Short Story ... Courteous Neighbor

Courteous Neighbor ~ Part One

Peering through the windscreen, I slowed the car down to a crawl. Bloody hell---the weather bureau got it right for a change. They’d warned it was going to be the storm of the season, and they hadn’t been joking. The rain was so heavy I couldn’t see more than five feet in front of my car. I hated driving in this sort of weather. The radio announcer warned there was a bad accident ahead. Great. To top my disastrous day at work off, I’d forgotten my damned umbrella. I’m going to be soaked to my skin before I even get to the front door.

Sighing in relief, I finally pulled into my driveway and killed the lights and engine. The heavy pounding on the roof of my car wasn’t letting up. I sat in my car and debated whether I was going to try and wait it out till the downpour eased off or make a run for it. Damn it. I’m not sitting here all fucking night. Decision made, I snatched my bag up off the passenger seat with one hand and reached for the door handle with the other, bracing myself in preparation for the howling wind and icy rain.

I gasped when I opened the door and in a flash, it got ripped out of my grip by a strong gust of wind. Tugging furiously on the door, I slammed it shut and activated the door locks while I ran like a mad woman to my front door, front door key at the ready. The rain stung my face and instantly soaked my clothes. My teeth were chattering before I had the key in the lock. Slamming the door shut behind me, I dropped my bag down to the floor and started to peel off my wet clothes.

In my opinion, clothes were an annoying encumbrance. It was my normal practice to begin shedding the layers as soon as I got through my front door. If I had my way, I’d remain naked at all times, but going to work in my birthday suit would certainly be frowned upon. I’d often joked to all my friends I’d be more comfortable in a nudist colony.

It was a struggle to remove my body hugging dress. Being waterlogged, it seemed to be suctioned to my skin. Dancing around in a circle I twisted and turned, getting more and more frustrated until I finally pulled it up over my head and dropped it in a sodden pile on top of the mat on the floor. I was half-way to being free. My skin immediately goosed up from the cold and after toeing my heels off, I raced over to the split system in the wall with wet, stockinged feet and turned the heat up until I had time to light the open fire. I’ll get the fire going then head out to soak in the hot spa---that’ll warm me up.

After setting and lighting the fire, I tiptoed down to the bathroom in my sapphire blue thong and matching lace bra, with wet black thigh-high stockings stuck to my legs to retrieve a towel. Wrapping it around my shoulders I sat on the floor and waited for the flames to consume the kindling before it was strong enough that I could put a log on. Once I was satisfied the fire was roaring nicely, I wandered over and switched the heat off on the split system, eagerly looking forward to divesting the rest of my clothes and sinking down in the warmth of the spa.

My doorbell chimed repeatedly and I groaned in annoyance. For fuck’s sake, I grumbled under my breath---who in the hell can that be? With a scowl, I trudged over and yanked my door open. My next door neighbor was standing with his arms wrapped around him looking like a bedraggled wet cat.

“Jesus, Mason, come in, you look like a drowned rat!” I moved out of the way and he stepped inside, water rolling off him to form a large puddle that soaked into my mat.

The house next door had been a rental for a number of years. And some of the tenants had been the bane of my existence. The last lot had been meth heads. After the destruction they’d left behind once the owner had eventually evicted them, he’d decided it just wasn’t worth the headache and he put it up for sale. It had sat empty for months and I got used to the peace and quiet of not having a neighbor. Six weeks ago, a “sold” sticker had appeared across the sign. Two weeks ago, cars coming and going had piqued my interest. Being the sticky beak that I was, I’d peeked out of my window trying to catch a glimpse of the new owner or owners. But with the group of guys making regular trips back and forth it had been a little difficult to ascertain just who was going to be living there.

When the activity had settled down, I decided to do the neighborly thing and take a meal over---to welcome the new owner to the neighborhood and satisfy my growing curiosity. Mason had answered the door wearing only a pair of shorts. He was no model, but easy on the eye all the same with his chiseled jaw, short cropped brown hair and chocolate eyes. With broad shoulders and strong arms, it was inherently obvious he looked after himself. But he wasn’t muscle-bound. Sure, he had the soft outlines of a six pack down his abdomen and his thick thighs were definitely inviting, but nothing like The Rock.

Mason stood shivering on my front door mat and without giving it a second thought, I whipped the towel off my around my shoulders and held it out. His brow rose while he raked his chocolate gaze down the length of my body, wrapping the damp towel around his shoulders.

“Come and get in front of the fire.” I spun on my heel and moved over to warm myself in front of the flames.

“Do you always answer the door in a thong, bra and stockings?” He asked casually while he followed.

“You’re lucky I’ve even got that much on,” I quipped honestly. I smiled when I heard his deep chuckle behind me.

“You’re kidding, right?” I shook my head and looked over my shoulder with a straight face.

“Nope---clothes seem to strangle me---I strip the minute I get in through the front door.” Mason’s eyes widened further.

“Maybe I should knock on your door more often,” he teased with a cheeky grin, kneeling down next to me in front of the fire.

“You’re choice,” I shrugged and his brow rose again. “So how come you’re soaking wet on my doorstep?” Mason inched closer to the fire and held his hands out, warming his palms.

“I locked myself out of my fucking house,” he grumbled and I burst out laughing. With a frown, he pinned me with a look that told me he was not amused with my reaction. “It’s not fucking funny!”

“From my perspective, it is,” I replied, still giggling. “Can you get in through the roof and drop down through the manhole?” He shook his head.

“Tin roof,” he reminded me.

“Ahhh---don’t suppose you left a window open?”

“Not in this weather,” he scoffed. “And being a Friday night, I can’t get a damned locksmith out till Monday.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay with me until then, there’s a spare room you can use and I think I may have some of my old boyfriend’s clothes somewhere if you need them,” I offered, “just as long as you don’t mind me walking around in my birthday suit.” His brow rose again and he flicked a hooded look my way.

“You don’t really know me from a bar of soap, Skyler---don’t you think that may be considered dangerously inviting?” he questioned slowly in a veiled warning. The sultry tone of his smooth deep voice had my pulse rate increasing and heat gathering between my thighs.

“Would that be so bad?” I challenged huskily, meeting him in the eye.

“You have no idea what sort of Pandora’s Box you’re trying to temp me to open,” he cautioned quietly.

To be continued…