I bought that house in 1999. Actually, I nearly stole it. It had belonged to an elderly couple who built it in 1951, and then lived in it until they had to go to a nursing home in 1997. Their sister was handling their affairs and the house was dated and she wasn't able to sell it.
I bought it for about fifty five percent of the appraised market value, because they desperately wanted out from under it.
The house has a one car attached garage and fully chain link fenced front and back yards with a long driveway up the South edge of the West facing property to the garage. The house sits in the middle of the one hundred fifty foot long lot.
I said all that to say this, one small garage wasn't enough for me, so I had a garage built on the back side, to be entered into from the alleyway. I had to tear out the back fence and a huge pine tree, but I included part of the garage and made a patio between the garage and the house surrounded by privacy fence.
With the big garage in back, that is where I spent the lion's share of my outdoor time. It sat right across the alley from a middle aged Mexican couple. He had a good job working in a local slaughterhouse and she was a stay at home mother, as is the Mexican tradition.
When I started noticing, Maria was about ten or eleven years old. As most Mexicana's, Maria was exotic and tiny and very pretty. She was shy and would look at me and then ignore my wave or greeting. It was typical and I knew that I being a big gringo was a novelty for them, especially as a neighbor.
I caught them going through my trash, peeking through my privacy fence but didn't mind, because I knew they were good people, hardworking and trying to make their way in this rich country, America.
I took Maria's dad and brother out on my little Jon-boat fishing at the local lake a few times, they gave me corn and tomatoes from their garden. Once, I was trying to move something heavy and the brother and dad came running over to help me, unsolicited. We were just neighbors.
When Maria turned seventeen, they had a Quincenera for her. It is not unlike a Bar Mitzpha for Jews, but this is a rite of passage for Mexican, Catholic girls, an acknowledgement of their womanhood. Most have them at age sixteen, but Maria's dad wouldn't let her even look at a boy until she was seventeen, so her Quincenera was put off one year.
After that, I'd see Maria and a boy standing around the edge of their garage, where mom and dad couldn't see (but I could from across the alley), holding hands. One evening I saw them locked in kissing embrace. A few months later, I got to see some heavy petting.
Maria knew I could see her, but her choice was to let her dad see, or me see. They wouldn't provide her any other place to talk privately with her suitors, so she decided that I was the lesser of two evils, I suppose.
Maria matured into a truly sensationally gorgeous woman. She had long black hair, silky down to her waist, brown eyes with very white teeth and a luscious pristine looking mouth with lips that I wanted to nibble and lick and kiss. She has a perky little nose and when she looks at me, it is with her head down; she peeks at me out of the tops of her eyes, and smiles. It is flirtatious and maddening.
The spring of Maria's senior year, I had a garage sale out of the garage in the front of my house. Maria's mom and Maria came to it, Maria in a low cut top that revealed everything but her areola. She was eighteen and absolutely stunning. She could model if she wanted. Her skin was perfection and all her features made her up as breathtakingly beautiful.
For the first time ever, Maria spoke and was friendly, friendly like we'd been dear friends for years. She engaged me in conversation that a woman would have with a man. She was adept at the art of flirting, bright and witty and smiled readily.
"Sometime when you have time, I need to ask you a question, Senor Bill." Maria stated.
"Sure, any time." I replied.
Here I am forty five and she eighteen, and I can't get her out of my mind.
Maria and her mom bought a few items from me that day and then wandered through my property back to their own house, across the alley.
About nine pm that night a knock came to my front door. It was Maria. They had found that one of the doo hickey's they'd bought from me didn't work, and wanted to return it.
She said, "Also, I need to ask you a question. Is it further to New York, or by bus?" She asked seriously.
I just stared at her like a jackass looking through a gate.
I invited her in, said I'd go get my change and refund her purchase price. I padded in my bare feet back to my bedroom to find my pants and get her change. I was just wearing spandex shorts without a shirt, since it was warm.
As I entered the bedroom, I noticed in the mirror on the opposite wall that Maria was right behind me. She planted her fingernails in my ribs and went, "Ooohyah."
.... There is more of this story ...