The Neighbors, Chapter 2

The following Saturday, Phil was outside mowing the lawn. Nothing had ever given him as much pleasure as hopping on the mower, putting on his headphones, and cutting the grass. It was oddly satisfying.

As he finished the front yard and prepared to move to the back, a sight made Phil stop and stare. It was Emily Vincent. She had emerged from her house, carrying a bag in one hand. She was dressed in a light blue bikini, one that nicely accented her curves.

As Phil watched, she reached into the bag and removed a towel, which she laid down on the driveway pavement. She then went back into the bag and removed a bottle of suntan lotion, which she began to lather herself with. Satisfied, she put the bottle back in the bag, laid down on the towel, and began to sunbathe.

It was at this moment that Phil realized he had an erection. Panicking, he shook his head, turned up the volume of his music, and pushed on with his mowing. Thank God Lana wasn’t home right now. When he looked back over ten minutes later, Emily had apparently gone back inside.

***

The next day, Phil went to the gym to practice his tennis. This left Lana at home by herself. Though Phil had tried to encourage her to take up tennis, it was never something Lana had ever had much interest in. She enjoyed watching Phil play, and that was enough for her.

After lounging around the house for a while, she decided to busy herself by starting to plant her garden. She had always dreamed of having her own: tulips, roses, maybe even a few vegetables. Their apartment had been too small for anything more serious than the occasional plant, but now with a yard, there was no better time.

She gathered her trowels and seeds from the garage and went to the backyard. She had scouted the yard earlier that week and found the perfect spot. After about twenty minutes, she was sweating and thirsty. She stood up, brushed the dirt from her jeans, and went to go find herself something to drink.

As she sipped her iced tea, she found herself wandering towards the front door and the windows that allowed them to see the front yard and, consequently, their neighbors. She sat down, taking a sip of her tea, and mindlessly stared out the window.

About five minutes later, from his house emerged Ed Vincent. He held a pair of hedge trimming shears in one hand. As Emily watched, Ed began to nonchalantly trim his bushes. However, she nearly choked on her tea when, after ten minutes, Ed stopped, put the shears on the ground, and stripped off his white t-shirt. Now shirtless, he picked up the shears and resumed trimming.

From what Lana could see, Ed was a well-put together man. There hardly seemed to be any fat on him; it was mostly muscle, and they were soon glistening from his sweat. Lana sat in her chair, her tea forgotten, and watched Ed for nearly a full two minutes before she leaped to her feet as if she had sat on a pin.

She couldn’t believe herself! What was she doing, watching Ed like this? She shook her head, grabbed her tea glass, and hurried back to the kitchen. There, she dumped the tea down the sink and went back outside to finish her gardening.

Phil returned from the gym twenty minutes later. After his shower, he stepped out and was surprised to see Lana sitting on the bed, looking at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, noting her expression.

“I have to tell you something,” she said. It was a moment before she spoke again, trying to collect herself. “While you were at the gym, I was doing some gardening and took a break to come inside. I ended up near the front window, and I saw Ed Vincent outside cutting some bushes on his property. He…was shirtless, and it enticed me. I watched for a few minutes, but I made myself stop. I’m sorry. I wanted you to know.”

She began to softly weep, her face in her hands.

“Hey,” said Phil, coming over to her. “It’s alright. I’m not mad at you, I promise.”

“Really?” she said, looking up at him and wiping her face.

“I promise,” said Phil. “I appreciate you telling me.”

Lana let out a sigh and threw her arms around him. As she did, a thought flashed through Phil’s mind: his own interaction with Emily Vincent while he was mowing. Should he tell her about that? No, he thought. Nothing had happened, it was nothing.

She broke the hug, looked up at him, and giggled softly.

“Want to get Mexican tonight?” he asked, knowing it was her favorite. “We get it, bring it back, and pop in a movie, your choice.”

“Deal,” she said happily, and Phil returned to the bathroom to get dressed.