The Good Neighbor Ch. 01

David Lawton was just settling into a new neighborhood in a new city. After his divorce he decided to start his life over again. He realized that most people couldn't just pick up and leave one place, move and reestablish another life somewhere else. David didn't have that problem. His divorce reduced his bank account considerably but didn't break him. Maggie, his ex-wife, had a great job at one of the country's largest publishers and brought in as much or more as David. Maggie's connection with the publishing house was the reason they met.

Fifteen years earlier David had recently gotten his masters degree in English Lit. and had no desire to study any longer. He wanted to write. He had always wanted to write and had done so since grade school. In college he had regularly sent in manuscripts to different publishing houses; only to have most of them sent back with the advice to work harder. Determined to break into the literary world, David came across a story he had written in high school and started to revise it. He was sure this old idea was something that could be very successful and it was only a question of presentation and timing.

He spent a couple of weeks on the revisions and again sent it off. The next six weeks saw him on a daily vigil watching the mailbox. Each day when the postman stopped and put mail into his mailbox (or pass by without anything) he would count to ten and rush out to see if his treasure was there. With an inevitable sigh of disappointment he would go inside and meekly wait for the next day and possible delivery.

On this particular day the routine had already played out and he was pursuing a new routine of writing. He was just finishing another chapter when his doorbell rang. Not wanting to lose his chain of thought, he continued to type. The bell rang again and his typing became more furious; just a few more words... The bell rang for a third time and the visitor, obviously out of patients, kept their finger on the bell much longer than usual. The somewhat rude disturbance finally got David to stand up. With a sigh of frustration he went to the door.

David didn't have one of those peep holes in his door although he had been planning to put one in for the past few months. He opened the door and his irritation instantly dissolved. Standing before him was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was tall. Her height was shocking but the beautiful red hair that framed her face was positively striking. Her blue eyes seemed to speak to him before her lips moved. When they did move, the voice they produced was warm and overflowed with promise and appeal.

"Mr. David Lawton: I presume?"

"Yes, I'm David Lawton," he managed to get out. Her eyes, nose and mouth kept him captivated.

"My name is Margret Daily. I am an associate editor by Barnes, Thisson and Noble. You've recently submitted a manuscript to our firm for approval...."

Her face and voice held him so captive that he really didn't hear what she was actually saying. Her look of confusion causes him to do an instant replay to hear why those sensuous lips moved.

"Yes; yes I did. Would you care to come inside?" His excitement suddenly doubled; this beautiful woman and the news she might give him.

"Thank you, I would love to." She passed him into the house and lightly brushed his chest. He instantly felt the electricity of her touch and smelled the sweet smell of the essence of perfume combined with her bodily oils. He had to keep from following her with his nose.

She sat down on his sofa and placed the briefcase that she was carrying next to his leg. He sat down next to her and visually took the rest of her in. She had a statuesque figure; very tall and slender. Her breasts, he estimated, were C-cup: not overly large but definitely large enough for his tastes. They were well hidden, as the rest of her upper body in a silk blouse and well cut jacket. She wore a matching skirt that stopped tastefully at mid-knee. Her long shapely legs were encased in sheer stockings and beautifully made pumps adorned her feet. His once-over of her left him with a small smile; he couldn't find anything wrong with this woman.

"I am here to make you an offer. My firm is interested in your work and would really like to see more. If we can come to an agreement we would like to represent you."

"What exactly are we talking about?"

"To put it very simply; money." She turned slightly toward him, keeping her knees tightly pressed together. He noticed that her stockings made her knees shiny as it reflected the light that came through his living room window. He thought of how soft her inner thighs would be. She breaks his chain of thought as she continued, "I've read one of your manuscript and am very impressed. My managing editor is concerned about you other work. We want to be sure that this story isn't just a fluke. We want to know that your talent can support and produce more works of the same level."

"I've been writing most of my life. If you want to see my work so far, all you have to do is ask. I must warn you Mrs. Daily; it will take a very long time to read all of my work."

She smiled and said, "It's miss... I'm not married and time is no problem. I didn't get where I am now by clock watching. I have time for as long as it takes."

"Should we start with a cup of coffee? I've been taken by surprise and now realize that I've forgotten to offer you something to drink."

"Coffee would be great!"

"Fine, if you would follow me to the kitchen I will put the kettle on and look for some stories. You will probably be more comfortable sitting at the table there." She followed him into the kitchen and he put the kettle on then disappeared into the back of the house. Before the kettle whistled he was back again and placed three thick manuscripts on the table in front of her. As she started to read he made a pot of coffee. When he was finished he asked, "Would you like anything in your coffee?"

"No thank you, "she said without looking up from the page, "I take my coffee black."

He poured two large mugs of coffee; giving her one and sitting across the table with his drink. The silence was thick and absolute; he had never realized how quiet his kitchen actually was. He could hear his throat every time he swallowed. She didn't appear to hear him but to him it was noisier than the bells of the Notre Dame. When his coffee mug was empty, he noticed that she hadn't yet touched her cup. The continued silence was starting to drive him crazy so he said, "If you need me all you have to do is call. I'm behind on my writing and will be in my study." She acknowledged his statement and dismissed him with the simple movement of her hand; he eyes stayed glued to the pages of his written words.

When he had retired to his study, he found that he could not work. The inspiration he had was gone and when he tried to concentrate all he could see was her. Her news and offer took the backseat in his mind and she was certainly in the driver's seat. He sat in front of his computer looking into space but not seeing what was directly before him. His imagination took him to a forbidden world he had never explored before.

I come back into the kitchen and she is still reading. She has taken off her jacket and her shoes are off and randomly spread under the table. She has unbuttoned two buttons; giving me a look at the cleavage that was hidden under the delicate material of her blouse. The mug of coffee is still on the table; untouched.

"I'll make a fresh pot of coffee and maybe I can find something to go with it. It is getting about that time to eat. Are you hungry?"

The question pulled her from the story on the pages in front of her and she reluctantly returned to the present. "Yes, I am getting hungry." She paused a couple of seconds as if she was collecting her thoughts and formulating a further reply. "I am here to persuade you to sign with us. Strictly speaking I should ask you out to dinner. Do you have a favorite restaurant? Money is no object as I will write it off as a business expense."

"There is a great place downtown; your car or mine?"

"Mine," she says with a sly smile, "I like to be in control."

We go to Chez Paris and have to park a block away. During our walk to the restaurant she starts to discuss the book story she was reading. "How many pages are in that manuscript?"

"I think that one runs to a tad over 1300. Why, do you like it?"

"Thirteen hundred, "she said like she was picturing it already in print. "I think your story is just great. What you need and probably what you've needed all along is a good editor. That story could be as long as eight hundred pages; depending on the fonts, outlay and print size."

"That's great... didn't you say that you are an editor? The question we have to answer is if you are a good editor."

"I think I'm a great editor and I'll go all the way to convince you."

We eat a great meal and too much wine. Both of us are more than tipsy when she asked, "How are we ever going to get back to your house? Neither one of us should drive."

"Wouldn't you know it; there is a great hotel next door. I'm sure we can manage that."

We go to the hotel next door and I register for the night. We hold on to each other for support in the elevator. The second the doors close in the lobby we start to passionately kiss and our hands grope each other in a frenzy. When the doors open on the fifth floor, her blouse is now only being held closed by one button between her half exposed breasts. My shirttail is out on one side and the zipper to my pants is open; exposing my underwear. Thankfully we are alone in the hall as we exit the elevator. We look for our room and as I try to put the key in the lock she grabs and holds my meat and jewels.

We manage to get the door almost closed before we started tearing off each other's clothes. The one remaining closed button on her blouse flies across the room and settles under a chair along with six of my buttons. We can't get naked fast enough. With her blouse off I don't take the time to undo her bra but simply pull it up and over her head and upward stretched arms. Her breasts and stomach are creamy white and her nipples are dark peach and as hard as cherry pits. I gently bite one with my teeth as her hands loosened my pants and pulled them down. When they dropped around my feet I kicked off my shoes and worked the pants off with my feet. I grope the back of her skirt and soon have it sliding to the floor.

I lift her out of her discarded skirt and carry her to the bed. I lay her down across the bed and pulled off her panties in one smooth movement as she lifts her ass up from the bed. I take just a few seconds to survey her garden of wispy red hair and then dive between her upturned knees. I grab her thighs from under her knees and pull her hair covered hole to my salivating tong. The taste of her is even better than her smell. I bury my nose and mouth in her virginal folds and inhale her exciting juices with just a hint of urine. I never thought the smell of urine could be so exciting and invigorating.

My penis is stiffer than I'd ever remembered it. It was trapped against my naked belly and the bed. I hear her moan softly as my tong darted over her most private and intimate area. The moans increased in frequency and volume as my manipulations continued. When her climax finally came, she drenched my tong and mouth with a wave of juices. The volume was so great that it ran over my chin and dropped in a small torrent onto my chest.

My need for relief was now paramount. I leave her still dripping love lips and move north, over her red forest and into the valley of her navel. I pause there to rest before I tackle the high country. I leave a winding path of saliva as I resume my trip toward the twin mounds with the gorge between. The bra left a, now fading, red mark under her breasts. As I work my lips along the line, under the mounds she moans again. I can feel her renewed passion and break off my kissing expedition and make a bee-line up the nearest breast and to the cherry pit nipple. I terry momentarily and then my lips and tong ski to the dale of her trembling throat. As I rise to look at her face I feel my penis nearing her warm hole. I watch her face as I prepare to enter. Her eyes are closed and she seemed momentarily to be peacefully sleeping. The head of my cock touches her opening and I push; planting my rod to the hilt. Her eyes fly open and I see her blue eyes staring at me in seeming wonder. Her hands grab the sides of my face and guide our lips together. We kiss and our tongs dance a waltz of passion as I pump my hips and my penis pistons within her. The muscular walls of her vaginal passage possessively grab my penis in an attempt to keep it buried in its depths. Our pubic bones pound painfully together and soon our bodies started to sweat in response to the exertion of our coupling. Slapping sounds soon accompany her increasing louder moans. I feel my seed mustering in the depths of my scrotum and are preparing to blindly charge down my penis. The pain increases until the rush for relief sends long ropes of sperm that drench a place deep in her body.

David came back to the world around him and saw that his computer was displaying its screensaver and the light in his study had significantly faded. His erotic fantasy of Margret Daily had taken far longer than he had imagined. He slowly got up from his desk and headed for the kitchen. He saw that she was almost to the end of his first manuscript. The mug of coffee next to her was empty as well as the coffee pot. He again sits across from her and patiently waits as she finishes the last few pages. He instantly notes that she had removed her jacket and it now hung on the chair behind her back. The silk blouse was still buttoned primly to the neck but that didn't seem to distract from her beauty.

"I'm sorry; the time must have gotten away from me. It is almost supper time; would you care to have supper with me?"

"I'm the one to apologies; first I've invaded your home; disrupting your routine. Furthermore I have taken advantage of your hospitality far too long. I would love to have supper with you but unfortunately I can't. I have a previous engagement that I can't possibly get out of. Would you consider entrusting the two manuscripts to my care? I promise to guard them with my life and return them as soon as I've finished." She gave him a half smile that instantly melted his objections.

"Do you think your house would be interested in my work?"

"I am very interested and I think with the right editor you will go far."

"Do you know the right editor for me?"

"Yes; me."

She was as good as her word. Three weeks later they were signing a contract. Although the initial contract was generous, clauses added promised the possibility of much more in the future. She was also right about her editorial skills. They worked very well together and she made a success of practically everything he wrote. Their relationship grew as the months grew into years. She was a hard taskmaster and demanded everything he was capable of and more. Their romance started as a spark and slowly became a blaze.

(to be continued)