The New Neighbor

and inhaled deeply a few times before going back to bed. He lay naked beneath the covers, warmed by the electric blanket, and tried not to think of Lorelle Dupree.

He failed.

He was still stunned by her proposition. It had come so unexpectedly, in the middle of such an innocent conversation, that it had caught him completely off guard. It was not unpleasant – even very tempting – but still a big surprise.

She'd asked him in for a beer and, when he mentioned that Karen had the flu, she'd said, 'Then you haven't eaten?'

'Not yet, but I just went out to get some – “

'Well, let me fix you something. I've got some stew on the stove and I can slip some biscuits into the microwave.'

'No, no, thank you, that's nice, but my son and wife are asleep and my daughter's up watching TV and – “

'Then there's no reason for you to hurry back. Kids are very self-sufficient, you know.'

He laughed. 'No, really. Thanks for the beer, but – “

She moved forward suddenly, pressed herself against him and put her arms around him, her lips close to his, and whispered, 'If you stay, we can fuck. They won't even miss you.'

He almost dropped the half-finished beer he was holding, then stammered for a moment, unable to form words.

'Anything you want, George,' she went on, pressing her breasts hard to his chest. 'You want to fuck me in the ass? How about between the tits? Or… how long has it been since you got a reeeaaally good blow job?' In a sing- song voice she added with a grin, 'I'll let you come in my moouuth.'

His eyes widened and he looked around as if she might be talking to someone else, but when she kissed him, he knew she was serious. It was a long, wet, noisy kiss and when she pulled away, he gasped for breath. If he hadn't forced himself to push her back and walk around the kitchen, scrubbing his face with his palms, he knew he probably would have returned that kiss. But he thought of Karen and Robby and Jen, and he reminded himself that they were across the street. Yes, it would be fun, and yes, it would feel good – but he asked himself if it would be worth the inevitable price.

'I'm sorry,' he said, unable to look at her, trying to sound firm but not unpleasant. 'I'm very flattered. Really. But… my wife… my family… I just can't. I'm sorry.'

She went to him, smiling, and placed her hand to his face. 'Okay, okay.' Leading him to the door, she said, 'I hope this won't affect our relationship as neighbors.'

'Oh, no,' he laughed, wishing his erection would go away. 'No, not at all. You're welcome in our house anytime.'

'Really?'

'Really. It's as good as forgotten.'

'I don't want you to forget it,' she said, opening the door, and -

– there was Jen.

George sighed into his pillow, turning on his side. His erection brushed Karen's thigh. She didn't respond. Her throaty breathing went on without breaking rhythm. He pressed his cock to her again, cautiously, and let the moist head slide over her flesh, watching for some reaction, in which case he would pull away. He remembered Lorelle's offer – You want to fuck me in the ass? – and thought about that, imagined it, as he moved against Karen's leg. He hadn't thought of doing that in years. It was the only thing he and Laura hadn't done, the only thing she wouldn't do, even though he was eager to try it, if only once. Karen did not even twitch as he moved, a little faster now, and -

– a hand came to rest on his shoulder and George spun around, kicking at the covers, ready to shout at whoever had sneaked into the room, but -

– it was Lorelle.

George froze, elbows locked behind him, knees up. 'Whuh-whuh-'

She laid a finger over her smiling lips and knelt beside the bed in the soft glow of the small night light plugged into the socket beneath George's night stand. She sat back on the floor, legs spread, arms resting on her knees; she was naked. Silently, her lips formed two words:

'Fuck me.'

George's heartbeat was the loudest sound in the room and he looked over his shoulder at Karen. The slow breaths wheezing in and out of her open mouth were all that kept her from appearing dead. He eased himself off the bed, embarrassed by his wet erection, and whispered, 'What're you – how did you get in here?'

She leaned forward and began stroking his cock as she whispered in his ear, 'You said I was welcome anytime.' Then she bent down and sucked him hard into her mouth.

* * * *

Robby was dragged slowly from the quicksand of a bog-like sleep by a thunderous bellow. He fought to sit up in bed, lifting his leaden shoulders from the mattress and rocking himself upright as he wiped at his gluey eyes.

Barking. The sound he heard was a dog barking – two dogs – from across the street.

He muttered the names Sodom and Gomorrah, but they came from his pasty mouth sounding like spitwads hitting a brick wall.

With great effort, still unable to open his eyes more than a sliver, Robby turned and looked out his window, nearly tearing down the shade with his clumsy, sleep-numbed hand. He blinked, rubbed his eyes with a knuckle and tried to pull everything into focus.

There was movement in the street, but this time it was not a cat.

A man wearing a hat and a long coat staggered from Lorelle's yard, leaning heavily on a cane and glancing over his shoulder. He turned left, heading toward Mistletoe, kicking up a spray of water as he moved quickly though a puddle. The dogs barked more frantically from inside Lorelle's house and the man slowed, turned, and waddled backwards for a moment as he looked at Robby's house. Then he disappeared into the shadows.

Robby blinked some more, wondering if he was dreaming, and lifted himself up on his knees. The shade dropped from his hand and his arm fell heavily to his side. He felt drunk, drugged, beaten, and when he tried to climb off the bed, he felt as if he were going over a cliff. He hit the floor with a thunk and groaned.

It was the man Jen had seen.

No, Robby thought. Just dreaming… that's all.

But what if it had been the man Jen told him about. Someone besides Jen and himself should know there was a weird guy sneaking around the neighborhood.

Robby decided to wake his dad, except -

– he was falling asleep on his bedroom floor, sinking quickly back into the muddy depths of the sleep from which he had not entirely surfaced. Robby shook his head hard, sat up against the bed and tried to stand, failed once, tried again, then staggered toward the door, leaning first on the night stand, then his desk, then a chair.

The hallway was dark and silent. Robby leaned against the wall for a moment and his head drooped until his chin rested on his chest and his breathing became slow, shallow.

'No,' he croaked to himself, jerking his head up. He swayed like a drunk and took a deep breath, focusing his bleary eyes on his parents' bedroom door. He trudged forward, staggering from one wall to another, until -

– his legs gave beneath him, unable to hold his weight, and he fell in a heap on the floor only a few feet from his parents' bedroom.

Through the black smoke of his fatigue, Robby felt the onset of panic. Something was wrong with him. He was sick. Suddenly, the man he'd seen – or thought he'd seen – was unimportant and he could think of nothing else but getting help. He took in a breath and tried to cry out for his parents, but his voice was nothing more than the gurgle of a clogged drain and his eyelids lowered completely, plunging him into darkness.

'Duh… Duh… Daaad.' The word was only breathed, barely audible to Robby himself.