Chapter 2: Cookies

I opened our majestic front door to discover a lone female with a smile about a mile wide. I broke into a joyful grin when I realized our visitor was the ‘hot’ female pixie-like neighbor that we’d spotted outside in her yard the previous evening.

“Hi, I’m KC, your next-door neighbor in number six,” she jerked her head in the direction of her house. As she did her breasts started a tidal wave of attention as they shook and jiggled. While the ripples continued her smiled brightened up the whole planet.

She continued, “I’m here to welcome you to the neighborhood and to offer my help in unpacking, cleaning, or things like that. I fixed you some home baked cookies, too.”

I leaned forward showing my own welcoming vibes. Using both hands, KC thrust forward a white plate piled high with chocolate chip cookies – my favorite. “These are for you. They’re fresh out of the oven and still warm.” The waft of cookie odor reached my nostrils and added yet another sense to her presence.

She made an obvious scan of my body from my toes to my head, and added, “And you make me warm, too – and I mean all over. You’re hot. I feel great chemistry with you, and that’s after only ten seconds. Wow!” I liked people that flirted with me only seconds after meeting.

I ignored the blatant statement and invited her in. My scan of her sweet body left nothing to be desired; she was beautiful and worthy. I felt my heart beating faster and my attention being drawn completely to ‘KC’.

KC was ‘hot’ – and I was seeing her up close. She was my fantasy pixie – small, cute as I could imagine, and stacked. I mentally tapped myself on the side of the head with a hammer to remind myself that I was in love with and married to an equally well-equipped woman. I could look but not touch.

I heard from behind, “Hi, I’m Ally – Doug’s wife.” She sounded friendly and light, but I bet that she’d heard the ‘hot’ remark by our neighbor. “Come in. Come in.” My spouse was acting as Miss Congeniality. Someone overtly flirting with me apparently didn’t bother her. I turned so that Ally and I were more a couple inviting the fly into our spider web.

There was instant chatter between us with names, introductions, our relocation, and more. KC didn’t seem embarrassed with our neighbor seeing her in the ultra-brief bikini she wore. I guessed that she was dealing with the situation as it presented itself. Ally immediately made polite excuses for the cluttered and unkempt appearance of the entire house. There were still unopened boxes, loose packing paper, cardboard, and clutter everywhere you looked. At least, we’d cleared off space to sit on the sofas and two chairs in the living room. The three of us took up seats amid chatter about where we were moving from.

KC held her hand up, “Stop apologizing. I saw the moving van here yesterday and the furniture trucks, consequently I can guess what stage you’ll be in for another month or more. I’m not a ‘neatnik’ myself. Some mess is good in my book. It means you’re human and likeable. I already felt positive vibes from this house as your moved in. It was empty for a long time and then you did those renovations. I gave myself a tour a week when your contractor was finishing up some of their work.”

As she made the ‘positive vibes’ comment, KC looked back at me with lascivious hunger in her eyes. I hoped this woman wasn’t going to be a stalker. On the other hand, I liked extra-marital adoration.

Ally switched to thanking her for the cookies. I helped myself to a second one – had to eat some of them while they were still warm.

While the idle chatter was going on, I sized up KC more thoroughly than she’d seemed to evaluate me earlier. She warmed my blood, too. She was hotter than the sun and almost Ally’s caliber in the looks department. Shorter than Ally, shapely, and about as stacked, too; long brunette hair that almost glowed with the attention it had received. She had a maturity that led me to guess that she was a couple of years older than the two of us.

KC was well-spoken, articulate, and sociable. I didn’t detect any shyness at meeting her next-door neighbors, and certainly not about flirting with me. If Ally’s near nudity in her bathing suit bothered her, she hid it well.

KC’s facial features and eyes suggested some Oriental genes but well-tempered with Anglo ancestry. She had curves in all the right places, and both a dark complexion and enviable suntan. The matching nail and toe polish was a nice touch – it was hard to miss, yet subtle. KC had on a sexy anklet, that I thought might be advertising of some kind. I thought about getting Ally something like that. Maybe I was crazy, but I loved to see her be provocative with other men when we were out and about.

KC wore Daisy Duke shorts with many rips and tears. Given their strategic location, I would have had to bet that she was commando. Her headlights were on low beam inside her snug blouse; she wasn’t wearing a bra either. Those points excited me, but I kept a lid on it except to gawk and store up mental photos when she was focused on Ally and my wife was occupied looking at KC.

KC accepted the invitation for a mid-afternoon drink, as did Ally. I made two gin and tonics, and got myself a diet coke from the makeshift bar we’d set up the day before in the kitchen.

In the ten minutes it took me to prepare and serve the drinks, Ally and KC had bonded as though they’d been BFFs their entire life. Ally was like that; she could make friends easily. I heard her telling KC about her job at Taymore Systems, and then asked KC about her work. The two of them were outgoing and neither was the shy or retiring type.

One comment flew by about KC being ‘very’ single. I thought less of the male population in the area to allow a woman as beautiful and refined as KC to go unclaimed. I wondered whether she dated a lot or had a string of men on the line.

KC worked remotely as an editor for Beaverhead Books. She praised being able to set her own schedule and the fact that she had a large backlog of fictional novels to work through. She described that situation as job security, but laughed at her own remark. Somehow, I didn’t think she worried about her job or money. KC had a ‘high class’ air about her.

I leaned towards KC to show I was attentive. I asked, “Are the books any good?”

KC peered over the rim of her glass at me with flirty and laughing eyes, “One book will be colossally boring and I may reject it before finishing, and the next a grippingly exciting page turner that I can’t put down. Fortunately, I can speed read about 600 words a minute if the text is reasonably well-written. That means I can go through some novels in about four hours without comments. I make at least two passes on each manuscript. On the next pass, I start writing sarcastic comments in the margins, raise questions, and start on the grammar. I’m known for those funny comments at headquarters. That second pass can take a couple of days. I can do three or four books a week.”