The New Neighbor
I’m on the back porch looking up at him, admiring the contours of his ass in those tight jeans. A 3-minute internal dialog
I sometimes get the feeling that something I remember hasn’t actually happened yet, but maybe it really has happened and I have forgotten that it has.
*Meg Rosoff
This short piece is dedicated to , the Queen of Steam. I am learning from her. It is all her fault.
I’m on the back porch looking up at him, admiring the contours of his ass in those tight jeans.
He’s on a ladder, cleaning the leaves and abandoned bird nests out of the gutters. I want to walk right over there and grab him by the back pockets with both hands. I mean … who wouldn’t? But, no, that would not be cool. Probably.
He’s my new next door neighbor. His name is Will. He’s just moved to this town and is looking for odd jobs, he said. A handy man.
A lot of things need tending to around this house since my husband ran off, so I told him he could paint the shutters, put up shelves in the bedroom, and trim the hedges. He came over and started working right away. He’s very polite. Nice blue eyes.
I think it’s curious that his name is an auxiliary verb — Will. I find myself wondering … will what?
It’s after noon now and the temperature's rising. I see him climb down from the ladder. I see him pull off his damp red T-shirt and fling it onto the azalea. Oh my God.
I bring him a tall glass of iced tea, and watch as he gulps it down all at one time, some of it runs down his neck and onto his bare chest. I imagine myself licking it off.
Through the kitchen window I watch him work. I make a mental list of all the things I’d like him to do for me. I believe I could keep him occupied around here for a good long time…
A little 70s funk seems appropriate here…
Very nice, Sharron! I was half expecting you to light up a cigarette. : ) Very cool Jeff Beck.
Hey neighbor. Gotta little something for me? I see a social club forming, but would you share your picture window vista? It’s 5 o’clock somewhere. Care for a brew? Age makes no difference in the Nash Rambler mind’s backseat.