My Girls Next Door

MyGirlsNext Door

Note to the Reader: This novella encompasses 40 book pages (4 chapters, 20,000 words), with all 4 chapters published here.

Chapter 1

Sue Bradley lived with her mother and two very cute daughters in the marginally maintained, post WWII rancher on the lot south of my old farmhouse. As close as I could tell, she was divorced and both those kids were his, whoever he had been. But maybe there really was no ex at all. In those days you couldn't always tell because out-of-wedlock pregnancy still carried quite a load of unsavory stigma, and even myth was better than that. But twice? Her kids certainly weren't twins.

I never saw him around, you know taking those girls for weekend 'custody with Daddy time' or anything like that. Maybe he had died or been killed, but I suspected he'd simply abandoned the two of them, their mother, and their grandmother.

Raising two daughters? Well, that's a full time job, even with a good man helping out. I don't know what they lived on. Maybe Sue's mother got some social security as well as her minimum wage from bussing tables at Swifty's Pizza over on Washington Avenue.

For short periods I'd see evidence Sue was working, then later not working, then after a while, working again. Off-handedly at our common mailbox stand one day, I asked how work was going, only to learn she'd had to quit. Seemed with her mother working as well, meant she had to put her girls in daycare, and once she paid that, so little remained she was far better off to quit, take welfare, and spend the time helping her girls grow up instead. Tough situation. I could tell she preferred to work, but what could she do? I didn't ask again, but I observed the continuing work-quit-work-quit-work cycle from my vantage point next door.

I've always been one of those handyman type guys, working on my vehicles or welding up something in my shop. So I guess Sue and her mother figured I might have use for the furnace oil tank taking up space in their basement after they converted to natural gas. It was one of those 325 gallon oval ones most people used during the heyday of oil heat. It took up lots of basement space, and overall it made sense they wanted it out of there.

But what a situation! No way in hell to get it up the stairs and out of the house in one piece, and a mess--and dangerous--to cut up and remove piece-by-piece. But as a result of scoping out that job, I got a brief look inside their home. It looked mostly inexpensive normal for a young woman, two kids, and grandma on minimum wage. I decided to pass on the tank; nothing in if for me, and a fair amount of risk. Last thing I wanted was an explosive fire that left them with no place to live, and me possibly lying dead on their basement floor. After all, the tank was benevolent as it sat, although remaining an annoying space waster.

I had long before noted that Sue, although not blessed with a ravishing beauty's face, wasn't homely by a long shot, and filled a pair of tight jeans and a blouse quite nicely. Her kids made no nuisance of themselves--unlike many of the neighborhood spawn--so that, too, worked in Sue's favor. But there was the nagging matter of her missing ex. Three years out of college, I'd already dated a few divorcees, and quickly discovered most of them carried around much more old baggage than just their kids. I'll never know if their ex's deserved it--lots probably did--but many outright hated the guy they'd promised to love, honor, and obey 'til death do us part. Being a guy, I had troubles enough understanding women without looking for additional grief in places where it had already shown itself likely.

Sue's driveway--or should I say, that of her mother--entered their lot somewhat shrouded from my place by a hedge and stub fence. So usually where they parked, I could only see the rear corner of their car. But one morning the car sat closer to the street, so it caught my attention as I headed out for work. The flat tire had gotten them somewhat closer to the street before being discovered. The car, a big, well worn Ford product, remained thus for the next two days, only to stand on three legs with a jack under the fourth corner the following day.

That evening my doorbell rang.

"Hi," Sue said, her voice pleasant, but obviously frustrated.

"Hi, yourself. Car troubles?" She hadn't gotten that dark smudge on her arm cooking supper.

"Damned flat tire."

"Oh, I thought you were doing a jack test over there. Can I help?"

"Would you please? I can't get the nuts loose to get the wheel off." Her smile broke with the taint of her frustration.

"Sure. Know what size wrench it takes?"

Sue gave me one of those you expect a woman to know that? looks. I sort of smirked to let her know having that answer wasn't critical to her evening project's success.

"I'll meet you over there in a few minutes with wrenches?" I said.

"I'll help you bring them over if you'll let me."

"Sure." I mean, why not? I had no secrets in my shop, or my house--or my pickup truck, for that matter.

She followed me through the living room, kitchen, and out the back door into my garage/shop. Odd, I thought, how close she followed, not quite bumping into me, but not lagging much behind either, like a woman normally would. Well, what of it? I didn't really mind.

I tossed two jacks, some cribbing blocks, wrenches, and the other likely-needed tools into my truck, invited her to ride over with me, and we went. All of a hundred yards, maybe. Ridiculous, I know, but we just had too many pieces to hand-carry in one trip. At the other end we piled out, and I'll have to say this for Sue, she chipped right in and helped carry the stuff to where we needed it.

"Thirteen-sixteenths," I said, sticking the appropriate size wrench socket on my flex handle socket driver.

No wonder she couldn't get that wheel loose. The wrench handle I had was at least half again longer than her OEM Ford wrench lying next to the wheel, and still I had to give it almost all the strength I had before even the easiest nut turned loose. Damn those tire shops and their air-wrench carelessness about over-tightening wheel nuts! But soon we had success, the tire off, and ready to get fixed.

"So what next?" I said.

"Spare's flat, too, so I guess wait for tomorrow morning and take it to Montie's Tire over on Dentry Avenue. It's the closest, I think."

"How you getting it over there?"

"Roll it, I guess."

"That's a half mile, at least."

Sue looked up at me with no other way written on her face.

"Come on. If we hurry, we can still get to Evergreen Tire before they close. They're no farther and I think they're open 'til seven."

"Mr. Strong, I don't want to put you out."

"Not putting me out." I mean, how could a handyman guy like me be put out by a little thing like this damsel in distress? "Come on. Get in while I put this in back."

At the tire shop, though, we discovered her situation wasn't so simply solved. Not only was her tire's tread worn well below government mandated limits, but its casing was failing as well. So, business liability insurance, company policy, and DOT regulations being what they were, left Sue with no usable tire for her car. When they quoted her a new, budget-level tire, I saw her cringe. Even the price quote for a good used tire caused a wince. She looked up at me with Help? Suggestions? on her face.

Well, here was my chance to prove myself a worthy knight in shining armor.

"I may have a usable tire that size at home. Let's take this wheel back and see. There, Sue, pay the man for removing your old tire and we'll go check."

"But, even if you have one, they'll be closed before we can get back."

"Yes, but we'll see."

Well that worked out well all around. They didn't charge Sue for stripping the dead tire off her wheel. Maybe it had something to do with them recognizing me as one of their many times, repeat customers. I had no tire machine in my shop, but I sweated my stiff, half-worn tire onto her wheel the old fashioned way: tire irons, soap, and lots of grunts and swear words. So we--Sue, I mean--had a workable solution. She pretty much took over reinstalling the wheel once I got the tire and wheel back to her Ford. I only watched, thinking all the time it's really nice to see a woman who doesn't just throw up her hands in the face of minor adversity and expect a fix handed to her on a silver platter.

"There,' she said once the last wheel nut was on and tightened as best she could. "Check those, will you please?"

I gave them a quick check, and all five were plenty tight. "Good," I said, nodding as I looked up at her.

"So if they're tight enough, now, then why couldn't I get them loose before?"

"Tire shops get careless and over tighten them. Sometimes I think they do that so they can rake in another road service call."

"That's expensive, right?"

I nodded and turned to getting her car off the jack. By the time her Ford again sat on all four of its rightful wheels, she had my blocks, jacks, and tools back in my pickup.

"Come on," she said. "I'll help you put this stuff away."

Of course we had little to put away, but having Sue around was making the evening interesting, to say the least.

Once the tools, jacks, and blocks were stowed in my shop, she turned to me. "What do I owe you, Matt?"

"Nothing," I said, then corrected myself, "except your thanks and a smile."

"Smiles are nice, but I owe you far more than that. How about thanks, a smile, and a kiss?" What was that look in her eyes? Far more than merely a smile, I'll tell you. She took my hand and pulled me to her.

And that kiss said far more than just thank you for fixing my car up with your old tire! Maybe I'd misjudged this lanky, mother-of-two, neighbor woman. The next kiss, and the one that followed carried the same flavor as the first, and it wasn't merely Spearmint or Juicy Fruit.

Sue looked into my eyes, her smile now lingering--more like anticipation. For her next kiss she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pressed her breasts against my chest. Yes, tongue down my throat and everything.

When she broke her kiss, she pulled back enough to look up into my eyes. Her smile for the future still lingered.

"You know? I've wanted to do that since the first time I saw you."

I just smiled a little. I couldn't remember the first time I saw her, but it must have been at least two years ago.

"How come you never asked me out? You already got a girl, right?"

I shook my head. I dated, but so far found nothing I hoped might become serious.

"Why, then? Am I that sorry looking? I know my face isn't Hollywood gorgeous, but doesn't my figure make up for it? Some, at least?"

"You look fine. And you kiss fine. You got nice kids, and your mother seems nice, too."

"Oh, I get it, then. You like boys better, right?"

"No." I chuckled and shook my head. "Nothing like that, believe me!"

"Then why not?"

"Sue... well... I don't know much about you, and I didn't want to impose. I was raised out- of-town in a rural area where privacy means something."

"How you gonna find out if you never talk to me? The most you ever said was when you came over about the oil tank, and then tonight. Sure, you wave politely when you see me in the yard, but driving by you never stop and say hello, or anything."

"I... just...."

"Just what? Come out and say it. We're both adults here."

All this time she still held herself against my chest, looking up at me. And no doubt, I wanted more of her pressed against me.

"I didn't want to get between you and your boyfriend."

"Bruce? My Ex?" she said with a refined snort.

I nodded.

"He's out of the picture--completely. Haven't seen or talked to him since I told him I was pregnant the second time." The way she said this sounded as if exiting had been entirely his choice.

I raised my eyebrows, took a brave step, and asked about the other cars I'd seen in her driveway.

"Well, I figured if you weren't going to ask me out, I should at least look around, check the market and availability, you know."

I nodded.

"I'm not a slut, Mr. Strong. But sometimes I sure do need to talk to someone besides Mom, my girls and whoever I might be working with at the time."

I continued to nod. Her tone carried a touch of desperation.

"Okay then," I said. "Shall we go sit and talk and get acquainted a little? In the house, I mean?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

I leaned toward the house and led her that direction by my hand against the small of her back. But her hand reached back and took mine. I'm none too certain who led who from there on.

Yes, we sat, we talked, and we got acquainted--a little history of how at age sixteen she ended up with a daughter, and another daughter eleven months later--for about fifteen minutes. But each minute that passed, the fact Sue was a woman and I was a man dominated more of my thoughts. I'm not sure of the relative cause vs. effect ratio, but I was pretty sure she felt the same.

She reached for my hand as she slid across the sofa toward me, resulting in another quite welcome kiss--which led to many more. As you can easily predict, we talked less and less, but learned more and more about each other just the same.

I suppose we'd been on this track for half an hour, when suddenly she pulled up her watch.

"Oh, gosh. I got carried away with you! I gotta get home and make supper for my girls. Mom's working tonight. I'm sorry."

Well, I wasn't. Fondling Sue was something I'd gladly do anytime--well, 'most any time.

"Matt? I sure would like you to ask me out sometime soon--like tomorrow night, maybe? Mom doesn't have to work."

What could I say to that? Huh? I just fondled and kissed you and you're rotten at both? Not on your life!

"Okay, you want to go out, then? Tomorrow night?" After all, that would be Thursday, and I seldom did anything Thursday evenings but putter in my shop. "What you want to do?" I know the guy is supposed to plan this all out before asking, but our situation had left little time for planning.

"Whatever you want." The way she said whatever left the definition entirely up to me. "What were you going to do before I pressured you into asking me out?"

"Work in my shop, I suppose."

"Then how about we work in your shop. I'd love to see what you do all the time you spend out there."

"Not much, really. At least nothing earthshaking."

She stood, edging toward the door, and took my hand again.

"Okay, we got a date to do nothing earthshaking and see where that leads."

Sue pulled me to her and kissed me, leaving me certain if I got even one kiss like that tomorrow evening, the Earth would shake in spite of itself.

***

We didn't spend long in my shop the following evening. The project I had spread all over the workbench was a quickie set of wall-hung shelves for my secondary bathroom, and Sue just had to see where I planned to hang it. The hallway to that bathroom led right past my bedroom, and without my telling you, I'm sure you can guess where we went next.

I don't know what Sue did that lost her ex-husband, but unless he was totally stupid, she had learned a lot in those intervening years about what's important to a man and why. She had learned so much, in fact, I almost missed her cue when at my bedroom door, she said, "In here, Matt. Show me what you've done in here."

As I led her into the bedroom, she held my elbow, turning me to face her. She stood on her toes and gave me another of those forget everything but me kisses like last night. Without breaking that kiss, she tipped off her shoes and pulled me to the bed, and onto it.

Amongst the confusion I found myself lying on her, hoping I wasn't overplaying my response.

"Sorry, Sue," I said."

"Why? I've wanted you here like this ever since the first time I saw you."

I gave her my Oh, that again? raised eyebrows look.

"You could take off my blouse, you know. I hope I won't need it for a while."

So I did, button by button, enjoying every moment of it.

"Push it off over my shoulders," she said, so I did. Those breast tops so revealed didn't disappoint me. God, they were nice!

"Now, my bra. Just unclip the front but let my breasts still be shy and hide from you a moment yet."

I did.

"You could slip you hands in around them and hold them, though. I'd like that."

I did. Why not? They were so soft and warm--motherly--I wanted to stick my face between them for just a moment and feel welcome to do so.

"I like that, Matt. Why don't you push my bra out of your way now, chose one, and suck it? I know I'll like you doing that."

Again, why fight the inevitable? The one I chose, her left one with the smaller, more pointed nipple, was just as wonderful as I hoped.

"You like that, Matt?"

"Ooh, you know I do!"

"Good. Then go ahead and rub your whole face in them, okay?"

My answer was to do just that.

"Um," she moaned.

"Okay?" I sure hoped so!

"Feels so good, Honey. You don't mind if I call you that, do you? It just seems natural."

"I like it. Just like I like these."

"I'd like it even better if you touched me farther down."

After I looked up and kissed her, I squirmed around so I could reach between her legs. My touch to her clit caused a shudder.

"Okay?"

"Oh, yes! But more, please?"

I took her clit between my fingers and rolled the end of it in a gentle squeeze. She jerked away form me.

"Not good?"

"Too good. I never felt that before."

"So?"

"Do that again, please. But be gentler this time, until I get used to it."

I did, she moaned, and as I increased my pressure against the end of it, her moans increased in both volume and urgency. Guess I'd found the right combination.

The time had come; I had to ask the big question: What about not making more babies?

"It's fine, Matt. I got my tubes tied after Janette. So unless you think I might have VD or HIV, we can go bareback. That's what I always dream about with you anyway."

I guess she'd just answered the question whether or not she'd have sex with me!

"Have I got reason to worry about you and VD?"

"No, Matt. I have gone out, but never found anybody I liked well enough to get that close. Only now; only with you."

"Sorry. Had to ask."

"Glad you did. You're a gentleman, Matt. And a gentleman would ask."

That seemed to satisfy her. She reached over, grasped the end of my penis, and raked her finger across the end of it. It was my turn to shudder.

"Too much?" she said.

"Just right--and unexpected."

"Good. I always want to be just right for you. Would it be just right if I turned around so I can suck you?" She didn't wait for an answer. In a moment that breast I'd been worshiping pulled away, and my sense of belonging transferred to my quite ready erection. As she sucked the end of it into her mouth, I moaned.

"I guess that means good?" she said between sucks.

"Uh huh!"

She continued to that point where time and place all jumble together. Damn, she did that so well! Just lie there with her on me and let all of the wonders of the world float by. I knew this couldn't last, but while it did, I sure as hell didn't want anything to come along and screw it all up.

"Would it be all right, Matt, it I turned around so you can do 69s on me?"

My answer was to help her, if that's what she intended. I ended up with a mouth wrapped around my penis--full suction on--and a face full of quite nice pussy. I pushed just enough to bring her clit down within reach of my tongue.

"Oooh!" she moaned as she wriggled her mound against my face."Do that again, Baby! I love that! Hell, I love you! Ooh, so wonderful!"