Neighborhood Watch
written by:
Jack Handee

"If the ladies don't find you handsome, they better find you handee."

~~:~~:~~

Summer in my part of the country can be brutal. It's not so much the temperature that's unyielding. The days rarely get above ninety degrees. Rather, it's the humidity that sweeps through the day, cloaking everything in its wake like a wet, sticky blanket. On this Friday, it seemed everything was stickier than usual. I had the windows of my car rolled up, my tie off, and my dress shirt unbuttoned while I attempted to direct the breeze from the air conditioner inside my clothes and against my perspiring skin. What I didn't understand is the unrelenting heat was an ominous prediction of things to come; the summer was about to get a whole lot hotter.

I was on my way home from work, ready to burn some unused vacation days from the prior year. Nothing special was planned. My wife was in the throes of her busy season and I intended to spend some downtime lounging and catching up around the house. I made a left into my neighborhood and a right down my block when I spotted an all too tempting, and lately, an all too frequent vision in the distance: Jamie, my next-door-neighbor, was dowsing her car with a garden hose while wearing a very tiny, bright orange bikini.

Now, I'll admit, enjoying my rather young, bikini-clad neighbor comes with some mixed emotion. At nineteen, Jamie is half my age. She attends the local community college as a freshman and stands a tad over five-foot-six in her bare feet, with shoulder-length curly blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and a set of dimples right out of a Shirley Temple movie.

Her ass is her strongest attribute and today's bikini was definitely accentuating all her positives. Tight, plump, and round, it's as if she carries some African American heritage in her bloodline, although her fair complexion slims those odds significantly. Her breasts are more modest—maybe the high end of a B-cup—yet in tasty proportion to the rest of her frame.

The blistering swimsuit she wore—if four swatches of orange mesh can be called a swimsuit—was the fourth I had seen this month, each more revealing than the last. Certainly legal, but I had no business watching her all sudsy and hot while she hoses down anything. Still, if she didn't want a middle-aged porn writer fantasizing about untying her swimsuit bottoms before I took her across the hood of her car, she wouldn't be parading around her front yard, a half stitch from naked and her young body covered in a misty layer of sweat. Truth be told, I was pretty sure she knew exactly the effect her skimpy attire had on me and was equally sure she loved my lascivious admiration.

She maneuvered her way around the car, her outfit clinging to her tight body like wet tissue paper sticks to glass. I was a captive audience, my foot leaving the accelerator as the engine dulled, providing a few extra seconds of guilty pleasure to watch her reach across the hood, leaning so far forward that one of her blue deck shoes left the wet pavement and her sweet round ass tilted up in a smile.

"Houston . . . we have lift-off," I said, feeling a reluctant stir in my trousers.

I recovered from my inappropriate daydream and kept my eyes on the road as I passed her, not wanting to let on how successful she had been becoming the main attraction of my summertime fantasies. It's one thing to lust and another to get caught in the act.

I turned into my driveway, cut the engine, and stepped outside, ready to make a direct line into the house.

But Jamie wasn't giving up that easily.

"Hey, Jack!"

I turned to the sound of her voice, but remained casual. "Hey yourself, Jamie. You can come over and do mine when you're finished."

Yeesh, that sure didn't sound right.

"Like my new swimsuit?" she asked.

I looked again in her direction as she grabbed a big yellow sponge with both hands and gave it a hard squeeze, a stream of milky suds trickling into a pool on the car's hood. She pushed the sponge in wide circles, her shoulders swaying to the sound of Linkin Park that echoed from a nearby ghetto blaster.

"Oh, is that new?" I asked, trying to dumb down the moment.

She stood up and smiled, as if to say, ‘I know you're looking, Jack—sunglasses or not.'

Soap suds rolled down her slender arms like tiny lava rivers and she wiped her brow with her forearm, her silver dollar shaped nipples pressing against the soaked orange mesh of her bathing suit. "Yep . . . just got it," she answered. "You like?"

"It's . . . very nice."

"Thanks. Sure is hot today," she added with a smile, hurling a heavy breath that tossed a dangling curl of hair from in front of her face.

"Sure is," I answered, stopping to grab the afternoon paper. "Well, good luck with your scrubbing."

Before I could make it to my front door, Jamie's mother Beth pulled up in her own car, jumped out, and slammed the door. "Jamie! Go in the house this very minute and get some clothes on!"

Jamie rolled her eyes and glanced again in my direction to see if I was still watching. "Don't exaggerate, Mother. I have clothes on."

I stayed my course, steering clear of any more bathing suit conversations.

"Jack . . . do I have clothes on?" Jamie called out.

Beth turned to me, like I was supposed to answer such a dangerous question. I shrugged and continued walking towards my front door.

"Jack, can I talk to you for a second?" Beth asked, before turning back to her daughter. "I mean it, Jamie. Go in the house now. We agreed . . . my house, my rules, and my rules say this isn't a nudist camp."

"Oh, Mother, I'm not a nudist. This bathing suit came from Huntington's. They're not exactly slut-mart.

Beth extended an arm and pointed her finger at the front door. "Now, Jamie . . . inside!"

Jamie huffed and slammed her sponge into the plastic pail, sending soap suds splashing across the driveway. She stomped up the path and into the house, the front door slamming as Beth turned and walked across my lawn.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with that girl, Jack?! She's turning into a total exhibitionist. Have you seen the swimsuits she's buying? They keep getting smaller and smaller."

I had seen her swimsuits. Every damn one of them and they did seem to be shrinking, but if Beth was after a complaint, I was the wrong person to ask.

"I think most of the girls her age are wearing the same," I replied, staying with a safe response.

She planted her hands on her hips and stared vacantly towards the street. "I know . . . I just worry about her. Ever since Frank passed away, she's been starved for male attention. I know she's sexually active with that boyfriend of hers."

Beth turned to me and waited for a response, but I was still stuck on the sexually active part of her comment.

"Maybe you could talk to her?" she added. "She really likes you."

"Me, talk to her? What would I talk to her about?"

"You know . . . just tell her she needs to be careful. Give her a male's point of view. She might listen to you."

I didn't think Beth wanted the point of view that had just been filtering through my lecherous imagination.

"I'm flattered, Beth. But honestly, I wouldn't feel comfortable having such a personal conversation."

She thought about it some more. "Yeah . . . I understand. I just don't know what to do."

After a few seconds of awkward silence, the door opened and Jamie appeared. She was wearing a pair of orange running shorts with the waistband turned down and a football jersey cut into a half-shirt. In an odd way, it was hotter than the bikini ensemble from before, probably because it covered a little more skin, leaving more to my wanting imagination. I've always been a sucker for a tease.

"Is this okay, Mother?" Jamie asked, doing nothing to hide her annoyance.

"Much better."

"You said you wanted to talk to me about something?" I asked.

"Oh . . . yeah . . . I hate to ask you for another favor," Beth said. "I know I'm always asking for things."

"That's okay . . . what's up?"

"Well, come here and I'll show you."

I followed her to her car where she unlocked the trunk and lifted the lid.

~~:~~:~~

Beth did ask for quite a few favors, but I didn't mind.

Frank, her late husband, had passed away about a year before from a heart attack shortly after they moved in, leaving Beth widowed and Jamie without a father. There was life insurance to cover Jamie's college education, but Beth still had to work full time to make ends meet. Life could be complicated and I figured it that much harder for a single mother. I was happy to help out whenever I could.

Her latest favor involved installing some ceiling fans she had purchased to battle the unrelenting summer heat. Evidently she had encountered an energetic salesman at Home Depot who had sold her not only the fans, but special light switches that controlled the speed with a variable dial. He had even offered installation services, but wanted over a hundred dollars for each unit to do the work. I'm sure that's when Beth thought of me and, actually, I was happy to oblige.

Any day the following week would work for installing the fans, which coincided perfectly with my unplanned vacation. Beth would be at work and Jamie had cheerleader practice until late every afternoon. I would have the house to myself and could come and go as I pleased. I suggested Tuesday, as I hoped to kick off the week with a round of golf. She agreed and we had a plan.

But Monday arrived and I reconsidered battling the humidity for eighteen holes. Might as well surprise Beth and get the fans out of the way a day early, I thought. I grabbed my toolbox and the key she provided and was on my way. I found the fans and Home Depot bags in the entry area just inside her front door and a ladder in her garage. Biggest problem, I knew, would be reinforcing the fixtures in the attic and I was pleasantly surprised to see the ever-suggestive salesman had included the needed parts. The attic access point was also in the garage and, with a few tools and flashlight in hand, I climbed up to explore the narrow crawl space.

The first thing I noticed was the furnace-like heat. The crawlspace was at least ten degrees warmer than ground level. Second was the dim light emitted from my flashlight. The battery strength was dying quickly. I did the best I could, navigating my way around the darkness, bumping into vertically mounted sheets of plywood that made the narrow crawlspace more like a maze than an attic. The fans would go in the bedrooms, so I crawled my way due north. I could see a trace of light seeping around the edge of an air conditioning vent. Unsure if I was in the right place, I loosened an attached duct and pulled it back, looking through the slats to get my bearings.

The room below was Jamie's. There was a pink ruffled bedspread with a series of stuffed animals all neatly aligned and posters of some rock band mounted on the walls. A framed picture of some model-looking male about Jamie's age was on the dresser. He must be the latest boyfriend. I wondered if he was the guy Beth referred to when she mentioned Jamie being sexually active. If so, he was one lucky dude.

I scooted sideways enough to get a look at the wiring box and watched the light from my flashlight dim even further. Great. Just great.

I started backing out of the crawlspace when the front door opened and closed with a thud. That was odd. I was sure Beth said they would be out the entire day.

Within moments the stereo was on. It was Linkin Park again. Not hard to figure out who was home early.

The phone rang, the volume on the music went down, and I sensed movement in the room below. I scooted back to the vent. Jamie walked in carrying a shopping bag and holding a cordless phone. She was wearing jean shorts and a red tank top with spaghetti shoulder straps, a dipping neckline, and the word ‘Heartbreaker' scratched in large letters across the front.

"Yeah, blew off practice," I heard her say. "Picked up my uniform."

That explained her unexpected arrival. She was playing hookie.

"Yeah, try-outs are Wednesday," she continued. "But it's my same coach from high school, so I know I'll make the team. Told her the heat was getting to me and I needed to go home." Pause. "No, I'm fine. I just don't feel like practice today." She smiled. "You wore me out last night."

Hmmmm . . . wore her out? That was intriguing.

I watched quietly as she reached into the bag and pulled out an outfit wrapped in plastic. With the phone clutched between her shoulder and ear, she tore through the wrapper and laid out the individual garments on the bed. It was a red and white striped cheerleader uniform with her collegiate insignia emblazoned across the front. Mental note to myself to keep an eye out for that in the future, as I was sure she would look delicious when she cast out a few cheers for the old home team.

I wasn't sure what to do next, but figured I should climb down and announce my decision to install the fans a day early. The hard part would be to do that without sending Jamie into cardiac arrest, as I'm sure she figured to be alone in the house. I pushed back on my stomach when her conversation tugged at my attention.

"Hold on a second," she said. "It's so friggen hot . . . I need to take off some clothes."

I froze in position, her words circling through my brain as I considered what to do.

I needed to get the hell out of there; that much was obvious. But there was another problem. Their garage door was broken—another project I would get to before vacation was over—and that meant I would need to exit through house. How would Jamie react if I stumbled out of the crawlspace all sweaty and out of breath while she was getting undressed? That could lead to all sorts of misunderstandings.

The other option was to stay put in the attic and sweat things out in hopes she would eventually leave. Of course, if I did that, I wouldn't look while she was changing her clothes. That would just be wrong. It's one thing to lust after a sweet young thing when she's washing her car in a skimpy bathing suit, particularly when she works so hard to be noticed. It's way different spying on her in the sanctity of her bedroom. The latter catapults me from opportunist to a full fledged peeping tom—or peeping Jack, as it were—a label I wasn't thrilled to adopt.

The seconds ticked by like dripping molasses and I was haunted with a wicked mix of hesitance and guilty anticipation. It was like I had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, each whispering instructions in my ear. You can probably guess whose suggestions were getting the better of me.

Maybe just a glance, I told myself. I wouldn't see much more than she willingly displayed in her scant swimsuits. What guy in my position wouldn't go for just a glance? Just look for a few seconds and then sneak out, or hide in the garage until there was a clear opportunity to leave.

I crawled forwards, trying to be as quiet as possible. My heart pounded and my mouth grew dry as I got closer to the vent and more of the room came into view. Jamie was directly below. I blinked away the perspiration and watched as she grabbed the bottom of her tank top and lifted it over her head.

Like slow motion, more of her body came into view. First there was her flat stomach followed by the outline of her white bra. Her face disappeared inside the top and she freed her arms while her breasts squeezed together, enhancing the top-down view of her cleavage. She tossed the top to the side and combed her fingers through her hair, drawing it back into a temporary ponytail while jetting her breasts forward. Next she unsnapped her jean shorts and wiggled until they dropped down her legs and settled at her feet. The last step was to adjust the waistband of her panties, pulling them snug until the outline of her pussy peeked through the thin material.

The attic was getting steadily hotter. I pinched my fingers across my eyes to clear the sweat and looked again as Jamie reclined on the bed in her panties and bra, crossed her ankles, and picked up the phone.

"Okay . . . you still there? . . . Much better now. It'll help when Jack comes and installs the new ceiling fans my mom bought."

I smiled hearing my name.

"Yeah . . .that Jack," she continued. "I do not talk about him all the time. Don't be ridiculous. You're just jealous . . . you're acting like you are! You keep bringing him up. I just mentioned he was installing ceiling fans."

My smile broadened. I was flattered to be the subject of a jealous argument.

"You have nothing to worry about," she continued. "He's old."

Damn, did she have to add that last part? I was feeling pretty good until then. I might be older than her, but I'm certainly not old. When you're nineteen, I suppose it's all relative.

"Let's change the subject," she said. "Guess what I'm wearing? . . . . Noooo . . . I still have clothes on. You have to guess what clothes I have on."

Her bra and panties technically covered as much as the skimpy bathing suit from the day before, which did nothing to explain why secretly watching her like this was making me hard and breathless.

I zoned out of her conversation, the nagging voice of my conscience reminding me it was time to go. I had all but violated the ‘only take a glance' rule. I needed to make a move soon, before things spun further out of control. I would just have to deal with the fallout. The longer I waited, the worse it would get. Now I was sweating and turned on. Just climb down and head straight out the door, I told myself. Maybe she wouldn't hear me leave.

"No . . . they're white, and with little flowers," she said. "If you were here right now . . . I might let you drag them off with your teeth."

Her last sentence was too much to ignore. I scooted forward. She was still reclined on the bed, her fingers looping through a curl of her hair, a wicked smile on her face. It was an insanely erotic view, her slender body clad only in her underpants and bra as she stretched out on the mattress. Her one knee was bent, the other extended, which left her legs slightly parted as she smiled and purred into the telephone.

This was so wrong it hurt. It was a complete invasion of her privacy. So was it the taboo nature of the moment that turned me on? Whatever the answer, my trousers grew tighter as my imagination raced with fantasies of my teeth dragging off her flowered underpants.

"Did you have fun the other night?" she asked, smiling into the phone.

The pace of her finger twirling her hair quickened, and then her hand fell to her bra.

"Yeah," she said. "Want to hear something funny? . . . I came again when I got home."

She giggled some more and my breath quickened as her fingertips slid inside her bra. Her words were drawing further out. No telling what the caller was saying, but judging from Jamie's reaction, their conversation was leaving her as wet as I was hard. My heart hammered in my chest as her fingers moved to the front of her bra. She wedged the phone between her chin and shoulder, and then unfastened the clasp, tickling the space between her breasts before sliding the cups to the side and giving a gentle squeeze. Her breasts were nothing short of sensational. Such a refreshing change from stuffed implants, they were firm with beautiful, puffy nipples.

While I could see everything, I longed for more and scooted forward, until my elbow accidentally shifted against the attic support beam with a bump. A stinging pain shot through my arm and I gritted my teeth to keep quiet. Whoever called it a ‘funny bone' never smacked it against a thick slab of wood. The pain was short-lived, but excruciating. My heart stammered as Jamie paused and covered her exposed breasts with her arm.

"Hold on," she said, her brow concentrated.

Fuck . . . she heard me.

Her eyes shifted from side to side and then she looked towards the bedroom door. Seconds strung out in nerve-racking silence as I rolled to the side and out of view.

"No . . . I'm here," she finally said. "I thought I heard something. Must have been my imagination."

I waited a few more seconds and then carefully rolled back and looked down. It was quiet before she smiled again and her hand resumed its massage.

"Hmmmm, I like that," she purred.

Her hand slid from down her stomach. The bra was parted now, the cups resting against each arm. A thin tan line separated a milky-white underside of each breast where her swimsuit started and stopped. She pulled her legs up into a bent position and stroked between her legs, closing her eyes. After a few tense seconds, her hand disappeared inside her underpants. I could see the ripple of her knuckles against the fabric as her fingers moved. I swallowed hard when she pinched the phone between her chin and neck, inched up, and pushed her panties down her hips, eventually bouncing the cotton briefs on the end of her painted toenails. She took a deep breath and spread her legs, unaware that she was completely revealing herself to me.

Mother of Toledo . . . she was shaved. Not only that, but I could see she was growing wet, a shiny, glistening film forming on her fingertips as they moved back and forth between the swelling folds of her pussy.

My cock throbbed and I gauged the volume of my own breathing to ensure I wasn't getting too loud.

"Yeah," she whimpered, running her fingers back and forth between her pink slit.

She traced her moist opening, in and out, back and forth, speeding up and then slowing down, her facial expression tightening in erotic concentration.

"Pull your car over and take down your pants," she whispered. "I want you to stroke that big fat cock of yours." A second passed and she laughed. "Too bad for you then, because this feels really good."

Her stomach rose and fell as her breathing grew shallow. Her breasts heaved upwards as the pace and rhythm of her fingers quickened and her hand moved faster, centering on her clit. Eventually she clutched the phone with her chin so that one hand could work her breast, tugging and massaging her nipple, as the other rubbed faster between her legs.

She was close.

"Yes . . . oh, yeah—"she stuttered, urgency filling her voice. "Rich!"

So he had a name.

Her words clutched in her throat as her fingers worked in frenzy. Her moans became loud, her entire arm jerking, her legs trembling and her toes digging into the bedspread. I moved back and forth in my attic-hiding place, rubbing my own cock against the rafter in search of any marginal relief.

Jamie thrashed on her bed and her ass pressed into the mattress, like she was writhing beneath some imaginary lover. I suspected young Rich's ears were hurting from all the moans and whimpers, but then again, he was probably busy himself. The whole orgasmic scene spilled out in front of me like a sumptuous flood. After a few tense moments, her movements slowed and a smile crawled across her lips. I was transfixed and didn't notice when she opened her eyes and stared first at the ceiling, and then to the general area of my attic hiding place.

Fuck! I twisted to my side and out of view. Didn't much matter. If she hadn't seen me, she probably heard me, as I was even noisier than before. My heart pumped wildly as I tried to avoid a panic attack. Seconds felt like minutes as I listened for any sign of discovery.

Nothing.

I leaned across and looked out the edge of the vent. She was still on the bed, her bra still unfastened and spread to the sides, her eyes now closed. It was a lucky day, I thought. I should pick up a lottery ticket later.

"I could do another one," Jamie whispered, followed by another giggle. "How fast can you get over here?"

No, not over here! I thought. He can't come over here! I wanted to shout at her, but thankfully kept my wits about me.

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed, jarring me as she sprang from the bed and darted to the window. I swallowed hard at the sight of her naked ass. It shared the same tanned swimsuit borders as her bra, round and inviting.

She parted the blinds with her fingers and looked outside. "You weren't jerking off out there, were you?!" she said in an alarmed voice. "Did anybody drive by?! . . . Well how long have you been there?!" There was another pause. "Come inside before somebody sees you . . . but give me a minute."

She hung up the phone, tossed it to the mattress, and looked around frantically. She first picked up her shorts and then tossed them to the side, instead grabbing the cheerleader uniform from the bed. After pulling on the skirt, she dropped the shoulder straps of her bra and tossed it to the side before pulling on the matching uniform top.

Short cheerleader skirt with no bra and no panties? I had to admit; it worked for me.

But my impromptu fantasy was punctured when the doorbell rang and Jamie left the room.

This was my chance to get out of there. But before I could move, she reappeared, followed by the guy in the picture.

"You're sure nobody saw you out there?" she asked.

"No . . . I was only there for a minute," he answered. "Believe me, if I would have gotten here sooner, I would have been in here with you and not out there listening." He looked her up and down. "I like your outfit."

She smiled and searched through the bag on the bed, pulling out the matching pom poms before turning to pose for him.

"I especially like it when your boobies stick out like that," he added, referencing the hardened outline of Jamie's nipples that pressed against the material of her top.

The pom poms dropped to her side. "Rich, can you not call them boobies," she said, clearly annoyed. "It sounds like you're still in junior high."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. "Sorry."

"So do you want your birthday present now or later?" she asked.

He never had time to respond, as she went to the closet and returned with a gift-wrapped box. "Here you go, birthday boy."

He opened it and held up a long sleeved Polo shirt that was larger than what I would wear. "I like it! But isn't it a little hot for summer?"

"Yeah . . . but it was on clearance and winter will be here before you know it."

I expect he was hard to buy for. A big kid, he obviously spent time in the gym. As he admired his gift, Jamie moved to the nearby full-length mirror. No denying, she was sexy as hell in her cheerleader uniform, but I wasn't sure who was having more fun admiring her attributes; her or me.

"So I was thinking," she said. "I have another birthday present for you . . . A special one."

"More?"

"Uh huh . . . I picked today." She paused and turned to him with a mischievous smile. "To do that thing with my mouth you've been asking me to do."

I gulped with her words, unsure if I heard her right and equally unsure if I could survive any ‘thing' that involved her mouth.

"Would you like that?" she asked innocently.

Rich smiled. "You're kidding, right?"

She took a step towards him. "Do I look like I'm kidding? You do want me to try, don't you?"

"Well . . . yeah . . . if you want to! But I thought you said it was gross?"

"How do I know unless I try?"

She strolled across the room and dropped the pom poms to the ground at his feet. Her hands started on his chest and ran down his stomach until she reached his belt. Rich followed, taking handfuls of his shirt and working it loose from inside his pants before pulling it up and over his head.

He was a pretty classic specimen of the male species, reminding me how I should be spending more time in the gym. He had well-defined shoulders, a proportioned chest, and a six pack etched into his midsection. It was less the bodybuilder look and more like one of those beach volleyball players. Tall and slender, yet muscular. Jamie growled and smiled, her fingernails digging into his skin. She began to loosen his belt while he reached forward and lifted her cheerleader skirt.

"Hmmmm . . . you're ready for me," he said, finding her panties had been removed.

Perverted as it is, I had to agree, and I was all too ready to watch the delivery of his birthday gift.

Rich grabbed her bare ass in his hands while Jamie unfastened his belt buckle. She dragged his jeans to a mid-thigh level and his cock sprang forward, partially erect. He placed one hand on her shoulder as she untangled the jeans from his feet. Once finished, she wrapped her hand around his admittedly fat cock and began a slow, methodical stroke.

Rich's facial expression tightened and I found myself hoping he wouldn't be too quick on the trigger. As wrong as this was, it was arousing as hell to watch them together, and I was in no hurry to see it end prematurely.

They stood facing one another, him nude and portions of Jamie's naked ass revealed when his hands rode up and under her skirt. Within a few seconds, he was fully erect and she tugged on his shaft, leading him like a pony to the bed where she pushed him into a reclining position. She followed, climbing up on the mattress and onto her knees. I could see perfectly from my attic vantage point—the erotic profile of her kneeling in front of him while his stiff cock raged with anticipation.

Jamie shuffled between his legs. She looked into his eyes and smiled as she grabbed the bottom of her top and rolled it upward, stopping short of removal, but enough to reveal her breasts. She moved closer, dragging the head of his engorged member over each of her puffy pink nipples before leaning into him and licking the underside of his neck.

"Okay . . . . You ready?" she asked, inching backwards.

Rich gulped and nodded.

"I'm not sure how to do this," she said.

"Just start," he answered, already breathless. "Maybe just kiss it."

She took him in her hand and held him upright as she brushed her lips back and forth across the head causing him to shiver. He was already wet and her lips glistened for a moment before she frowned and wiped away his arousal with the back of her hand. From there she moved hesitantly, running her mouth in slow circles, parting her lips, but not enough to engulf him. It was evolving into more of a ‘kiss job', than a ‘blow job', yet her inexperience and hesitance was profoundly erotic.

Her top was still pulled up to a point just beneath her neck and the profile of her dangling breasts moved as she leaned over him. The cheerleader skirt rose up, revealing her bare ass. She had one hand on the mattress for support; the other wrapped tightly around his dick. Best of all, she would periodically push her hair to the side, which was perfect for helping me to see every delicious detail.

Rich wasn't having as much fun as I was. While I enjoyed the tease of it all, he seemed caught in a tug-o-war of arousal. No doubt, he wanted more. I watched as his hand brushed against Jamie's cheek, as if he wanted to push her mouth further down his rod, but he always stopped himself. A good thing, as I think forcing her to go further than she was ready would have ended this part of the birthday celebration, right then and right there.

To Rich's chagrin, Jamie's hesitance continued. It can take more than an afternoon before the joy of giving and receiving oral pleasure can be appreciated. After the third or fourth kiss, she finally accepted him into her mouth and I watched his thighs quiver against the bed.

Her breath was heavy when she pulled up for air, but she kept him going, her hand pumping him until she was ready to resume.

"Are you liking this?" she asked, her words strained.

"Hell yeah!" he said. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "It's not like I thought it would be. Actually, it's turning me on."

"Can you . . . maybe . . . take a little more in your mouth?"

My thought exactly, but I was careful not to get hopeful.

"I'll try . . . . but it's big," she said. "I'll do it a little longer, but you have to tell me if you're going to come."

She worked up and down his length as she looked up at him. Suddenly her hand froze in position. "You will tell me," she said sternly.

"I will . . . I will. I promise. Just don't stop."

She leaned forward, closed her eyes, and resumed, delivering a few more kisses before finally wrapping her lips again around the sensitive head, an inch or two of his cock disappearing between her cheeks. She started to relax, taking in more, moving his shaft between her lips in steady rhythm. Definite progress, but now even I was feeling unresolved. I wanted to watch her suck his cock—not coddle it.

Rich leaned forward and looked down, eyed her for a few seconds, and then dropped his head against the mattress. While I could tell he wanted more, there had to be some satisfaction in how she used her hand to keep him going, wrapping it tight around his girth in delicious harmony with the short strokes of her mouth.

Despite all of Jamie's uncertainty, the look on Rich's face and the trembling of his limbs told me it wouldn't be long before his promise was called to order.

I was right.

"I'm going to cum, baby," he blurted.

Without warning, Jamie halted all movements and rose up. Rich's dick fell from her hand and against his abdomen with a wet plop.

"Not yet," she said. "Not until I do."

"Jamie! You already came!"

"Not the same," she said, starting to inch from the bed.

He grabbed her by the arms and tried to pull her into a straddled position on top of him.

"No, Rich! You need to move your car."

"Cmon, Jamie!" He was starting to whine. "Let's just finish and I'll go move it as soon as we're done. I swear."

"Now, Rich," she ordered. "If you hurry, I might do it a little more when you get back, but you have to go move the car before somebody realizes you're here."

It was almost laughable watching this five-foot-six little girl exert so much power over this six-foot-plus male.

Jamie moved from the bed and Rich stood up, his erection fading as he pulled on his pants and shirt before stomping out like a pouting child who had just been sent to his room. Jamie was unfazed by his frustration, moving to the mirror and straightening her hair before brushing the wet film from around her mouth.

"Who would have thought sucking cock could be so much fun?" she asked, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

I smiled.

The front door slammed as he exited and she moved to the window and parted the blinds to look outside.

"He's moving the car," she added without turning around. "You okay up there?"

I froze.

I had to have heard that last part wrong. It almost sounded like she was talking to . . . no, she was talking to me!

She released the blinds and they snapped shut as she turned and looked directly at the vent that gated my hiding place. I rolled on to my side and out of view as fast as I could, but I knew it was too late.

"Jack? You are okay up there, aren't you?" she said, her voice getting louder as she stepped closer. "I don't need to call 9-1-1 or anything, do I?"

I closed my eyes and my mind raced in circles. How long had she known? The air around me grew thick and I was afraid I was going to hyperventilate. Slow breaths, I told myself.

Just breathe.

After several long seconds, I rolled on my stomach and peered out the slats of the vent, realizing they probably looked a lot like the jail cell where I soon be calling home. Jamie was standing directly below me and staring upwards.

"I'm . . . okay," I said.

"Good," she said, giggling nervously. "You scared me for a second."

"I'll come down now."

"Well, you better hurry. He won't—"

Who the hell knows what else she said. I stopped listening. My head was pounding and I was short of breath as I inched commando style through the dusty attic, the sweat crawling down my forehead and into my eyes, stinging like needles. My brain jammed and sputtered as I clamored for what to say when I reached the bottom of the ladder. My foot found the top rung and, on trembling legs, I lowered myself down, one step at a time. I entered the house. While I didn't know what to say, I needed to say something. I found Jamie's bedroom, but once I arrived, she was nowhere to be seen.

Then I heard her voice.

"Jeez, you look like you've been in a swimming pool."

I turned to see her walking in from the living room, a bottle of water in her hand.

"You're soaked." she added.

"It's a little hot up there."

"Here . . . you need this more than I do."

She handed me the water. It was cold and I was parched, my mouth barren like I had sucked on a hair dryer for the last half hour. I took the bottle and drained it in one swallow. She stared at me with a sly grin.

The explanation I knew I owed her wasn't coming to me. "I don't know what to say, so I'll just say I'm sorry. I wasn't hiding up there intentionally. You weren't supposed to be home."

Her grin broadened. "Well, I admit, I wondered about that. If you had planned this, I might be a little pissed right now, but accidents happen."

"Don't wonder. I was only trying to get the fans installed a day early to surprise your mother. Nothing more, nothing less. I started to say something, but thought I might startle you.

We stood in awkward silence. I sensed I was over-explaining.

"How long before you knew I was up there?" I asked.

"Well, it wasn't rocket science. The fan boxes were open and the parts out of the bags. I thought you'd already been here and left, until I heard you rolling around and breathing heavy. I was on the bed when I heard—well, you know that part. I looked straight up at you. Didn't you notice?"

I remembered the moment she referred to. "I noticed. I just thought I got lucky and you missed me."

"You're not going to tell my mom about this, are you?" she asked worriedly.

"Right, Jamie. That would be a little hard to explain, don't you think?"

She smiled. "Was that supposed to be a pun?"

I stared at her, but said nothing.

"You know . . . a little 'hard' to explain?" she continued.

She slugged me on the arm and gave me a wink to lighten the mood, but I wasn't feeling playful. Any other day I might have seen the humor, but not today. "No . . . no pun," I said.

"Yeesh . . . don't be a stick in the mud," she said. "So did you have fun watching me?"

I was so full of mixed emotion that I didn't know which end was up. The one sure thing was my need to get out of there. She didn't seem bothered by what just transpired, but I felt like a horny kid caught sticky-handed with his father's Playboy.

"Well, I need to get going," I said, ignoring her earlier question. "I'll finish the fans later. You can think of something to tell your mom, can't you? About why they're unfinished?"

Her smile faded. "Yeah . . . I guess."

I stepped around her and she stared at me, her face troubled. "You're acting weird."

"I'm feeling weird."

"Did I gross you out or something?"

I laughed, but it felt forced. "Hardly . . . No, I wasn't grossed out."

"What is it then?"

I stopped and turned to her, figuring she deserved whatever feeble explanation I could muster. "It's awkward, Jamie. I'm not especially proud of hiding in the attic and spying on my neighbor while she gives her boyfriend a blowjob. I think that's against the law."

"I'm nineteen, Jack. For that matter, I'll be twenty in two months. It's completely legal, as if that whole statutory crap makes a damn bit of difference."

"Not that." I was getting exasperated trying to make sense of it all. "Never mind."

"Look, I knew you were there," she said. "I see you watching me when I wash the car and I knew you were watching me today. I could have stopped if I wanted to. I like showing off for you. Don't make it so complicated."

"I'm not trying to make it complicated."

"So, do you like it?" she asked.

"Like what?"

"Like it when I show off for you?"

Her usual self-assuredness was waning, which I could understand. I was only making things worse with my lame attempts to explain, which wasn't my intent.

"I think that's an obvious answer, Jamie, but it still doesn't justify what I did."

She took in my words, but offered no response.

"Anyway, I need to get going," I added.

She crossed her arms. I could tell she wasn't happy with my reasoning. "Fine . . . go."

The living room and front door were just off the hallway the led to the bedrooms. I couldn't go out the way I came or risk running into Rich. I could hang in the garage, but it was hot out there too. Lastly, there was a door through the kitchen that led to the back yard. That still involved a path through a common space that was shared with the entrance to the street. If I hurried, I might make it out without being discovered, jump the fence, and make it to my backyard.

"I'll head out back," I decided, and took a few steps in that direction.

But suddenly we heard the sound of footsteps at the front door. Even if I sprinted for the kitchen, I would almost surely be seen. I looked at Jamie and she looked at me.

"Stall him!" I whispered.

She looked at me like I was crazy. "I can't stall him! . . . Hide!"

"Hide?! Where?!"

I moved too quickly and bumped into her like something out of a Three Stooge's movie. She huffed in exasperation and went for the shortest path, shoving me into her bedroom. "Just hurry!" she whispered.

I looked around frantically. There was no way I would fit under the bed. She pushed me towards the closet.

"Jamie!"

"Just sit," she said. "I'll think of something to get rid of him!"

There was a small trunk on the floor of her closet. I pushed the dresses and hanging clothes to each side to avoid soiling her outfits with the attic dust that covered my clothes and sat down as she pulled the sliding doors shut. The air was filled with a faint hum of her perfume.

"I'm baack," Rich called from the living room, the door slamming behind him.

I waited and then parted the closet doors slightly, just enough to see out. Jamie was straightening her skirt in front of the mirror before taking in a deep breath to compose herself. She turned to me, held a finger to her mouth to indicate silence, and left the room. I took a deep breath of my own, not sure how long I would have to sit in the darkness before I got a chance to escape.

But suddenly I heard Jamie yelp. It wasn't a scream. More something startled, as if Rich had snuck up and surprised her. Then I heard her voice. It was getting louder, like she was approaching the bedroom.

"I'm not kidding, Rich . . . seriously . . . put me down!"

I leaned hard to the left and looked out the narrow opening. Rich appeared with Jamie thrown over his shoulder like a gunny sack of potatoes. It wasn't the worst view I could ask for. Her legs were bobbing as he marched her towards the bed and her bare ass peeked out from under her short cheerleader skirt. Once in position, he leaned forward and dropped her to the mattress with a thud.

"No! Let's go watch television," she said, first holding down her skirt and then trying to lean up from the bed.

Rich leaned forward and placed his large hands on her legs, pinning her in position. "I don't want to watch TV," he said. "I want to finish what we started."

Jamie hesitated, then leaned back on her palms and stared up at him. "What if I don't want to?"

He smiled and inched closer, their faces almost touching. "Then I'll try and convince you."

With one hand on the mattress to support his weight, he began teasing the edge of her skirt, trying to pull it up. For the first few seconds, Jamie held it down and kept her legs squeezed together, but the smile on her face told me her resistance was short lived. My suspicions were confirmed when her legs parted and her hand let go of the skirt and moved to Rich's chest.

C'mon¸ Jamie, I thought silently. You're supposed make him leave, not lead him on.

Rich moved closer and his mouth slid to her neck as her head fell back. With his face hidden by her cheek, he didn't notice when she glanced in my direction and smiled.

"There's nothing good on television anyway," she said, like she needed to explain to me what was unfolding.

"Glad you see it my way," Rich answered, his words muffled as his mouth pressed against her skin.

I wondered if Jamie could see me through the narrow opening of the closet doors. If so, Rich might notice me also, which meant I better be careful or risk a very awkward discovery. She might like me watching, but I was certain he wouldn't appreciate a third-party.

But Rich's attentions were elsewhere and more singularly focused. His hand moved to the inside of Jamie's thigh and between her legs. Details were hard to see, but when she sucked in a sharp breath, I knew his fingers had reached his destination. Her resistance vanished and she fell backwards against the mattress. Rich followed, crawling halfway on top of her, raising her cheerleader top to expose her pert breasts before covering her nipple with his mouth.

He caressed her with his lips and tongue, and then moved to the other breast, his face finally working down her stomach with forceful kisses. Eventually he left the bed and slid into a kneeling position in front of her, his arm cupping the bend of her leg and draping it over his shoulder.

Jamie turned again in my direction. Her lips arched into a mischievous smile as Rich pushed her skirt up and his mouth crawled higher up her thigh.

She lifted her other leg and wrapped it over Rich's shoulder as he pulled her forward until her bare ass was perched on the edge of the mattress. I heard her whimper when his lips grazed her pussy. I imagined how sweet she must taste. Erotic tension consumed her expression and she bit her lip, the unfolding moment punctuated with an occasional moan.

I couldn't have done a better job directing the unfolding sex scene if I was behind the camera shooting each erotic movement. I've never been a fan of those ridiculous porn movie close-ups, instead preferring to see all the action versus some micro-penetration angle, as if my nose needs to be two inches from some dude's scrotum to get turned on. Everything about my view from the closet combined with Jamie's fondness for showing off seemed choreographed to fuel my every whim.

I could see all of her body, including the erotic profile of her breasts and hard nipples, now exposed from her top rolled to a spot beneath her chin. The striped cheerleader skirt was pulled up and her slender legs were locked over Rich's shoulders in an embrace. I couldn't see the movement of his mouth against her pussy, but judging from the bumping of her naked ass as it dangled over the edge of the bed, I assumed his tongue was going deep.

I think she was coming again.

Her fingers clawed at the bedspread and she sucked in more air as her thighs clamped harder around his neck. I figured it wouldn't be long before he came up for air, but to my surprise, it was Jamie who gave in first.

"Okay . . . alright!" she said, inching up the bed and further from his reach.

Rich rose up, his hair tousled and his mouth shiny with her juices. He wiped his hand across his lips and smiled hungrily. His shirt was the next to go as he dragged it over his head. I could see him flexing as he tossed it to the side.

Jamie watched him as he stood up and unfastened his pants.

"Slow," she said. "Tease me."

He smiled and dragged his jeans down an inch or two and stopped.

"More," she added, her voice raspy, like she still hadn't found her breath.

He followed her request, but left up his underwear. There was thick, banana-shaped bulge protruding through his white briefs, the words ‘Calvin Klein' stenciled around the outer edge of the waistband.

Jamie scooted down the bed and leaned up into a seated position at the edge of the mattress. "Now . . . come closer," she said.

With his jeans drawn to a mid-thigh level, he shuffled a few steps and her eyes remained fixated on his crotch, her expression reminding me of the stalking cheetah from a Discovery Channel documentary I had seen on the weekend, moments before it pounced on a helpless gazelle.

When Rich was close enough, she inched her fingernails into the Calvin Klein waistband of his jockeys and pulled his underwear forward and down his legs, clearing his erection. His cock bounced in front of her face, thick and engorged like a raised fist.

"Let's try this again," she said.

Her hand looked tiny as it wrapped around his thick shaft. Jamie studied his length and stared up at him with a smile. Rich's fingers brushed her cheek and guided her mouth closer to his cock. She moved gingerly, first kissing the swollen head, and then riding her tongue in a path that started at the base and ended at the spongy crown. For him, I'm sure, it was bittersweet—the possible beginning of another long tease that would leave him aching for more. For Jamie it was another discrete opportunity to smile in my direction without being caught.

Yes, Jamie, I'm still watching. So hard it hurts and still watching.

Her hand fell to her breast and her shoulders did a quarter turn, I'm sure to make it easier for me to see as she pinched and played with her nipple. Her mouth opened and her blue eyes turned upward, her lips licking the slippery knob of his cock like she was peeling away the first wet layers of a new ice cream cone. Rich moaned, his head fell back, and he stared at the ceiling. When his eyes turned away, she pulled her head back and teasingly stuck her tongue out at me as she stroked him from top to bottom, biting her lip to stifle a giggle.

It was like she could feel my horny frustration.

"Please," Rich whispered, almost begging.

Please . . . indeed. This was turning torturous for the both of us.

Jamie didn't make us wait any longer, closing her eyes and wrapping her lips around him, bobbing back and forth in short, even strokes, her tiny fist working the base of his cock in eloquent unison with the movements of her mouth. If I hadn't witnessed her hesitance earlier, I would have thought she had been giving blowjobs much longer than an afternoon. Her hands pressed against the front of his thighs and she concentrated, quickening her pace. Rich's hips rocked back and forth, his fingers pushing through the blonde curls of her hair.

My own breathing was now heavy and my erection was twisting against the tangled web of my jeans. I shuffled from side to side in the limited space of the closet, trying to tug for room to grow, but it wasn't working. When I looked back, Jamie was in high gear, her mouth pushing down Rich's stiff member, reaching as far as she could go, pulling back, and then pushing again, her hands clamoring for something to hold onto; first it was his thighs and then she reached behind and grabbed his ass.

Go girl.

The action continued for several intense seconds, until finally she gasped, still pumping his cock with her hand as she pulled away, licked her lips, and tried to catch her breath. Rich looked down, his face filled with erotic anguish, as if he needed to come as much as I did. His hand moved to her cheek and he used the pad of his thumb to wipe some gathering secretion from around her lips.

"How'd I do that time?" she asked.

Rich smiled. "Fucking incredible."

Jamie let him go and grabbed the bottom of her top. She raised her arms above her head and her face disappeared. Rich helped her to untangle her arms, before tossing the garment to the side and seating himself next to her on the bed. Jamie fluffed out the curls of her hair, the sensuous silhouette of her naked breast peeking out beneath her arm. While Rich removed his shoes, socks, and pants, she crawled up the mattress and discretely glanced in my direction as she bowed her legs and slid her cheerleader skirt down and around her feet before tossing it to the side.

I was hard, aching, and breathless with anticipation as I watched her stretch out, now entirely nude. I wasn't completely sure how much more I could take. But then I felt a sudden fear that it was going to end too soon. Rich, now also naked, crawled up the bed and stretched out next to Jamie. He turned on his side and all I could see was his naked ass, her form entirely hidden from my view by his long body.

But she was quick to come to my rescue.

"No . . ." I heard Jamie say. "I want to be on the other side."

Rich didn't move at first. "Why . . . what's it matter?"

"It just does," she repeated.

There was a long silence and I smiled when he started to move.

"Whatever," he said, frustration showing in his voice.

He raised up and crossed cover her body, dropping to the far side of the mattress.

Thank you, Jamie, I thought silently. Thank you.

They began to kiss and Rich's hand moved between her legs while she tugged steadily on his cock until his erection returned. She broke from their kiss and I could see her breathing getting labored as his fingers forged a deeper path between her legs and inside. She bit her lip and her head tilted towards me. Her eyes were open, not glancing, but staring directly at me. Her legs spread wider and Rich's hand worked deeper while she stroked him faster.

I couldn't handle this any more. I planted my feet firmly and pushed up. The space was narrow and my arms cramped as I pushed my pants down, the air washing over my naked torso in a wave of overdue freedom. Jamie smiled. Whether she could see exactly what I was doing was unsure, but I figured the movement she sensed from the closet conveyed my turmoil.

Her hand released Rich's cock and she pushed him onto his back, following in a roll as she straddled his body. Jamie looked remarkably small as she seated herself across Rich's tall frame, her legs draped to either side of his hips. Her small hands were pinned to his chest as she slid her pussy up and down his erection in delicious rhythm. Rich's hands cupped per waist. I could sense his urgency. Foreplay is an acquired taste for a male that comes with age and Rich wasn't there yet; now he just wanted to fuck, which after everything Jamie had put him through, was certainly understandable.

Jamie moved back and forth and than pressed harder on his chest, lifting herself up. She remained still while his hand dipped between her legs and he positioned himself to enter. The moment was tense. Then I was overtaken again when she looked in my direction. As before, it was a subtle glance, but an unmistakable one meant only for me.

Rich arched up and Jamie's facial expression tightened. The playfulness faded and she first stiffened, and then trembled as she sat backwards, his thick cock sliding inside her.

Any resistance I retained faded and I felt a wash of pleasurable relief as, with my pants now down and my own cock in hand, I was finally able to indulge myself.

Jamie pushed her hair back and started to move faster, her hands digging into Rich's flesh. My own hand moved faster to match her pace.

I was lost now. No holding back. No time for guilty reflections.

Jamie's fingers dug into Rich's abdomen and began to bounce on top of him, her moans and gasps clouding the bedroom. She leaned back and rode him like some bucking bronco, drawing out the length and force of each thrust. When she looked again in my direction, her eyes met with mine and I had this eerie sense that, while Rich might be inside her, it was me she was fucking.

She was going to come again. And I was soon to follow.

Jamie's eyes locked with mine as Rich pumped his cock in and out of her pussy, the shaft glistening with her arousal between each piston-like thrust.

It was like an apex of what our relationship had become—the watcher and the watched, now both lost in our own pleasure. Any prior guilt over invading her privacy seemed trivial, replaced with a sense of sensuous submersion. Subconsciously I took on Rich's rhythm, speeding up when he did, slowing down as he slowed down.

Fuck me, Jamie. Harder baby.

Rich was getting loud. I wanted to be, but contained myself.

He grabbed Jamie's ass in his hands and pounded himself into her, her small breasts shaking with the fury as she rode his cock in and out in a dash of final thrusts before his toes curled and the muscles in his arms stiffened.

Any discretion Jamie had balanced earlier was long gone. She was looking directly at me, her face etched with passion. Our eye contact held and we stayed together as our orgasms simultaneously crashed through, mine so intense that my body quaked and a steely taste of blood snuck across my tongue from biting my lip so hard that I broke the surface. Jamie's orgasm wove in between, punctuated by loud moans and a final series of adorable squeaks.

In a surreal aftermath, we all rested, silent and motionless; Rich on his back, Jamie naked and draped across his chest, and me trying to contain the aftermath of my orgasm before it spilled to the closet floor.

After a few lazy minutes, Jamie slid to the side and stretched herself out on her stomach, her cheek nestled on the pillow and her eyes facing me. I felt a little exposed, my pants still down and my erection gone.

"What got into you?" Rich asked.

"What do you mean?" Jamie answered.

"You were like . . . unbelievable today."

She smiled. "I was just really horny."

"How many times did you come?"

Her smile broadened as she stared in the direction of my hiding place. "I stopped counting at three."

Rich smiled. "That's a record isn't it?"

"I do believe it is . . . How ‘bout you . . . did you enjoy it?"

I almost expected her to finish her question with my name.

Rich mumbled some answer.

I just smiled in return.

~~:~~:~~

The following few minutes were a little tense. I needed to get my pants up, but didn't want a lot of extra commotion that would call attention. We made it this far. It would have sucked beyond reason to get discovered now.

I waited anxiously until Rich lifted himself from the mattress and grabbed his underwear from the floor, saying something about needing to get to work. Jamie rolled off the bed a minute later. Fuck, she was a beautiful young woman, naked as she moved about her bedroom before putting on the same panties, bra, jean shorts, and top she had arrived in earlier. They left the room together, providing me an opportunity to compose myself. I waited for the slam of the front door signaling Rich's departure and exited the closet.

I was dizzy, a culmination I'm sure of way too much afternoon stimulation. Jamie returned to the bedroom, this time with two bottles of water. She handed me one.

"Figured you might need this," she said.

"Thanks."

I drank it a little more slowly, only draining half the bottle. When I looked back, she was smirking.

"What?" I asked.

She sipped her water and stared at me. "I saw what you were doing in the closet."

She formed her words in a teasing, sing-song kind of way.

I took another sip. Part of me was embarrassed, but another part figured, what the hell? I had just watched her fuck and blow her boyfriend. We were sort of even in the over-exposure department.

"You're blushing, Jack," she said, her grin broadening.

"Yeah . . . well . . . it was an interesting afternoon."

"Interesting?" she said, arching an eyebrow. "Is that all you can say?"

"What are you expecting me to say?"

"Maybe that you enjoyed yourself? That it was hot. You know, Jack, the whole befuddled guilty thing was kind of cute before, but don't wear it out. If you weren't having fun in the closet watching me, then help me understand what you call fun."

I was a little taken back by her directness, but she had a point, and I admired how she called my bluff.

"Yes, I did enjoy myself. I'm not sure I should have, but I did. One of the hottest situations I've ever experienced, short of being a participant and not the spectator."

She smiled and took another sip of her water. "Speaking of spectators . . . I've always had this fantasy about being watched, but never thought I'd have the nerve to go through with it."

I smiled. "Yeah . . . I think if we tried to plan this, it wouldn't have worked out so well. At least a lot clumsier."

"You're probably right," she said. "So that means . . . we shouldn't . . . you know . . . try and figure out a way to do it again?"

For the first time in the day, it was her turn to blush.

"I don't think I could handle another afternoon in the attic," I said with a smile. "Besides, something tells me the spontaneity was a lot of what made it so hot, don't you think?"

She nodded. "I guess. I just like it when you watch me."

"Well . . . I think it's obvious I like watching, so that part's all good." I held up my bottle of water in a toast. "To car washing," I said.

She tapped her bottle with mine. "And nudist bikinis?"

We laughed together. "And to nudist bikinis . . . you know, speaking of all that, I think I might start a new volunteer program."

She looked at me curiously. "Volunteer program?"

I grinned and nodded. "Uh huh . . . A Neighborhood Watch group. Figure I'd be the chairman."

She smirked and shook her head. "Boo, Jack. Boo."

~~:~~:~~

A final thought:

It takes me weeks of writing and revision to create a story I'm willing to sign my name to and minutes to read the result. I don't mind the trade-off because I enjoy having my stories read by as many people as possible.

If you enjoyed this story, would you consider leaving me a healthy vote? By doing so, other people are likely to read the story and, when that happens, I'm encouraged to write more, which means you'll have more stories to enjoy.

Conversely, if you didn't enjoy the story (i.e., your vote is less than a ‘9'), drop me a note and tell me why. I won't argue. I'm just interested in what would have made the difference for you. Understanding reader preferences helps me to improve my writing going forward.

All the best,

~Jack