Katrin leaned in against me, her lips brushing my cheek, the scent of citrus drifting over her skin. “Men are not the best for sex.”
“What do you mean?” I giggled, but her smile said she wasn’t joking. It was more conspiratorial. Her eyes stared deep into mine.
It was their house warming. The whole neighborhood was invited, but we’d hit it off immediately. While our husbands talked about sport and cars we wandered out into her garden and gazed at flowers while we chatted about love and sex.
“Come here when our husbands are at work. I will show you.”
Her fingers brushed my shoulder, but I flinched away. Mumbled a hasty excuse. Got out of her way.
Then spent the next week trying to keep her out of my head.
To look at her, you would have thought she was asleep. Laying back on a sun lounger, head tilted a little to the side, dark skin glistening with a sheen of sunscreen. She looked so peaceful, so serene.
But she wasn’t asleep. She was watching me as I was watching her.
I knew, because I’d seen her head turn. It was the smallest of movements, just an inch, but it caused her hair to fall differently, caused the shadows to change over her face. The big sunshades, old fashioned like they belonged to some eighties bubblegum-pop princess, hid her eyes. But I could feel her gaze undressing me.
Katrin loved the sun, adored it. I’d seen her out there in her garden every day this week, dressed in a parade of tiny bikinis. This one was white, crocheted so that her nipples were visible, lighter nubs of flesh pressed against the fabric.
I took a deep breath, knowing I’d been caught looking, wondering what that meant. Part of me wanted to turn and leave. The larger part wanted to stay. Martin was at work. The kids were at school. Nobody else would find me here. And what if they did? I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
But I wanted to.
“Pull yourself together, Monica.” I whispered to myself, my voice echoing in the empty bedroom.
Katrin licked her lips, smiled, and ran her hands down the sides of her body, started playing with the ties on her bikini briefs. Suddenly my mouth felt dry. I wanted to gulp, but didn’t dare.
Youth dripped from Katrin, the way that condensation drips from a cool glass on a hot day, making you desperate to quench your thirst. Her breasts were firm, her skin unblemished. Her hair was black satin, straight and short. She twirled a finger around the tie that held her briefs in place, then pulled it away and let it fall free. As she did the same with the other, and I knew that if she only stood they would fall away, I felt my panties start to stick against my skin.
She reached a hand beneath the fabric, and I let out an involuntary sigh.
Taking the hem of my dress in my hands, I lifted, pulled it up, over my head, dropped it to the floor. I saw her smile widen when it was gone. My bra still covered my breasts. I unclipped it, took it off, let her look at me while she masturbated.
When she threw her briefs aside it was too much. I watched her fingers stroking along her lips, dipping between, exposing sensitive flesh, and I reached a hand down inside my own panties. I was soaked already, my fingertips slid easily along my pussy, made me gasp as they flicked against my clitoris.
As Katrin started to move, I did too. Her back arched and my shoulders tensed. Her knees bent, bringing her legs up, spreading her pussy wider. I threw my head back and released a low moan.
We masturbated together, me looking down on her, her gazing up from behind her shades. There were other houses that overlooked us both, but we didn’t care. Let them see. In that moment I would have continued even if Martin suddenly came home and caught me.
Within minutes I was ready to orgasm. I felt my body rocking, had to brace a hand against the window frame to steady myself. Katrin caught her lower lip between her teeth and squirmed on her seat. I mewled and cried, then closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window.
When I opened them again, she was gone.
I changed my underwear, dressed, and went back to my book.
“Monica!” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I enjoyed today.”
I hesitated, nodded, then realised that she wouldn’t see a nod over the phone. “Me too.”
She laughed. “I saw that.”
“I was thinking… I mean, if the offer is still open…”
“When… I mean, I’m not sure -“
“Come tomorrow morning. Let yourself in.”
I could feel my heart thundering. “OK.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
I hesitated, looked around to check I was alone, took a breath that was meant to steady me. The air smelled of freshly cut grass and bright pink roses. They grew thick beside Katrin’s door, planted by Rebecca, who’d lived there before her and gave me a knitted cardigan when Oscar was born. Something told me that Katrin wasn’t the gardening type, though. Or the knitting type.
“Maybe she’ll get a man in,” I muttered to myself, looking over the rosebush. I smiled and added, “For the roses, not the cardigans.”
I’d seen neglected gardens in the neighbourhood before, overgrown, messy, not the kind of thing that people appreciated around here. I tried to think whether I could recommend someone, but came up blank.
Footsteps on the path outside the gate made me feel like I should hide. Which was stupid, since Katrin’s fence was six feet tall and nobody would care if I was standing at her door anyway. It wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong. She invited me here, after all. I wasn’t an intruder, just a neighbour. A friend. I laughed at myself, then remembered why I was there and my face went bright red.
The footsteps continued right past the gate, on up the hill.
“What are you doing, Monica?” I asked myself. “Are you going to stay or are you going to run away?” I took a breath, weighing up the advantages of each, told myself to make a choice.
I raised my hand and knocked on the door. It sounded feeble, more like an embarrassed tap. The kind of knock that you hear from the relief postman who has a parcel to deliver but is sort of hoping you’re not home. Confidence was never something I had a lot of. The thick double-glazing probably absorbed all of the sound.
Should I try again?
No, she’ll have heard it.
I didn’t want to make myself seem too eager. Katrin had only been my neighbour for a couple of weeks, but somehow we had latched onto each other immediately. At her housewarming she had smiled, invited me to join her in the garden, just the two of us, and started up conversations about love and sex. She whispered something about men not being the best for that, and I had giggled in response.
Then she touched me.
It was nothing inappropriate, but just a little too intimate. I got embarrassed and ran away.
A week passed before we had that moment. No physical contact, we weren’t even in the same building, but I watched her and she watched me.
I hadn’t intended it, or maybe I had. It’s difficult to know for sure. I certainly never would have initiated it. But Katrin is younger than me. I’m not sure how much younger, but it’s enough to mean that she’s not so hung up about these things. When I was in high school my friends still teased girls with words like “dyke” if they cut their hair too short. I guess hers didn’t.
She had a bit of an accent. Faded, but still there. German I think. So maybe that was it.
Nobody was coming to the door. I knocked again, a little harder, then doubted myself. What if it was all just a game? What if it meant so little to her that she’d gone out somewhere, or was laughing at me? I glanced over at the living room curtains, but they weren’t moving. There was nobody hiding behind them.
Then I remembered. Let yourself in. That was what she said on the phone. Would I dare? It seemed like such an intrusion.
I took a step back from her door, gazed up at the windows on the upper floor. There was no sign of movement.
Let yourself in.
I glanced around the garden again. The lawn was tidy. Not freshly cut – that smell must be coming from one of the neighbours’ gardens – but somebody had done it since Katrin had moved in. So maybe she already had a gardener? I wondered who it was, and whether I might be able to get their number, whether they might give me a deal.
The gate was still shut, just as I left it. Hardly siege defences, but nobody would see…
The handle turned and the door opened with a quiet pop. Warm air greeted me. Not stuffy, although summer had definitely arrived. This was the kind of warmth that you get from a carefully maintained environment. Just the right humidity to be comfortable. That was something special, but then Katrin and Tristram didn’t have any kids, so they had the money for a little extra comfort here and there.
“Hello.” I announced my presence tentatively, my voice squeaking on the first syllable so that the whole word sounded like ‘lo’.
Her voice sailed lightly down the stairs. “I’m in the bedroom.”
“It’s Monica,” I called. “From next door.”
Her laugh was high pitched, breathy. “I know.”
Buy the book: “Girl Next Door”
“Girl Next Door” part 1 was originally written for Masturbation Monday Week 93. Visit the Masturbation Monday page for masses of free stories.