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The usual saying is that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but when it comes to humans,

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you probably should. A month ago, I made a big leap and bought a house. I had just gotten a job

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promotion which allotted me a lot more money and put me in a better financial position.

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I used to rent with my boyfriend Caleb but I thought since the market was good,

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why not buy a house now? I had awesome credit and the loan was there for the taking.

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Caleb was against it since my position is new and there's no telling what can happen,

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but I hate playing the waiting game. I prefer taking the leap of faith and worrying after.

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Caleb still rents his apartment in the city but joins me on weekends. He would have moved in

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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

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isn't living with me. It's good not to have him around all the time. He can be extra. Even after

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I moved out of his apartment and needed assistance, he prolonged the process endlessly. He frequently

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canceled and then joked about my moving out as an escape from him. Eventually, I had to call

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a moving company. He was livid and still is to this day. But I don't care. I still wear the

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scars from that argument, but I'd do it all over again to have my independence. My new neighborhood

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is more of a gated community where everybody is close, friendly, and somewhat private. When I

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first moved in, everyone was delighted to meet me because I was one of the youngest in the community,

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and by young I mean 30 years old. When they visited my new home, they came with gifts.

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I can surely say I've met everyone within a five-mile radius.

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Well, everyone except the neighbor next door, the notorious widower, Alex Horsford. He's the

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guy on the immediate right of my house. He's quiet and what everyone else calls him, a loner

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and a hermit. I see him almost every morning on my way to work. He always sits on the porch

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having his tea or attending to the small garden of flowers in front of his yard. He acts like

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an old man when he probably isn't a day over 40. According to Sharon, the neighbor on my left,

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Alex is not a people person. He has been this way for the past two years ever since his wife

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died of cancer. He doesn't speak with anyone. He doesn't acknowledge them. He only stares.

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I learned this when I took it up on myself one afternoon to deliver freshly baked bread to

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his doorsteps. When I'm stressed from work or in life in general, I bake. Baking is the only

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thing that ever calms me. So when I baked a loaf and packaged it in a pretty brown bag,

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designed by me of course, I headed outside and walked over to Alex's house. I knocked and I

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even rang the doorbell. He never came out. I knew he was there because he's usually at home,

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and his doorbell, which resembles mine, is equipped with a camera. Eventually I walked away

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but upon meeting my front door I stopped. If everyone could abandon him it would only confirm

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his feelings. Then and there I made it my obligation to make him trust me. So I took my

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butt right back to his doorstep and rang the bell six times. I even took a seat on the porch swing.

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Ten minutes later the door opened. And yes, I counted. I had never felt so happy about anything

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but that moment. I smiled. I smiled goddamn bright because it felt so good to see him at the door.

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And let me tell you, Alex Horsford is the man of the hour. He is breathtakingly handsome with

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his tapered beard and brunette hair. He's giving Zaddy with his salt and pepper look, but he is

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young. And my god, it's sexy as fuck. His beauty was so overwhelming that I couldn't muster the

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courage to say anything. Alex waited by the door while I peered at him for an unhealthy minute.

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Honestly, I didn't know what to expect when he opened the door. And in addition to that,

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I didn't think he would be that alluring. I mean, I saw him from my house multiple times and he

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seemed okay but up close. It was different. I cleared my throat and handed him the bread,

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which he refused. He didn't say no, but he did not attempt to take it. He just gawked at me as

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if I were some foreign being. We had a one-sided conversation where he did no talking at all,

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and I rambled on about myself about things I liked, where I worked, why I moved in,

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and a brief introduction on Caleb, my boyfriend. I have no idea why I told him all of that,

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maybe because I wanted to stay longer hoping he would say something. But he didn't. Then,

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when I began telling him about how I renovated the bathroom, he snatched the bread and shut

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the door on me. It was rude, but at least he took the bread. I got it that he was tired of my rambling.

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I walked off grinning like a fool. Then, the weirdest thing happened. Two Wednesdays ago,

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I caught Alex looking at me from his balcony. I was in the bathroom stepping into the shower

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when I looked up and saw him staring at me. I peered back, of course, but so many things

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ran through my mind at that moment. Was he a creep, a sicko, psycho, a pervert? How long had he been

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doing it? And was it the reason he slammed the door from our initial meeting? And to think that

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there were times when Caleb and I were having a go at it in the bathroom. Had he been watching then?

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The sad thing about it was that I never bothered to shut my curtains. I left them the way they were

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and took a bath. It's like some sick twisted part of me wanted him to watch. I don't know what's

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wrong with me, but there's something about Alex I'm drawn to. I may have met him once,

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but it feels like we've crossed paths or something. It's Thursday night and I'm heading

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across the hallway for a shower when Caleb calls again. It's the fifth time for the day.

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He always calls to check in on me, and it's like clockwork. He is overly protective,

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and now that I live on my own during the week, his obsession with knowing what I'm doing has

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quadrupled. Hey, I answer shutting the bathroom door behind me. I was calling you. What were you doing?

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I was grabbing something to eat and now I'm heading into the tub.

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There's a reason why the phone is called a mobile Freya. You can carry it with you.

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I just forgot it. I'm sorry. I didn't forget it. I prefer solitude.

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Don't do it again. What if something happened to you? This is a safe neighborhood.

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Everyone says that until something happens. If you continue to ignore my calls,

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then you're gonna force me to move in fully. I'm not ignoring. I sigh. When I said I was happy

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he wasn't living with me. This is what I meant. Caleb can be tiring. I'm sorry. I'll keep my phone

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with me. Good. Now can I go take a bath? You can. Just leave the phone running.

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All the while I'm on the phone with Caleb, I know Alex is watching. It has become a routine

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where I shower or soak in the tub around seven o'clock and he'll watch. Usually Caleb isn't

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on the phone, but now I have two audiences. I turn the pipe to fill the tub and toss the towel.

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I'm standing naked in front of the mirror with my lightly tanned back facing the window.

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From the reflection, I can see the lights on in the house, but not on the balcony.

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I know he's there because I can see his silhouette. For more than two years, this man hasn't had any

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action. This man hasn't been with a woman. And now, I am someone he looks forward to.

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I'm the next best thing to end his day. It sweetly stirs my insides to know that he chose me.

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According to Sharon, Alex is a computer engineer. He works from home so I know he rarely goes out.

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He orders almost everything and has it delivered to his doorstep.

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So when I say I'm the most action for him, I mean it. I turn around slowly and stand at attention,

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but not being able to see him fully but knowing he can see me is like a high.

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I get turned on by this. I'm not shaven because that is how Caleb likes me,

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so there's a clear distinction where my pussy is.

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Freya? I jump. Fuck. I forgot Caleb had been on the line.

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Freya? Yes? Are you finished?

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No. There's shuffling in his background and then he says...

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Why the fuck is it taking so long? Are you even in the tub?

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I... I went to get some clothes.

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I didn't hear the door.

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I left it open.

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Just hurry and get into the bath. I don't have all night. I'm tired.

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So much for a happy ending. This is supposed to be a sexy bath where I can relax and play with

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myself while being watched by a handsome sexy guy, but now I'm not in the mood.

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I should tell Caleb that I need to go, but I know he'll overthink things and turn it into an argument.

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I shut the curtains and head into the tub. I don't spend long. I just do what I have to do

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and get out. And by the time I've settled into bed and stayed on the phone with Caleb,

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we are half asleep. But the sad thing about all this is that I'm still thinking about Alex.

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I'd let him down tonight and there's no telling what he'll do, whether he'll watch me again or

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completely block me out. Now it's the weekend and Caleb is staying at my home. He's like a

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hall monitor, watching my every move. I mean, he has always been this way. But ever since my

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situation with Alex, he's become even more of a nuisance. I want my space. I want to be alone

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without him telling me what to do, what to wear, and what to eat. When I said I loved the peace

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living alone, I meant not having to be his punching bag when he doesn't get his way.

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I adore Caleb, but he tends to be rather unkind most of the time, which is why I often find myself

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complying with his requests. Tonight we order takeout. Well, I had cooked, but he said he didn't

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want my food and that he would order something for the both of us. When I tell him that we can

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simply order food tomorrow Sunday since I already cooked, he slaps me. I get it that when you're

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alone in this house during the week, you think you run things. But don't you forget who's the

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fucking man around here? I clutch my cheek. If I say we'll order food, then we'll fucking order it.

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Understand? I nod, still feeling the burn of his large hand. Good. Now go wash up before our meal

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gets here. You smell like fucking fish. The only reason I smell like fish is because I've been

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slaving in the kitchen all afternoon trying to make us a decent meal. Caleb knew I was cooking,

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but yet he waited for the last minute to order something. Sometimes he gets me so mad.

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I head upstairs pressing the tears away from my eyes. It makes no sense for him to see me crying.

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He's going to say I'm soft and to pull myself together. I change and enter the bathroom with

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my robe. I lock the door behind me and flip the switch twice to let Alex know I'm here.

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I didn't see him yesterday, so it's going to be a miracle if he shows up today.

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I think after Thursday he's upset with me or something. I'm only doing this now, knowing

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that Caleb is downstairs because it's payback to him. Payback for letting me cook an entire fucking

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meal for nothing. As a matter of fact, I want this. I like Alex watching me. I like Alex,

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and he turns me the fuck on. The way Caleb makes me feel is below comparison to when I model naked

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for Alex. I move to the window and spread the curtains wider. It's the widest it has ever been.

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Now, he can see everything. To my surprise, Alex appears on the balcony. It's as if he was waiting

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for my signal. He knows I have company over because Caleb's car is parked out front. I wonder how it

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makes him feel to know that another guy is fucking me. Is it still much of a turn on like when I'm

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alone? I smile when I see his shadowy figure settle on the balcony chair. I think he's wearing a white

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t-shirt. I take a step away from the window and slowly loosen my robe. God. Just doing this and

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knowing that he's watching is ecstasy itself. It's like I'm the forbidden fruit, and I want to be

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picked by him. I want to be chosen by the quiet, handsome guy who still mourns his dead wife.

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I let the robe drop to the floor and stand there long enough for him to take a good look at me.

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And when I believe he might be pleased with what he's seeing, I turn on the shower and let it run.

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Knowing my boyfriend, he's going to want to know why there's no water. He can be forensic in

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everything. I begin touching myself, standing mid-center of the bathroom, and seeing that Caleb

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is downstairs without a clue of what I'm doing makes it so much better. I'm wet. I'm dripping.

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I'm also ovulating. So when I take a wide stance and touch myself down there, there's a long trail

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of my essence on my fingers. Freya? Shit. Caleb rattles the door handle. Why is the fucking door locked?

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Freya? Uh, yes? Open the door since when do you lock doors?

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Just a second. I'm in the shower. He rattles the door again and I scramble for my robe. Then he hits

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it hard. Open the door. Caleb bursts inside the instant I unlock it. He scans the room as if

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he's expecting to see someone, like another guy. What were you doing? I told you. He gives me a

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once over and narrows his eyes. You're dry, Freya. He steps closer and I step away. You just told me

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you were in the shower, but you're dry as fucking ice. I, I dried off. Liar. He moves in front of me

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and takes a long sniff. You still smell like that fucking fish. I stay silent. It makes no sense to

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dig myself deeper. This is only going to get worse. Caleb grabs me by the shoulder. What were you

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doing, Freya? Answer me. I do not want to be in a mood tonight. I blink up at him. All right,

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have it your way. My face stings with his slap. Don't make me do it again. He lifts his hand.

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Okay. I, I, I was touching myself. What the fuck for when you have me?

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He reaches for my hand and smells it. Then he smiles. Were you thinking of me?

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I nod. My God. He whips around. Why the fuck is it so windy in here?

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I don't know. But when Caleb turns around and sees the wide open window,

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his face turns a ghastly gray. He moves to the window and stares outside. Oh God.

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He points out the window. Who the fuck is that? Who? Don't you play? His eyes bulge.

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Is that what you've been doing? Touching yourself for him to see?

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Who? What are you talking about? I don't see. My eyes dart to the window. He's there. Alex is

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still there. He's seeing us. He's seeing this. Caleb follows my line of vision again and scowls

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at me. So all this time while I wait for you to bathe, you've been displaying my goods to some

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fucking pervert? Jesus fucking Christ. How long? What, what are you talking about? Caleb launches

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for my throat and squeezes. Bitch, I will kill your slutty ass. Air no longer reaches my lungs.

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I fight him. I grapple for his arms. He squeezes tighter. How dare you, you loose bitch.

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Hey Raiders, you have met the end of The Neighbor, part one. Stay tuned for part two. And if you

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haven't already, subscribe and share. See ya. Bye.