Meeting the Neighbor

I was ecstatic to see my name on the front door of the cookie-cutter suburb house.

"Welcome Addy Grey" it read.

It was surreal to be purchasing a house at the age of 28. I was thankful for my career and the raise that came along with my new supervisor position at the tech firm I worked for; it made it possible to buy a brand-new home. The cul-de-sac was fairly new, maybe 10 years old. Around 20 homes were built in the country, 15 minutes away from the city. I liked them because they were new and quiet. The layout of the house was also nice. They were all split-level homes, with 2 beds and 2 full baths. It had a large living room, kitchen, and finished basement. It was more than enough for me.

I felt an immense sense of pride knowing the house was mine and that no one could take it from me. A couple of years ago, a toxic relationship ended with me being homeless, and from then on, I vowed to own my own home before cohabitating with anyone else.

I stepped inside. The movers had already placed all of my things in their correct spots. It was up to me to put away my things. I got straight to work getting my things where I wanted them. I would have gotten it done quicker if it weren't for the continuous knocks at my door. The neighbors were friendly and multiple of them came to introduce themselves. The lot of them brought food and baked goods, for which I was grateful.

I was awake until 2 am unpacking, I knew I couldn't rest until it was finished. I was looking forward to getting a shower and then jumping into bed on clean bedding in my new home. I took the boxes to the curb in triumph. I returned and went straight for the bathroom, I turned on the shower. It was a decent size, black and white tile with a built-in bench. I pulled off my sweaty clothes, stepped inside as steam bellowed up over the walls, and closed the glass door behind me.

I took time to wash my hair, letting the water soothe the aches in my muscles. I ran my small hands over my petite body. I cupped and washed my perky breasts with care. I ran my palms over my smooth, taut stomach. I took time to shave my legs and trim my bush that I hadn't attended to in a while. As my hands were exploring my own body I got caught up in my ongoing fantasy about Henry Cavill, particularly as Superman.

I began to rub the outside of my slit. Teasing myself, I grazed my fingers across my lips and clitoris. I then began rubbing my clit in circular motions with my fingers. I sat down on the bench, the water still running over my skin. I spread my legs wider. Not taking my time anymore, I sped up my movements and pressure. Soon I could feel an orgasm building in my stomach, like a heat that rises throughout my body. My breathing became rapid as felt my pussy contracting and a flood of juices escape my hole. I moaned as the orgasm toppled over and I reveled in the mind-numbing bliss.

I smiled and washed my vagina and hands before stepping out onto my new plush rug. I brushed my teeth and crawled into my freshly made bed. I snuggled into the covers and fell asleep quickly.

******

I had taken 3 extra days off to settle myself in. I had the windows open, letting the warm summer airflow through the house. I began putting my decorations out and spending time placing them strategically. After a few hours, I placed my minimalist decorations on how I liked them.

The sun was hanging low in the sky and the temperature had begun to fall. I changed into my black running shorts and hot pink tank. I pulled my curly brown hair up into a ponytail and popped in my Bluetooth earbuds. I did some quick stretches on the porch and began my lap around the cul de sac. I had made it around and back up, almost back to my house when the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I got a chill. I kept running but paused my music. I heard slapping on the pavement behind me. I didn't react outwardly but inside my heart skipped a beat. The sounds got closer and suddenly someone was beside me.

I gasped but then felt silly when I realized it was just a man running as well. He was dressed in men's athletic gear and had his earbuds in.

He was tall, easily over 6 feet, and lean. His skin was a warm olive tone and smooth. His face and body type reminded me of Dylan McDermott. His face was chiseled with neat scruff, he had soft blue eyes, thick black eyebrows, and thick black hair with a stripe of grey that looked purposeful. He looked to be in his late 40s or early 50s. He was handsome. He smiled at me with perfect teeth.

"Hello, you must be the new neighbor," he said, his voice deep and smooth, "I'm Howard Griffin. People call me Griff. I own 212." He jutted his thumb behind him. I wasn't sure which house was 212, but I'd pay attention next time.

We continued to jog, we were nearing my house but I'm sure he knew that, "I'm Addy Grey, nice to meet you." I slowed down as we came up to my driveway.

"Nice to meet you, Addy Grey," he repeated with a smile.

I smiled again and told him to have a good night as I turned and walked up the driveway. I felt his eyes on me as I shut and locked the door. I thought nothing else of the interaction.

***

The next day was uneventful. I lounged around enjoying my new abode. Around the same time, as the day's heat started to subside, I changed to have another jog.

As the day before, I stretched on the porch and started. The neighborhood was quiet around this time. A few people out on their porch swings would smile as I ran by.

I hadn't made it too far when I got the same feeling on the back of my neck. This time I turned my head to see Griff catching up to me again. This time he was wearing an athletic shirt and grey sweats. I tried not to stare as my eyes were pulled to the outline at his crotch. I felt like I could imagine his girth. Grey sweats on a well-endowed man are not forgiving.

I peeled my eyes away, afraid I was blushing, I wiped my face. His smile was more like a smirk as he approached me.

"Good afternoon. It's nice to see a fellow runner. I'm sure you wouldn't want company though..." he stated this as more of a question.

I wasn't the biggest fan of running with someone or talking while running but I didn't want to seem like a bitch, "I wouldn't mind at all." I returned his smile.

We continued to jog together. He was pretty good at conversation. We spoke about our jobs. Turns out he owns a law firm in the next town over. He told me about all the places he's lived or visited over the years which was fascinating. He explained he grew up being moved all over for his father's job. We learned a lot about one another on our short journey. I knew he liked to cook, he knew my favorite pasta dish. We talked about music we liked, plays we've seen, and art that moved us. I didn't understand how I had so much in common with an older man, but then again, maybe we both just had good taste.

As we neared my walkway he asked, "Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow night, say 7? I'll make you some of my famous vodka sauce."

I thought for a moment, "I would like that." I said honestly. It seemed like it could be a nice evening. I made it inside and continued my normal nightly routine. I slept well again.

***

It was 530 when I began getting ready. I was anxious for some reason. I wasn't sure what to wear. I didn't want to look too flashy or too comfortable. After showering and fixing my curls, I opted for a dark blue sundress that cinched at the waist. It matched my eyes well and was semi-casual. I sat on the couch for 30 minutes unsure of what to do with myself. I finally opted to be a few minutes early.

I didn't want to come empty handed so I grabbed a wine I had imported from Italy. It was white and went well with carbs. I slipped on a pair of black flats and headed out the door. The neighborhood was quiet. The air smelled like rain and the sky had turned dark. I stepped up to his door and knocked loudly.

The door opened quickly to a smiling Griff. He was dressed in a pair of well-fitting black trousers and a soft peach button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was gently tousled. A red dish towel was thrown over his shoulder.

"Miss Grey, hello. Come in." There was something eerily soothing about his voice. I liked it.

I smiled at him as I stepped through the threshold. I peeked at his feet to see he was wearing black dress socks, so I slipped off my shoes exposing my recently manicured feet. I smelled something savory wafting through the rooms. I faintly heard slow jazz drifting from somewhere in the house. The lighting was soft, it seemed only lamps were being used. Walking through his living room it was easy to see he had money. His large sectional was an exquisite brown faux leather that accented the cranberry-colored walls nicely. He had a huge, black brick fireplace with porcelain figurines lining the mantle. Large paintings loomed on the walls. He ushered me to follow him through the dining room. He had a large oak table with 6 seats. Snapshots of Italy and France accented each wall.

I followed him into the kitchen. It was open and bright. The cabinets were a beautiful off-white with black and white backsplash. He had made the house his over the years. He had things strewn about on the stove and counter.

"It is almost finished," he said stirring a pan with a rubber spoon.

"It smells great. I um, brought some wine I've had. It's from Italy."

He turned and took the bottle looking it over. To my surprise, he began to speak Italian. I had no idea what he said.

"My parents moved here from Italy a few years before I was born. Most of my family still resides in Sardinia," he stated.

I loved hearing other languages and was very intrigued by him. It was pretty attractive to hear him speak one of the love languages.

"Wow, you have lived quite an amazing life. I would love to learn another language." I laughed awkwardly.

"Maybe I can teach you?" he smiled at me before putting the wine in the refrigerator to chill. "I'll crack open a chilled bottle while yours is frosting."

He took out a different bottle. He took two glasses down from the hook they were hanging on under the cabinets. It was a deep red, semi-sweet. I took a long drink to hopefully calm my nerves. I couldn't point to why I was so nervous.

He plated the food and sat my plate and his at opposite ends of the table, which was strange. By then he had poured me another glass of wine. He set the bottle in the middle of the table.

"It looks delicious," I said honestly.

"The vinaigrette on the salad is also homemade."

I took a bite of the salad with an "Mmmm." it was the perfect mix of citrus and a hint of sweetness. We ate our food through our conversation. It seemed we were able to connect more on culture and politics. I asked a lot of questions about his firm, his life as a lawyer, and before he became a lawyer. His life was so intriguing. I felt like anything I had to say was boring. I had felt accomplished earning a master's degree in business and technology, my life had been spent in school mainly up until this point.

He asked me many questions about my job and my experiences in my career. He said that I was an "old soul" and "interesting" for my age. I blushed at this.

We finished the bottle of wine and I helped him clean up the kitchen. I noticed he would stand very close to me at any given moment. I suppose I didn't mind. He smelled like citrus and sandalwood.

After I loaded and started the dishwasher, he clapped his hands together, "Would you like to see some of my albums from my travels?" he asked.

"Absolutely!" I answered. I started to feel lighter and my inhibitions lowered with all of the wine.

I followed him down the hallway and into a room he had turned into a den. He had floor-to-ceiling oak bookshelves lined with books and vinyl. A record player sat in the corner where the jazz record was still playing. A large oak desk sat in front of the window. A plush rug extended out from under the desk. A large black faux leather love set lined one of the walls. He had a cigar humidor and a small bar along the other wall.

He went over to the victrola and changed the record, a man with a sultry voice started singing in Italian. I became distracted by his books. I was pulled away from my browsing when he put his hand on my shoulder. I looked up to him handing me a whisky glass. The smell was strong, woody with hints of chocolate.

"Straight from the barrel," he stated taking a swig from his glass.

I took a drink and let the flavors play on my tongue before swallowing, "Oh wow, that's delicious!" I took another long drink. He pulled a black picture album from one of the shelves and sat down on the loveseat. He patted the seat beside him and I sat down, finishing my whiskey.

We spent around 20 minutes examining his beautiful pictures. They ranged from Polaroids to HD shots. I was fascinated by the outfits and how the places had changed over the decades. I was enjoying talking to him and listening to his random facts about different places. I feel like I was looking at him like a child who was admiring their favorite person. His voice was so smooth and mesmerizing.

He stood up after closing the album and put our glasses away before turning over the record. A new song started, it was slow and sweet. He quietly began singing in Italian.

Suddenly, I had a tingling sensation in my hands and feet. My body felt like when your limbs fall asleep and are trying to wake up. I thought that was strange but tried not to feel alarmed. He began singing louder. He walked over to me and held out his hand. My mouth suddenly felt like it was full of sand and I gulped hard trying to produce saliva.

I took his hand and stood up. Immediately I began to feel hot. Was I getting sick? I tried to shake away the feeling. I became focused on his singing as he pulled me close to dance with me. His hand was on my lower back and his other hand held mine delicately.

As if all at once, my vision became sharper. The textures of the clothes on my body, the feeling of his shirt on my palms, his fingers interlaced in mine- became amplified. I feel like the music volume was maximized. I felt his breath on my ear as he sang. I began to panic, something was wrong.

I pushed him away roughly but he held onto my hand, "I...I don't feel well. Something is wrong." Panic rose in my voice.

His face never changed and he didn't skip a beat, "Miss Grey, you're fine, you're safe, " he cooed.

My mind was going a million miles a second it seemed and the room was vibrating, "Please, I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well, I need some water, " I croaked.

He pets my hair and ran his hand down my back. His touch made me feel tingly in a good way, electrifying. It caught me off guard.

"Here, set down, I'll get you some water." He led me to the couch and sat me down like a child. I felt like my eyes were saucers. He slipped out the door and shut it behind him. That made me jump. I had to lie down.

I laid back, feeling incredibly hot. The song changed and it made me feel like I needed to move my body. Without control, I started moving my feet and moving my shoulders to the rhythm. I closed my eyes and felt the music radiate through my body. I felt like an hour passed in one second.

"Here's your water, Miss Grey." I heard Griff's voice penetrate my ears. My eyes snapped open and he was standing over me with a tall glass.

I sat up and wiped my forehead. There was no perspiration but I felt incredibly hot. I took the water from him and he sat down beside me. I chugged it but didn't feel satiated. He sat the glass down out of the way. I put my head in my hands, the room was still vibrating and I felt like I couldn't speak. I felt his hand on my back. He began rubbing it and playing with the ends of my hair.

I tried to flinch away but to no avail. "I need to go, I'm sorry. I feel very sick." I tried to stand up but he grabbed my waist and sat me back down.

"You should stay right here and let me make sure you're okay."

I started to panic again. I noticed he shut the door behind him, "I think I need to go." I stated as firmly as I could.

"You don't want to," he whispered. He leaned closer to me, his hands caressed my face, and moved my hair out of my eyes. He leaned in and put his lips to mine. The feeling of his soft lips on me felt like a shock. My body screamed for more but my mind was confused. I tried to pull away but he held me firmly by the shoulders.

I pulled back my head, his face was so close to mine. I could see some of his age around his eyes and mouth, but truthfully, he didn't look 55 at all. His grin was wicked, and his eyes looked devilish. The blue seemed icier than I remembered.

"Did you drug me?" I gasped having a realization that I should have had minutes ago.

"Don't tell me you've never done ecstasy?" he chuckled.

I wanted to cry, but couldn't. The sensation of his body so close to mine made me feel eager. Before I could answer, he was on me. He pushed me back by my shoulders and put his legs on either side of me. He was kissing me aggressively, his hands pawing at me. As much as I wanted to scream, cry, or push him away, I couldn't. Any touch to my body made me want to squeal with excitement. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before.

I had done drugs before when I was an undergrad. I did take mushrooms one time but this was nothing like that. I had been offered Molly but never tried it. I knew what people said about ecstasy, that it was amazing, that if you had sex you'd never want to have sex without it again.

I could feel the wetness in my panties, but I didn't want this. Or did I? This man had taken advantage of me. Plain and simple.

He pulled my dress up over my face. I began to thrash but he was much bigger than me so I knew it was pointless. He grabbed my hands and held them together. I felt him putting something around them, tying them together with a soft rope. Panic set back inside of me.

"No please." I squeaked.

He removed my bra as I wiggled my dress off my face. He began pinching my nipples. They were so hard and had never been so sensitive before. I began to think this was actually what my nipples should feel like when being stimulated.

He slapped my right tit hard. "You know you want this, " he growled. His voice lost its softness and had turned domineering.

"I won't tell anyone." I attempted to plead. I secretly almost wanted him to give attention to my other breast.

And that's exactly what he did, his eyes flashed with his smile, and he sucked and bit at my left nipple while rolling the right one between his fingers. A moan escaped my lips. I didn't know my body could feel this way or get this turned on, especially for something not consensual.

"Just relax, Miss Grey, " he purred. He pulled my dress over my head leaving me exposed. My red thong was dripping with my juices. He leaned down on me, his face beside mine, and his lips tickled my ear. His hand cupped my vagina. He chuckled, "You're so fucking wet."

The feeling of his hand on my pussy made me feel wild. I began to grind my hips unconsciously. It felt so fucking good. He began to whisper something in Italian while teasing the outside of my pussy. My breathing became heavy. I couldn't deny it was the hottest thing I've experienced. I had never been with anyone that could speak another language.

"What did you say?" I breathed, my eyes closed as colors danced behind my eyelids.

"I said, 'I'm going to fuck you and make you cum'," he whispered as his fingers slipped into my panties. He kept whispering in Italian. As soon as his fingers touched my clit I thought I would levitate off the couch. My back arched and I yelped.

"Please tell me what you're saying," I begged catching his eyes as he leaned back to rip off my panties. Legitimately, he ripped them at the seam of my leg. He held my eyes as he worked my clit in a circular motion. My mouth was hung open and my breath came out in shallow pants.