The Birdbath

This story was written for the 750 Word Project 2024, below this line are exactly 750 words:

Joe was lonely and depressed as he observed the stunningly beautiful new neighbor across the street. Having seen no man there, he assumed she was a single mom. His late wife would have welcomed them in a New York minute, and his lack pricked his conscience. On this hot day, the woman thrashed at the turf with a spading fork, a child playing in the porch's shade. Finding gourmet chocolate chip cookies and a jar of lemonade, Joe ventured forth with his offering.

"Hi."

She screamed, tossing the tool into the garden, causing the child to cry and Joe to almost drop his offering.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

Squeaking, "Sorry, me too," she turned to attend to her child. "I don't usually... what can I do for you, Sir?"

He smiled.

"I am Joe from across the street."

She smiled.

"I've seen you in the neighborhood."

"Sorry for the late welcome. My late wife, Jane, would have been right over, but I am not a good neighbor. I brought some cookies and lemonade as a welcoming gift."

"Thank you."

She was young and sweat-soaked as rivulets trickled down her forehead, cheeks, neck, and chest, disappearing into the pronounced cleavage canyon beneath the low-cut, skin-tight, sweat-soaked white cotton tank top. The wet top was nearing transparency and braless; her areola's dark circles were clearly displayed. Her firm breasts stuck out of her chest like cones, topped with erect nipples. Tight shorts and sneakers sans socks rounded out the beautiful if a bit disheveled, woman's ensemble.

"It is hotter than Hades. What are you trying to do?"

"I want to enlarge the garden here and add that bird bath in the midst of these flowers."

Nodding, he chose a round-pointed shovel, reaffirmed the dimensions, and removed the sod in minutes.

"Wow, I fought that ground for half an hour and got nowhere."

"Just need the right tool."

"I think the birdbath in the middle with these flowers around it will look nice!"

"I agree. What are you going to put the bird bath on?"

She looked puzzled.

"Bare ground is unstable. It needs a foundation like a paver."

"I don't have any."

I have some that'll work."

He returned with pavers, a level, a tamper, a bag of sand, and a wheelbarrow with crushed stone. Explaining as he worked, he dug a hole six inches deep, added some of the crushed stone, tamped it to create a solid foundation, compacted an inch of sand on top, leveled the paver, and placed the bird bath on it.

"So, what do think?"

"It looks wonderful, better than I hoped."

She led in the planting of the flower bed, and he mulched, finishing the job.

"Thank you. Please come in and have a glass of lemonade with us. It's air-conditioned!"

"I don't know."

"Please, it's the least I can do for all you have done for me."

It was as hot as Hades. He was sweating like a pig, and he was thirsty. In the weakness of his state, he agreed.

"I haven't introduced myself. My name is Ruth."

"Nice to meet you."

He sat at her kitchen table while she put Billy down for a nap. Surprisingly, Ruth did not replace her nearly transparent top and busied herself with lemonade and cookies. With mirrors in evidence, Joe found it unlikely she didn't know. Ruth was easy to talk to and intelligent. He struggled to keep his eyes at eye level. As her top dried, it again became the protector of her modesty. With the conversation waning, he reluctantly decided to leave.

"It has been a pleasure. It's time to get my tools and go home. I have a thing tonight," he lied.

As they stood, she cooed, "Again, I want to thank you so much for your help today!"

He may have been delusional, but he could almost swear as she hugged him, Ruth ground her breasts scandalously on him. This upped his blood pressure, heart rate, and breathing rate as he halfheartedly returned her hug, feeling ashamed that he enjoyed it so much or perhaps that he fantasized it had happened. Ruth held the door for Joe as he left, and he turned once to see her still in the door waving, and he waved back.

Every day Joe looks at that bird bath, and a kinky kind of old fuck lust results in a bit more depression, a pronounced heart-rendering sigh, and a stern rebuke from himself of "old fool."