She left a note on my desk. It read: 17 Pretty Wolves Lane, Fillston, and a brief direction on how to get there. That "she" is Mandy, Amanda Bess to be precise. We had been in the same company for about three years by now but never worked on the same project. Come to think of it, we'd never had a real conversation and somehow she had found out that I was house hunting. Dick and me owned a house, but it was on the "wrong" side of the town. Nothing was really bad about the neighborhood that we lived in. But both of us had to maneuver THROUGH the city to get to work. The commute for Dick had gotten worse since he moved to the current job a few months ago. The house-hunting has been pretty stressful. Anything that we liked seemed to be out of our price range. We felt squeezed by the recent real estate surge. We knew that we might get a little bit cash when we sell our current house but the next mortgage will be tough. So we were now following all the leads that might turn into possibilities.
"Here it is!" I pointed the sign to Dick.
"Private Way." Dick noted the smaller prints on the street sign. The paved road went through a open gate then disappeared into the thick woods.
"Looks private enough to me." I said.
We drove past the entrance. Big oaks and maples lined both sides of the road. The woods extended as far back as the eyes could see. It felt more like driving through a forest. We didn't see a single house until about two miles later. The houses and yards were well-sized and well-maintained. People and kids waved at us, smiling. Dick and I exchanged a quick look.
"Another nice house that we can't afford." Dick sighed.
Number 17 looks like an average suburban house. Actually above average, plus a decent-sized yard. I had to agree with Dick on his assessment: this is not in our league.
A man in his late thirties called out from the porch and waved us in. He shook our hands and introduced himself as "Derek". We toured the house, its yard and a little bit of the neighborhood before we sat down in the living room to talk business. There really wasn't much to talk about. The house was impeccable, if such thing exists, but the price was way more than we could afford. Derek turned out to be a fairly nice guy to talk to. He was not an "agent" per se, but rather the house's builder. His family owned the surrounding land before he started carving the plots and building houses ten years ago. In the end, total of 37 houses were built. The houses were so well built that none of them had ever gone to the open market. Every available unit was quickly snatched up. The only advertisement was done through word-of-mouth. Derek usually filled in as the agent showing the house if the seller was not able to make it.
We chatted with Derek for a long time. He did not seem to be in a hurry to make a deal anyway. We left Pretty Wolves Lane two and half hours and a few teas later. Though it did not feel that long. It was more like visiting an old friend than seeing a house.
"A pretty nice guy." Dick chimed.
"Seems that way. How much did he ask for that house?" I asked.
"Don't remember. A lot, probably." Dick said, thoughtfully.
I tried again but couldn't recall any price being mentioned.
"Could be a good place to raise a family." I said. Imagined myself cooking in the spacious kitchen, our future kids playing in the yard. For some reason the thought of kids made me slightly horny. I crossed my legs, stole a glance at Dick.
He placed his right hand on my thigh: "Thinking about making some kids?" The hand moved slowly underneath my skirt.
"Watch the road." I warned him, half-heartedly.
Dick pulled the car over and killed the engine. His mouth attacked mine. I parted my knees to grant him access. He was mildly surprised when he found out I didn't wear panties. I wasn't usually this kinky. He shifted over to my side of the car and mounted me, entering fully in one push. I was already wet. He picked up the pace fucking me and didn't last for very long.
We talked about the Pretty Wolves Lane house a few times during the following weeks. It was probably a mistake even to look at that house because every single house we saw after it was far inferior. Just when we were about to put it totally behind us, Derek called back to see if we were still interested in 17 Pretty Wolves Lane. Of course we were. And the price he asked was actually very doable. We scrambled to get our financial in line and quickly bought the house.
The first weekend after moving into Pretty Wolves Lane, Dick was out of town for business. I woke up alone, found some cereal for breakfast. Tired from weeks of packing and days of unpacking, I looked at the boxes, didn't know where to start. The door bell rang. I was shocked to see the more than thirty people in my driveway. They were here to help! Before I could find a polite way to decline their kindness, people were already inside the house, opening boxes and putting things away. There were people in every room, cheerfully working. It looked like the whole neighborhood was here! The only thing I did that day was answering questions on where did I want what to go. By late afternoon the house was all set. They had saved us weeks of time by coming to help out. I stood in my living room, almost speechless. The only words coming out of my mouth were "Thank you! Thank you!" as people came up to shake my hand before leaving.
The crowd thinned as quickly as they came. Finally, the only one left was my next door neighbor, Judy. The house was noticeably quieter, and I could hear someone mowing my lawn. I looked outside, a big fella riding a Deer John was almost done my whole front yard. I didn't even know his name. The house was clean and tidy. Only the neatly pile of framed photos on the coffee table hinted this was a newly-moved-in house.
I turned to Judy: "I don't know how to thank you for doing all this!"
"Don't worry about it. Really."
"But..." I tried to find something to say.
"How about dinner at my house?" Judy offered and I quickly agreed.
I helped Judy by picking some groceries that she ordered from the Deli about twenty minutes away. It was a cozy, homely place where locals came to get beers, hot dogs and such. I felt slightly over-dressed in my tube dress and three-inch sandals. The kids behind the counter carried the bags to my car.
"You are from The Lane, right?" He asked while loading.
"Huh?" I was confused.
"The Pretty Wives Lane."
"You mean the Pretty Wolves Lane? Yes, just moved in." I replied.
"Welcome to the neighborhood, madame. I am Todd."
.... There is more of this story ...