Laundry Room

Story Info
Sexy neighbor puts on a show.
810 words
3.83
22.1k
11

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 12/01/2015
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I had walked by that window of my house many times and nothing had caught my eye. It was the small cubbyhole we called the dining room and just looked out on the side of your house. Although there were three windows on that side of our house, there was only one on yours, the laundry room I discovered, and my dining room window was directly across from yours.

Normally, the drapes were shut in your window, probably why I never knew what the room was until today. Maybe it was seeing movement in that window that caught my eye.

I was a good six feet from the window, but the movement, whatever, that caught my attention cried of flesh. I stopped in mid-step, backed up a half step and concentrated on the small opening in my curtain facing the open window in your house. There you stood, olive skinned beauty, completely naked, ironing something, who knows what the hell it was and I didn't care.

I moved closer to the window and opened my curtain just a little wider for a better view. I stayed to the side so as to be as hidden from your view as possible. It was amazing. As long as I had lived in the house, and especially since you and I had become smoking buddies in the shop side of my basement, I had envisioned you naked. You were so curvaceous, with large, firm breasts, a small waist and beautiful hips. You had a full head of dark brunette hair, thick eyebrows and wonderful full lips.

My daydreams, I found, were completely inadequate. The ironing board fell just below your hips. Your body was everything I had imagined before and more and those curvaceous hips framed a full, dense bush, the entire view of which was cut by the board. As you bent over to iron, your breast hang like fruit above the bush and I was mesmerized. Even at that distance, I could see your nipples were hard and, as I was studying the erotic image in front of me, you seemed, I thought, to glance up. I moved quickly behind the curtain and you went about your chore. In a matter of seconds it seemed, you finished, walked around the ironing board to the window, reached up as far as you could with both arms, each grabbing a side of the curtain and giving me one last arousing look and, then, closing the curtains on my show.

For several minutes, I seemed frozen in my place. I couldn't move. Did you know I had been there. If so, were you excited by my presence or were you now angry at your neighbor with who you once were so free with your hugs and a peck on the cheek. I don't know how long I stood there, perplexed by the last few minutes, but it was broken up by the sound of the doorbell.

I wandered to the door, still deep in thought, turned the knob and pulled it to me to find you standing on the other side of the storm door. You were wearing a tight white cotton t-shirt, that showed your scrumptious belly button and dark brown, hard nipples, and a pair of sweats that I now knew road barely above the curls that covered your sex. Several stolen glances revealed a few errant hairs that climbed to the bottom of your navel. It was definitely not what you had been ironing.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" you asked with a smile on your face.

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry. You caught me in some deep thoughts." I answered and I pushed the storm door towards you creating your invitation to come in the house.

"I've been doing some laundry today and just needed a break and a smoke. Can we use your basement? It's a little chilly to stand out and smoke." you offered.

"Of course," I said. "I could use a cigarette myself." I added with a smile.

We had our usual flirty repartee while we smoked and lingered at it a little longer than normal, I thought, and then you said you had to go and get ready because you were going out to dinner. You put your arms around my neck and pulled your breasts, hard nipples and all, in against my chest and deposited a quick, slightly open kiss on my lips and smiled as you released me and headed up the stairs.

As you put your hand on the door knob to leave, you paused, turned at the waist and smiled at me with those full lips and said, "I think Wednesday is going to be my new laundry day. Your house is empty and so is mine. Oh, and, sorry to have interrupted your thoughts."

"Never a problem," I protested.

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3 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago
laundry room

Editing and proofing helps.

It's not Road.

What day is this? what makes Wednesday the new day?

It's not about he house being vacant, but it does lend to foreshadowing.

BigBeanieBigBeanieover 8 years ago
Too short

I think your writing style shows promise. This offering is too short to even qualify as an instalment of a short story. To get higher marks I recommend taking place little longer to produce something more substantial - something with enough room for some plot, bit of character-development and maybe a little suspense.

AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago
You vs. name

If you had 'personalized' the story by a name or another description instead of using you/your, I would have read more than the first some five lines.

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