The usual saying is that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but when it comes to humans,
you probably should. A month ago, I made a big leap and bought a house. I had just gotten a job
promotion which allotted me a lot more money and put me in a better financial position.
I used to rent with my boyfriend Caleb but I thought since the market was good,
why not buy a house now? I had awesome credit and the loan was there for the taking.
Caleb was against it since my position is new and there's no telling what can happen,
but I hate playing the waiting game. I prefer taking the leap of faith and worrying after.
Caleb still rents his apartment in the city but joins me on weekends. He would have moved in
if he'd had his way, but it's a much longer drive to his work. And to be real, I'm kind of glad he
isn't living with me. It's good not to have him around all the time. He can be extra. Even after
I moved out of his apartment and needed assistance, he prolonged the process endlessly. He frequently
canceled and then joked about my moving out as an escape from him. Eventually, I had to call
a moving company. He was livid and still is to this day. But I don't care. I still wear the
scars from that argument, but I'd do it all over again to have my independence. My new neighborhood
is more of a gated community where everybody is close, friendly, and somewhat private. When I
first moved in, everyone was delighted to meet me because I was one of the youngest in the community,
and by young I mean 30 years old. When they visited my new home, they came with gifts.
I can surely say I've met everyone within a five-mile radius.
Well, everyone except the neighbor next door, the notorious widower, Alex Horsford. He's the
guy on the immediate right of my house. He's quiet and what everyone else calls him, a loner
and a hermit. I see him almost every morning on my way to work. He always sits on the porch
having his tea or attending to the small garden of flowers in front of his yard. He acts like
an old man when he probably isn't a day over 40. According to Sharon, the neighbor on my left,
Alex is not a people person. He has been this way for the past two years ever since his wife
died of cancer. He doesn't speak with anyone. He doesn't acknowledge them. He only stares.
I learned this when I took it up on myself one afternoon to deliver freshly baked bread to
his doorsteps. When I'm stressed from work or in life in general, I bake. Baking is the only
thing that ever calms me. So when I baked a loaf and packaged it in a pretty brown bag,
designed by me of course, I headed outside and walked over to Alex's house. I knocked and I
even rang the doorbell. He never came out. I knew he was there because he's usually at home,
and his doorbell, which resembles mine, is equipped with a camera. Eventually I walked away
but upon meeting my front door I stopped. If everyone could abandon him it would only confirm
his feelings. Then and there I made it my obligation to make him trust me. So I took my
butt right back to his doorstep and rang the bell six times. I even took a seat on the porch swing.
Ten minutes later the door opened. And yes, I counted. I had never felt so happy about anything
but that moment. I smiled. I smiled goddamn bright because it felt so good to see him at the door.
And let me tell you, Alex Horsford is the man of the hour. He is breathtakingly handsome with
his tapered beard and brunette hair. He's giving Zaddy with his salt and pepper look, but he is
young. And my god, it's sexy as fuck. His beauty was so overwhelming that I couldn't muster the
courage to say anything. Alex waited by the door while I peered at him for an unhealthy minute.
Honestly, I didn't know what to expect when he opened the door. And in addition to that,
I didn't think he would be that alluring. I mean, I saw him from my house multiple times and he
seemed okay but up close. It was different. I cleared my throat and handed him the bread,
which he refused. He didn't say no, but he did not attempt to take it. He just gawked at me as
if I were some foreign being. We had a one-sided conversation where he did no talking at all,
and I rambled on about myself about things I liked, where I worked, why I moved in,
and a brief introduction on Caleb, my boyfriend. I have no idea why I told him all of that,
maybe because I wanted to stay longer hoping he would say something. But he didn't. Then,
when I began telling him about how I renovated the bathroom, he snatched the bread and shut
the door on me. It was rude, but at least he took the bread. I got it that he was tired of my rambling.
I walked off grinning like a fool. Then, the weirdest thing happened. Two Wednesdays ago,
I caught Alex looking at me from his balcony. I was in the bathroom stepping into the shower
when I looked up and saw him staring at me. I peered back, of course, but so many things
ran through my mind at that moment. Was he a creep, a sicko, psycho, a pervert? How long had he been
doing it? And was it the reason he slammed the door from our initial meeting? And to think that
there were times when Caleb and I were having a go at it in the bathroom. Had he been watching then?
The sad thing about it was that I never bothered to shut my curtains. I left them the way they were
and took a bath. It's like some sick twisted part of me wanted him to watch. I don't know what's
wrong with me, but there's something about Alex I'm drawn to. I may have met him once,
but it feels like we've crossed paths or something. It's Thursday night and I'm heading
across the hallway for a shower when Caleb calls again. It's the fifth time for the day.
He always calls to check in on me, and it's like clockwork. He is overly protective,
and now that I live on my own during the week, his obsession with knowing what I'm doing has
quadrupled. Hey, I answer shutting the bathroom door behind me. I was calling you. What were you doing?
I was grabbing something to eat and now I'm heading into the tub.
There's a reason why the phone is called a mobile Freya. You can carry it with you.
I just forgot it. I'm sorry. I didn't forget it. I prefer solitude.
Don't do it again. What if something happened to you? This is a safe neighborhood.
Everyone says that until something happens. If you continue to ignore my calls,
then you're gonna force me to move in fully. I'm not ignoring. I sigh. When I said I was happy
he wasn't living with me. This is what I meant. Caleb can be tiring. I'm sorry. I'll keep my phone
with me. Good. Now can I go take a bath? You can. Just leave the phone running.
All the while I'm on the phone with Caleb, I know Alex is watching. It has become a routine
where I shower or soak in the tub around seven o'clock and he'll watch. Usually Caleb isn't
on the phone, but now I have two audiences. I turn the pipe to fill the tub and toss the towel.
I'm standing naked in front of the mirror with my lightly tanned back facing the window.
From the reflection, I can see the lights on in the house, but not on the balcony.
I know he's there because I can see his silhouette. For more than two years, this man hasn't had any
action. This man hasn't been with a woman. And now, I am someone he looks forward to.
I'm the next best thing to end his day. It sweetly stirs my insides to know that he chose me.
According to Sharon, Alex is a computer engineer. He works from home so I know he rarely goes out.
He orders almost everything and has it delivered to his doorstep.
So when I say I'm the most action for him, I mean it. I turn around slowly and stand at attention,
but not being able to see him fully but knowing he can see me is like a high.
I get turned on by this. I'm not shaven because that is how Caleb likes me,
so there's a clear distinction where my pussy is.
Freya? I jump. Fuck. I forgot Caleb had been on the line.
Freya? Yes? Are you finished?
No. There's shuffling in his background and then he says...
Why the fuck is it taking so long? Are you even in the tub?
I... I went to get some clothes.
I didn't hear the door.
I left it open.
Just hurry and get into the bath. I don't have all night. I'm tired.
So much for a happy ending. This is supposed to be a sexy bath where I can relax and play with
myself while being watched by a handsome sexy guy, but now I'm not in the mood.
I should tell Caleb that I need to go, but I know he'll overthink things and turn it into an argument.
I shut the curtains and head into the tub. I don't spend long. I just do what I have to do
and get out. And by the time I've settled into bed and stayed on the phone with Caleb,
we are half asleep. But the sad thing about all this is that I'm still thinking about Alex.
I'd let him down tonight and there's no telling what he'll do, whether he'll watch me again or
completely block me out. Now it's the weekend and Caleb is staying at my home. He's like a
hall monitor, watching my every move. I mean, he has always been this way. But ever since my
situation with Alex, he's become even more of a nuisance. I want my space. I want to be alone
without him telling me what to do, what to wear, and what to eat. When I said I loved the peace
living alone, I meant not having to be his punching bag when he doesn't get his way.
I adore Caleb, but he tends to be rather unkind most of the time, which is why I often find myself
complying with his requests. Tonight we order takeout. Well, I had cooked, but he said he didn't
want my food and that he would order something for the both of us. When I tell him that we can
simply order food tomorrow Sunday since I already cooked, he slaps me. I get it that when you're
alone in this house during the week, you think you run things. But don't you forget who's the
fucking man around here? I clutch my cheek. If I say we'll order food, then we'll fucking order it.
Understand? I nod, still feeling the burn of his large hand. Good. Now go wash up before our meal
gets here. You smell like fucking fish. The only reason I smell like fish is because I've been
slaving in the kitchen all afternoon trying to make us a decent meal. Caleb knew I was cooking,
but yet he waited for the last minute to order something. Sometimes he gets me so mad.
I head upstairs pressing the tears away from my eyes. It makes no sense for him to see me crying.
He's going to say I'm soft and to pull myself together. I change and enter the bathroom with
my robe. I lock the door behind me and flip the switch twice to let Alex know I'm here.
I didn't see him yesterday, so it's going to be a miracle if he shows up today.
I think after Thursday he's upset with me or something. I'm only doing this now, knowing
that Caleb is downstairs because it's payback to him. Payback for letting me cook an entire fucking
meal for nothing. As a matter of fact, I want this. I like Alex watching me. I like Alex,
and he turns me the fuck on. The way Caleb makes me feel is below comparison to when I model naked
for Alex. I move to the window and spread the curtains wider. It's the widest it has ever been.
Now, he can see everything. To my surprise, Alex appears on the balcony. It's as if he was waiting
for my signal. He knows I have company over because Caleb's car is parked out front. I wonder how it
makes him feel to know that another guy is fucking me. Is it still much of a turn on like when I'm
alone? I smile when I see his shadowy figure settle on the balcony chair. I think he's wearing a white
t-shirt. I take a step away from the window and slowly loosen my robe. God. Just doing this and
knowing that he's watching is ecstasy itself. It's like I'm the forbidden fruit, and I want to be
picked by him. I want to be chosen by the quiet, handsome guy who still mourns his dead wife.
I let the robe drop to the floor and stand there long enough for him to take a good look at me.
And when I believe he might be pleased with what he's seeing, I turn on the shower and let it run.
Knowing my boyfriend, he's going to want to know why there's no water. He can be forensic in
everything. I begin touching myself, standing mid-center of the bathroom, and seeing that Caleb
is downstairs without a clue of what I'm doing makes it so much better. I'm wet. I'm dripping.
I'm also ovulating. So when I take a wide stance and touch myself down there, there's a long trail
of my essence on my fingers. Freya? Shit. Caleb rattles the door handle. Why is the fucking door locked?
Freya? Uh, yes? Open the door since when do you lock doors?
Just a second. I'm in the shower. He rattles the door again and I scramble for my robe. Then he hits
it hard. Open the door. Caleb bursts inside the instant I unlock it. He scans the room as if
he's expecting to see someone, like another guy. What were you doing? I told you. He gives me a
once over and narrows his eyes. You're dry, Freya. He steps closer and I step away. You just told me
you were in the shower, but you're dry as fucking ice. I, I dried off. Liar. He moves in front of me
and takes a long sniff. You still smell like that fucking fish. I stay silent. It makes no sense to
dig myself deeper. This is only going to get worse. Caleb grabs me by the shoulder. What were you
doing, Freya? Answer me. I do not want to be in a mood tonight. I blink up at him. All right,
have it your way. My face stings with his slap. Don't make me do it again. He lifts his hand.
Okay. I, I, I was touching myself. What the fuck for when you have me?
He reaches for my hand and smells it. Then he smiles. Were you thinking of me?
I nod. My God. He whips around. Why the fuck is it so windy in here?
I don't know. But when Caleb turns around and sees the wide open window,
his face turns a ghastly gray. He moves to the window and stares outside. Oh God.
He points out the window. Who the fuck is that? Who? Don't you play? His eyes bulge.
Is that what you've been doing? Touching yourself for him to see?
Who? What are you talking about? I don't see. My eyes dart to the window. He's there. Alex is
still there. He's seeing us. He's seeing this. Caleb follows my line of vision again and scowls
at me. So all this time while I wait for you to bathe, you've been displaying my goods to some
fucking pervert? Jesus fucking Christ. How long? What, what are you talking about? Caleb launches
for my throat and squeezes. Bitch, I will kill your slutty ass. Air no longer reaches my lungs.
I fight him. I grapple for his arms. He squeezes tighter. How dare you, you loose bitch.
Hey Raiders, you have met the end of The Neighbor, part one. Stay tuned for part two. And if you
haven't already, subscribe and share. See ya. Bye.