The Interlude: Some Neighborly Vice

"God, where do I know that face from; he seems so familiar?" I executed a quick search through my long-term memory banks, as I completed my shopping. That terrible sinking feeling that comes from seeing someone you feel you SHOULD know had nearly dissipated by the time I reached cashiers' row. Turning a gallon of Rocky Road upright on the conveyor belt, I felt warm breath on the back of my neck.

"It's Zach, Zach Ames, in case you don't remember," he toyed near my ear.

Suddenly straightening my back, I stared at the POP display in front of me, as my recall snapped to attention. Apparently it was a drive-by recall. By the time I reacted and turned to greet him, he had moved several lanes down to join his friends. Paying for my stuff, I glanced once more at their checkout lane. "Hmm, Mr. Zachary has a fine looking ass to go with that cute smile," I thought, watching him digging for his wallet. Groceries bagged, I hoisted two brown paper sacks and returned reluctantly to the sweltering outdoors; so much for self-service.

Reaching my trusty Duster, I finagled my hands into my purse for my keys. However, juggling the bags and my purse was a feat I had yet to master. Struggling to keep everything balanced, I soon lost the fight and one of the sacks hit the steamy tarmac. The good news is it wasn't the sack with the Rocky Road. The bad news is it was the over-packed bag with canned goods. Canned corn, beans, peas, and carrots opted to go their separate ways, as they quick-rolled and dispersed into the open parking lot. "Shit... SHIT!" I screamed, setting the other bag down to track down the escaped veggies.

"Ya know, I'm not sure, but that has all the ear marks of a jail break," Zach noted, appearing from out of nowhere.

"And, I suppose you're just gonna STAND there!" I yelled back at him, as a stray can of Jolly Green Giant peas, racing to obvious doom, headed toward the intersection.

"I'll get that critter, if you can round up those two, Ma'am," Zach pulled up his shorts like a pair of chaps, and took off like the wind.

In a flash, he not only saved my Jolly Greens, but most of the Del Montes. As I restocked the torn bag with fugitives, Zach marched confidently toward me with his catch.

"Say, you're quite the wrangler, Zach. I'll certainly remember you, the next time my cans get loose," I laughed before thinking. Approaching me, his smile widened, while I caught his eyes glancing down my top. I'm sure he was ever-close to delivering some wicked comeback, when I interrupted. "Okay, that was wrong. I meant the next time I spill the beans... no, that's not right either," I smiled, while he took over and repacked my bag.

"Yeah right, just remember ZACH is good in the SACK; how 'bout that one?" He lamely suggested, shoving a neck-strapped camera behind him, to finish packing the cans. Funny I hadn't noticed that accessory in all the commotion.

"Sorry, that one's really pushing it. I'm sure you can do better than that," I suggested, as he rose from a squat to put my bags in the oven-hot Dodge.

"How about this one... Don't blame Zach for your dented cans, he just needs a ride?"

"You're getting worse, that one doesn't even rhyme," I said, circling the car to get in.

Like some gun-slinging pro, he grabbed his faithful 35mm Nikon from behind, focused and speed-shot two or three frames, before I got my driver's side door unlocked. Unconsciously finger-combing my long blond locks (or was I flirting?), I re-seated a white towel on the hot seat and slid inside. Zach continued shooting more film from outside the rider's side, like he was obsessed. Obsessed? Oh, that's right... HE was Bill and Sherry's camera-crazed kid, I recalled.

Almost at once cogs in my head started meshing together. A single strand of a twisted idea flashed into my psyche. The whole plan was vague and blurry, but somehow I put two pieces of a puzzle together. Number one: this was the grown (or at least of age) son of my disgruntled neighbors, and he was basically flirting with me. There's no way he saw my morning lawn job with Daddy this morning, was there? No way. Number two: he was really into taking photos. Perhaps he would offer a possible way to document whatever dastardly plan I would hatch to exact my revenge and jealousy. Watching the lanky lad standing alone in my rearview mirror, I pulled to a screeching halt.

"Dummy me, I finally got it, Zach. I'm sorry. It must this oppressive heat or something. You probably need a ride--right?" I asked, backing up the car.

"Oh think nothing of it. Hell, I can walk; it's only a few blocks," he started, leaning in the rider's side window.

"Don't be silly; here, get in," I insisted, leaning over to open his door. Whether it was my sexy smile, or the inviting view of my cleavage, he climbed in and slammed the door.

"What happened to your buddies?" I asked, shifting back into drive.

"Oh, they took off I guess. I mean, I told them to go ahead without me. Ya know, when I saw your little accident... and the cans and stuff," Zach nervously answered, fiddling with his camera.

"I see. That girl looks a lot like that Wagner girl--she used to sell Girl Scout cookies, right?"

"Yeah, that's Crystal and Tony Romano. He's not from around here."

"Gosh, you guys have sure grown up! I only barely remember meeting you... at your parents'. That must have been what, 3 or..." I started.

"Four years, almost four years ago, and your name is Barb... I mean Mrs. Bodecker, sorry."

"Say you have a good memory; and you were into photography. Duh, anyone can see you still are, obviously," I blushed. "I suppose you'll be majoring in that in college?"

"Yep, you guessed it. We'll--Tony, Crystal and I-- be starting this fall at State," Zach started to loosen up.

"Well, good for you guys. It's nice to be passionate about something. I mean the way you seem to feel about photography. I suppose it was only natural, with your mom being a model and all," I suggested. "You've probably taken a ton of photos of her; how great to have your own in-house model!"

"Not really. Actually I've taken plenty of shots of my sister, but hardly any of Mom," he reflected.

"How IS Sis doing? I'll bet she's done with college by now?"

"She decided to go for her masters and is modeling part time, so we see often enough. She got a boob job, ya know. Hmm, don't know why I said THAT... sorry," the 18-year-old blushed.

"Hey, no need to apologize. It must have made quite an impression on you," I laughed and gingerly patted his knee.

"I suppose so," he reflected, not really sure he should have shared that sort of information.

"Once a boob man, always a boob man?" I suggested with a wink.

"HA!" Zach stifled a laugh, trying to avert his gaze from my chest.

"That couldn't be the reason you snapped off a few shots of ME, now could it?"

"Hey, having this chance to be this close, I mean, I'd be a fool not to... to take advantage of the situation," he reasoned slyly.

"I see," letting a spaghetti strap fall over my right shoulder. "That couldn't mean you have other shots of me, say from a distance?" I prodded, watching him nervously adjust his shorts.

The conversation came to an abrupt halt at that question, as I turned the car onto my street. Pulling into our driveway, I wondered how much of the cat I'd let out of the bag.

"Well, here we are. Thanks again for helping to round up my... my cans," I laughed. "Let me know if I can ever return the favor," I smiled. Even in the stifling heat, Zach just sat there staring at my loosened strap and then up to my eyes.

"Crappy garbage bags!" He blurted out, in some last ditch effort to keep the conversation afloat.

"Huh?"

"They should have double-bagged those cans. Damn Safeway! Cheep bastards!"

"RIGHT, damn Safeway! We'll have to boycott them; you can be in charge of the picket line," I smiled again, pulling up my strap and grabbing my purse. "Like that and a buck-twenty will get ya a gallon of gas," my sarcasm escaped his singular train of thought.

"At least let me help you get them inside. That's quite a load. I mean, the bags are ripped and..."

"Sure, that would be nice of you. I'd appreciate that, Zach."

"No problem; I'm more than happy to help," he smiled broadened, with the chance to continue the dialog. We had the groceries gathered up and were making our way to the kitchen, when his courage erupted.

"You were right about those photos, ya know," he said quietly, as if not to disturb anyone else in the empty house. "I DO have a few shots of you in the backyard; hope you're not offended. I mean, I'm not a stalker or anything," he admitted.

"I see...not a full-time stalker, just your average run-of-the-mill voyeur, hmm?" I smiled.

"I'm sorry. Guess I just matured early," he continued to almost whisper.

"Why ARE you whispering, Zach? There's nobody home but us," I chuckled.

"Sorry. I was just going to mention how my early maturity was mostly your fault anyway."

"My fault?" I palmed my chest. "God, not another member of the Ames family falsely accusing me of something!" I thought. "I suppose I had something to do with Karen Carpenter's diet too... and how 'bout that thriving Reagan economy, geez!"

"Hell yes. Well, I'm not sure about that other stuff, but if you didn't have such a... such a world-class figure, I wouldn't have..."

"Like I have control over your crazy teenage hormones, yeah right!" I shook my head, secretly proud of his compliment.

"Teenage or not, Barb, you have a killer bod, and I THINK you know it," Zach emphasized, helping me stock the pantry.

"Let's get back to these photos. Just how many are there? I DO have clothes on, I HOPE!"

"Hey, like take a chill pill, there's only a few..." Zach admitted.

"A few DOZEN?"

"Not that many, and their tasteful; I mean for candid shots. A few bikini shots, but that's all," the boy further admitted.

"Bikini shots? Oh great! That's all I need to see showing up around the neighborhood. You know, I think you'd better let me evaluate these photos sometime--and bring the negatives with you, Zach," I stated.

"Please don't be mad. The last thing I want is to have you mad at me. I WAS honest with you; that's gotta count for something?" Zach pleaded.

"Don't be silly. I was just giving you grief. I'm not mad at you; and it's not the first time I've been photographed. I suppose I should consider it a compliment," I smiled.

"Good, I'm glad you're not pissed," he said before taking a long pause. "Then you might consider posing for me?" He added, going for broke with an after-thought.

I immediately shot him a head-shaking glare.

"You said you'd return the favor, you know for picking up the cans and stuff," he challenged.

"What? Are you crazy? I AM married you know."

"I know, but I also know your husband hasn't been around much. Besides, it's not like I expect you to pose naked or anything. It would just be nice to have some posed pictures of you. Ya know; something I could take to college."

"Something to remember me fondly by, as you fly away to join the Foreign Legion; yeah, like I haven't heard THAT one before. Man, you guys are something else!" Rolling my eyes.

Zach had taken his best shot. Now he stood silently waiting for a more favorable response. Looking him eye to eye, I sensed my cogs meshing and shifting into gear.

"Tell ya what, Zach; you bring over those so-called candid shots of me, along with your pro shots sometime, and I'll CONSIDER it, how's that?"

"GREAT! That's mighty nice of you, Missus..."

"Barb, please call me Barb," I corrected him.

Judging by his last look before bolting from the back door, I'd say I had about 15 or 20 minutes before Zach would return. The word 'sometime' has no meaning to any man, at any age, with a hardon. That would give me enough time for a quick pit stop in front of the mirror, and a change of clothes.

Changing out of my shorts into an even tighter pair of cutoffs, I detected the telltale scent of arousal on my cotton panties. Hmm, I hadn't figured on that. Was it the idea of setting my half-baked plan into motion, or could it be an actual attraction to the youthful backyard camera bug that had me wet? These were considerations best dealt with later. Glancing from our upstairs bedroom window, I saw him heading this way. Knowing I had no time to pick out a decent (or indecent) top, I strapped on a silk robe, squeezed into my short-shorts and made my way downstairs. Time to let the games begin!

Ready for My Close-up, Mr. DeMille ++++ "My God Zach, I said SOMEtime! I certainly didn't expect to see you back so soon. Well, come on in. I'm on the phone; just make yourself at home, okay?" I said, clutching my robe to loosely cover my naked upper half.

He followed me into the family room, where I motioned for him to stay. Racing upstairs, I pretended to be on the phone to my girlfriend, Bonnie. I knew he could hear, but only partially see, me from the family room. I picked up the dead phone.

"Okay Bonnie, where were we? Oh yeah, he was... you know," I started, and dropped the robe. "He did what? Are you serious? Oh my God, what did YOU do?" I went on, while slipping into one of my lacy white bras. "I can't believe you let him force you to your knees. God Bonnie, he's like half your age!" Tucking and re-tucking my tanned jugs into the too-tight cups, I stood in front of the mirror to adjust the straps.

Glancing down the open stairwell, I caught sight of Zach's face just turning away. "He made you suck him off? NO; it couldn't have been THAT big! Oh really... you did... God, that's so fucking sexy, Bonnie." I continued, as I stepped into a pair of black pumps. Turning my back to Zach, I pulled over a rather sheer cotton low-necked blouse. "You call me back later, Girl. I've got company. I want to hear ALL about this Baldwin. Oh Zach, he's like 18. Shit, I don't know... probably six foot something. C'mon Bonnie, how would I know THAT!!!" I laughed, reapplying an extra coat of lip gloss.

Young Zach was busy pacing the hardwood by the time I hung up and returned to the family room. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your phone call," he said, letting his eyes scan my change of clothes.

"Stop saying you're sorry, Zach. You've got nothing to regret... at least not yet," I winked. "Besides, that's just Bonnie, my over-sexed buddy. She has to call every time she gets a new boy-toy."

"Sounds like she likes to have a good time," he surmised, reaching to place his leather portfolio on the coffee table.

"Oh, you heard that? Yeah, she's got herself some sweet young thing. I think she's pretty much full of it. I mean, the things she comes up with," I laughed.

"Oh, by the way, I'll be 19 like next week; and I'm six foot two," he said, to clarify my intentional mistakes.

"Well, then this is an early birthday present for you," I said and leaned in close to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Now, about these candid photos. You've definitely piqued my curiosity. How about something to drink first? Pop, tea, lemonade--whatever you want," I offered.

"I'll have whatever you're having," he answered. I got up and gave him a nice view of my round ass.

"Well, I'm having a beer," I declared glancing back over my shoulder.

"Sounds good to me," he said, like that was the grownup response.

Popping a long neck brew for myself, I opened a Coke for Zach and returned. There's no way I'm getting pinched for serving alcohol to a minor. His quizzical expression changed into a shrug when I handed him the Coke. "Nineteen is such great age to be. So many wonderful new things to see and do, don't ya think?" I leaned over slightly to let my arms squeeze my tits. His shrug eased into a huge smile. Lifting his eyes from my deep cleavage, he happily took the cola.

"Well these aren't so bad. I thought you'd catch me doing something despicable," I snickered at pictures of myself working in the garden. "Now this one is what we call borderline, don't you think?" I asked, viewing a bikini shot of me laying out for a tan. "See how my top is untied?" I suddenly wondered if he had any shots of me in the raw, which I occasionally did to even out my full-body tan.

"I don't see anything wrong. You're covered up and everything," Zach stated, taking a giant gulp.

"These are like two years old! How many years do you have photos, Zach?"

"Well, let's see, it's been four years since we've seen you..."

"Looks as though you've seen plenty of ME in the last four years! Gosh, look how much bigger my tits are now, since the baby."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed that too," he said, edging closer to me on the couch.

"I'll bet you did," I muttered, as I paged through more 3X5 glossy snapshots.

Since the subject finally reared its ugly head, I opted to press him for answers. "So Zach, has anyone ever discussed what happened at your folks' infamous pool party so many years ago?"

"Actually, not much has been said. Dad and Mom never mention it. Sis kinda tried to explain it to me a few years ago. She said Mom caught you and Dad kissing in the studio; and that's all I could get out of her. Is that what happened?"

"Yeah, I suppose if you're looking for a strictly literal interpretation," I laughed.

"Well, people tend to tell you what THEY think you should need to know, when you're 16. I had no need to know much more than that back then; that was enough to make me jealous," Zach smiled.

"Jealous of whom?" I returned his smile, and nudged his arm, as we sat side-by-side on the long couch.

"My Dad, of course! I mean geez Barb; you were SO incredibly hot in that white bikini!" He nudged me back.

"And now, I'm what... chopped liver?" I teased, while running my fingers through his shoulder-length blond hair.

"GOD NO! You're... you're like..." he searched for just the right adjectives, as I continued to mess with his hair.

"Yes Zach, go on," I urged, edging one of my melons against his bare arm.

"Ah, you're like the perfect woman," he admitted, facing me directly to deal with his honesty.

"Goodness, what a responsibility! But I think it's more of a fantasy. However, I do appreciate you saying that; what a compliment," I answered, letting my hand fall to massage his shoulder.

"I know this might all seem sudden to you, but I think about you all the time. You were in my dreams all through high school, even to the point that I would miss dates if I knew there was half a chance I might catch a glimpse of you through the fence."

"Zachary Ames, I had NO idea..." I searched his serious expression, while my hand fell to his knee.

"Please, let me finish; there's so much I want to say," he interrupted.

The honest anguish in his eyes and voice took me by surprise. I certainly wasn't expecting any more than a teenager with raging hormones. He was all that, but much more. Whether his near obsession for me was a healthy sexual response from a typical horn dog, or an expression of a deeper need for self-esteem, meant little to me. As he went on describing his feelings of loneliness, despair, and the subsequent fear that those traits can breed, I began to get a clearer sense of what unrequited love really encompasses.

It wasn't unlike feelings I was currently dealing with regarding my husband. That one, singular need to be wanted by another is such a curse I could never wish that pain on my worst enemy. Furthermore, that particular curse multiplies ten-fold, when your lover looses all attraction to you, or otherwise falls out of love.

When the boy recalled his feelings at missing out on a summer vacation trip to Europe with his classmates last year, because he didn't want to miss one sunny day, when I would likely be outside tanning or working in the garden; I nearly lost it. Tears streamed down both our faces, as I brought him close for an embrace.