She left a note on my desk. It read: 17 Pretty Wolves Lane, Fillston, and a brief direction 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 not in the same department. Come to think of it, we’d never had a real conversation outside of the “project”, when both of us were among a handful of employees, as models, in the company’s product catalog last year.

That was almost six months ago, somehow she had learned out that I was house hunting. Dick and me owned an apartment, but it was on the wrong side of the town. Nothing was really bad about the neighborhood. 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 couple of months ago.

We had been talking about getting a bigger house, maybe one with a yard. The process has been pretty stressful. It seemed anything we liked was 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 apartment but the next mortgage will be tough. So we were now following all the leads that had possibility.

“Here it is!” I pointed the sign to Dick. “Private Way.” Dick noted the smaller prints under 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 gate, one that you could actually lock. Tall oaks lined both sides of the road, which winded gently uphill. The trees 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 more than a mile later. The houses were well-sized. Their yards were well-maintained but not huge. Standing on the sidewalk, one can have a natural conversation with the people in their homes through the open windows. And there were lots of people out about. Couples and and kids waved at us, smiling. Dick and I exchanged a quick look.

“Another nice house that we can’t afford.” Dick sighed. We arrived at the destination soon enough. Number 17 looked like an average suburban house. Actually above average. I had to agree with Dick on his assessment: this one 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 yards 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 host. He was not an agent per se, but rather the house’s original 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 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 a friend than seeing a house.

“A pretty nice guy.” Dick chimed. “Seems that way. How much did he ask for that house?” I skimped through the one-page flier handed to us at the end of our visit. No price was listed. “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, imagining 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 uncrossed my legs, stole a glance at Dick. He placed his right hand on my thigh: “Thinking about making some kids?” His hand moved slowly underneath my skirt. “Watch the road.” I warned him, weakly.

Dick pulled the car over and killed the engine. His mouth attacked mine. I parted my knees further. He was mildly surprised to find out I had no panties on. His wife wasn’t usually this kinky. I pushed the car seat back as he shifted over to my side of the car. I fumbled for his belt buckle as he kicked off his sneakers, then shorts. His cock sprang out. With one push, he entered me fully. 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 week. It was probably a mistake even to look at that house because every other 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 Number Seventeen. 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, I woke up late and alone, Dick was called out of town on a company emergency. I looked at the boxes, couldn’t believe we had so many things after only four years in our two-bedroom apartment. I didn’t know where to start. I couldn’t even find my coffee pot to make coffee. Mildly depressed, I pulled out a chair in the kitchen to sit on and sighed.

At that time the phone rang. It was Mandy, my coworker. She invited me to her house for a brunch: “No trouble at all! There are just four or five of us. All housewives. Our husbands are playing their usual Saturday morning eighteen holes.”

I felt somewhat stupid showing up empty-handed but I had absolutely nothing to bring. And Mandy assured it was all right. I tidied myself up and walked the short block to joint them. It was a wonderful start for my new neighbors. I spent a couple of hours nibbling the food and got filled on the newest gossips.

I returned to my house, belly full and feeling much better. I was shocked as I turned the corner. More than thirty people were milling around my driveway. They were here to help me unpack! Before I could find a polite way to decline, 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 afternoon was answering questions on where did I want things to go.

By late afternoon the house was all set. They had saved us days, possibly weeks, of unpacking. 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 quickly. 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 mower was almost done all my yards. 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 up 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? Excuse me?” 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.”