The Good Neighbor Ch. 08

Jack woke with a start, disoriented by his surroundings. Then he felt the heat from the woman still fast asleep beside him, and the wonderful memories rushed in. Smiling, he relaxed back into the pillow with peaceful satisfaction. The warmth spread when he moved close and laid an arm across her back. The clock read 5:12. Rise-and-shine time swiftly approached. Lots to do before the sun overheated the day. But the air conditioning made the room temperature perfect for staying under the covers -- staying under the covers with a lover even more compelling. Just enough light leaked through the shades to make Diane's outline spectacular. Jack lifted the covers and let his eyes trace down her back to her bottom.

"See anything you like?" Diane turned and grinned with sleepy eyes.

"Yes. Everything. You're a beautiful sight to see. Sorry I woke you."

"What time is it?"

"Five-ish."

She rolled onto her back and covered her face with the sheet. "Ugh, too early."

"The 4-H club is coming this morning. I'm giving a lesson on growing blueberries. I need to get ready."

"Okay. I'll stay here." Uncovering her face, she gave him a contented smile, and said, "I'm a little sore after last night."

He cupped her linen covered breast and kissed her. "Sorry, not sorry."

She arched into his hand. "Mmm, me either."

Slipping his hand under the sheet, Jack's fingertips traced down between her breasts, across her stomach, and stopped when his hand covered her pussy. Rubbing tenderly, he asked, "Where does it hurt? Here?"

"Yes, but it's a satisfied ache."

"Maybe a massage will make you feel better," he said.

Pressing a little harder she opened her legs. "Maybe", she said, closing her eyes. "But I need to pee."

"Me too," he said, getting up. "You use your bathroom, and I'll use the one down the hall. Meet you back here."

After a quick wash up, Jack returned. Diane snored softly. The clock now read 5:54am. Rather than disturb her again, he dressed, gathered his things, and went home. Out of habit, he glanced at Rascal's water bowl, reminding him to call the Veterinarian about his condition later.

Eating a simple breakfast of peanut butter toast and coffee, he reviewed his notes on blueberry horticulture. These 4-H seminars lasted about two hours with an attendance of less than ten. Not many kids want to be farmers anymore. But Jack liked teaching kids. He enjoyed talking about the natural world. The students would pick berries during the second hour, to sell or for personal consumption. This was just the beginning of berry season, so it left plenty to ripen for the general public.

Time with the kids passed swiftly. Shortly after they left, Jack drove to the animal hospital to see how Rascal was recovering.

The woman at the counter saw him coming and called the Vet.

Dr. Emery met him in the lobby. "Jack, I tried to call you, but it went to voicemail."

Worried, Jack said, "I had a 4-H class, so I turned it off. What's wrong?"

The doctor took him by the arm. "Please come to my office."

Voice panicked and loud, Jack asked, "What's wrong with Rascal?"

The people in the waiting room stopped talking and watched the two men expectantly.

When Jack refused to move the doctor softly said, "Rascal died sometime in the night. I'm so sorry."

"What!"

"Please, Jack. Come with me."

Stunned, he allowed the doctor to steer him to his office. Behind closed doors, he said, "Jack, please sit." When he did, the doctor ran his fingers through his white hair and then continued, "There was no way to see this coming. Rascal must've had undiagnosed heart disease. Without an autopsy I'm only guessing. But degenerative mitral valve disease is the most common heart problem in dogs. It causes the sudden death of millions of dogs around the world. It would have killed him eventually. The fight yesterday must've exacerbated his condition. Again, I'm so sorry for your loss."

Sitting with his head in his hands, Jack's own heart felt like it would burst. The idea that Rascal was left to die alone in a cage filled him with terrible sadness. "Was it quick, Doc?"

The Doctor laid his hand on Jack's shoulder and gave it a compassionate squeeze. "I'm sure it was. In fact, he was probably asleep when it happened."

Jack stood. "Where is he? I want bury him at home."

"Of course. I'll fill out the paperwork. Drive your truck around back. I'll meet you at the door."

Blindly, Jack walked out to his truck, started the engine, and drove. After backing up to the door, he got out, dropped the tailgate and waited. A few minutes later Dr. Emery opened the door and an assistant wheeled out a cart with a black body bag on top. Without a word Jack picked it up and laid it gently on the truck bed. Closing the tailgate, he said, "Thank you Doc for taking care of him all these years. I know you did all you could."

Dr. Emery held out his hand and Jack shook it. "Your dog died a hero. He died protecting people he loved."

A tear ran down Jack's cheek. "You're right. That's a good way to go out." Feeling his emotions begin to overwhelm, he turned, climbed into his truck and drove away. His mind wandered over fond memories, and he wondered if his ex-wife would want to know about Rascal. But she left without any care about him or the dog, so why should he call her. Did she ever think about him in the past year?

He decided to bury Rascal in the backyard under the maple tree. But when he should do it was the question. Maybe Diane would want her grandchildren to be present. Or was it just his wish to have other people there to share his grief? He wanted to feel a bond with people again. Diane brought love back into his life.

His heart sank as he approached their driveways and saw a car with Maine plates parked behind Diane's. Jack had no desire to be confronted with her friends and lovers today. Or any day. Anger and jealousy replace his grief.

"Why don't they just leave her alone? She's with me now!"

'Would Diane fuck Lou after saying 'I love you' to me?' Was Lou fucking Diane right now?

Jack sped up his driveway and parked behind the barn. He'd do this alone.

Inside the barn, he fired up the backhoe and drove it toward the backyard. Instead of opening the gate Jack plowed through the fence using the bucket as a ram. It felt good to destroy something in anger. Without a dog, the fenced in yard became superfluous.

3

It only took a few minutes to gouge out a 6-foot trench. When he walked back to retrieve Rascal's body the Maine car was gone.

'Slam, bam, thank you, Mam?'

After carrying the body bag to the graveside, Jack sat down with it across his lap and unzipped it. Rascal looked at peace; sleeping with no dreams. Fur soft under Jack's palm, tears were shed. When grief ebbed to reality, Jack curled Rascal's body into the backhoe bucket and gently lowered it into the grave. Not wanting to see the dirt fall on the body, the grave was quickly filled by plowing the pile into the hole.

Now it was time once again to drown his pain with alcohol. A familiar habit over the past year. But that required restocking his beer supply. So, off to the supermarket for a case of golden, mind numbing, elixir. Thirty minutes later, Jack pulled back into his driveway. The Maine car had returned to Diane's.

"What the fuck?" or was it another fuck?

When the excess beer was put in the refrigerator, his cellphone chirped alerting him to a message. He'd left it there on the counter since yesterday. Now it was full of bad news from the animal hospital. So, he put it in his pocket, the messages to be cleared later when the world became beautiful again as seen through beer goggles. After placing six, cold, ready-for-consumption bottles in a small cooler, Jack walked out to the pond-of-meditation to drown his sorrows. Once again, he sat at the picnic table and drank mind-numbing beer after beer. He'd just finished his fourth when Diane's voice startled him.

"There you are. I've been trying to reach you."

She stepped out from the forest path wrapped in a towel, followed by another woman who looked familiar.

Diane continued, "I want you to meet Sharon, Lou's wife. She stopped by on a surprise visit." The look Diane gave him seemed less than overjoyed. Then she brightened, and said, "I told her about your wonderful pond, so we went shopping to buy her a bathing suit."

He did remember Sharon from the photographs and from the explicit home porn. More than a little inebriated and feeling more than a little angry at the world, he held out his hand and said, "Hi Sharon. It's nice to meet you in the flesh after seeing you onscreen in the flesh. Thank you for being such a good friend to Diane."

Unabashed, Sharon walked up and shook his hand. "Lou and I love Diane. It's wonderful to meet the man who's helped her enjoy life as a single woman again. From what I've seen you have given her much pleasure."

Jack thought back to the other night when he ate cake and Diane's pussy on camera. Despite his blood alcohol content, he felt his face warm with embarrassment.

Sharon looked over her shoulder at Diane, who was busy dragging a raft and innertube to the shore, and then whispered, "Diane should learn to lock her phone so people can't peek at her photos. I found the impressive shot of your cock. She's a lucky woman."

Realizing that Sharon was not easily embarrassed, he asked, "What else has Diane told you?"

Sharon released Jack's hand and placed her hands on her hips. "Nothing. So that's my reason for the visit. I'm here to find out what's really going on, and make sure you're good enough for my best friend."

Appearing a bit nervous, Diane walked up, and said, "Time to cool off. Will you join us, Jack?"

He wanted to be a jerk. Tell them they didn't have permission to swim in his pond, and that they were intruding on his 'meditation', but he hadn't consumed enough beer to be that mean to Diane.

"No. I'll just sit here and watch. Besides, I didn't bring my swim trunks."

Removing the towel from around her torso, Sharon said, "That's okay. I've heard this is a clothing optional beach."

Diane playfully slapped Sharon's back, and said, "I told you that was a secret."

"Oopsie." Sharon leaned over to fold her towel on top of the picnic table, giving Jack a nice view of cleavage. He appraised her body openly, disregarding Diane's anxious demeanor. Sharon was just as fit as Diane, and equally attractive.

Drunkenly, he thought, 'I'd do them both, just like Lou.' And then amended, 'if I had a dick that worked.'

His mood darkened, as he uncapped beer number five.

Grabbing the rope retrieval stick leaning against the oak, Diane said, "Sharon, you have to try the swing. It's so much fun!"

Jack watched the two women run, swing, and fall into the pond for twenty minutes. They acted like teenagers until fatigue set in. Then Diane lay on the raft and Sharon sat in the innertube. They drifted out into the center where they spoke in hushed tones side by side. After a while, Sharon's fingers began to languidly stroke Diane's inner thigh from knee to bikini. Neither woman showed any sign of shyness.

On his sixth and last beer, Jack felt no compunction to turn away. In fact, he was curious about how far they would go. It was an excellent distraction from his sadness. Never in his life had he thought about watching a live performance of two women being intimate, especially the woman who said she loved him. It felt wrong, but also thought-provoking.

'Who am I to be judgmental about their relationship? They've been friends and lovers a long time. Why should I expect Diane to give them up for me?'

When Jack returned from a trip into the woods to pee, he stopped and stared when Sharon's fingers slid under Diane's elastic leg band and made a bulge under the fabric between her legs. Diane spread them and moaned. Her calves dangled in the water on either side of the raft. Sharon smiled and winked at Jack. She was putting on a show for his benefit, in effect telling Jack this is how it will be, love it or leave it. The 'It' being Diane in this case. Diane, with her eyes closed and her hands playing with her own breasts, sent him a message that she agreed with Sharon.

Suddenly he felt like a third wheel, a flat wheel with no hope of repair. Jack stood up and collected his empties. "You ladies enjoy yourselves. I have work to do," he said, and headed down the path towards home.

Diane said something to his retreating back, but he didn't listen. He was too intent on putting a staggering distance between them. Alcohol was muddling his judgement. He needed to be alone. At first Jack was intent on going home and crashing on his bed, but when he came to the wrecked backyard fence, he turned in and stood by the grave. The untimely loss of his dog broke his heart. The one true friend, the only faithful friend, that stood by him through cancer and divorce, that gave him unconditional love, lay dead and buried. And now his new love, Diane, was still fucking her friends right in front of him. His future happiness fucked up by his own impotence.

'Diane has lovers. She doesn't need me. What good am I to anyone? What is there to look forward to?' He thought about ending it all. One shotgun slug would stop all his anguish, all his disappointments. It felt right, reasonable. It felt... practical.

"Jack?"

Startled, he turned to see Diane's concerned face as she approached wrapped in a towel.

She stopped beside him, looked at the disturbed soil, and then at his face. "What happened to your fence? What's this?"

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly while staring at the ground, and said, "Rascal died last night. I buried him."

"Oh no! What happened?"

"The vet thinks he had a heart condition and the fight was too much at his age."

Diane hugged him tight. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. Me too." He broke away from her embrace and began walking toward his house. The quick consumption of six beers began to reach maximum affect. The earth's rotation made walking a straight line impossible. "I need to lie down."

Diane came up beside him and steadied his progress with an arm around his waist. "You should lie down, but in my room where it's cool."

"You have company. Don't need me in the way."

"Shut-up. You're coming with me."

Unable to form a coherent argument, he shrugged, "Okay."

Sharon waited at the broken fence.

Jack tried to smile apologetically, and said, "Sorry, I'm spoiling your visit."

Sharon smiled back, and said, "Don't worry about it." She put her arm around him from the other side to help.

Jack briefly felt a reassuring squeeze on his ass as they walked the six-legged challenge. The coolness of the women's bathing suits and skin against his arms felt rejuvenating. He remembered the girls' fun he interrupted, and buried his nose in Diane's hair, "Did you come?" He turned to Sharon. "Did she come? God, I screwed everything up."

Sharon looked up, and said, "Not yet."

He looked down at Diane's blushing face, and said, "Hear that? Not yet! ...Wait. Does that mean you didn't come, or that I haven't screwed everything up?"

Sharon winked and answered, "It means you haven't screwed anything today... yet."

Diane leaned forward to scowl at her friend. "Sharon, that's enough."

"I'm kidding. Lighten up."

Jack felt another ass squeeze. 'What's happening?' Sharon winked again.

The stairs proved to be a formidable obstacle. Sharon went ahead to clear the way. Diane braced him from behind to keep his momentum forward. The bedroom felt comfortably cool. The bed looked unbelievably inviting.

Diane said, "Sharon, pull back the covers. Jack, turn around."

He faced her. Diane undid his shorts, pulled them down, and pushed him down onto his back. Squatting, she pulled off his sneakers, socks, shorts. She pulled on his arm, and said, "Sit up."

When he did, she pulled off his tee shirt. "Now get under the covers and sleep it off."

"I have to pee," he said, rising to his feet and grabbing the bed post for support. When Diane put her arm around to steady him, he said, "I can do it myself."

Sharon said, "Are you sure you don't need more help?"

Jack looked in the direction of the voice and watched her walk naked out of the bathroom drying her hair with a towel.

"Sharon!"

Sharon wrapped her hair in the towel, and said, "What? Aren't we taking a nap? You know I sleep nude."

Diane maneuvered Jack into the bathroom and closed the door. "You're sweaty. You need a quick shower." Without waiting for a response, she pulled down his briefs. "Step out."

She turned on the water and pulled him in with her.

"Oh, that's cold!" Jack leaned against the wall, while Diane quickly soaped him up. "Take off your swimsuit. Join the nap club."

She laughed, and said, "Might as well. But don't get any ideas."

"That's all I have is ideas." When she was nude, he pulled her against him, and said, "My dog died. I need consoling sex."

When he bent for a kiss, she put her hand over his mouth and backed away. "Mouthwash next."

After a wobbly shower and gargle, Diane picked up his briefs. "You want these?"

"If you're naked, I'm naked," he said, this time successfully kissing her, pressing tight, skin on skin.

She smiled against his lips, before fully collaborating with his passion. After a while, Diane broke away. "Okay, but Sharon might get the wrong idea." She touched the small scars on his stomach, and added, "She may ask questions about these."

"I don't care. I am what I am -- a eunuch."

"You are not a eunuch!" She grabbed his testicles. "You still have these." She took his hand and shoved his palm between her legs, "and you still want this."

Jack's face turned serious. "I do. I love you. I want you. But it's so frustrating not to be able--"

Diane put a finger across his lips, "I know. It must be hard--"

"No, it's not. That's the fucking problem!"

"I mean... frustrating. But I love you. I love your touch. I want you. We can work it out."

"How? How will we work it out? How CAN we work it out? You have other lovers. I'm jealous of them, because I can't... do for you what they can. Be spontaneous."

She slapped his shoulder. "Spontaneity doesn't mean a hard cock. You surprise me in so many exciting ways just by being you."

Brain beer-fuzzy, Jack couldn't come up with a valid argument.

"Let's go. You need to sleep it off and you shouldn't be alone. I'm afraid of these self-destructive mood swings you're having lately."

They walked into the dimly lit bedroom. Sharon lay in the middle of the bed covered by the sheet. She sat up, letting the cover fall to her waist. "Geesh, do you guys always argue at bedtime?" she asked, while unashamedly eyeing the nude couple.

Diane stepped in front of Jack, and asked, "What did you hear?"

Sharon frowned at the cock-block move. "Just the tone of your voices. I couldn't understand what you said over the air conditioner."

"Move over," said Diane, raising the sheet and sliding in.

As she slid, Sharon kept her eyes on Jack, who waited for space. "Very nice, Di. You're a lucky woman."

"I know!"

Jack said, "Uh...thanks?" and covered his groin, "Lou is a lucky man."

Sharon frowned. "Party-pooper."

Uncertain about the compliments and innuendos assaulting his muddled brain, Jack quickly laid down, pushing Diane with his hip. Then he closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep when movement woke him. At some point Jack had rolled onto his stomach and put his arm over Diane. Now his arm was trapped between the two women as they kissed. Sharon broke away and slid down beneath the sheet. Jack remained still, feigning sleep while watching with slits for eyes. He felt Diane's left leg move over his, opening herself up to the descending body. Everyone remained quiet. Only the soft rustle of linen disturbed the silence. Then Diane's body jerked, and she stifled a gasp with her hand. The leg over his tightened and relaxed in a spasm. Now, along with the whisper of fabric, there was a wet, squishy rhythm. Apparently, Sharon decided to pick up where they'd left off at the pond, and Diane was yielding to her advances. Did she think he would sleep through it, drunk as he was? Maybe.