New Neighbor, New Mother

“Fuck!”

It was more a grunt than a word, and it tumbled over my lower lip while my right hand squeezed my sticky cock. I looked down and watched a tablespoon of white semen appear from the tip. She gasped as the hot, viscous substance landed on her stomach. I propped myself up with my weary left arm and tried to catch my breath. I looked down at her, sweat droplets formed on her upper lip, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

“Oh shit, my sister’s going to be here in a little bit. Get up,” Tara said in a tone that bore no hint that I’d just fucked her hard.

I pried myself off of her. Tara scooped my spunk off her stomach with a free hand and dashed to the bathroom. When she’d finished cleaning herself off, the house fell silent. I could hear Olivia sleeping peacefully in the back bedroom.

“Get your goddamn clothes on!” Tara scampered around, pulling her own clothes back on, and kicking mine into a pile at my feet. “Beth should be here any second.”

Finally I began to dress myself, and was just putting my shoes back on when I heard the car pull up the driveway. Within seconds I was under the kitchen sink, assuming the position. The door opened seconds later, and the ebullient Beth burst into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, Paul,” Beth noticed my body stretched out from under the sink cabinet. “Tara, I’m here!” Beth’s nasal voice rang through the house.

“Shh, she’s sleeping, dummy!” Tara lurched into the kitchen from the living room. Beth slapped a hand over her mouth, feigning embarrassment.

Having done my part, I pulled myself from underneath the sink. “Well, that should do it, Tara. It’s not leaking anymore.” I tossed the pliers into the toolbox in the middle of the room. “If it leaks again, just let me know.”

Tara played coy right on cue. “Oh, thank you so much, Paul! You’re a sweetheart. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve gotta run to work. Thanks, Beth!” She gave her sister a peck on the cheek and bolted for the door.

I collected my tools and grabbed the doorknob. “Good night, Beth. I hope Olivia doesn’t give you any trouble. She’s been pretty quiet since I’ve been here. Good luck!”

I took my leave before Beth had a chance to say anything. It was still hot outside, even as the August sun was setting. The trip home took 11 seconds on average. I crossed in front of Tara’s house, stepped down on my driveway and stepped up to my own kitchen door. I immediately noticed my Wife’s car in the driveway parked behind my own. I opened the door and put on my game face.

“Hi, honey,” I bellowed. Her voice came back almost inaudibly from the bathroom.

“Where were you?”

“Next door. Tara’s kitchen sink was leaking.”

“Did you get it fixed?”

“Yeah, I think so. I hope so. I’m not very good at plumbing, as you know.”

“Oh, I know. What do you want for dinner?”


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Tara and her husband Darren had moved in the year before. I’d regarded them with some suspicion when their moving truck had pulled up last May. Like any normal people would, my wife Michelle and I had watched from behind our bedroom curtains, making snap judgments and assumptions about our new neighbors.

They were a little trashy, to be sure. Darren was your basic white trash guy. He was handsome, actually, but he had long sideburns that somehow weren’t hip, and the perpetual ball cap and free t-shirt attire sat him squarely in the “You Might Be A Redneck If” camp. Tara was also very good looking, and shared her husband’s trashier qualities. She was probably 5’7” with wavy blonde hair and a round, pretty face. She probably would have weighed about 115 pounds, except that she was also 7 months pregnant when they moved in. Michelle and I joked that pregnancy made anyone look trashy.

It was almost a month before I met them. Darren was outside raking late spring debris off the lawn when I got home from work. We made introductions of ourselves, and our absent spouses. He was likable enough, but I wasn’t terribly impressed. Nevertheless, I played the good neighbor and welcomed them to the community.

It was after the birth of the baby before I had a chance to chat with Tara. Olivia was born in July, and the next month our street had a block party. Police closed off our block and all the residents came out with potluck casseroles and chips. I was into my third beer when Tara emerged from their house and sat on the curb beside me, with little baby on her knee. I was surprised how quickly she was getting her body back into shape after giving birth.

I introduced myself formally, and Tara’s warm charm took over. Her voice was scratchy and husky, almost smoky. She spoke at the speed of sound, pouring herself out to Michelle and I. Tara was transparent in that rare way. She held no pretenses, nor was she terribly concerned about offending anyone. I got her life story, the scoop on her family, Darren’s family, her love of partying hard with her girlfriends, and the details of her childbirth experience. Both Michelle and I found her refreshing and fun.

It turns out Darren was in construction, and he worked long hours for most of the year. Winter was quiet, of course, when frozen ground, snowdrifts and below-zero temperatures pretty well shut down the building trade in our area. Tara worked at a battered women’s shelter, or at least she did pre-baby. They seemed happy, and certainly the arrival of baby Olivia was a bright point in Tara’s life. She was adorable, and Michelle and I took turns holding her as the warm afternoon wore on.

It was in the middle of winter when Darren’s truck disappeared for the first time. I had noticed that he hadn’t been around much, but it was while I was out of town on business that my wife got the lowdown. It seems that Darren was a bit of a compulsive gambler. His winter downtime meant that he had too much time on his hands, and his trips to the casino were near daily. We’d heard a few yelling matches coming from next door, but we’d never been able to make out the context. Now it all made sense. Tara had thrown him out, and he was living with his parents across town. Tara was still on maternity leave, so she could take good care of Olivia.

I hadn’t thought highly of Darren before, and now I thought he was a huge asshole. After a few weeks, his truck showed up again, and I figured they’d made up. That lasted about three weeks. After another very loud screamfest, Darren drove off in a rage. I was home alone that night. I felt bad for Tara, and even worse for Olivia, who was crying loudly.

As the snow piled up in February, I noticed that Tara was having a hard time keeping her walk and driveway shoveled. I started plowing out her walk and driveway, since I was already doing my own. I seldom saw her, but she did thank me one time. I told her not to worry about it.

It was early March when I heard a knock at the door. Michelle answered it, and it was Tara. Her dryer had stopped working, and she was wondering if I might be able to look at it.