Ray Garton - The New Neighbor

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

His face grew so hot, he was afraid it would burst into flames. "N-no."

"Really? I'm surprised. Don't you have – “

"What do you do for a living, Miss Dupree?" he asked suddenly, finally looking at her.

" Lorelle ."

"Okay. Lorelle. What do you do?"

"I'm an artist. I make jewelry, mostly. But I haven't been doing much this year. I made a couple of big sales last year and they've carried me through." She stood and took the lantern to a corner of the room and carried a bundle from there, dropping it in front of the fireplace. After she unfastened a couple of snaps, the bundle unrolled over the floor with a whisper.

A sleeping bag.

"See?" She stepped in front of Robby, bent toward him, took his left hand and lifted it, palm up, then placed her other hand over it. She wore a ring on each finger and, when their hands touched, she curled her fingers under, lightly brushing her nails over Robby's palm.

His back stiffened and he pressed his lips together hard, trying to brace himself against the tingling shudder of delight that passed through him, as if a swarm of moths were fluttering over his naked body.

Although he couldn't make out the rings in detail, their stones shimmered in the firelight as she moved her fingers slightly against his hand, opening her fingers again, then pulling her nails back down over his wrist, his palm.

"They're very pretty," he said, but it came out as a hoarse whisper. Lifting his eyes to look at her, he stopped halfway.

The unbuttoned V at the top of her shirt hung open and the fire's glow turned her chest a deep bronze. Tiny shards of light reflected from the rings danced over her smooth throat. And over her breasts.

Robby's tongue turned to sandpaper and seemed to scrape loudly as he passed it slowly over his lower lip.

"Was that you I saw in the window this evening, Robby?" Lorelle whispered.

He swallowed cotton as he looked up at her.

"It was, wasn't it?" She cocked her head, lifted a brow. "What were you doing?"

"I-I-I -" He dropped her hand, turned away from her and stood clumsily. " – should go. I should go now." The dogs stood, too, so suddenly that Robby thought, for a crazy second, that they were going to attack.

Lorelle made a quiet sound as he brushed past her. A laugh? Was that it?

"My furniture arrives tomorrow afternoon," she said, following him through the darkness with a lantern. "I could use a hand moving in. You know, arranging things, moving them around. Would you mind?"

"I-I don't know. I've got homework."

"I'd pay you for it, of course. With dinner. How's that sound? I'll make something special. What do you like?"

At the door, she stepped in front of him.

"Or better yet," she said softly, "I'll make something for you, a piece of jewelry. Or you can pick something out of the stuff I've got. Something to go around your neck, maybe?" She stroked a finger across his throat, then along the edge of his collar and -

– Robby almost sighed, almost whimpered , but clamped his throat shut as -

– she pressed her warm palm to his chest for a moment, a long, silent moment, and -

– Robby leaned his back against the doorjamb as the crotch of his jeans began to tighten against his growing erection, as -

– her hand fell away and she smiled a simple, friendly smile and said, "I think everyone should own at least one piece of fine jewelry, don't you?"

Robby coughed, nodded, and reached for the doorknob.

"Will you come? After school?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said, going outside. The biting chill was a relief.

"Tell your parents I said thanks again."

"Yeah, sure." He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he crossed the street. At his front door, he turned back, just for an instant.

She stood in her doorway, glowing lantern in hand, and smiled.

The shadows from the wavering flame cut deep into her pale face, opening black, bloodless lacerations that immediately closed again, then opened somewhere else. From the darkness behind her, four slanted eyes shimmered a dull yellow.

As Lorelle waved at him, Robby hurried into the house, then ducked down the hall to his room before anyone could see him, before anyone could notice the moistening bulge in his pants.

Dark Thoughts

Karen Pritchard lay on her side in bed, her back to George, but she couldn’t sleep. She frowned at the digital clock on her night stand and watched the time click by in square red numbers as she wondered what it had been about Lorelle Dupree that had made her so uncomfortable.

No, uncomfortable was not the right word; unsettled was more accurate. After the woman left, Karen had gone back into the kitchen to unload the dishwasher and had dropped three glasses and a saucer, then tried to put a frying pan in the cupboard above the counter with the plates and bowls. Just as she caught herself in the silly mistake, George had walked in for another beer and she was afraid he'd wonder what was wrong, but he didn't even notice, just got his beer and left.

Did she look familiar? Was that it? Or was it because Karen had caught George eyeing her?

That was doubtful. Infidelity was something that had never concerned her, not with George. He was so… devoted. Sometimes that seemed unlikely to her. They had a good home and were a reasonably happy – at least content – family, but when it came to sex, she knew George could do better. He had every reason to look for a lover outside of their marriage. There were even times when Karen realized she wouldn't blame him if he did. A couple of times, she’d even wished he would, thinking that perhaps it would take some pressure off her, as long as it was just sex he was looking for and nothing else. Early on in their marriage she'd expected him to do that, but, as far as she knew, he never had; so, she figured if he hadn't by now, he probably wouldn't.

"Sex," her mother had told her when Karen was in high school, "is something you do to have babies and keep your man. If you like it, that's great. If you don't – and believe me, honey, most women don’t – you learn to live with it. That's all the sex education anybody needs." She'd said it as they watched the news on television one night, during a report on the controversy surrounding the importance – or danger, depending on how you looked at it – of teaching sex education in schools.

A few years later, when she shared that bit of motherly advice with Denise Hubert, her college roommate, Denise had thought she was joking. When she realized Karen was not, Denise was appalled.

"You didn't believe her, did you?" Denise asked.

"Why? Isn't it true?"

"Of course not! Everybody enjoys it!"

Although she did not voice her response at the time, Karen had thought, Not everybody .

Against the advice of her mother, Karen had one boyfriend in high school. (If she'd followed her mother's advice, she would have stayed away from men entirely.) Karen was not unattractive in high school, nor was she unpopular. She was studious and got impeccable grades and was active in school politics. But she was not a very good dancer and attended very few parties and only went out with groups, never on dates with boys. At least, not until Michael came along.

Karen did not particularly like Michael, but he liked her . He asked her out often and sat next to her in classes whenever possible. He was a popular boy, a jock, the kind of boy who made girls sigh and roll their eyes dreamily. Every girl Karen knew expressed shock at her indifference and, after enough of them told her to "go for it," she decided it was probably the thing to do and followed their advice, rejecting her mothers.