Chapter 4
Sam Gibbons finished his third cup of coffee and looked out through the glass doors of the dining area onto the back yard. He cringed as he studied the vast expanse of grass. Helen would expect it cut by the time she returned from her mother's on Sunday night.
Sam dumped his cup in the sink along with the rest of the dishes and went through the house to the bedroom. In a minute he re-appeared wearing a pair of shorts that did nothing for his pot-belly. He slid the glass doors open and stepped into the patio. The heat hit him full blast, along with eye irritating smog. Sam grumbled as he rubbed his eyes. This place had sure as hell changed. He could remember when there wasn't any smog out this far in the valley. Damned Los Angeles, why didn't they keep the stuff to themselves?
And this house. He looked around the vast yard, squinting his eyes against the sun. He must been out of his mind to let Helen talk him into buying it. Here they were, stuck way out in the sticks instead of being close in and cozy in some good apartment. He didn't dare get drunk, he'd never be able to single out their joint from the others. The guy that designed this layout must have had carbon paper for a mother.
Still muttering, Sam started for the garage and the lawn mower. About that time the fence caught his eye. He stopped and studied it. A ten foot pile of redwood hiding their house from the one next door. Those people over there sure liked their privacy.
Sam smiled to himself, remembering the times he'd caught a glimpse of Hobson's wife. Ralph was all right. Not too bright but he'd do. It was the wife that sent Sam's pressure up. She was some looker. Stacked like the distant mountains ... twin peaks that is. Gibbons laughed at his own joke.
And now that he thought of it, that fence looked like it Could do with a fresh coat of seal. Could be he might be lucky and catch a glimpse of something on the other side.
Humming to himself, Sam found the paint and ladder and dragged them out into the yard. He was sweating by the time he got everything in place. On top of that, his ambition was running out. It was really Hobson's business to keep his fence up.
Nevertheless, Sam set to work, gradually getting higher on the ladder. He held his breath as he peeped over the top. His jaw fell in disappointment as he looked into the other yard. It was empty. And like his, the grass needed cutting.
Perched precariously up in the air, Sam damned himself for ever getting involved in this mess. Now he'd have to finish it. Helen would raise hell if he didn't ... just as she would because he'd started the job. She had no time for the people next door. In fact her description of Hobson's wife could lead to a healthy slander suit if it were ever spoken out loud.
Gibbons was about to descend to a more breathable altitude when he spotted motion at the back door. He quickly ducked down, feeling like a school boy peering into a dark car along lover's lane.
Finding a handy knot at eye level he squinted close.
Sam blessed his luck as Mrs. Hobson came into view. If he was sweating before, the water was really pouring off of him now.
Damned if this wasn't the best looking dame he could ever remember seeing. She stepped out onto the patio flagging and stood there for a moment, her face expressionless. She had a short robe on over what looked like a bathing suit. As he watched, the woman moved to one of the lawn chairs and sat down. She kicked off her shoes and then the outer covering.
Sam gasped as the full figure came into view. It was a bathing suit all right ... a bikini. The bottom section covered just what it had to and not an inch more. On top the large breasts almost swarmed over the material. They swept down and out, each in a different direction and just when you thought you might see something, that damned bit of cloth got in the way.
And it was obvious that she thought she was alone. After staring around briefly, as if to make certain the high fence circling the yard was still in place, she reached behind her and unhooked the halter, tossing it aside. Now the full, dark glory of the breasts came into view. When she moved, they moved, a sort of easy, flowing motion. At length she lay back on the chair and seemed to go to sleep.
Sam pulled out his handkerchief, mopping his soaked face, unable to take his eyes away from the woman. He suddenly felt ten years younger and wished to hell he could prove it.
He forgot the bucket of paint when he moved to a better position. The can clanked noisily against the fence. Sam ducked down and grabbed desperately at the metal to keep it from banging again. When he'd finally steadied it, he peered through the hole again.
The woman was nowhere in sight. Sam swore an oath and surveyed the yard. Nothing. She'd heard the noise and bolted like a scared deer. At that moment he would have cheerfully killed himself.
And then a gentle voice on the other side of the fence turned his face crimson. "This isn't a baseball park, Mr. Gibbons," it said sweetly. "The admission is free."
Sam peered downward through his knot hole. There she was, smiling, looking back at him. He tried to swallow his embarrassment, this time looking over the fence. "I was painting the fence," he stammered lamely.
"It sounded like you were tearing it down," she said.
"I wasn't watching what I was doing," Sam admitted.
"What were you looking at?"
"You," he admitted, mopping his face. A brief gust of wind whipped across the yard, kicking up dust, rocking the ladder, forcing Sam to cling to the lip of the fence. He watched the breeze flow through the woman's hair, driving it out behind her in long, yellow strands.
"Being a peeping Tom is a bad habit to get into," the woman said. "What will your wife say when she catches you up there?"
Sam was rapidly recovering his composure. After all, she really didn't seem angry that he'd been looking. And now, as he stared down at her from his vantage point, he realized just how much woman she was. Her halter was still back on the ground beside the chair. And she certainly didn't seem to mind her exposure. Sam studied the lovely breasts and had to wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before he could say anything. Each one was a delight standing straight out from the body with only a slight slope downwards. The valley between the breasts was so deep that even now, in full sunlight, there was shadow. She was breathing harder than seemed necessary under the circumstances, each air intake raising the dark points to a higher position.
Sam remembered her question in time to answer it.
"My wife isn't home," he admitted.
"My name's Eva," the woman said. "What's yours? I don't remember seeing you much."
"How could you," Sam grinned, nodding towards the oversized fence, "with this thing around. Besides, I'm not home often. I'm a salesman."
One edge of her lip curled up in a peculiar manner, matching the raised eyebrow. "A traveling salesman?"
Sam nodded. He looked up in the direction of the sun now boring down on them from a clear, blue sky. "It's hot up here," he complained.
"It's hotter down here," Eva said slowly.
Perhaps it was the way that she said it, or maybe because she turned just enough for Sam to have a full, frontal view of the breasts, but in either case he was suddenly glad that his wife was gone. The woman's next sentence confirmed the fact.
"Why don't you come over here and have a drink," Eva smiled. "My husband's left to."
Sam looked down at the woman, studying her, his mind stripping gears. Like all men, he'd had his share of sex. But the active period was now past and he just contented himself with thinking of what he'd like to do to the various cute things he saw wiggling down the sidewalks. But this girl had called his bluff. If he went over on that side of the fence it would be for one reason alone.
Eva saw his hesitation, enjoying it. "You aren't afraid of me, are you?" she said.
Sam mopped his brow. And he made up his mind. He'd be a damned fool to pass this up. He started down the ladder. "I'll be right over."
"No, wait," she said hastily. "We have a ladder in the garage. You can come over this way. Someone might see you if you came around to the front gate."
Sam watched her move off in the direction of the garage. At the same time he glanced around the neighborhood. From his vantage point he could see at least a half a dozen men mowing their lawns. So far none of them had noticed him. None the less, he'd have felt a lot better going into the yard in the regular way. All of a sudden he felt slightly ashamed of what he had in mind.
But the sight of the girl returning, carrying a light metal ladder, restored his confidence. The unsupported breasts swayed like twin pendulums, driving off any thoughts of changing his mind.
She placed the ladder against the fence. "There," she said, looking up. "Come on down."
Sam's knees shook slightly as he made the short trip to the ground. However, it had nothing to do with altitude. When he stood beside her, he smiled somewhat uncertainly. "Hot day isn't it?" he said.
The woman laughed. There was a strange ring to it that Sam didn't like too well. "For you maybe," she said. "But you've got clothes on, I haven't."
"So I've noticed," Sam admitted, unable to take his eyes away from the twin peaks now so close to his chest.
Eva brushed back some of her hair that might be obstructing his view.
Sam mopped his forehead for the dozenth time. Now that he was here he was scared. Hell, he thought, he was too old for this sort of thing. It was fine to daydream about but to actually become involved ... he turned back towards the ladder. "I think I'd better go," he said, feeling like a damned fool.
Eva grasped his arm and pulled him along with her towards the house. "Don't be silly," she scolded. "I promised you a drink."
The interior of the living room was much cooler. Sam sat nervously on the couch, watching the woman fill a glass with ice and liquid and then walk towards him with it. "Aren't you having any?" he asked.
Eva shook her head. There was amusement in the dark eyes. "No," she said. "I don't need alcohol to be at my best but I've discovered that most men do."
Sam took a healthy slug of the whisky. He needed it. This woman had plans and she was making no secret of them. At the moment he was wondering just who was trying to make whom.
Her smile still in place, Eva sat beside the man. "Like?" she said softly, leaning towards him.
Sam put the glass down and wound one arm around her back. If she wanted fun, he'd give it to her. His head spun as he kissed her body. The flesh was soft and hard and hot and cool.
"That's good," the woman said softly. "Very good. Harder."
The whole thing had a dream quality to Sam. That had to be it. He'd fallen asleep and this whole thing was in his head.
But as he pulled away he knew it was real enough. And so was the mouth that descended on his, in a kiss that soon drew the breath from his lungs. The woman moaned and all of Sam's doubts as to what she wanted, vanished ... not that he'd had any to begin with.
Eva went throught the ritual of love play. She knew that it had to be that way if she was to get the satisfaction she sought. But she was impatient for the final rites. Yesterday she'd wondered if she'd ever want a man again. Last night the answer had been clear ... but her husband had been too inept to give her what she'd wanted.
And ever since Eva had awakened in the morning the flood of desire had been flowing through her body. She hadn't understood it. She never did, this unexplainable drive that took hold fo her and pushed her into another affair.
And so when she'd seen Sam Gibbons staring at her from behind the fence she could think of only one thing. He was a man. Short, old, fat and not handsome. But he was a man. And as such he could give her what she needed, wanted, had to have.
It was stupid, foolish and dangerous, all this Eva knew. But there was no stopping the demand when it came.
Eva smiled and stretched like a cat. "I've got clothes on," she said softly and helped him, quickly untieing the cord, pulling the material away from '-jst body. She sank back onto the couch, Did he need lessons, Eva thought impatiently. She took his hand and pressed it. She felt suddenly weak at the thrill of his fingers. It was wonderful, she thought, what a man could do to her. But even in that moment of rising passion she knew that she'd never responded like this to her husband. Why?
But there wasn't time to think about it now. She was excited by his touch. All of her wants were driving towards one thrilling moment. She smiled weakly, raising her arms toward him.
Sam, still didn't believe that any of this was happening to him. But the woman on the couch looked real enough. In either case, he wasn't about to take any chances. Then, hoping his heart would hold out, he moved closer to her.
Eva saw him coming and closed her eyes, awaiting the pleasures she so desired that were about to be given her.
At that instant the sharp sound of the doorbell cut through the quiet of the room.
Eva's face went white as she glanced towards the panel just a short distance away. She wasn't expecting anyone. It had to be her husband. He hadn't gone to the mountains after all.