Page 2 of The Soldier Next Door
“Oh, sorry I just got so distracted! He just took his shirt off and oh my,” I murmur slack-jawed.
“It’s that good?” she asks from the other side. “I’m getting worried, Susie. What’s going on?”
I let out a muffled gurgle.
“Good doesn’t even come close to describing it, girlfriend. Hehasto work out. Nobody gets a body like that without putting in some serious time in the gym,” I tell her.
My eyes trace every inch of my new neighbor’s hot body. “And as if his body weren’t already perfect, he’s covered in tattoos! Like covered all over his muscular chests and his big strong arms. I’ve never seen a man so sexy. Holy shit, I’m going to pass out.”
Marcella squeals on the other side.
“Wow, and you live right next to this man? Lucky duck! I wish I had a neighbor that looked that that instead of Mrs. Gladys.” She keeps talking but I don’t even hear her.
Sweat is running in rivulets off my new neighbor’s body and he glistens in the bright sun. He wipes his face with his shirt then tucks it into his waistline. His cargo shorts sit loosely on his hips, the band of his briefs wrapping tightly around his muscular lower abs.
My eyes look over the bottom half of his body. He turns around and I see the tightness of his muscular butt. His strong legs also glisten with sweat in the sun. He squats in front of his Jeep and I watch his broad shoulders flex as he wipes off the front his car. I almost feel like he’s taunting me by putting on this display! My cheeks flush.
I listen half-heartedly to Marcella rattling on about her senile neighbor. At this rate I’m going to miss my chance to finally meet this man, so I cut off my best friend.
“Marc? I have to go. I’ll talk to you later!” I hang up quickly, ignoring the sounds of her protests.
I stare out my window again at the masterpiece that now lives next door. He’s standing and is facing my house, drinking a bottle of water. His wide chest and muscular arms shine brightly in the June sun.
All I want to do was run my hands all over his body like a woman savoring a sculpture of David. I have to figure out how to talk to him. But who am I kidding? It’s wrong for me to want such a mature man in this way. Marcella may have a point. Heisolder but still, thirty-five looks good on this man. In fact, he looks better than every man I know, regardless of age.
I shake the thought from my head again. Why would my new neighbor take interest in me? He’s obviously godawful gorgeous, and probably has a ton of supermodels hanging off his every word. Meanwhile, I’m just me. Susie Monroe, with the curly brown hair and too-curvy body. I’m no Cindy Crawford, that’s for sure.
Plus, I’m still in high school, so would he even be into that? Even worse, I’m still a virgin and have never let anyone get past the lightest petting session. That time with Curly Phillips was fucking awful. His hands were clammy and he wanted to go to third base, but I said no. I want to save myself for someone special. Someone who lights up my whole body, and who doesn’t make me recoil the way Curly did.
But it doesn’t matter. This man next door can absolutely have any woman he chooses. I’m just a nobody, right?
Unfortunately, my body desperately wants him. The worst he can do is say no, and put me off. I can handle that, hopefully.
I see him walking towards his garden and I start thinking furiously. An idea jumps into my head, and I rifle through my drawers to find the skimpiest tank top and shorts I can find. Without putting on a bra, I pull on the thin top and change into a red lacy thong. It’s silly because I know he can’t see it, but the racy lingerie makes me feel so brave and daring. I slide some revealing, black terry cloth shorts on over the thong and wiggle my ass a bit.
I look at myself in the mirror. My nipples poke out ever so softly through my white tank top. I adjust the spaghetti straps, so my large breasts sit perky and bounce ever so slightly. I turn around and check out my ass. The bottoms of my round cheeks hang out ever so slightly.Perfect.
After looking at my curvy reflection one last time, I run to the bathroom and grab a brush. I run it through my long, curly brown hair and let my curls flow down my back. I brighten up my lips with a small swipe of lip gloss. After throwing on a few strokes of mascara, I look at myself in the mirror.
I look older and more mature. If I’m going to get this grown man’s attention, I can’t look like a kid after all. I have to look like the adult woman that I am, and bring a luscious woman’s assets to the table for him to enjoy.
I run down the stairs and look through the kitchen window over the sink. I see my new neighbor pruning flowers in his backyard. The light hits him squarely, illuminating that broad, bronzed back. In fact, this is perfect because he’s kneeling in front of the bushes that line the fence separating our two yards. It’s time to put my plan in motion.
2
Brady
The bright Remford sun hits my back, searing it with bright rays. Damn, it’s hot, and I mop at my sweaty brow with a rag. Rivulets of sweat are trailing down my form, highlighting my bronzed muscles. I wish I could take off my shorts, and not just my shirt because it’s so freaking hot.
But that wouldn’t be right because one, who does that? Second, I’ve only lived in this house for about a month and my neighbors would be shocked. But finally, things are coming together. All of my boxes are unpacked, and my furniture is mostly in place. My house and my life are starting to come together and feel normal. When I’m not at work, I’m doing normal chores like gardening and working on my Jeep. I feel calm when I’m doing these things because since I was eighteen, my life has been anything but normal. That’s when I enlisted, and war is hard on a man.
I take a break from pruning flowers and just sit back on my heels for a second. In the middle of my garden, I start thinking about my last tour. A grimace comes over my face, and I look down, breathing hard. It was difficult because I lost my best friend, Tony. Tony graduated from the same military high school I did, but we didn’t know each other until we were both sent to the same location on our very first deployment. Since then, we’ve managed to be together for most of our deployments.
When we were back in the States, we normally found a small flat or apartment in a busy city and just lived life. Neither one of us dated anyone seriously and someone always had a sock on the door. We drank a lot, cried together, and shared some of ourmost profound memories. Civvies will never get it; only a buddy who’s been there can.
Our bond was strong, and when my parents died, Tony was the person by my side at both of their funerals. I couldn’t imagine doing life without him, yet here I am. Damn him.
After he died and I returned to the States, I wanted to live a different life. It’s partly Tony’s fault. We used to talk about how we’d settle down one day with a luscious woman and pump out a couple rug rats. We always laughed at the idea, but over the years, our tones grew serious. We wanted a family, and a woman to greet us at the end of every deployment. We want children, although now, Tony will never have his.
