Before venturing further, I need to state for the record that this is a work of fiction and that any resemblance by any character or situation to any actual person or event is purely coincidental. Also, all characters presented in this narrative are over the age of 18. –Royce Houton
Chapter Four
The same 2002 Nissan Sentra with the sun-dulled gold paint had been perched at various points up and down Moss Avenue on the other side of my street for at least a week now.
Most everybody within five or six houses either side of mine on both sides of the street was someone I knew, having lived there the better part of twenty years. I’d gotten even more attentive to goings-on in the neighborhood since the pandemic lockdowns of 2020 and 2021 made my home pretty much my primary office for months on end. Even with
COVID finally on the wane, owning my own small crisis communications business allowed me to venture into my office in a suburban business park just a couple of days a week, and then mostly for client or staff meetings and seldom for the full eight hours.
I’d paid pretty close attention for quite a while and I had never seen the car before the previous Tuesday. It was odd that the car seemed to park in front of a different house every day, even though on-street parking in front of any house was uncontested in our subdivision. Generally, visitors here will park in the host’s driveway or at least in front of the host’s house each time. So this wasn’t anyone’s guest.
It was also strange that the car had DeSoto County, Mississippi, plates. DeSoto County was just across the state line, less than two miles to the south, which made me wonder why someone from that nearby would need to be parked in front of various addresses on our street each day. Rarely sometimes, a person would be sitting in the car, but most of the time, it appeared empty.
“Hey Easton, I think we might have a private dick snooping around outside my house. Çanakkale Escort You know how I could confirm it?” I asked my lawyer in a phone call from my front porch, staring at the gold Nissan beater now parked squarely in front of Kim’s house.
“What makes you think that?” he asked. I explained the strange car lurking around at strange hours and gave him the make, model and tag number. “That is odd,” Easton said. “I got a few boys I help out from time to time with the Mississippi Highway Patrol. Let me see if they can tell me anything.”
I didn’t tell him that the gumshoe could be staking out my neighbor, whom I had recently discovered was waiting for her divorce to Roger’s worthless ass to become final. No sense complicating that picture just yet. And besides, there was nothing to really report but a couple of wild jacking-and-jilling sessions a very safe distance apart.
I hadn’t seen Kim in a couple of days, and my dick twitched every time I remembered our last encounter. The pandemic had wreaked holy hell on the nursing corps at hospitals across the country, and Kim’s was no exception. While her specialty, delivery-room obstetrics, had not seen the death and worked the hellish conditions and the burnout the floor nurses endured, her unit was down by about one-fifth from its full complement of nurses, and there were days when twelve-, sixteen-, even eighteen-hour days were possible when more than one OB nurse was out sick, vacationing or exposed to COVID. And, as she had complained for years, babies tend to arrive in waves.
It was sitting on my deck watching Netflix on my iPad just a little after nine at night when I saw the lights of Kim’s Lexus wheel into her semi-circular front drive and heard her kill her engine and lock her doors. She had left for work before I looked out my window for the first time at eight that morning, meaning she had just worked ’round-the-clock at a minimum.
About fifteen minutes later, I heard Kim’s Çanakkale Escort Bayan French doors open and the hot tub just outside the doors on her deck’s top level whir to life. I couldn’t see her where I sat but I could see the soft light from her deck angling onto the grass of her back yard and hear glass clink on glass.
I got up, strolled toward our shared fence and, in a voice barely above a conversational level, said, “Rough day, Mrs. Rainey?”
She let out a yelp. She hadn’t expected anyone to be outside and my voice and the unfamiliar, formal salutation startled her.
“God damn, you, Gordo! I’d have shit my pants if I had any on,” she said. “Now that I know you’re out there, don’t just be a creep standing in the dark. Come on over. Just opened a bottle of tequila.”
“That might not be a great idea, Kim. We might have a private eye snooping around. Got my lawyer tracking it down now,” I said, explaining what I had noticed for days now. “Don’t smell right and if that’s what it is, we don’t need to give him any intel.”
Kim walked down from her deck and, true to her word, she wasn’t wearing any pants. Or anything else. She was still concealed from any view from the street. The light from her deck accentuated the ripe slope of her breasts, their brooding nipples and the sway of her back as it rounded into a pert, shapely derriere. Most impressive, however, was the way the backlit incandescent glow illuminated the reddish blond hair she had piled atop her head for a soak in the hot tub and made it glow like a golden halo. She was more beautiful at this moment than I had ever imagined her to be.
“You think some redneck Mississippi Dick Tracy’s going to pop out of that Magnolia or parachute in and snap a picture of my naked ass?” she said. “I’m in my own yard minding my own business and I am way too tired to give a fuck if he does.”
“Welcome to take a shot of Cuervo Gold with me if you want. Even hop in the hot tub if Escort Çanakkale you want. But — and I never thought I’d say this — I’m too tired for any monkey business. I still haven’t recovered from the other night,” she said, arms folded just under her perfect tits. “Too tired for dick. That’s a new one for me.”
I smiled and nodded.
“I can see it, Meg. Right now, you’re a poster child for sleep-starvation. I think I’m going to pass until I find out more from my lawyer tomorrow,” I said softly. She smiled wearily.
“Hey Kim. This truly isn’t meant as a come-on,” I said, “but right now, even as tired as you are — standing out here nude in this light — you are about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, head to toe.”
She dipped her head, staring at the grass for a moment, and when she looked back up at me, a tear streaming down her left cheek glimmered in the soft light.
“I’ve forgotten what kind and loving words feel like,” she said, sniffling softly. “Girl needs to hear them now and then.”
I nodded again and blew her a kiss.
“Gumshoe or no gumshoe, I intend to fuck your brains out one of these days pretty soon,” she said, turning her gorgeous ass toward me to walk back to her deck and immerse herself in the soothing, swirling, pounding wetness of her Jacuzzi.
I resumed “Moneyball,” the movie version of the nonfiction bestseller about how Billy Beane used analytics to economically transform the notoriously cheap Oakland A’s into a champion, when I overheard something across he way. I paused the livestream. It was the familiar sound of Kim moaning in the buildup to an orgasm, audible even over the steady rumble of the hot-tub jets.
“Oh fuck … oh fuck … ohfuck, ohfuck ohfuuuu … aaaaaaah,” she said, clearly and loudly enough for the gumshoe or whomever might be encamped in the gold Nissan to hear. “Uuunnh … unh … unh.” I could picture her hips seizing powerfully in her climax, punctuated by her staccato groans..
Sure enough, I was rock hard, just from listening to Kim cum across the way. I clapped slowly, loud enough for Kim to hear. “Bravo!”
The hot tub pumps turned off and for a second, my clapping seemed to echo around the neighborhood.
“Sweet dreams, Gordon Tierney,” she mewled sweetly.
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