Sylvan Courtyard: Ch. 02 - Settling In

"Jesse will, if no one else," Jane replied.

"Ohh, yeah!" Rhonda added with a grin. "Maybe he'll dive in and be her hero, and he'll finally get a girl in his life."

They might be lesbians, but the two of them went Full Girl for a few moments, writing a complete RomCom between them in their heads about Jesse and Becky.

"Maybe one of us should shove her in," Rhonda mused.

I just looked at both of them and shook my head. "Won't happen," I smirked. The two of them, outraged, refused to give up their fantasy. "Look," I went on, "yes, Jesse would notice. Yes, he would fish her out. But then he would give her two month's free rent and stay as far away from her as possible forever after, to try to make up for actually touching a female tenant!"

I went to go get another beer before the keg blew. My timing was good, because I could tell from all the foam in my cup that that was going to happen soon. I chilled for a bit with Frank and his date, and Josie, Jessie's sister. Frank was a master's candidate in engineering, and we talked about his summer internship with Bell Helicopter while I surreptitiously checked out his date. I was still convinced those were her big aureoles showing through her top, but I had to admit that if they were, her left one was a bit off-center... Not obviously staring at Frank's date kept me from not obviously staring at Josie, so that worked out.

But Frank and Putatively Translucent Bikini headed off as soon as the keg officially went dry. So did about half the assembled crowd. It is weird how that works, especially given that most people had either stopped drinking already anyway, or were drinking something other than the beer by that point. I guess it is just party dynamics. Josie moved along to start helping Jesse with a pre-cleanup. As she moved away, I allowed myself to get a very good look at her muscular backside in the modest shorts she wore while she couldn't see me doing it.

I found myself standing alone, and Jane and Rhonda wandered by and dropped back into my orbit. None of us were feeling much pain by this point, though we were all more sleepy than drunk, and we were mostly discussing heading our separate ways to bed when Becky stumbled by as well, totally trashed now.

Jane sternly reached out and grabbed her arm. "Becky, are you all right?" she asked, almost disapprovingly.

"I thought you were going to slow down?" Rhonda added, looking worriedly at Becky.

"I did," Becky said defensively, but looking pretty green around the gills. "No more tequila or any boozzzh! I just tried a few... shots of that red, sweet stuff Henry was pashing around, instead. Keep thingz low key..." she muttered.

"How many?" I gasped. She blearily raised three fingers in reply. Then looked at them and lifted a fourth. "Becky, that is a full-proof liqueur! You might as well have done another four shots of tequila!" I exclaimed in alarm.

"Maybe," Becky burped alarmingly, "that's why I don't feel so good."

Jane and Rhonda rolled their eyes at each other. Suddenly, the two of them were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors too fast for me to follow as their hands flashed swiftly. Suddenly, Rhonda swore, as Jane's open hand shot forward to clasp her closed fist. Jane just smirked.

"Come on, Ken," Rhonda grumbled. "Let's get her to her apartment so she doesn't kill herself on the stairs."

"Good idea," I said, worried that the original Tinkerbelle never turned this green in the movies...

Neither of us knew which apartment was Becky's, but she retained enough sentience to tell us the number. Turns out she had the unit right next to Susan's on the second floor. With some effort, we safely navigated the stairway. Becky really could have hurt herself climbing those stairs, had she gone home on her own.

Once we practically wrestled her through her door, Rhonda and I paused, unsure how much more we needed to do.

"Let's just walk her to her bed," Rhonda said, eager as I was to get out of there.

"Yeah, but maybe we should grab a trash can to put beside her, in case she gets any greener," I added.

We both turned away from Becky, who was mostly standing upright on her own, to look for a trashcan or bucket or something.

Almost the instant we did so, we both heard a horrible, wet, burping cough. We spun back in horror to see that Becky had absolutely barfed all over herself. Frothy nastiness was all over the front of her swimsuit and shorts, and she held her hands out wide, moaning in bleary dismay.

"We can't let her sleep like that," Rhonda said, compassion warring with disgust in her voice. "You are going to have to get her undressed and into her bed. Put her on her side."

"Wait. What?" I said hotly. "I can't do that! I'm a dude, for Chrissakes! I can't go stripping a drunk girl!"

"I'm a lesbian! I can't either!" Rhonda shot back.

We looked at each other.

"Guys, I thhinnk I need some help," Becky said in dismay, plucking ineffectively at the button on the waist of her shorts.

"Look, we'll do it together," Rhonda said. "We can vouch for each other's behavior."

And that is how I found myself peeling the most disgusting set of clothes off of Becky you can imagine, and helping her slide naked into her bed under the sheets.

We made sure she passed out on her side.

We took a few moments for Rhonda to toss the nasty shorts and speedo into the sink in her bathroom, while I wiped up the floor. That wasn't hard. Becky had mostly gotten her puke on herself.

Becky still had a lot of work to do tomorrow that neither of us envied, but we both felt we had gone above and beyond, and let ourselves out of her place. Heading back down the stairs, Rhonda grumbled, "That was fucking nasty."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Still..." she chuckled softly. "Once we got her out of that boring ass swimsuit, she had a pretty rocking little body, didn't she?"

"Yeah," I sighed.

But it had absolutely not been worth it.

*

I suppose that we should have looked in her bathroom for a nightgown or PJs to put on Becky, but we both wanted out of there as quickly as possible. And since I for one sleep in the raw, I honestly hadn't even thought about it.

Three nights later, I awoke to find my apartment hot. Uncomfortably hot. I arose in my raw state, and wandered sleepily into the main room of my apartment. I peered at the thermostat, but couldn't make it out, so I turned on the lights to see.

Nope, it was set to 72, but the temperature was reading 75, even though the air was flowing. Great, I'd have to call Jesse in the morning, and just sweat out the rest of tonight.

No, I would call Josie, not Jesse. I vaguely remembered that she did most of the HVAC work herself.

I briefly considered calling her right then. Not because I am that asshole who gets people out of bed in the middle of the night for a minor inconvenience, but because I had honestly been developing a bit of an idle crush on Josie lately, despite my continued suspicion that she played on Jane and Rhonda's team. My landlady was a pretty attractive babe, whose usually work-disheveled appearance never did anything to detract from her decent bod and sweet smile. And she just had her shit together--a lot moreso than most of us other twenty-somethings around the place. Summoning her in my present condition was pervertedly appealing.

The fleeting fantasy of her coming to my apartment late at night, meeting her at the door in just a towel, my body glistening with sweat, leading to various shenanigans, had my dick sporting a good half-chubby as I went to grab a glass of milk from my fridge. I even gave it a friendly tug or two, just to let it know that, yes, Buddy, I think she's hot too.

I don't mind a good caress of myself now and then, but it is rare that I actually jack off. I've done all right for myself over my life so far, and self-pleasure is such a pale substitute for the real thing, I just don't do it. Much.

I headed to bed, where I fell back asleep, my chubby going away on its own.

*

A few days later, Becky and I both found ourselves parking our cars at the same time and in the same part of the parking lot in the late afternoon. I tentatively waved and asked her how she was doing.

I usually see her around the complex most days, but this was the first time since the party. It is possible that she had been avoiding me out of embarrassment. That was fine with me because I was obviously embarrassed too. But it was just a thing that had happened, right?

"I'm all right, Ken," Becky said, almost skittishly. "Listen, you and Rhonda went above and beyond the other night. Thank you."

"We've all drunk too much and regretted it visibly," I snorted, waving it off. "You would have done the same for me," I said, meaning it.

We walked companionably toward the entrance, talking about our drives back from school. We had both seen the accident. But I felt like Becky was still nervous or uncomfortable with me. I decided that I should apologize for having to get her undressed, and reassure her that I had been very careful about my hands, but before I could say anything, she spoke up.

"Listen, Ken, I think you should know something," she said hesitantly. "There, um, there is a design flaw here with the apartments. After dark, if the lights are on inside a unit, but the porch light is off, you can, um, see right inside through the sheers from outside."

I paused briefly. Had she been able to hear what had happened with Susan? They were next-door neighbors. I doubted that she had actually heard the two of us, though. The units were surprisingly well sound-proofed.

Then it hit me. I always leave my porch light on, so I don't have to worry about that effect, but they all turn off automatically at midnight to save energy. I had been wandering around my apartment, bare-ass naked after midnight when the AC broke...

"Uhhh..." I said, not wanting to admit I knew about the effect. "That is interesting. I'll have to be on the lookout... I mean be careful when I sit on the balcony in the evenings. How... how did you figure this out?"

She hesitated for a long beat before rushing her words. "A few nights ago, I woke up from a sound sleep with an idea to fix a problem with this story I am writing. I grabbed my laptop and went out on my balcony to work it out. I didn't mean to look! Honest! But when your light came on across the way, I just automatically looked up. And there you were, walking around naked, drinking a glass of milk and..." Her rush of words abruptly stopped and she looked at me in apologetic dismay. "And, um, tugging your todger?" Becky finished lamely.

I could not help but laugh. "Tugging my what?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Your hard-on, asshole," she rallied, recovering due to my ribbing of her vocabulary.

"That wasn't..." I started to say. I had had a sudden urge to tell her vehemently that what she had seen was not nearly my full, um, extent, just maybe halfway there, but I caught myself in time. "That was... is good to know," I said, as sheepish as her.

"I just, I thought I should apologize."

"Neither of us knew," I said firmly, as we pulled open the front doors of the building. I was ready to punch out of this conversation and go have a private freakout about all this, but we both veered toward the mailboxes automatically. Uncomfortably, we both unlocked our boxes in silence, grabbing our mail.

As we turned away, and I saw my escape almost in sight, Becky actually giggled.

"I guess it all really just makes us even," she said.

"Huh?"

"I showed you mine, and then you showed me yours, even if neither of us meant to!"

*

The next night was a Thursday, and I had a crap-ton of papers to grade, so I grabbed a beer, sat out on my balcony in the gorgeously warm evening with my laptop, and got to work. I was making headway as the night deepened when my eye was drawn by the lights coming on in Susan's apartment across the way. Her porch light was off for some reason, and I saw her walk into her place from the hallway.

Was I going to get an invite tonight? I could put these fucking papers aside if that was on offer...

But her top stayed stubbornly on as she puttered around her apartment.

I could not help myself and texted her.

ME: Um, your porch light is off. Should I be paying attention?

I saw her pick up her phone and snort as she read it. Then she good-naturedly flipped me off, even though she could not see me.

SUSAN: Alas, not tonight.

Then she paused, and I saw her type again.

SUSAN: This will have to tide you over.

With that, she set down her phone, turned in my direction, and pulled her shirt up to give me a brief but glorious viewing of her fantastic orbs, unfettered by a bra. She held her shirt up for a wonderful ten count before she pulled it back down. Then she turned and went blandly about her business, ignoring me from that point on.

I can only imagine what my expression was.

Whatever it was, it drew a snort of laughter from the darkness. I looked around quickly, suddenly noticing that Becky was also sitting out on her balcony, right beside Susan's apartment, with her laptop dully glowing before her.

She probably had no idea what had me so stricken, but she must have noticed my expression and laughed.

I just brazened it out. What was I going to do, shout across the whole complex to her, telling her it was nothing, just her neighbor flashing me? I just grinned at her and waved.

She just grinned back, then slowly lifted her hand with two fingers extended, pointing to her eyes. Then she swiveled the fingers around to point at me. The international gesture indicating, 'I'm watching you.'

I languidly replied with the same wordless gesture.

Good. We were good. I don't like embarrassment getting between me and people I know.

I slogged through several more papers, enough for the evening, before looking up and stretching. My motion must have drawn Becky's gaze, because I saw her look up at me again. I did the looking at you gesture this time, and she did it back. I was ready to go inside, so I rose and turned back inside my apartment. As I passed through the door, an impulse made me flip off my porch light outside at the same time I turned on my lights inside.

I set down my laptop on the dinette table and paused. What the hell, if Becky and I could laugh about this, I'd give her something to laugh about. I took off my shirt, and made a gigantic fucking production about it. I took it slow, peeling the garment up and off, flexing my torso as I did so.

I'm no body-builder, but I eat well, exercise, and use the gym religiously. I am in no way ashamed of my back and chest. I even threw in some stretching exercises and upper-body isometrics once the shirt was gone. Then I laughed and headed for bed, flipping off the light. I brushed my teeth and stripped for bed. As I did so, I reflected on the considerable hard-on I had developed while thinking about my little show for Becky.

This was a real hard-on, not that weak sauce half measure that she had seen that late night.

In fact...

I walked back out to my kitchen area, turning on the lights as I re-entered the main room. I had no idea if Becky was watching, or if she was even still out on her balcony at all. But I still walked a complete circuit of my living space, drinking my milk. Making sure that if she was watching me, she got a good view of my ass and especially of what I could actually sport between my legs when I had the motivation... all in full profile.

Then I turned out the lights and went to bed, wondering what the fuck was wrong with me.

*

A weekend of fighting through the assembly of a new IKEA bookcase, enduring a departmental exercise, and going on one highly promising date that ended up promising only that it was never going anywhere, all left me Sunday night with papers still to grade. I was ensconced on my balcony, the side facing toward Susan's apartment. The couch around the corner was more comfortable, but I liked the better back support of my chair when I doing actual work.

I had graded a fabulous amount of less than fabulous papers when my eye for motion caught Becky coming out on her deck, no laptop in hand.

I raised my own hand in greeting and called out a quiet, "Hey, Becky!" I wasn't loud, but my voice carried cleanly across the pool and through the quiet air of the central courtyard. She waved at me in reply, with a big smile. Then she took a sip of the wine she was drinking and leaned on her railing, breathing in the warm, spring air.

I was not playing poker with this girl, I decided. Her body language gave no indication if she had seen me through my sheers or not, and what her reaction had been, if she had. Instead, she let her gaze wander everywhere below us as she relaxed and sipped more wine. It was a big glass.

I finally sighed and went back to try to power through these last papers, but then I sensed her looking at me again. I looked up and she certainly was looking at me, a big grin visible in the gloaming light.

I cocked my head, as if in inquiry. Was I getting a clue she had seen me? Was the look amused or appreciative? Was she at least now aware that I was not that limp-dicked guy she had seen late at night?

Our eyes locked, and even at this distance, I could see that she winked at me. Then she lifted those two fingers and made that I'm Looking At You gesture again.

I had to laugh, then I made the gesture back at her, just like last time.

Becky laughed loud enough for me to hear her, and she made a little Moi? gesture this time. She looked down and shook her head at my antics. But she wasn't hating me or grossed out, so I was counting this whole deal as a win.

She paused in her amusement, then looked back at me. Then she drained that big ass glass of wine in a gulp, waved a tiny wave at me, and went back inside her apartment, turning off her porch light as she entered.

She did not turn off her inside lights.

I may have lost interest in grading papers on my laptop.

I watched as she moved around inside her apartment, my view only negligibly hindered by her closed drapes.

It could have been an accidental combination of circumstances, I considered.

Sure. After my actions, which I was now sure she had watched, on Thursday?

I badly wanted a shot of something, but I was not going to go inside and risk missing anything.

Was I going to be teased? I was down for that, but I was hoping for at least a flash in the process. A full striptease would be too much to ask for. I had seen Becky totally naked, of course, but that had not been at an auspicious time for appreciating her.

Please, Becky. I'd like to appreciate you.

What I got was... she took off her shoes. It provided quite the ass show as she bent over to do it with that tight little package pointed right in my direction. She was wearing yoga pants and a short, tight tee, so the view was pretty optimal.

She straightened, stretched, and turned toward her bedroom. I sighed in mild disappointment, as she went into her bedroom and out of sight. But she left the light on in the living room, effectively stapling me to my chair.

She made me wait.

I almost gave up and was about to cautiously return to some very distracted grading, when she ambled out of her bedroom, wearing only a towel... around her waist. Her perky, adorable, surprisingly plenty to grab tits hung bare and beautiful, bobbling attractively as she dried her hair with a second towel.

I appreciated her coming back out for me like this, but come on. It was a deliberate charade. No woman in history has ever shampooed her hair, even a cute bob like Becky's, that fast. I had a great view, but I could not even guarantee that she had ever gotten herself so much as wet.

She was wrapping the second towel around her head into one of those magical turbans women manage, and which I had once spent a week trying to emulate a few years earlier. (I failed miserably. I think a Y-chromosome blocks the maneuver.) The process of donning the turban did all manner of wonderful things to her breasts as they wobbled in response to her arms over her head. Her hands freed, she leaned over against her kitchen counter and started scrolling on her phone while she frankly guzzled more wine.