Chapter 2
Greg stood quickly, feeling awkward, as though he'd been caught at something. He even felt himself flush and it was silly because he'd put the Taylor woman out of his mind. He wiped his palms on his thighs.
"Hello," he managed to blurt.
Her smile broadened and he noticed one thing right away: her eyes were green.. Green eyes, rusty hair, a mouth that seemed to promise a great deal. It was a strong neck and throat and the rest of her-was unreal.
He couldn't keep his eyes from straying. They drifted into her throat, which was bare, for Mrs. Taylor wore only a halter that barely contained her heavy breasts. He could see the points of the nipples thrusting toward him like a couple of beacons. Lots of tanned flesh below and then a very brief pair of chopped-off jeans. The jeans might have been painted on, for they were stretched to their apparent limits. The fly was close to gaping open and they were very low, inches below her navel, a deep and interesting depression in her lower belly. They fit around her hips as tightly as the bikini had, and he knew if she were to turn around he'd be able to see the dimples in her buttocks.
"You're my neighbor. The man in 5-A, right?" she said in an easy and low drawl, apparently not noticing his flustered movements. He kept wiping off his already clean hands. "I'm Sigrid Taylor. Pleased to know you."
She thrust out a strong hand like a man and he took it. Her grip was firm and cool. "Hello," he said again. "Yes, I'm Greg Eastman. My wife has been meaning to pop over and welcome you to the place." He wondered if his voice sounded strange and he was annoyed with himself. Quit acting like a schoolboy! something inside himself ordered. You're a grown man, a married man, talking to a mother and an older woman. Except that she didn't look older. She looked superb, in her physical prime, a rare specimen.
She stopped smiling. "I must say it isn't the most friendly place in the world. After more than a week we've hardly said a word to anyone, except the landlord." She brightened her smile again. "But, if you don't object too much, I do have a favor to ask, and it looks as though you're almost finished here."
"I'm finished," Greg said at once and he picked up his toolbox.
"Wonderful." She sucked on her upper lip for a second or two, a movement he noticed at once. "I'm afraid the pilot has gone out in our water heater. I just tried the landlord and there's no answer. David-he's my son-is off somewhere with Diana-my daughter-and, well, I'm just a baby when it comes to messing around with gas...and I was wondering..." she let her voice trail away.
"Glad to help out," Greg said with a briskness in his voice. He'd made up his mind he was going to be a good neighbor. He had the time. He was also going to stop consuming this woman with his eyes. That could only be a bad scene, and he didn't want anything like that going on.
"Right now?" she asked.
He nodded. "I'm free for the rest of the morning...for the day, in fact. Although I was planning a dip in the pool after lunch. I'm playing bachelor for the day." Why the hell had he told her that?
She seemed to look him up and down briefly, but he had to admit he saw no real or personal interest in her glance. "I guess this is my lucky day," she murmured. "If you really don't mind..."
"Let's go," he snapped, all efficiency, the home handyman ready to do a job for a helpless neighbor. But she didn't look helpless. If he ever needed any steel bars bent or straightened he imagined she'd be able to do the job for him.
She turned and led the way out of the garage. Out in the sunlight she waited while he closed the door. Ah, it worked easily and firmly, no more shaking. Then he turned and began to follow her toward the stairs.
He blinked as he looked at her. It was true. He could see the dimples in her buttocks and what buttocks they were: firm, tight, generous but no larger than they should have been to match her frame. He wondered at her power, for she was large and quite obviously in excellent physical condition.
He remembered her stride from having watched her leave the pool. Long-legged, firm brown legs with meaty thighs and calves, but thin ankles. She was barefoot and her feet were large, but not excessively so. She was a hell of a woman, that was all there was to it.
As she walked, her stride as long as his, the cheeks of her bottom quivered up and down, not like fatty cheeks, but like rippling muscles. He watched them carry her weight with surprising grace. Her back was straight and smooth-skinned with a tan that enhanced her grace and power. The shoulders were square, almost like a man's, but there was nothing mannish about her. She was a total female.
They marched up the stairs and again he watched the twitch, coming up close behind her. He half smiled to himself, realizing again that he was thinking like a child. He was only dreaming, and perhaps that was all right, but in merely thinking of another woman in such a fashion he was being unfair to Karen. Unfairness to his wife was out. Verboten.
When they reached her door she opened it at once. It wasn't locked. Inside, the house was cool and in shadows against the slanting morning sun. It was very quiet and she turned to smile at him.
"Usually this is a madhouse when the kids are around. You don't know how much I appreciate a little peace and quiet." She rolled her eyes. "And then the damned pilot blows out and now I'm interrupting your morning."
"Not at all," Greg insisted again.
"You're sweet," she said lightly and he studied her face. She'd spoken without guile, automatically, and he relaxed somewhat.
She led him into the small kitchen. It was a cheerful place with built-ins, of course, a small dining table and, in the far corner by the door that led to the service corridor, the water heater. He detected the faint smell of gas as he knelt and at once he turned off the cock.
"Dangerous?" she said as she stood over him.
He looked up over his shoulder and froze at the sight. It was stunning. Those jutting breasts were over him like a shelf. He could see them lift and fall from underneath and they seemed almost anxious to leap out of the inadequate halter. Her belly was also moving in and out and he could see the faint track of hairs where they marched into her low-slung jeans. He could smell her, too. It was a musky sort of smell mixed with perfume.
"What's the matter?" She sounded frightened. "It is dangerous, isn't it?"
"Huh?" he blurted. "Oh, no, of course not. We'll leave the jet off for a minute to let the gas disperse. Then I'll light it. No problem."
She didn't seem to notice his unrest, except to interpret it in the wrong way. She'd thought he was frightened and, in a sense, he was. He could feel his control begin to desert him. This was a fantastically desirable woman and he knew that she would be a fantastic experience.
She towered over him, hands on her hips, feet planted apart. Her knees were just an inch or two from his hip as she leaned forward. Those legs looked a mile long and they were tan and sturdy. He thought about them being locked around his body and a gasp escaped from him.
"What is it now?" she asked, still apparently puzzled. He felt his penis begin to rise between his legs and he at once wished he'd worn something less tight around the crotch than his old jeans. If he stood she'd see his alertness at once.
"Uh, nothing."
Her expression changed a little and she cocked her head. "Are you sure, Mr. Eastman?"
"Sure I'm sure. And you can call me Greg."
"All right. Greg." Her eyes flickered toward the heater. "Is it time yet?"
"Not quite."
"Come on, I'll show you my new room. I'm proud of it. Fixed it up myself in less than a week."
He struggled to his feet and her eyes flickered down as he did so. He was certain she could see the embarrassing bulge. He felt guilty of betraying Karen and he swore to himself. But she turned away and again he was following her. Through the front room and into a bedroom. It was familiar because the plan was the same as 5-A.
She opened the door and stood aside. He peered past her into what he could only describe as a gymnasium in miniature. There was wall-to-wall matting, weights, an exercise bicycle, rings on the walls attached to springs, a machine on which the user could run on a moving belt. Everything.
"This is where I keep in shape," Sigrid announced. "The whole family uses it. We're fitness nuts."
He smiled, feeling bold for a moment. "I can see that it's working."
"Thank you." She still seemed without guile, but there was a wise look in her eyes, as though she were accustomed to having men say bold things to her. How could it be otherwise? She had years on her and certainly a great deal of experience. "I suppose you can light it now."
"Yes." They marched back toward the kitchen. "Uh, is there a Mr. Taylor?"
She shook her head at him. "Divorced, but I made him pay. That's how I can afford this without working. That bastard had to pay through the nose for the fun he had with me. I made sure of that. And he's got plenty. A marine engineer. They make more than nickels and dimes, you know. I get my share every month."
He said nothing as he knelt before the water heater again. She was right over him and abruptly his hands were shaking and sweating. No husband. The kids gone. Christ, she was a lot of woman.
"You're doing it again," she snapped.
"What?"
"Trembling like that thing is going to explode." Then she touched his shoulder until he looked up. "Or is it me you're afraid of? My sweet Christ, I do believe it is." She lifted her head and laughed, hands on her hips. "By God, the same old story."
Greg flushed at once, angry and embarrassed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
I'll be you don't," she replied. "Well, here we go again. The cat playing with the mouse. I wonder if I feel like being a cat again. You'd make a hell of a mouse, I know that much."
He merely shook his head in denial and his eyes stung as he got lower on his knees. He couldn't focus on the hole where the pilot was, and as he reached into his jeans for matches he dropped them.
"Here," she said and he caught the continued amusement in her voice. She got down next to him and picked up the matches. "Light it first, before we all go through the ceiling."
"First?"
"Just light it, Greg honey."
Miraculously, he was able to accomplish it and the small flame flickered properly. He began to get up and his rising back sank into a twin softness just below his shoulders. She was over him like a blanket, somehow supporting herself, her breasts not permitting him to get up.
"Greg?" she whispered in his ear and he was sweating down the middle of his back, undoubtedly staining his T-shirt.
"What?" His voice was rasping and he'd dropped the matches again.
"You'd better stay down there a couple of minutes...to check it, you know. We don't know how it went out in the first place." The voice was throaty, seductive, as though she had decided to play the cat with her mouse. God damn her, she was so strong, so in control. He thought about jumping up and brushing her aside as he raced to the door, but he didn't think about it very much.
So he stayed where he was and the breasts pressed into his back. She was somehow moving her torso and her breasts were moving in slow circles. God, how they dragged his T-shirt with them, pulling the shirt from his jeans. It was driving him crazy.
His prick was like a stone as she reached over his shoulder, pushing down hard to recover the matches. She tossed them on the counter. Then she was heavy on m again and he felt her belly against the small of his back. It was a hard belly, yet it gave like something much softer and its heat radiated into his body. "Don't get up," she warned. We're not certain." He gasped. "I won't," he stammered as she laughed low in her throat. God, she was so cool for a woman with so much heat inside her body.
The breasts and the belly were moving inunison as she slowly ground herself against him. "You like that, Greg."
"like what?"
"Oh, God, one of those. A guy who pretends he can't understand what's happening. I know, you're faithful and you're innocent, trapped like a fawn, unable to cope, not knowing what in the world is going to happen."
He gulped but did not reply as her arms went over his shoulders and she draped herself on him fully. The effect was electric and Greg wished to hell he'd made Karen stay home. As it was it was much too late.
He felt terribly embarrassed, but the plain truth was that he was coming in his jeans. He felt the sperm begin to march and there was nothing he could do about it.
"You're hot and bothered, Greg my lad." She was laughing at him again.
"You're crazy," he managed to snap, but his prick was swelling until he feared his fly would burst.
She reached around his body and pretended to be studying the water heater. He pretended, too, but it wasn't easy. "I thought you said there wouldn't be an explosion," she giggled. "Well, I suppose it's all right. After all, it's been a while for me, too, and I really don't have any neighborhood friends, yet. You'll do very nicely. Thank goodness for pilot lights."
Greg was gasping, trying to hide his discomfort. God, he felt like a high school kid who couldn't keep things under control at Inspiration Point.
But Sigrid was tuned in and she took charge. She pulled herself from him, stood him up and pressed him against the drain board. Then her fingers were ripping his jeans open and his prick was out like a lance.
"Jesus!" she exclaimed, and Greg felt a wave of foolish pride. At least she didn't laugh at his size.
He was beginning to come as she jerked his jeans down to his knees. His shorts went with them. Then she was ripping at her own jeans, but it was too late. He was coming, squirting like a milk truck gone crazy.
Her halter and her jeans were still in place as his white fountain splattered across her belly and, as his heart pumped hard, sent a jet all the way up to her breasts and then down lower. It was sliding down her belly and into the waist of her tight jeans until they were turning dark before his eyes.
He glanced into her face, expecting to find anger. Instead she was smiling.
"Wonderful," she whispered as he continued to come and she stood before him, not protecting herself. "We're going to have a lovely day together. You and me and the gymnasium."