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At 50 years and widowed, I had settled on the idea of keeping my life simple. I bought a small town home and lived comfortably off a healthy income from a business I had sold. No stress, no complications. No women. Which was fine. Then came the next door neighbor.
The next door neighbor was a much younger girl who moved into the adjacent townhouse. She was a renter who struck me as timid and anti-social. She wore dumpy clothes and her hair was tinted blue. While she would wave, she never stopped to talk. Which was fine. The only thing I didn’t like about her was her boyfriend, Vick. Or as I knew him, Vick the Dick.
I knew his name because it was emblazoned on the side of his very loud motorcycle, which he frequently used to announce his comings and goings. He wore black, had long hair and a beard, and communicated with irritated grunts. Which was fine. What I didn’t like was he and the girl had fights. Or, from my vantage point, was more like him yelling at her all the time. Sometimes they would be on the back deck and I would have to listen to him berate her. Since our back decks were separated only by a privacy wall, I could pretty much hear the whole show.
Of course, that was all none of my business until one afternoon it got violent. I heard him hit her and she cried out, and then there were more crashing noises. I walked around the privacy wall to find him standing over her, looking like he was about to kick her.
“Hey, back off,” I said as emphatically as possible for a man who was talking to another man who outweighed him by a good 50 pounds and looked like he probably carried a knife. Or knives.
He looked me up and down, as if to measure which bone he would break first. “This doesn’t concern you, get lost,” he grunted.
I probably should have, but I couldn’t leave her there. Her eyes were wide with fear and pleading. “I’ll make you a deal, let’s let her decide,” I said. “One of us stays and one goes, she chooses.”
Vick walked over and got close enough for me to smell his breath. Which was not good. “How ’bout I break every bone in your body,” he said.
I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my phone and held it up where he could see it. “Actually, I’ve just recorded you threatening me with bodily harm, which is a class A habeas corpus felony de facto, which, as an attorney, I can tell you will mean you’re looking at 5 – 10 years in prison, and that’s if you don’t have a record already,” I said. I imagined Vick had a record. Probably murder.
He looked at me blankly for a few seconds, and I could tell he was weighing out the costs and benefits of breaking an attorney in half, and I appreciated that he was at least thinking it through. He was still thinking when the girl spoke up.
“Vick, I think you should leave,” she said.
Vick looked at her, then back at me, then he sneered and grunted something that sounded like “whatever,” and he shoved a porch chair aside and stormed out. Neither of us moved until he had fired up his motorcycle and loudly drove off.
I came over and helped her up, she was shaking and embarrassed.
“Thank you,” she mumbled. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”
“I’m just glad I was here to help,” I said. “I’m not sure Vick is the right kind of guy, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“You’re right, I’ve got bad taste in men,” she said.
“We all make mistakes,” I said, helping her to a chair.
“Well thanks again for your help,” she said. “I didn’t know you were a lawyer.”
“Actually I’m not a lawyer,” I said. “But I did watch a Law and Order marathon yesterday. I think I did a reasonably good job of faking it. I don’t even know how to record anything on my phone either.”
She gave a weary half smile, and I suddenly realized I had never really seen her smile. There was a pause in the conversation and suddenly everything felt awkward. I made up an excuse that I had to go do something and I left her there alone on the back deck. I felt kinda bad to leave her there in the state she was in, but there wasn’t much I could do, and I wasn’t looking for complications anyway.
I went home and forgot all about the incident, and then a few days later I heard a knock on the door and there was the girl next door. She was wearing a low cut t shirt that displayed some ample cleavage I had not seen before, and tight cut off jeans that showed some beautiful legs I had not seen before.
“Got any sugar?” she asked.
I took longer than I should have formulating a response, mostly because I was distracted by the view and various thoughts of alternate definitions of sugar, but I eventually came up with a poignant, well thought out “huh?”
“Sugar,” she said, holding out an empty cup. “Do you have an extra cup of sugar?”
“Oh, right,” I said, regaining some focus. “I think I can spare a cup.”
I took her cup and ran back into the kitchen, found out that I did indeed have a cup of sugar, and brought it back to her.
“Thanks,” she said, blushing a little as she turned away. She stopped after a few steps poker oyna and turned around. “And thanks again for helping me the other day. Vick won’t be coming back again.”
I watched her walking away. She had always worn dumpy clothes that covered everything up, but now she had gone to the other extreme, wearing clothes that were almost too revealing. In her defense, she had a body that would let her get away with it.
The next day I got another knock on the door, and there she was again, dressed pretty much the same way.
“Would you like some sugar back?” she asked sweetly.
As my 50 year old mind went through various thoughts about 20-something old sugar, my eyes moved down to what she had in her hands, which was a plate full of cookies. I pulled my mind out of the fantasy gutter and graciously accepted the plate.
“These are homemade, a family recipe,” she said. “Just a way to say thanks again.”
I made some joke about how any time she wanted sugar in exchange for cookies she had a deal, and she gave me that sad half smile and turned to go back next door.
I took the plate into the kitchen and tried one of the cookies. The cookie had an array of ingredients I could not immediately identify, and it was so chewy it took me several minutes to work though the one bite. Despite the fact that my jaw was exhausted, I immediately finished that cookie and a half dozen more. It was undoubtedly the best fucking cookie I had ever eaten.
I ran into her on the back deck later and gave her my review. “That was the best fucking cookie I’ve ever had,” I said.
She nodded. “I learned how to make that cookie from one of my Aunts, we called her Aunt Granny for some reason,” she said. “It has apples, caramel, nuts, all kinds of things in it.”
“Whatever is in it works,” I said. “You should sell those in stores.”
“Thanks, I could use the money,” she said. “By the way, I’m Ella.”
“Ella. Nice to meet you, I’m Guy,” I said.
“Guy, your name is Guy?” she said. “A guy named Guy.”
“Yeah, my parents were lazy,” I joked. “I have a sister named Gal.”
She grinned a bit, getting ever closer to a real smile, but her eyes remained downcast. “After your rescue the other day, maybe I should call you Prince Guy,” she said.
“If you call me Prince Guy I’ll have to call you Cinder-Ella,” I said.
She giggled, just slightly, but enough for me to realize she had a nice laugh. She invited me to sit down for a while and we sat on her back deck and chatted about everything from cookies to the weather. In between she told me that Vick had cleaned out her bank account after he left, and she might have to move because she was in between jobs. She was more intelligent than she looked, and as we talked she started to loosen up some. Then the conversation took a turn.
“So, you’re a guy,” she said slowly. “A guy with a little experience, I’m guessing. I need to ask a favor.”
My mind went on a tangent, some ridiculous fantasy about her wanting to have sex with an older guy.
“I need some advice,” she continued, deflating my hopes. “I need to figure out how to attract the right guy, I keep getting the wrong ones. What is it that guys like?”
“Well, let me see,” I said, giving my ego a chance to deflate. “Guys, the right guys, like girls who are sexy but have a little mystery to them.”
“Like the way they dress?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s part of it,” I said. “I think most guys like a girl who shows off her body, but not too much.”
She nodded and looked at her own clothes. “I’m too much now, right?”
I nodded. “You have a fantastic bo- figure,” I said. I had started to say body but it sounded old man creepy. “Sometimes you cover it up too much, and sometimes you maybe reveal too much. Guys get the wrong idea if you reveal too much.”
She nodded again, studying my words. “Vick made me cover myself up in sweats all the time, he didn’t want other men looking at me.”
“I think as a general rule, whatever Vick liked I would do the opposite,” I said. “Just don’t go too far, you have to find a balance.”
“Right, good point,” she said. “What else?”
“Well, I think you have really, uh, pretty hair, but I’m not sure that blue dyed look is appealing to most guys,” I said.
“Another Vick pick,” she moaned.
We talked some more, with her asking more questions and me trying to give fatherly advice. She listened intently to everything I said, and seemed to be making mental notes. An hour flew by and I had was starting to feel like the world’s leading authority on what guys like. I had also developed a new found respect for my neighbor, she was sharper than I had thought.
Later, I was thinking about her money situation and how she might have to move, and I saw her cookies on the counter. I picked one up and as I set into chewing on it, I had an idea. I called up a friend of mine who had a chain of gourmet food stores and told him I wanted him to try something. He happened to be in town so I met him at the local store and let him try one of the cookies. canlı poker oyna He didn’t say anything for a long time after he finished chewing.
Finally he spoke up. “That’s the best fucking cookie I’ve ever eaten,” he said.
The next day I knocked on Ella’s door and a brown haired girl wearing tastefully short shorts and an attractive blouse opened up the door. I thought Ella had gotten a roommate for a second, then realized it was her.
“Wow, you look fantastic,” I said, and meant every word.
For the first time ever, I saw Ella give in to a full smile, and it was epic. She looked a whole lot better when she smiled.
“Listen, I have a business proposition for you,” I said. “I have a friend who is interested in selling your cookies in his stores. He wants fifty batches by the end of the week, and he is thinking of making that a weekly order. What do you think, can you do it?”
Ella’s eyes got big, she seemed to almost tear up with the positive news, but then she seemed to deflate a bit. “I think I could do it, but I don’t even have the money to pay rent, much less buy cooking supplies,” she said.
“That’s where the business proposition comes in,” I said. I held out a check for $3,000. “This is a loan, just to get you started, and I fully expect you to pay me back. I would not give this to you if I didn’t think those cookies, and you, had potential for success.”
She was speechless for a few moments, and I could tell she was not used to getting a break and didn’t know what to say. I spared her the trouble.
“Deal?” I said, holding out my hand
She nodded. “Deal,” she answered, and we shook on it.
Thus was the inauspicious beginning of the Aunt Granny’s Old Timey Apple Cookie company. My friend put out free samples in all his stores and everyone that ate one said it was the best fucking cookie they’d ever had and bought a box. Ella spent the next month doing nothing but keeping up back orders. She would cook all day and then come by and visit with me on the back deck in the afternoons, where we would chat about cookies, the weather, and as always, what guys like in girls.
One morning I heard a knock on the door and there was Ella, covered in flour covered apron with a big grin on her face. “I need an opinion,” she said. I’m trying out new perfumes, what do you think?”
She had me smell her neck on the left side, and then on the right side. I picked the right side, it had a classy, more reserved scent, plus it made my heart skip a beat.
She smiled and said that was her pick too. She turned to go and then remembered something and came back. She handed me a check, for $3,200.
“I’m paying back the loan, with interest,” she beamed. “Thanks Guy, you’re the best.”
I watched her walk back next door and felt like I had solved third world hunger. Ella had gone from a train wreck to a strong, successful and confident woman. I was proud of Ella’s turnaround and very aware that I had made a difference in her life.
Weeks flew by and Ella became ever busier, she eventually had to hire a few assistants and getting a commercial location to keep up with demand. She would still find time to drop by and visit me a few times a week on the back deck. She always wanted my opinion on what she was wearing, and now that she had money to spend her look had improved exponentially. She always wore the perfume I had helped her pick out, and I couldn’t wait to smell her when she came around. Despite all this, she still seemed to be having trouble finding a guy.
“I go out, and talk to guys, but I think they might be interested, but nothing ever happens,” she said.
“Well, sometimes I think guys like girls who make the first move,” I said. “Most guys are not that confident around attractive, smart women.”
She grinned. “Are you saying I’m smart and attractive?” she said.
“No, I was speaking metaphorically,” I grinned.
She punched me in the arm and laughed. She laughed so often now, and every time I didn’t want to hear her stop.
We were quiet for awhile, enjoying the cool afternoon air.
“What about you Guy?” she said. “Are you not interested in finding someone?”
I mulled my answer. What I really wanted to say was that if I could find a beautiful, intelligent, interesting person like you, who was willing to hang out with a guy twice her age, that would be ideal. I decided not to try that route.
“I guess at this point in my life I just want simple,” I said. I felt pathetic as I said it.
“Simple,” she said, almost savoring the word. “I understand.”
That night I didn’t sleep well, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the word SIMPLE. It didn’t sound as good when I was by myself, alone at night. I thought about Ella, imagined her being there beside me, and made the decision that I didn’t want simple. I wanted Ella, and I would tell her the next day. Even if she laughed in my face at the idea, it was still worth it to try.
Late the next afternoon Ella dropped by the back deck and I was practically shaking at the idea that internet casino I was going to put it all on the line. The minuscule hope that she might consider someone twice her age was worth the overwhelming odds that she would laugh in my face. Unfortunately, or fortunately, she spoke up first.
“I think I’ve found a guy,” she said.
I felt the five stages of loss – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance – rip quickly through my gut, while my face maintained a sort of happy for you look. On the plus side, at least I was spared making an ass out of myself. I hid my disappointment pretty well, expressing my congratulations and changing my gears back to the pathetic old guy who gives sage relationship advice.
“That’s fantastic, Ella, I’m so…so…happy for you,” I managed to stutter out. “He’s a very lucky guy.”
“Thanks Guy,” she said. “You know that I owe it all to you.”
I silently cursed myself, wondering if I had not talked her out of tacky clothes, blue hair and cheap perfume, I might still have a chance.
“I need another favor from you though,” she said. I have a very special evening planned soon, and I want it to be perfect. This is a little embarrassing for me, but I was wondering, I, uh, really want to make a good impression, and I was thinking, maybe, if..you…could..um..help me decide on some lingerie?”
Fucking hell. I had gone from thinking I had a chance with the girl to becoming so asexual that she felt comfortable trying on lingerie in front of me. I was like the gay friend. Not only was I not a guy who had potential, I was a guy who wasn’t even considered potential.
“Sure, happy to help,” I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
“Great,” she beamed, and all I could think was that even if it wasn’t me, at least I could see her smiling and happy. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me over to her side of the deck and then inside the house. She set me down on a chair and breathlessly told me to give her five minutes to change.
The first outfit was a lacy, ivory colored baby doll and panty set that took the air out of me and didn’t allow me to bring any more in for several seconds. It was sheer but not completely see through, so she wasn’t really that much more exposed than she would be on the beach in a bikini. But wow. My mouth was hanging open and I was nodding with enough gusto that Ella could tell I approved. Which was good, because I couldn’t really formulate any words.
“You seem to like this?” she asked.
“Fantastic, just fantastic,” I said. Just for good measure, I managed to say “fantastic” one more time.
She smiled in appreciation and turned to leave, which is when I realized that the panty was a thong, and also when I realized that Ella had an ass that was just…fantastic.
I had barely been able to recompose myself in the five minutes that Ella was changing into outfit two, so when she came out I was still a wreck. This time she was wearing a silky black robe that came down about mid thigh, lacy stockings and black high heels. She was a vision of sexy, but she was only getting started. She walked over to within about five feet of me and slipped her fingers under the robe tie and let the robe come open. Underneath was a lacy, black corset, complete with thigh high stockings and garters.
A long time may have passed by, I really don’t know, because I’m pretty sure I lost consciousness for a pretty good while. When my mind worked its way back into my head I realized that Ella was grinning down at me, her hands on her hips. I could only guess that for the five minutes or three hours I had been just staring up and down at the incredible vision before me.
“I think you like this too?” she asked.
“Better. Even better,” I stammered. “Absolutely amazing.”
“Thanks,” she smiled, pausing for a few more minutes to let me enjoy it. It was getting dark in the room, and she took a moment to walk around and light a few candles. I could tell she was very confident and secure, and I had to think she knew that she was hot. Liquid hot.
“Okay, so I have one more outfit, but I need to ask one more really, really big favor,” she said.
“Anything,” I answered, as I imagined anything.
“I got my guy some lingerie to wear to, and I want to surprise him,” she said. “I’m not sure how sizes work with guys, but you are about his size, so if it fits you it should fit him ok too.”
“Um, ok, this men’s lingerie is not weird or anything is it?” I asked. A grown man has limitations, I wasn’t going to put on some elephant trunk panties.
“Oh, not at all, just a simple robe and boxers,” she said.
“Ok, I’m in,” I said. There was something weird about doing this but what the heck. I’m just the batty old neighbor guy who is happy to help.
“Great,” she beamed, handing me a bag. “You put these on while I go and try on the last outfit.”
“Ok,” I said. “I’ll be honest with you though, there is no way the next outfit is going to be better than that one.”
Ella smiled and slipped into the next room. She looked absolutely amazing walking away in those stockings and high heels, and the robe slid over just enough for me to enjoy another view of a thong, though the thong was not what grabbed my attention.
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