood. Want a drink?” She trotted barefoot into the kitchen and I followed her. “I hope my friends didn't scare you. They're real pains in the ass. The last family that lived in your house couldn't stand them. Or me.” She giggled.
“I just came to give you this,” I said, putting the parcel on the counter.
“Excellent, they came.” She grabbed the parcel and tore into it excitedly, letting the paper drop all over the floor. “I had to order these in from Europe. They don't sell them in the States.”
The wait was over. I watched eagerly, unblinkingly. A disappointed sigh almost escaped my lips. Two boxes of foreign chocolates. Fancy-looking, but just chocolate. What an anticlimax.
“It was nice to meet you, Casey, but I have to get back.” And you have to get dressed, I thought to myself. It was getting increasingly difficult not to look at her svelte body, the perfectly sculpted golden flesh. I couldn't look at her and not feel slightly bad about my own body, despite being in shape. She seemed so comfortable in her own skin, so comfortable being half naked in front of a complete stranger. Maybe the rumors about her profession were true.
“You won't even stay for coffee?”
“Really, I must get back.”
The man who'd answered the door came storming into the kitchen, phone still pressed to his ear, and mood unchanged. Whoever was on the other end of that phone call was pissing him off royally.
“I don't care who he shares his bed with. I wouldn't care if it was the Pope himself, I'm not squeezing him in. My waiting list is sacred. You tell him I said that.” He ignored both of us, opened the refrigerator, took out a Diet Coke, and stormed back out again.
“My big brother Conrad, always so sociable.” She laughed and I noticed the studded tongue ring.
I frowned. “Your brother?” How did that work, exactly?
“Yeah,” she answered simply, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. “Hairdressers are supposed to be personable, but not him. Everyone knows that you go to hairdressers for the conversation. If he wasn't so damn good at what he does he'd have no clients.”
I was sure I was missing a vital piece of information, but it was none of my business how her family was made up. It didn't stop me wondering, though.
“I really have to go.” I hoped I didn't sound too rude, because that wasn't my intention. I just wanted to get back to some type of normality, away from catty men, talk of dildos, and gorgeous half naked women who made me feel inadequate.
“Okay, coffee another time? If we're gonna be neighbors we should get to know each other better.” She winked at me and I didn't know what to make of it. I only smiled faintly back at her, and hurried out of the house as fast as my legs would allow.
All through the day, while I was trying to concentrate on work, the memory of my bizarre experience at the house of ill-repute kept replaying in my mind. I still couldn't understand what exactly had happened, and I started to question whether I'd dreamed the whole thing.
A type of envy took over after a while. Part of me had wanted to escape the house, not because it was surreal, but because being around those people highlighted how mundane my life was. Being around Casey. I couldn't have been more than ten years older than any of the people in that house, yet I felt like the old lady with no sense of humor and no life. A recently divorced single mother who wrote ad copy for crap no one really wanted to buy. That life had suited me just fine right up until that point. But for the first time, I was dissatisfied with it.
“Your dad called today, by the way.” I let myself into my son's room, seeing that the door was ajar. I found him lying in bed, reading a comic, his headphones on and music blaring through them. I waved a hand to get his attention.
“What?” He pulled the headphones off.
“Your dad called today.”
“Great. Can I get back to my comic now?” He didn't even wait to see if I had anything else to say, before he covered his ears with the headphones again and went back to reading his violent comic. I didn't remember ordering anything like that for him – there was a naked lady and lots of dead bodies on the back cover. I should have confiscated it, at least tried to be a responsible mother, but I didn't want to give him any more reasons to hate me. So I left him to it.
I went into the bathroom to freshen up before bed. I was just minding my own business, brushing my teeth, thinking that my shoulder length hair needed trimming, when I saw a reflection in the mirror. The light was on in the bathroom next door, which was right opposite mine. I finished up and went to draw the curtain. That's when I saw her. I froze in place, completely exposed but unable to move. Because I wasn't the only one exposed. I had to blink several times to believe what I was seeing wasn't a mirage, a figment of my imagination. But with every blink the picture seemed to become more vivid: Casey Adams, butt naked. Everything was on display – the perfectly rounded breasts, even the tuft of thick, dark brown hair that covered her nether region.
It took me a while to realize that my mouth was open, and that I hadn't blinked in a long time. But it took me even longer to realize that Casey had suddenly stopped what she was doing and was now staring right back at me!
I shrieked and drew the curtains. “Fuck! She'll think I'm a pervert now.” Which would have been accurate. In a matter of seconds I'd become a voyeur, watching my neighbor getting changed through her bathroom window. What the hell was I thinking? Why did I take so long to close the curtain? It wasn't a question I wanted to answer, however, though I already suspected the answer. And that terrified me. I didn't like the answer and what it meant.
I hurried to my room, locked the door and climbed into bed. That warm feeling growing between my legs, the moistening that I couldn't control, I wasn't going to ignore it. My heartbeat raced, my breathing was heavy. In the pitch black of my room, I let my hand travel beneath the covers, slipping it into my panties. My eyes drifted shut as my head hit the pillow. I found
my nub, which was already hard and wet, as if wondering why I'd taken so long. I let my middle fingers loose, at first starting with slow, tentative strokes, to get it used to the sensation, then speeding up once I was sure I could handle it and not climax prematurely.
I bit down on my lower lip, stifling the soft moans that now escaped. In my mind, clear as day, was the image of Casey's nude body. That was enough. Just those few seconds of watching her were enough to get me this wet. I heard my moans grow louder, and I bit down harder on my lip while I attacked my bean with everything I had. With my free hand I grabbed one of my breasts beneath my nightdress, rubbing and rolling the nipple ferociously between my thumb and index finger, making it hard.
The back of my head dug into the pillow as I squeezed my eyes tighter and brought myself to climax. I let out a long sigh as my arms flopped to the sides. For a moment, as the orgasm tingled through my body, I felt more alive than I had in years. It had been a long time since I'd pleasured myself. And then I came down from my high, coming to terms with what I'd just done, wiping away any feeling of euphoria that I'd gained from getting my release.
“Fuck!” I said for the second time that night. I'd just pleasured myself to my neighbor. My female neighbor.
I didn't sleep much that night. Every time I drifted off I would remember what I'd seen in the bathroom, and the sinful thing I'd done. Embarrassment, uncleanliness, and confusion were just some of the feelings I experienced that night and the days that followed. I kept waiting for a knock at the door, for the cops to arrive and arrest me for my voyeuristic activities. But none came. I couldn't even bring myself to open the bathroom curtains. As far as I was concerned they could have stayed closed forever. I never wanted to see anything like that again.
But... that wasn't exactly true. Who was I kidding? Nothing had gotten me that hot since I'd watched my first porno at age sixteen. How had this woman put me under her spell when I'd never thought of women in that way before? I appreciated a woman's beauty as much as the next person, but never in that way. Did this mean that I was gay? Bi? Curious? Fuck, it could have meant anything. I could have called it anything, but it wouldn't have changed the fact that Casey Adams was all I could think about for days... and nights. Which meant I remained in a state of constant shame, unable to exercise any type of self-control. I didn't know who I was anymore, and all thanks to that stupid bathroom window.
“A couple of the guys from school are going down to the arcades. Is it cool if I go?” Adrian asked, perching on the edge of my work desk.
It was Saturday evening and I was finishing up an article for a client. My rule was never to work on weekends, but he'd paid a fair bit extra, and I had my eye on a new car, so I said I'd do it.
“Sure. I'm so glad you've made friends. You had me worried there for a minute.”
He rolled his eyes, but not with the usual scorn. His attitude had changed drastically in the last few days, around the time he'd started making friends.
“Can I have some money?” he said, then added quickly, “Please?”
“Take a twenty from my purse. That will have to do.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I want you home by eleven. Not a minute later,” I called after him.
“All right,” he shouted back impatiently. I heard the front door open. And then I heard voices in the hallway. A few moments later Adrian appeared at the study door, a huge, depraved smile on his lips, his blush covering his face and neck. “Mom, you got a visitor.”
I couldn't think of any visitor that would put such a smile on my son's face. Could it have been his father? No, not even Eric would have made him grin like that. Before I could guess, Casey's head appeared around the door. I almost choked on my saliva when I saw her.
“Hi, I hope you don't mind me stopping by.” She smiled shyly, sweetly, displaying her faint dimples. “I brought pie.” She held out the large pastry, steam rising from it. The smell, apple and cinnamon, was divine. I had to fight back the urge to lick my lips, knowing too well that it wasn't just the pie that was making my mouth water. My eyes had already taken in her whole frame, the tight black t-shirt that made her cleavage pop, and equally tight black jeans. I didn't know how she'd gotten into them, or how she would get out again without hurting herself. Her hair was thrown into a loose ponytail.
I looked away quickly, sensing a blush creeping to my cheeks. Although she was fully clothed, the longer I looked at her, the harder it became to actually see the clothes, and not see the nakedness from my memory. The vision of what had ensued following that night at the window came flooding back to me. I turned to my laptop screen and began typing away, not writing anything important, only trying to appear busy so I wouldn't have to look at Casey. So I wouldn't have to face the woman who had caught me spying on her while she was naked.
“Hi.” I tried to speak as politely as I could while conveying my reluctance to entertain.
“Did I bother you? I can come back another time.”
I was about to say yes, that she had bothered me, but Adrian jumped in before I could.
“No, Mom's finished for the day.” His grin had reached new lengths by now, and only seemed to get wider when I shot him a murderous glare.
“I–”
“Great!” she said. “I'll get the pie ready. You get the wine.” She disappeared down the hall to the kitchen.
“Why the hell did you tell her that?” I asked Adrian through gritted teeth. I could have strangled him where he stood. At the very least I wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face.
“Because,” he said, eyes large, “holy crap, she's freakin' hot! Like, write home to Grandma hot. Why didn't you tell me our neighbor looked like that?”
“It's not something that crossed my mind, obviously.” I was aware I came off a lot more defensive than I'd intended, in my attempt to mask what was clearly a lie. Of course I'd thought about Casey's undeniable hotness – I'd thought of nothing else since I'd met her.
“And she brought pie!” He looked like the cat that caught the cream. I'd never seen him so excited about anything before. It didn't surprise me one bit that he would lose himself over her. I'd practically done the same thing.
“Aren't you supposed to be meeting your friends?” I started pushing him towards the door.
“My friends can wait.”
“No, they can't. Get out of here before I change my mind and take my money back.” The last thing I wanted or needed was for my impressionable teenage son to get infatuated with the girl next door, who quite possibly was a prostitute with a crazy social life. He wouldn't have stood a chance around her. Even I, a completely heterosexual grown woman who had never been attracted to someone of the same sex, could barely control myself around her.
He reluctantly left the house, but not before calling me a cock-block, under his breath.
It took me a while to work up the courage to walk into the kitchen, and when I finally did, I saw Casey at the counter. Having cut the pie, she now stood licking the sauce off her fingers. It was as though she was moving in slow motion, performing for an audience. Her eyes were half-lidded, each lick more sensual than the last. Something stirred within me, something carnal that caused an uncomfortable feeling between my legs. The same feeling that had come that night in the bathroom. And I found myself staring again, as I had then, unable to move from my spot, unable to turn away. Hypnotized – no other word for it.
“God, I'm sorry. I know, terrible manners. It's just so good,” she said playfully, ceasing licking when she saw me watching her. “I don't like to toot my own horn, but I seem to outdo myself with every pie. I've used this recipe a dozen times and each time it gets better. Here, try some.”
I took a plate from her slowly, warily. “Smells good.” I cut a small piece off with my fork and cautiously put it into my mouth. My taste buds came alive once the flavor hit. “Wow, you made this from scratch?”
“Yep. Got the recipe online. Apparently there are more useful things on there
than porn!” She laughed shamelessly.
I almost choked on the pie.
“What wine do you like? I have red and white.”
“Whatever's fine.” She sat at the breakfast bar and tucked into her pie, making little moaning sounds as she ate. She was really enjoying that pie.
I poured us some red, and I joined her at the bar.
“Hey, I'm sorry about the other day.”
I froze, gawking at her, horror-stricken. She's going to mention the bathroom incident, isn't she? Shit!
I cleared my throat, looked away. “What about the other day?” I asked, playing it cool.
“I'm sorry we didn't get to talk properly at my place. I hope the gang didn't frighten you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “No, not at all. They were very... interesting.”
She giggled. “We all know what that's code for. Don't worry, I won't tell them you said that.”
I found myself laughing with her, and it was surprisingly easy.
“I really should have come over and introduced myself properly, me being the new girl in town.”
“I didn't expect you to go to the trouble of bringing the parcel over. I'm surprised you didn't leave it on my doorstep and split.”
“Why would I have done that?”
Although she was smiling when she answered, it wasn't a smile from the eyes. It wasn't real. “I figured the harem got to you already and poisoned your mind with false stories about me.”
She sipped her wine, breaking eye contact for the first time.
“I don't know what–”
“It's all right, I know what they say, you don't have to pretend.” She smiled sadly. “They probably told you I was a whore, right? That I sleep with underage boys? That I've screwed their husbands?”
My mouth hung open, words failing me. So, two out of three. I hadn't heard the second one; maybe if I gave it another week that one would pop up.
Now I was the one to look away, which inadvertently answered her question. I didn't bother trying to deny it.