No(I)Sey Neighbor

Part one of a two part story.

It's Friday afternoon and I can't wait to hit the shower and rinse away dust and dirt I've collected at three job sites today. I work for the city as a safety inspector. Long days of dealing with people who have an innate distrust of me and want me gone as quick as possible. Not the most rewarding job, but it more than pays the bills.

After entering the house, I make my way to the master and strip off, dropping everything into a bamboo hamper that is reserved for my clothes, so that none of my fiancée Sandy's good work clothes will get ruined. Opening the closet, I grab some boxers, shorts and a tank top, stopping to touch the tuxedo bag hanging beside the shelves. Two weeks from the next day, I'm taking the big plunge and marrying my girlfriend of nine years.

When I met Sandy, I was a twenty nine year old sower of wild oats, and did well. I'm six foot two and keep myself in great shape with exercise and diet. My only downfall is I like to get my drink on when the weekend comes around. I met Sandy on a site as she was dropping off papers to a client for the law firm she works at. After she handed the package to the man and left, for some reason, I excused myself to him, turned and ran across the site, catching up to her near the entrance.

"Excuse me!" I called out.

She stopped and half turned, flipping her long auburn hair back over her head with her left arm, giving me a generous view of all her assets in profile. "Yes?"

"Ma'am, my name is Greg Birch, and I just needed you to know, in case no one else had told you today, that you are one of the most stunning of God's creations."

"Well, Mr. Birch, thank you for letting me know. I'll be sure to add that to my resume." She then raised an eyebrow, silently asking if there was more, or if that was all I had.

"You should." I gave her my best bashful smile. "Have you ever played 'would you rather'?"

"Ah, yeah..."

"So would you rather go out to dinner with me on Saturday or go on a picnic in Grayson Park on Sunday?" I asked.

"Pretty gutsy of a construction guy, just assuming a lady is single and just waiting to be picked up during the execution of her work duties. Does your model come with those balls, or do you rent them by the week?"

I started laughing, causing her to do the same. "Actually I work for the city, and it's not balls, I'm just smart enough to know that if a lady literally takes your breath away, follow her and try and get it back. Or trade it for her name, her number, something."

"Did I really take your breath away?" she asked, one hand on her hip.

"Yes Ma'am. You also made the hair on my arms stand on end and gave me a tingling sensation between my shoulder blades and up the back of my neck. I took that as a sign."

She scoffed. "I will offer you a trade. Stop calling me Ma'am, you are making me feel like a feeble old crone. My name is Sandra, but everyone calls me Sandy."

I took that as a victory. She picked the picnic. I worked hard to show her how head over heels I was about her. She had just come out of a long-term relationship, so the going was slow, but she finally admitted to me around the four-month mark that I had completely won her heart. We moved in together two months later, and bought a house a year after that.

Fixing up our little home was a labor of love for both of us. Sandy was a hard worker and never shied away from our weekend projects, rather researched and asked questions during the week so that we could dive in and finish our tasks in good time. In the spring of year four, we had a pool put in and spent a couple of months building a stone patio and landscaping. Just as our yard redo was finishing up, we had a new neighbor move in next door. It was pretty funny actually, as our fence is only a little over five feet high, but we would see the tops of boxes floating through the air to the back of the house. Sandy surmised that perhaps we had ghosts moving in beside us. A minute later two little hands popped up above the fence line and loud, mournful moans emanated as the hands made their way back to the street. We both started laughing.

"C'mon" I said to Sandy and we went out front to introduce ourselves. We rounded the back of the big moving truck just as this tiny, dark haired pixie was jumping down out of the box. I held out a hand and introduced myself, then Sandy. Instead of a handshake, she grabbed a box and pushed it into my chest.

"I'm Deedee. Through the back and into the kitchen. The boxes are almost done but I'm going to need your help with the furniture." Sandy started laughing, reveling in the shocked look on my face, until a bigger box was thrust at her.

"You guys are the first two to show up for the moving party, so you get to open the top shelf liquor box with me tonight," she said with a wink and a smile.

"Where are the movers?" I asked.

"It's just us for right now sunshine" she said, picking up another box and leading the way.

"Well, who drove the truck?" I asked confused.

"I did. And, with you guys helping I can get it back hours early, saving me a bundle. Now let's go people!" Sandy and I just looked at each other and shrugged.

We did get the truck unloaded fairly quickly, and she returned the truck by 2pm. She had thought it would be an after-hours drop off. She invited us for dinner and drinks at five to thank us for our help. Deedee was a year older than me and was a nurse at a small local hospital, explaining her ease of bossing people around. All three of us got loaded that night, and it was evident that this little dynamo could handle her liquor. And your liquor. And probably everybody else's liquor. She and Sandy became inseparable almost immediately. Bar nights. Morning coffee. Day off meals. Deedee even went to the Dominican with us two years ago. They were always together.

When I proposed to Sandy, you would have thought Deedee was the bride with the amount of energy and time she put into the planning of the wedding. Then about four weeks ago, I arrived in the home one night to Sandy in tears, being consoled by her sister, Charlene. At first, I thought someone had died, until I saw all the wedding stuff spread all over the table. Sandy and Deedee had a fight and the latter was out as Maid of Honor, to be replaced by Char. When I asked Sandy what had happened with Dee, she said she didn't even want to hear her name. I knew that it wasn't a trivial tiff or a misunderstanding.

It was strange the first couple of days without Deedee around. Her car was gone when I got up and I would only hear her pull in at night. I knew better than to stick my nose in their business. It was best to let them work it out on their own. I did miss Deedee's energy though.

The real cost of all of this was in the bedroom. I have never been one to pressure or beg a woman for sex and intimacy. Sandy and I have always had a regular, varied and unforced sex life. But since the onset of wedding planning, it had slowed down a bit. Since the fight, it was non-existent. Sandy was on the laptop and phone from the time she got home, which was usually late after some wedding related task, until her face hit the pillow. Even trying to get a hug out of her in the morning was like a trial of Hercules. I was now looking forward to having the marriage ceremony behind us so that things could get back to normal.

Last Thursday I got a call from Cindy, one of the paralegals that works with Sandy. She explained that a bunch of girls from work had organized a lake house weekend bachelorette party for Sandy the next weekend. She said she knows it was last minute, but wanted my help keeping her home life schedule clear. I agreed, knowing that a relaxing weekend of partying was just what my fiancée needed. Cindy said that it was going to be a surprise and that Char would come pack a bag for Sandy on Friday morning.

As I stood in the walk in closet, I noticed that the small suitcase was indeed gone. There didn't appear to be a lot of clothes gone, but the back shelf that usually held bathing suits and lingerie had been raided quite liberally. Oh well, girls will be girls.

After my shower, I made a big salad with some left over chicken breast chunked up in it and opened my laptop to catch up on messages and emails. I had opened a window in front earlier, but it wasn't pulling a draft, so I opened the sliding doors at the back. I could hear country music playing softly next door, indicating that Deedee was a) home, and b) drinking out back. That was usually the only time she had music on.

I finished my salad, grabbed a six pack from the basement fridge and made my way out the front to the gate into Dee Dee's yard. I was almost as close to Dee as Sandy was. Whatever passed between them, it wouldn't effect my friendship with her until I knew what went down. I missed my friend.

"Knock knock!" I called out before rounding the corner, giving her a chance to warn me off if she wasn't decent. No answer came. Dee was sitting in an Adirondack chair, legs crossed, flip flop bouncing to the beat of the music, but not a fun bounce, nervous, aggressive.

"Greg, what's wrong?" I could instantly tell she was a few drinks in and her eyes told me she had gotten high as well. She saw my beer and continued. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were coming to drink. I gotta warn you, I might not be the best company. But, you are welcome to stay and drink. Pull up a log."

I moved another chair close to hers. I looked her over. She wasn't looking herself at all. She usually wore her jet-black hair about an inch and a half long, short enough to fit in a surgical cap, long enough to be able to style it different if she was going out. Today it was short - less than half an inch. And, even in the fading light I could see the first hints of salt and pepper up front. She had bags under her eyes and her face was a bit slack - she had lost a bit of weight. The most striking thing I noticed was how pale she was. By this time of the summer, she was usually pretty dark with stark bikini lines. The tan also accentuated a line of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. It was still faint.

"I don't know Dee, what's the proper distance etiquette when drinking with a Vampire?" She snorted and smiled. There, ice broken.

"I've been working a lot of extra shifts. Not a lot of me time. How are you doing? I can put the fire pit on if your feet are starting to get cold?"

My turn to smile and blush. "No, I'm good. I'll just be glad when all this is over and the stress is over for Sandy."

"I bet. Bachelorette weekend?" I nodded. "So you came to drink with the old lady next door while your bride to be is away? Why Greg, you will have people talking."

"It's just too bad that you two couldn't patch things up before this weekend. It would have been nice for you to be there."

Deedee chuffed at this. "Uh, yeah, trust me, that lake house is the last place I want to be right now."

"Dee, I don't know what happened between you guys, but..." I started.

"I really just can't get into this tonight, Greg. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't bring you into it, and I won't. You are an innocent in this situation." She leant over and grabbed the vodka bottle beside her feet. I thought she was going to mix another drink, but she tucked it under her arm, picked up her mix and started to get up.

I put my hand on her arm to ease her back into her seat. "Look, Deedee, if that's the way it is, I guess I can respect that, but I don't want to cut you out of my life because of something Sandy got offended about. I thought the three of us were friends. Like you just said, I'm an innocent, I shouldn't be punished here."

She stared at me for a few second, then her eyes started to well up, and she started shaking her head. "No you shouldn't. You don't deserve that. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Greg."

"I understand if you said you want to keep me out of it, but have you talked it through with anybody? From my vantage point, you are genuinely upset about it and Sandy is just pissed. But then again that is her go to demeanor these days. I just want my woman back, not this bridezilla thing."

Deedee closed her eyes and started sobbing, covering her face with her hands. I got up and went to my knees in front of her chair. I took her by the wrists and pulled her into a hug, her tears soaking my t-shirt. I put a hand on the back of her head and rubbed the area above the nape of her neck. She tried to speak, but choked on the word. "Ssshh. Just let it all out. If I don't know what happened I can't help. But I can hold you and let you know that I love you and I miss you."

I felt her arms snake around my chest, and hug my tighter. "She doesn't deserve you Greg. Neither of us do," she said, barely a whisper.

I let go of her and pushed her back, taking her face in my hands and wiping tears off of her freckle line. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Forget I said it. You are just such a good guy, and it seems there are less and less like you every day." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and then looked down at the slimy trail it left. She smiled and turned her hand towards me. "Are you sure you can handle all this sexy all by yourself?"

I laughed. "Yeah. There is no place I would rather be tonight." I stood up, and pulled my chair right next to hers and opened a fresh beer. "I was kinda hoping that you had used your extra time these last few weeks to find a man. No fresh meat at the hospital?"

"Nope. And besides that, I like my meat aged." She slid her hand under mine and we laced fingers. Nothing weird, nothing we hadn't done a hundred times before. Both Sandy and I were always conscious of Deedee rough exterior hiding someone who has struggled with loneliness, so we made a point of being physically comfortable with her. Lots of hugs, holding hands, hell I've even been known to give both ladies foot rubs at the same time on our huge L shaped sectional while watching TV. I gave her hand a squeeze and she roused me from my thoughts.

"Greg. Thank you for tonight. I needed some company to keep myself out of my head. You really are a good friend."

"I could tell by the old country music. And, both Sandy and I are. You guys just have to get over whatever high school bullshit you think is keeping you apart and stop acting like brats." I turned to look at her, wanting to see her reaction.

She had turned and was staring at me. "Is that what you think? That this is all over something trivial?" she said, almost sounding angry. "Jesus, Greg, you've really got no clue."

"No I don't. No one will tell me what is going on. The two most important people to me in the world aren't speaking. To me or each other. If I ask you, you get sad and distant. If I ask her, she gets irate when I even say your name and gets pissed at me for the rest of the evening. I don't know whose side to take here Dee."

She took a big drink. "I'm sorry, Greg. Sometimes broken is just broken. You really need to stop pushing."

"Pushing? I haven't even started to push. I've been being the nice guy, remember. But I'm going to tell you this once, Dee. You don't need to go back to being her bestie, or reclaim the maid of honor thing, but you will be at my wedding, weather you fix it, or weather I fix it. Understood?" She just stared straight ahead, and then was starting to shake her head again. That was it I had had enough.

I stood up and pulled her up out of her seat, bringing a squeal from her. I pulled her a couple of feet to the other side of the fire pit, where she had two short benches so people could ring the fire. I plopped down onto one and pulled her down, then used my right leg to take her feet out from under her. I let go of her wrist and pulled her across my lap, then pinned her down with my left arm as she kicked and squirmed, threatening me in every way known to man.

All that was silenced, when my right palm connected with her ass violently. She stiffened, her neck shot out straight, and she got that look on her face that dogs sometimes get when they are straining to take a really big shit. She hadn't been expecting that. The second slap on the other cheek broke her trance and she yelped.

"What the fuck Greg! Let me up! Fuck!" The squirming continued, but I had a hundred and ten pounds and almost a foot and a half on her. She wasn't going anywhere.

I landed another slap, this one evenly across the bottom of both cheeks. Instead of a squeal, this time it was more of a whimper. I leaned down to my left, close to her face. "Here's how it's going to work Deirdre. I'm going to keep slapping your ass until you stop acting like a brat and tell me what happened between you. Once you tell me, I let you up. So from here on out, it's on you." I levelled a fairly hard swat that made my hand smart bad, so I can't imagine how it must have felt to her." Tell me!"

"No. Fuck you!" she cursed through clenched teeth. I hit her again and she just grunted. When I swung the next time, my aim missed because she started squirming, and my palm missed her ass completely and she took a shot square on the pussy. Two things happened simultaneously. When my palm connected, enough liquid splattered that I could feel it hit my leg, leading me to believe she had peed herself. At the same time, Deedee let out a deep, guttural moan and involuntarily ground her crotch back against my hand as it rested where it hit. It was then that I realized it wasn't urine. It was also then that I realized that I had gone from zero to sixty on the erection scale in seconds, and I was in danger of it flipping this tiny woman backwards over my head.

After a short moment of embarrassment, shame and confusion on both our parts, Deedee said " Greg you have to let me up." The fight was out of her voice. It was a flat statement of need.

"Tell me what happened."

"I can't."

"No. You can. It's just that you won't. But I'm not going to hit you again."

"Thank god. That was fucked up!"

What she didn't know was that I wasn't going to hit her again, but I was far from done. The four fingers of my left hand were still cupping her soaked crotch. I lifted my pinky to the side, using it to keep her legs slightly spread, then began to apply pressure with the other three fingers until I could feel that they were nestled between her labia. I was now pretty sure she wasn't wearing panties, just the cotton shorts. Once I was in her channel, I worked my way down until I found their junction. When I made contact with her clit, she knew it. I knew it. All of the neighbors, three houses over in any direction knew it. "Oh, Greg!" It was almost animal.

"I gave you every chance to tell me. Now you are going get punished for real." I started rubbing my fingers in circles, slow and round. Her short were soaked and saturated in seconds. And they were getting in the way. I stopped my ministrations and yanked them down over her ass, it being made easier by Deedee planting her toes on the ground and lifting her butt up. And it was a beautiful thing, muscles all taught from the lift, a rosy red color from the beating it had taken. I cupped her left cheek in my hand, squeezing her firm ass flesh and making her moan again. "Well this doesn't seem to be much of a punishment, does it? You seem to be enjoying yourself too much, aren't you, you little minx? " I returned my fingers to her pussy, feeling the extent of how wet she was without the hindrance of the cotton in the way.

Within seconds, I had a good rhythm going and she was uttering a medley of 'Don't', 'unhh' and 'aahh' in time to my fingertips sliding on and off of her clit. I wanted nothing more in the world than to flip her over, throw her in the chair then fall to my knees and worship this little pixies hot twat with my tongue. But I was supposed to be forcing her to tell me what happened. I almost didn't care anymore. Not about the secret. Not about Sandy. Not about the wedding. Not anything. Except this gorgeous ass I was staring at while I played with the pleasure button hidden underneath it. I knew that if I actually saw said pussy instead of just feeling it, I would be lost.