“He deserved what?” she muttered, finally getting up to look through the vertical blinds at the window to the house. As she stared, she noticed the yard was now cleaned of all its debris. There was only one truck remaining in the driveway. One SUV now parked in the garage, and two motorcycles parked alongside the garage. “Man and his toys,” she spoke as she usually did—to herself. When you were alone, you were all you had to talk to. “All right, show yourself. Let me see now who I’mo have to deal with down the road.” She stood there looking and waiting, but still no show. His door was wide open again, with no appearance pending. “Pssh…like I got time to be standing here waiting to see some schmuck. I got things to do. Let me get back to this webpage. See, that’s why I moved here…didn’t want no distractions…now here I am…distracted. He better keep it down over there, too. I ain’t puttin’ up wit’ no partyin’ and all that. It happen again, he gone hear from me—not the police,” she muttered, huffing and fussing, heading back to her chair before her computer.
As soon as she sat down and pulled herself into position before her desk, she heard one of the motorcycles revving up to leave. She looked back at the window, hesitating, then pushed back quickly and charged to the window, catching only the smoke from his tail pipe as he took off. “Fool! Takin’ off on a motorcycle like that. Em-hm, he gone crack that head open. Probably ain’t got no helmet on, either. I’on care. Shoot…there he go distracting me again. I can see now this ain’t gone work,” she grumbled, sitting back before the computer and getting herself into position once again.
She didn’t know how long she sat staring at the screen with nothing happening. She’d slipped off into a daydream. Her mind bringing into view a grinning mouth, with a mustache covered lip and deep dimples carved into the cheeks. “Shoot, if it ain’t one, it’s the other! Okay, girlfriend, cut this mess out. You got stuff to do. Time to get busy,” she coached herself. Then finally with great force, she put her mind back on track and worked long and hard, periodically turning her head to loosen it up from the building tension of sitting for so long. She had a timer set on her computer that rang when she needed to get up and stretch, get some coffee or water, use the bathroom, and then upon returning, she'd check at the window to see if the neighbor had returned. She allowed herself that without recrimination. After all, she was human.
After finishing the last modifications to her website, which had taken hours to perfect to her inspection, she popped in her disk and began reading her novel for the last clean sweep. Time always flew when she became engrossed in her writing. Before she knew it, night had fallen. She glanced down into the corner of her monitor screen to see that it was 11:30. She’d done enough for the day. She realized that once again, she’d gone all evening without dinner. Now her stomach was growling. It was too late to eat, so she went and grabbed the celery she bought out of the refrigerator and broke off three stalks. Placing the rest back, she rinsed the three in hand and began crunching on them on the way to her room.
Bedtime…
Chapter Three
Morning…
Out jogging, she noticed that her neighbor had still not returned. He’d been gone all night. Well, that was none of her business. She took off down the road on her usual route. This was a much more preferred time of the year for it. The mornings were just cool enough to warm up in a good run. No bugs. Just crisp, sweet fall air blowing on her skin as her body heated up to a sweat. She was up to four miles every other morning. She could probably do more, but wasn’t ready to extend herself yet. Reaching the end of her jog out, which was two miles, she turned, crossing over the road to return home. Even the smell of cow manure didn’t offend her when the weather was like this. The leaves on the trees were changing in such glorious colors, and she was always dazzled by the array and variations on the trees. Coming around the last curve that brought her home into sight, she heard a distinct rumbling.
A vehicle in the distance, coming up behind her. It was still far away, but the sound of it carried on the early morning quiet. Pacing herself for the finish of her run, she took deep breaths as she approached the last few yards before her driveway. All of a sudden, the oncoming vehicle became distinctive as it neared. It was the sound of a motorcycle. The same time she turned into her driveway, the silver, burgundy and black Harley Davidson sped past her, turning into the driveway across the road. The driver stopping in profile to look over his left shoulder at her. He was wearing shades. No helmet. She stopped as well, now in her driveway, openly returning her own survey. He reached up and removed his shades. It was him! The guy from the post office. The hunk from the store. He was her new neighbor. Dread washed over Sylvia, like at no other time in her life. She didn’t want this.
He wasn’t moving, neither was she. She was stunned, surprised and a little frightened. “Good Morning, Sylvie. Or should I address you as Ms. Sylvia Payne?” he called out to her, then kicked down the stand on his bike and gracefully dismounted to walk in his smooth, confident way across the road to where she stood. She swallowed deep, feeling her breath catch in her chest. Taking a much-needed deep breath, she stood straighter, thrust her chin forward and asked, “How do you know my name?” He cocked his left eyebrow as if to say, surely you’re kidding, then followed the look with the actual words. “Surely you’re kidding? Small town like this has nothing better to do than fill in the newcomer with needed information.”
“Where exactly do I come into that?” she asked a little haughtily.
“Why, because you’re my neighbor, of course. A widow. From Chicago. Two grown children that live in La Crosse. The oldest, your daughter, is married and has two sons. Your son is living there with her, getting ready to go to college. You’ve lived here a little over a year. You come out only for necessities, and so it's been said, you don’t seem to have an interest in men. Oh, and I almost forgot, you’re thirty-eight and a writer.”
Sylvia couldn’t help the astonished look that washed over her face. He grinned as she had expected, quite satisfied with his summation. She was speechless. A pugnacious look replaced the astonished one.
“Anything you want to know about me?” He grinned.
“No, there is not! Since you already know everything about me, there’s nothing for us to discuss, now is there? Excuse me,” she railed, turning away from him to march up her driveway. “My name's Everett Styles! I live across the road—”
“I didn’t ask!”
“I’m single, too! Just moved here from California—”
“Good for you!” she fired back, now at her porch steps.
“Hey, this is not the way it’s done. Aren’t you suppose to welcome me to the neighborhood? With cookies…pie…beef stew?” Her kitchen door slammed shut. He stood grinning some more. “Mean—as—hell!” He snickered, shaking his head, turning back to cross the road to his place.
Sylvia was fuming. “How dare they! Just tell all of my business!” she raged, removing her clothes as she headed for her room. “They don’t know him from the man in the moon. I don’t know him from the man in the moon. But he knows all of my business…god…small town people…get—a—life!” Slinging her running bra to her bed and walking into the bathroom, she shed her underwear as she went to the shower to turn it on. “Everett Styles! Like I care what your name is. Just keep your butt on your side of the road and I’ll stay on mine! Stupid grin. I knew he was a grinner. Thinkin’ he all that and a bag a chips. Men like that get on my nerves. He ain’t nothin’ but a playa’! Playa’, playa’, playa’ written all over him. I ain’t got time for it—and don’t need it!” she carried on as she scrubbed her scalp, washing her hair.
“God…why did you move him next to me?” she whined in prayer. The huff now gone as worry set in. “If I’m being tested…I’m really not in the mood right now. Okay, okay…I’m overreacting. He’s probably being nice. After all, he’s a white guy. He probably doesn’t even like black women.” She shook her head, now grinning. “How you do flatter yourself, girlfriend. Now
you know that man got women waiting on him to call. Here you are, gettin’ all worked up for nothing. Wishful thinkin’, huh?” She made a face with that outspoken truth. “No…no, no, no. My status stays. I think I need a puppy. Something to take care of and keep me busy, besides my writing, that is. I’ll have to check the paper and see what’s out there.” With that in mind, she stepped from the shower, taking the towel from the side hook where it hung to wrap it around her hair. She grabbed another to dry her body as she walked from the bath to her bedroom.
That’s when the worst thing she could have imagined happened. Two bats came flying at her out of nowhere. “Eeeeee…Oh god, ohhhh noooo!” her screaming never stopped as she ducked and ran, holding onto the towel for her body. She dashed out of her bedroom door, wrapping herself in it as she ran. Problem was, they came out behind her. Sylvia’s heart pounded with such force and fear, she was afraid of fainting. Her head throbbed with heat as she dashed for her kitchen door. The house was not big enough for her and two bats. They were one of her phobias. They were probably one of the more intense ones. They caused all sorts of crazy unreasonableness when it came to the level of fear she felt upon an encounter with one…here there were two. She dashed down her porch stairs, stopping at her garage door. Breathing hard, she stared at her closed kitchen screen door, whimpering in panic. Not at all sure of what to do next. She was naked, save for the two towels. Outside…with bats inside. She just stood there panting, then looked around.
“Ohhh, my god, what am I gonna do?” she whimpered, nibbling now on her thumb nail and holding the towel securely to her body. If only she could get to a phone. Her cell phone was in the house in her purse, or she’d call the police or fire department. She’d call somebody, but until those bats were out, she wasn’t going back into that house. She leaned her head back against the garage, miserable.
“What am I gonna do? You stupid bats! I hate you! Get the hell outta my house!” she yelled, as if they understood and would comply. “Okay, calm down…just…calm down. Umm, I’ll just run in, grab the cordless off the wall,” she talked to herself, trying to muster the nerve to attempt this, despite her fear. She walked up the steps slowly. Heart still hammering away. “I can do this. I know I can. I can do this. Just look inside first. If they’re not around, you just run in, grab the phone off the wall and run out.” She swallowed deep, took a deep breath, and opened the screen very carefully, looking in towards the ceiling for the flying creatures. She didn’t see one. She then looked to where the phone hung on the wall, gauging the distance between where she stood and where she had to go to grab it. Making sure her path to run in and back out was unobstructed. “I can do this. I know I can. Just take another deep breath, now blow it out and run for it.”
As she was about to, she looked up beside her to the top of her door. There was a bat hanging upside down staring down at her. “Eeeeee!” She spun in place out of the door, screaming again in panic. Ran down the porch steps, now bawling in fear. Plus, her foot was in pain. Her spin had caused her to pick up a splinter, which felt painful and deep. Once again, she stood by the garage crying, with one foot leaning up and throbbing. There was only one way out of this as far as she could see, and right now, pride be damned.
Naked or not, she was going across the street.
Now hobbling in shame, she stepped out from between her house and garage, looking down both directions of the road. Praying that she could make it across before a passing vehicle could catch her in such an undignified state of dress…or undress. She looked up across the street. “God I hate this…but I ain’t goin’ in that house,” she whimpered to herself. “Why the hell does this kinda mess always have to happen to me?” She’d stalled long enough. Any more, and she was asking for an audience to witness her disgrace. Giving each direction a quick check, she darted across her front lawn, favoring one foot all the way, going as fast as her state of being would allow. She made it across the road, then to his driveway, her eyes on his open door the entire time. She wasn’t about to head there; she didn’t want to be caught standing at his door wrapped in a towel, so she bypassed the front yard and headed straight for the back, out of sight of the road, and there...she would knock.
She stopped at his back deck, looking it over, wondering where the stairs were. She walked around it and noticed that it was enclosed. No way up from outside. You could only come onto the deck from inside of the house. “What kind of ding-a-ling would do this?” she questioned in her desperation. Well, she was not about to chance going back around to the front. “I can get through there,” she thought out loud, “there” being the bottom opening space between the last rail and the deck floor. Looking around on the ground for something to step up on, she found three, five gallon old paint buckets. She grabbed one, turned it bottom up, and stepped up on it to go in under the railing to the back deck. See, now actually, it wasn’t that is was a bad plan. It was just that she was dealing with an old porch deck. That being the case, and her present state of dress…well, it just didn’t make for a successful venture. Of course, this conclusion hadn’t been reached until she was arms, head, shoulders and boobs in under the rail—with just enough towel to keep her ample endowments from complete exposure. She really thought she had it though, when she was able to wiggle her ribs and waist up and in.
However…
Her rear end was another matter entirely, which she came to realize with startling clarity. “Oh no, no, no, no, no! Please, please… emph… emph… emph...” she gasped and mewled, now with her arms extended, her hands flat to the deck trying in vain to wiggle her rear through. Then she heard the sliding glass door opening. Immediately she dropped down to the deck, trying to cover herself the best that she could. In her struggle, she’d lost some of her decency. Her back and sides were practically bare, as were her shoulders. Sylvia pulled on the ends of what there was to the towel, but it was stretched to the limit, barely covering the nipples of her breasts, and not much more.
This was how she was found, much to her humiliation and shame, by Everett Styles…who, with soda, radio and book, stepped out onto his deck to grab some sleep in his porch hammock on what promised to be a beautiful day. He loved this new location for his home. Peaceful, quiet and private…so he thought. “What the hell?” he muttered in clear disbelief, sure that his eyes must be playing tricks on him. Sylvia looked up and thought she would shatter into a million pieces of quivering humiliation. Her bottom lip came out, then began to quiver. Pitifully she cried, “I need help!” Everett’s mouth dropped open.
Shaking his head, he returned, “Well you got me convinced. What are you doing!” he shot back, walking to his deck table with its umbrella to empty his hands. She followed his movements and began crying. “I’m serious. Help me!”
“What the hell are you doing there like that?” He still could not believe this. “I mean, I just asked for a bowl of beef stew, or some cookies would have been fine. But this is a little much…don’t you think?” he asked sarcastically. Well that was more than she could stand. With her mouth wide open, she began bawling. Everett stood stunned, just staring at her. The towel on her head lay in a half tilt, with locks of wet hair escaping. Her face was tear-streaked and all she could do was bawl. Suddenly, the humor of it hit him.
“What were you trying to do?”
“B-b-bats in…in m-m-my house! They ch-chased me. Aaaagh…aaaagh! H-help me!” He couldn’t help it. He was human after all, and he just wasn’t equipped to deal with this scenario any better than he did. He did try…really tried. He bit into his bottom lip. Really hard…well that hurt. Then he tried his tongue…but damn, that spurt of laughter, it got out anyway. “D-d-don’t l-l-laugh at me,” she cried, now starting to hiccup. “Okay, I’m…I’m sorry, but…but…but it still doesn’t explain…I mean, you’re naked, practically, and laying there in my deck rail. Aaaw, come on, stop crying. Tell me what happened?”
“I told y-you. There…there are bats…bats in m-my house. I came out the…the shower and
they ch-chased me. I was screaming and I-I ran out the d-door. I didn’t have…nowhere else to…to go-o-o-o-o.” She sniffed, hiccupped and then bawled some more. “I see now. Okay, okay…stop crying now. It’s gonna be okay. But you could have come to the front door,” he reasoned, trying to calm her. “I was scared somebody…somebody would see…see me,” she sobbed. “I am naked here, you know!”
“All right. I understand now. Well, come on in then. I’ll give you one of my shirts or something.”
“I can’t,” she pealed. Well here lay the brunt of completing her humiliation. She stared up at him through tear-washed eyes, the towel drooping to one side. He bit his lip really hard and looked out at the yard to stop another eruption. Then looked back at her after he felt he’d gotten himself under control. “Why not?” he asked simply. “I’m…I’m…I’m stu-u-u-ck!” He blew like a mighty geyser! An eruption of laughter so powerful, no man-made power could help him hold it in. His stomach, his belly vibrating with it, gripped him to weakness that made him drop to his knees, then into a sitting position that laid him back. “Oh god…make it stop…it hurts, oh it hurts. I can’t laugh anymore…oh please…ohhh…ohhh m’god!”
“It's not funny! Get me outta here!” she yelled at him as he rolled on the deck. He tried to sit up and get his bearings, but the minute his tears cleared and he got another look at her, he lost it again. “You just…go to hell, Everett Styles!” she cried out, now mad again as he laughed at her. She started wiggling trying to back out, but found herself well wedged. Then she had to stop as she realized the more she wiggled, the more the towel got twisted, leaving her more and more exposed. She wailed again, just as he’d tried to get up, making him fall forward in painful hilarity. His stomach hurt so bad…he wanted to stop laughing, but he just couldn’t stop. He was drunk with it. “Will you stop laughing and get me out of this!”
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