The intriguing neighbor

triptoceylon

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Dec 19, 2010
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(Closed for Jasmine12345)

Fatigued from dullness and stress which has plagued him a long time
, a married man in his early 60's leaves his job of 18 years. Rather than jumping back into a the grind, he decides to take several months away from the rigors of work life to see what the world is like away from the travails of corporate culture. To his surprise, he finds himself enjoying a quieter existence in and around home. His wife continues to work her regular 9 to 5 job as a bank manager, mostly because she enjoys her work and is very much a creature of habit. In many ways he and his wife have become strangers who live under the same roof. Though their relationship is amicable, they stay out of each other's way.


He lives in an older neighborhood in a small Southern city, and since the house is nearly 100 years old, it requires considerable upkeep and maintenance. He uses much of his newfound time to work on projects in and around the house, rising at dawn to begin his day since his body clock remains unaltered. He also regularly jogs four and sometimes five days a week, charting a five-mile route through the neighborhood. He isn't used to seeing his neighborhood in the light of day since for years he spent so much time at his office. He notices details and gains a new appreciation of where he lives, the way the lawns are kept, the care (or lack thereof) for the neighborhood appearance. Inevitably, he becomes aware of the habits of his neighbors -- when they come and go, how much time they spend sitting on their porches, how often and how far they walk their dogs.

One neighbor in particular has piqued his interest, a woman in her 30's or 40's. She lives in one of the smaller more modest houses about six houses down the street from him. He's never had occasion to meet her, but from what he's observed over the past few weeks he believes she is a single mother of a daughter. He's seen the mother and daughter going to and from their car, but has yet to notice the regular presence of a man. He can't really distinguish her features from a distance, but from what he sees she appears to be average height and build. He isn't sure, but he believes she works from home, since her car stays in the front driveway most of the day.

As the weeks go by, he finds the solitude he enjoyed during the quiet days to get a little monotonous. He begins to crave human company, and he meets his former colleagues for lunch or coffee, though the conversations they have regress into work issues of which he no longer has any part of. He wants the stimulation which comes from meeting someone new and unlocking personal mysteries. So, one day he decides to alter his daily jog to correspond with the time his female neighbor will be outside. He figures she steps out of the house around 10am or thereabouts, and he tries to time it so he passes by to say "hello" and give himself a chance to introduce himself....


(seeking a literate and creative female for rp)
 
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Venus, 40 F, married to Mars, 50 M.

“Hello there, good morning.”
“Good morning.”
10a m. This is the time Venus steps on her porch for coffee and toasts. The jogger seems to come around at the same time every morning for some weeks----he lives six houses down the street, at least a 100 years old house. Venus, from a distance, has seen a professional looking woman go in and out the house several times. And this man, the jogger, seems to spend considerable time doing maintenance work in his yard and the exterior around his house during the day.

Venus works as a hostess at her husband's upscale restaurant 5 miles away. Her hours are from 6 p.m. to 11 p.m. 4 days a week. And she goes to her husband's second house nearby his restaurant once a week to do what his house-keeper doesn't do, mostly things more personal for his peculiar lifestyle.

*************
Venus, “ Amy, when are you going back to your mother?”
Amy, “ Venus, I don't like to live in my Mom's house. My dad said it's OK for me to live here with you....for a while.”
Amy is Mars' 18 yo daughter.

Sure, Venus also likes this neighborhood. Nice and quiet and there are flower gardens in front of every house. Mars hardly comes back here now which is OK with Venus as long as the gardener comes once every 2 weeks to keep her flower garden pretty. She doesn't really need Mars here anyway. She can go to his other house when he has friends there..
 
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He slows his run down as he catches her eye and says "hello," She responds with "hello there, good morning." He takes her enthusiastic greeting to be more than a polite gesture. His pace grinds to a halt as he approaches. He doesn't want to get too close, as he's aware he's sweating and hoping to keep away the runner's scent. It's a pleasant morning, not too hot but not cold either. The leaves on the oaks and maples which canopy the neighborhood are holding fast, providing a nice cover of shade over the streets, sidewalks, and yards. In many ways it's a picture-perfect Norman Rockwell neighborhood.

But for now he is focused on her and only her. Having satisfied the curiosity of the sound of her voice, he seeks more.

"I'm your neighbor. I live down the street in the craftsman's bungalow with the big porch and dark blue trim," he says, pointing in the direction he was heading before he stopped. "My name is Brian." He extends his hand in the hopes she takes it, wondering if her touch is anything close to what he has imagined.

"I've lived here for the better part of eight years, but until recently I haven't really seen the people who live around me." He stops, waiting for her response, but he sizes her up as he supposes she is sizing him up. And for the first time in a long time be becomes conscious of his appearance, of how he appears to a woman. In an effort to appear pleasing, he sucks in his stomach and slightly pulls his shoulders back to stand erect and appear a little taller. It's a subtle and hardly noticeably movement since he has a runner's physique. His legs are thin but muscular, as are his arms. The times he's spent outside in the last few months have darkened his skin a few shades to a light rusty tan hue. His wife quit commenting about his body years ago, and he wasn't ever sure if he was able to turn heads the way he did when he was in college. The last compliment he received was a few years back, when his daughter observed that he didn't have a "dad bod." Since then it became his goal to never succumb to the "dad bod," secretly checking himself in the mirror to make sure he didn't go the way of all his white collar buddies. Still, he is modest.
 

"Oh,... Brian...I am Venus... We moved here only a few months ago and don't really know any neighbors. My husband has another house a few miles away. He lives there most of the time."

Neighbor Brian is perspiring profusely from his jogging. This is not the right time to invite him to sit down for a conversation. I however could sense he has been sizing me up during the few words of interaction. My impression of him is that he's quite vanilla.....No, no, no, he may not even know what vanilla means. He looks so modest, like a scholar. Or a literary writer? Or a Norman Rockwell ? No, no, no, I frequently remind myself not to make assumptions merely based on what I see on the surface, especially when it comes to people. You'd be wrong if you get it wrong. I hope he is not making assumptions about me or he'd be as wrong as wrong can be if he gets it wrong.

I actually adore Norman Rockwell in the bottom of my heart, the very bottom, the invisible bottom of my heart.

The leaves on the oaks and maples provide a nice cover of shade over the streets, sidewalks and yards. If we pay a little more attention, we'll notice some of them are beginning to turn yellow. Autumn is around the corner. Yes, I agree, in many ways this is a picture-perfect neighborhood.

In the following few days Venus has been drinking her morning coffee inside her house, by the window, and watching neighbor Brian pass by while jogging.
 
"Welcome to the neighborhood, Venus. I'm sorry it took so long to meet you," I say, pondering what you've told me and already noting the unconventionality of the living arrangements between you and your husband. Still, since I don't really know you, I can't really determine if you're in an unusual situation or perhaps I've been living in a shell for so long. It is a short conversation, one I wish would last longer. I figure it's best that I move on and finish my run. After all, I achieved my goal of finally meeting you, and though my curiosity is somewhat satisfied of seeing you up close and hearing your voice, I want to know more. For some reason you've suddenly become the object of my interest. Is it a moth-like attraction to light, something of which I have no control? I'm not really sure, but after wishing you well and letting you know I hope to see you around, I begin speculating about you and why in particular you and your husband choose to maintain two residences. The rest of the day I can't seem to shake you from my thoughts.

The next day I run by your house again, hoping to see you outside. But as I slow down and turn my head, I catch you drinking coffee by the outside window I presume to be your living room or perhaps breakfast nook. I offer a friendly wave as I run past along with a hearty smile. It isn't much, but even seeing you has made my morning better. I presume you are busy, so I keep going.

Today the weather is overcast with dark clouds and gusty winds. I normally wouldn't mind running but the threat of a thunderstorm cancels my morning routine. Instead, I throw on casual outdoor clothes and take a walk instead. I figure I can modify my route and still pass by your house. Of course, I wonder if you sense that by now I'm purposely going by to see you. After seeing you the day before drinking coffee, I imagine you and me sitting down and enjoying coffee and getting to know each other better. And yes, as I let my active imagination run free, I unleashed thoughts of you revealing yourself to me. I let myself speculate on what it would be like to be with you. That's the beauty of imagination, it isn't tethered by rules or propriety, and it opens the doors to possibilities we normally don't allow ourselves to entertain.

I approach your house along the sidewalk, my pulse picking up with anticipation, though I try to remain calm. The remnant feeling I used to have as a hormone-charged teenager rises up from my loins.
 
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Two days after I disappeared from my porch I found a note in my mail box. From Brian.

"........the living arrangements between you and your husband.........I achieved my goal of finally meeting you, and though my curiosity is somewhat satisfied of seeing you up close and hearing your voice, I want to know more. For some reason you've suddenly become the object of my interest. Is it a moth-like attraction to light, something of which I have no control? ..........."

This doesn't sound right from a newly met neighbor. He could've talked to himself or to a wall, but, to me? Already?.....Besides, "a moth-like attraction to light" sounds frantic .

A few hours later Venus saw her next door neighbor Cindy, a woman looks in her 40's. Venus had only had a brief conversation with her once since she moved in and never seen anybody else go in or out Cindy's house. Presumably single. Venus went over for some neighborly chitty chat, friendly and giggling, "Hey, Cindy, my husband lets me invite 2 friends for dinner once in a while to his restaurant 5 miles away. On the house. Would you like to go? How about wednesday? I am inviting another neighbor.”

Today, at the moment right now, Venus is back on her porch for coffee. Here comes Brian, “Hi, Brian, “ she is standing up and walking closer to him, “ How are you this morning?..........errrrr.......not a bad day today.........I did get your note......it was nice of you.........errrrrr.......I was just thinking.........my husband lets me invite 2 friends for dinner once in a while to his restaurant 5 miles away. On the house. Would you like to go? How about wednesday? I am inviting another neighbor.”
 
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Pondering the invitation for dinner at your husband's restaurant, I grow enthusiastic at the opportunity to spend some time with you. Without hesitation, I respond, "Yes, sure, I've love to join you and your other neighbor for dinner on Wednesday. That's kind of you to offer."

I consider for a moment your invitation and wonder how it is a bit unusual. But then again, very little of what I know of you seems conventional. I'm guessing you decided to invite a small group so there's a conversational buffer. I figure it's your way of letting us get to know each other without the awkward presumptions. I smile as I continue walking.

"I look forward to seeing you again. Just let me know the time and name of the restaurant and I'll be there," I say as I bid you an amicable goodbye.

In the days leading up to Wednesday, I speculate on how well I'll get to know you at dinner. I think about your husband, who seems like something of a mystery figure. I wonder which neighbor you've invited and whether that neighbor will be as interesting as you. My eagerness becomes consuming. I also think about how to tell my wife about your invitation. Under normal circumstances, I would tell her and ask her to come along. However, telling her would give away my interest in you. Regardless of any explanation, she would sense that I want to be around your feminine presence. Truth be told my wife and I have, by most accounts, a long and happy marriage. However, years ago the physical intimacy we once shared has waned to the point that she doesn't liked to be touched. Even though we sleep in the same bed, the only touching is the occasional cuddling which occurs on cool nights. And even then she shudders as we embrace until she falls asleep. Despite my age, I find myself craving the touch of a woman's skin and tracing her feminine curves as much as I did when I was young. I probably desire it even more now than I used to.

Another reason I decide not to invite my wife along is because that is her Mahjong night with her friends, and usually Wednesday night I'm on my own for dinner. I tell her that I've received a dinner invitation for Wednesday and leave it at that. When I tell her, she wishes me a nice time and doesn't ask me any questions about who or what. She probably assumes it's an outing with former work colleagues.

As I prepare for dinner, I take extra care to make sure I'm presentable. After taking a shower, I look in the mirror at myself, wondering if my appearance is appealing or if I can do anything different with my hair. I comb it back wondering if I should eliminate some of the gray that highlights both sides above my ears. I'm grateful that my hair loss hasn't really reached the proportions of most men my age. It still covers almost all my scalp. I moisturize my clean-shaven face, paying special attention to the distinctive crows feet around my eyes. Even with all the time I spend out doors, my wrinkling has been minimal. I put on a white dress shirt and wool trousers with a cordovan belt and matching loafers. I then drape on a light wool navy sport coat and look at myself in the mirror. I contemplate wearing a tie, but decide that would be too much. If feels good dressing up again, as I haven't done so in a long time, at least since I worked a regular office job.

I get in my car and drive to the restaurant. Once there, I meet the hostess and tell her I'm there to meet Venus.
 
Evidently Brian paid quite a bit of attention to his own body that his hair was on top, then his face was right next and then way down and that even his loins had been mentioned earlier prior. His mirror captured the full length of what he wanted to tell.

Venus is not really that concerned about her own body. It's the men that are concerned about her body. It was only two days ago her husband, Mars, said to her with a tone of voice quite firm, as the boss, " Venus, the men have been asking for you. Party Saturday."

Saturday, today is only Wednesday---dinner with two neighbors.
"Hey, Cindy, You'll see my car in front of your house in an hour. I am taking you to a nice restaurant at the high end, nothing close to Papa's or Mama's down the street. You've got to wear something sharp. ”

Venus is already dressed sharp for this evening. Well, she has to anyway for her job as a hostess at the restaurant. Her duties are caring for the customers, being attentive, socializing and fulfilling their needs, especially for regular patrons. Most of them are very successful business people.
She is cutting down her work hours tonight for having dinner with Brian and Cindy.

6 p.m. Venus and Cindy have arrived and they see Brian already comfortably seated at the table reserved just for the three of them.
 
I stand as I extend my hand to you. I then extend my hand to Cindy, who you introduce as your neighbor and the third of our party. I compliment both of your on your sharp appearance as we sit and begin conversation before being served.

I ask you a few questions about the restaurant, "This is a lovely place. Your husband has exquisite taste in the decor. How long have you and he owned this restaurant? Will we get the honor of meeting your husband? Have you and Cindy been friends for a while?"

I realized I've asked you a number of questions, but I am genuinely curious about you and eager to find out what is on your mind.
 
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