9 comments/ 16773 views/ 16 favorites The Absurdity of Assumptions By: PayDay Author's Note: This story is my story, I wrote it, stealing is lame. If you don't like it, don't read it (this means you). I chose to submit this whole story at once, since my only complaints to some of the better stories, is that I have to wait for the next chapter(s). The sex is at the end if you don't like the plot. This story has been re-submitted for more edits, so all feedback may have been justified at the time. Thanks for the voting and responses. * "So you got it?!?" Yule was fidgeting. His realtor had come through, hopefully, finally, for only five percent of the property value as his commission, plus closing costs. "Yes I did Mr. Chinski, it's has everything you requested, but there is a catch," the realtor replied on the other side of the phone. Yule hated the phone, and he hated it more now. "What do you mean a catch?" Yule replied, knowing there always was. If this greedy prick realtor didn't spit it out directly, Yule was going to be very angry, directly. "Well, Mr. Chinski, the property has the wrap around porch, privacy fence, pool, and landscaping. It even has the old Forties style bomb shelter, and the wooden shingle sidin-" the realtor wasn't given a chance to finish. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THE CATCH, ASSHOLE," Yule wasn't a talker, though he had patience when he needed it. He had been waiting on this guy for four months, after the promise that it would only take a month at most. Then there were the properties that in no way resembled what he wanted. Yule was beginning to think he would have to drive across all of America and look at each house himself, with no other realtor willing to take the job. "It has neighbors, Mr. Chinski," the realtor replied sheepishly, having been thrown off his sales pitch. He would have been verbally angry at his customer, had he not wanted his money. After four months of trying to sell him high dollar properties, then realizing he was not biting, he had decided to actually look for what Yule had requested. For the life of him, the realtor could not understand why a wealthy man like this would want a classic single family home with only one and a half baths. "How close?" Yule replied while thinking "It'd better be over fifty feet you little weasel." "One-hundred feet on either side, it's in a small, well spaced, older development, wrapped by the rural setting you requested. I believe, sir, that the property is to your liking." The realtor's fingers were crossed. "How rural, Bronx rural, or cow farm rural?" "It's over a two hour drive to the nearest chain store, and all of the local stores are still privately owned. The townships population is just over six-thousand, and it covers a very large area." "Send me pictures, and all other pertinent information, I'll call you if it is to my liking. Anything else I should know?" Yule had his hopes raised. "Just get me out of this fucking city," he thought to himself. "No, sir. I'll have the information sent to your assistant, thank you. We here at the office really do appreciate y-" the phone clicked. Yule had hung up on the realtor, not bothering to listen to the chit-chat at the end of the phone call. The realtor thought it was ignorant. Yule thought the realtor was a bullshit artist. *** Jillian and Denise were unrelated twins from separate parents. The only real separation from each other, other than appearance, came in the form of sweet old Mrs. Davies's house. It was directly between their respective parents's homes. The two girls grew up together in this little shit, no where town, and they loved it there. Their graduating high school class had 28 students, less than four hundred kids in the whole system, which covered a huge area. It was nice to live in a place where the majority of the world's problems seemed distant. They were both only children. Jillian was the tall, skinny, wild, tomboyish blonde with intelligent sensibilities; Denise the model-esque, but oddly reserved brunette. They were not lesbians, not by a sight, save the few teenage experiments that many indulge. Denise was married by twenty, but divorced by twenty-five, since her no good, philandering husband couldn't keep it in his pants. If it had not been for Jillian, her father, and sweet old Mrs. Davies, she would have never been able to raise her two children, and support her family. Steven and little Jill were the light of all three women's lives. By the time Jillian and Denise had turned thirty, they stilled lived in their childhood homes. Jillian's parents gave her the house when they moved to Florida, along with the local hardware store. Clark's Hardware had been a staple of the area for three generations, and she had worked there her whole life. She worked in the managerial position these days, as the place practically ran itself, thanks to Mr. Norton and her prudent planning. Her parents were proud of the woman she had become, short of the lack of babies and a husband. She kept trying to explain to them how she was still young, and they kept trying to tell her: they were not. Denise had moved back in with her father, at his request, after her divorce, shortly after her mother had died. She loved her dad, and she knew her children needed a male role model. Recently though, her father had taken to many of the lonely widows in town, and she only saw him on weekends. She was glad he was back out dating, though Denise had recently learned of his apartment in town, next to the local VFW. Thinking of a man in his sixties with a bachelor pad always made her giggle. He would come home on Saturday morning and cook breakfast for his grandchildren, and daughter, and 'adopted' daughter Jillian, who always seemed to show up. He knew Jillian had the hots for him when she was younger, probably still did, but he would never do that to his baby, either of them, or one of his best friends daughters. Besides, he knew how much hot, lonely, mature or widowed tail existed around the small town; in fact he knew it more than most. He still owned the home, but Denise paid her fair share, since she worked at the local drug store five nights a week, dreaming of owning it. He also knew Jillian helped with money when she could, they were 'family' despite the unshared heritage. After breakfast, every Saturday, he would maintain all three properties for the respective season, returning on Sunday to cook again and finish the leftover chores. He had a good retired life, his military and police pensions supporting him well. Then, out of the blue, sweet old Mrs. Davies had died. It came as a shock to the perfect little world the pair of beautiful women had built. Denise had known Mrs. Davies longer than her own mother. Both women would miss her sweet smile and motherly instincts. She had never had children of her own, and when she died, her brother took her home and put it up for sale. Mrs. Davies's brother was greedy, and mean, and the house was strangely priced out of the range of any local buyer. He didn't even bother to pay for maintenance, and sold everything of value she had possessed. If it had not been for Denise's father, the property would have been an eyesore. Mr. Rodgers (yeah, yeah), Denise's father, had made the joke that only a fool would buy that home for that price. He still maintained the yard and the pool, since Mrs. Davies had died just before spring. It was a beautiful home, and he figured he would keep it that way. Jillian, and Denise, and her kids, had been using the pool in that yard for most of their respective lives, they continued to do so, figuring they would stop if someone requested it of them. There was a gate on either side of Mrs. Davies yard, and only the driveways separated the three front yards. In June of that year, Four months after Mrs. Davies death, the 'For Sale' sign suddenly disappeared. *** James Rodgers pulled his perfectly running, clean, and antique pick-up into the driveway of his daughter's home, behind her shabby, well worn, but well running, family sedan. It was really his home, but he had not lived here since he picked up that sweet apartment in town. His thoughts drifted to his rendezvous with Mrs. Harris, Jeanine, last night. His life was good, he knew it, and he stepped out of the truck for his normal Sunday routine, silently thanking himself for finishing all of the yard work for three houses yesterday, it wasn't difficult. He laughed to himself, "Easier than jumping out of an airplane." He walked into the house, using his key, and smiled at the sound of his grandbabies singing to a cartoon. "Pop-pop!!!!" they screamed in unison, and it made his heart leap when they ran to him for a hug. They were good kids, neither quite eight years old yet, and both as smart as elephants. "Hey guys," James replied, hugging them back, "ready for some pancakes?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, strawberries, racecars, blueberries, bananas, syrup, unicorns!" All of the words came in varied unison between the children, causing James to smile and pat them on their heads, leaving them to return to their cartoon. While moving towards the kitchen to whip up some batter, he paused on the way, and smiled at the picture of his wife on the wall, he still missed her. "Hey, baby," he said as he touched the frame of the photo and continued on. About ten minutes into his routine, and half a cup of coffee later, his daughter came into the kitchen to give him a hand. He looked at her, his gorgeous daughter, and thought about how great she was. Smart, hardworking, a loving mother, "Too bad she has a thing for bad boys," he mused to himself. "Hey sweetheart," he said casually as he separated the batter into multiple bowls. "Hey daddy," she returned as she picked up the cutting board full of multiple fruits and dropped different ones into each bowl behind her father. They had done this many times. "So did you notice the sign is gone? I can't believe someone paid that much for that place." James was genuinely surprised. "Well a soda-pop isn't twenty-five cents anymore, either, daddy" she was smiling, making fun of him. She had a beautiful smile, and her mother's wit. "Wakka-wakka-wakka," was his reply, one of his favorite lines, as he dropped some batter onto the hot, greasy skillet. "I wonder when they are going to move in?" he questioned as he went about his business. "I hope it's not today, it's supposed to be a scorcher, and I want to take a dip with the kids later," was her reply as she moved around the kitchen, a minute or so later. "You could always just ask the people who move in if you can use it. I don't think some big city type will move in to an area like this, this is a friendly neighborhood." He flipped some of the cooked flap-jacks onto a pair of plates and handed them to her. "We'll see, I don't want to jump to conclusions just yet," she said as she took the pair of plates to the table. "Turn off the TV, breakfast is ready guys!" she called to her children. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, strawberries, racecars, blueberries, bananas, syrup, unicorns!" came all of the words in varied unison between the children as a reply. *** Jillian was furiously rubbing the vibrator into her drenched pussy. "Oh God..." she was too horny. She hadn't had a man in 6 months; the mess she was making all over her sheets validated the fact. She had not had a good man since... maybe ever? "Fuuuuuuucck..." she hissed as she came, imagining a young James Rodgers crossed with Brad Pitt, but the size of The Rock plunging into her pussy with a member that defied physics. This was her morning routine, and as she lay there panting, she wished she had a real man in her bed. When she had calmed down, she got up, threw her sheets into the hamper, and made her way to the shower. "It's my own fault," she thought as she soaped up her body in the warm spray, idly flicking the nipples on her perky b-cups. "I just want too much," and her mind drifted to men in business suits and professional athletes. She was tired of un-groomed farmers and rednecks that smelled of animals with only aspirations of beer and TV viewing. They only cared about ejaculation, and never went down on her. She was tired of going to the bar and having a drink with Denise as the lecherous old men and horny young men tried to get in their pants. "What ever happened to romance, to a smooth man? Hell, what ever happened to the over achievers," she wondered to herself. It was the one downside to this town, not enough of a population to have a high ratio of great men. There really was not a man for her, here. She tried to tell her mother just that, but she simply replied, "Well Denise found a man. Your father and I talked it over, darling, and we agreed that you can be one of the lesbians if you want, as long as we get grandbabies first." It was her mother's calm voice that bothered her the most. Jillian knew Denise had her father for support and love. "She can fuck those assholes, knowing that a man will still take care of her, and her kids," she thought, slightly jealous. "Look how that turned out for her, momma," she spoke aloud, to herself, as she toweled off her flawless body. She loved her friend, but she only seemed to like pretty boys, or assholes, which were available in abundance. Randomly, Jillian began laughing aloud at the though of batting for the other team. "Maybe pinch hitting..." She giggled at the thought of a lesbian couple raising children in this area. Nope, she definitely had a thing for dick, even if it was only available in five minute intervals. She pulled on her bikini, a sexy yellow number that was really too small, and threw on some shorts and an almost too small t-shirt. She was planning on swimming today, and lazing around, her usual summer weekend routine. Looking out the window, she stared at the spot where the 'For Sale' sign had been in the late Mrs. Davies's yard. "Nah," she thought, "no one would move into a house on a Sunday." Continuing to stare out her bedroom window, she saw Denise's father, James -- Jim to her -- pull up in his truck. "Daddy was right," she thought, "the way a man treats his vehicle is the way he treats himself." She always had a crush on Denise's dad, not necessarily for his body, now showing its age, but because he was a kind, loving man, without being a sissy suck-up. Plus, when the pair of friends were growing up, he was always in a uniform, Army or police. "I need coffee," she thought to herself as she stepped out the front door a short time later. Standing on her porch, she took in a deep warm breath of morning air, and then her ears started to hurt. *** He hadn't slept in thirty-two hours. He was tired. It wasn't the first time he feigned sleep, but hopefully it was his last. He had been driving for almost two days, having sold everything he owned, everywhere, short of his clothes/sundries, the car he was in, and most of his furniture/electronics. He wanted nothing to do with his old life. This would be his third try at a new one. "No more fake people," he mused as he thought of his life since he left the Company at twenty-five. In the six years since, the small web business he created had bloomed into a monster. The first chance he had, he sold it for way too much money. Then he bought another, and sold it, and so on. "Thank god for the Internet," he thought as he began to contemplate his new found freedom and scenic surroundings. He had never gone to college, and he had never taken a vacation, ever. Thirteen plus years of non stop work, violence, business travel, and foreign deployments. "Maybe I could meet a girl or something," he thought as he absorbed the scenery, and what was left of a wonderful cup of coffee he picked up at that down-home rest stop an hour ago. The only women he'd met in the past few years seemed to want his money, or his status. They all seemed to love the busy, shallow, bustling, hollow, bitter, angry, noisy, big city life. He couldn't talk to them anyway, they wouldn't understand, few did. He wanted love, as cheesy as it sounds. Yule bumbled through intercourse with one girl while he was still in high school, looking nothing like he did these days. She said she loved him, and then slept with someone else a few days later. He didn't have sex again until after his first deployment. The second girl taught him well, but never asked him a thing about himself. She stopped answering his phone calls before he was deployed again. She called him 'gun shy' and 'moody' as if she could read him like a book, even though their time together consisted of sex and Yule asking her questions. He stopped chasing women after that, immersing himself in military life, and leaving too much to fate. When he opted out of the violent life, his mind couldn't handle kindness for a long time, definitely missing many chances. Work became his girlfriend as he wrestled with his demons. He'd gone on a few dates, but it always seemed so simple, and shallow, causing him to pick up the "I think he's gay" rep from the women he interacted with. He was relieved to have one less thing to think about. Also, he did not care what they thought, they did not know him, or the things he had done, and there was nothing wrong with saving yourself for something that was worth it. He knew Colton was right when he said: "To dare to live alone is the rarest courage; since there are many who had rather meet their bitterest enemy in the field, than their own hearts in their closet." Yule had done both, for too long. This relocation was a pre-emptive strike against his inevitable mental breakdown from such circumstances. It also seemed easier and less mechanical than therapy. "Almost there," he said to himself aloud, but he was overly tired. He already had the windows down, the air movement keeping him awake, but it was not enough. He was a nerd, car guy, and a tinker'er at heart, so he turned up the stereo in his little German car, which he had installed, to full volume; he was already listening to music that few knew. This was the first car he ever bought, he'd had it since high school, and it had only gotten better since. His only form of sanity in that city, and on his leaves, was to make his car better. He barely had a chance to drive it, always taking a cab or a limo to his various meetings. The poor thing had been locked up in his garage for the last year, he was glad to drive it again, it made him happy. "Happy," he thought, "I forgot what it was like," and laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. As the music blared, and he drove too fast, he noticed the occasional cow lifting its head at the sound. The exhaust was kind of loud, the stereo was kind of louder. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be so rude, not this early, but he had to stay awake, "No sense in dying when I might finally get the chance to live," and laughed at the thought of falling asleep at the wheel. "ASSHOLE," his brain screamed to him. The remainder of his belongings wouldn't arrive until Wednesday, with the moving truck, but he had a backpack full of clothes, a sleeping bag, and was told there was a washer/dryer in the house. He'd lived longer on less before, so it didn't seem like a big deal. Everything he could need, he thought, as his mind drifted to the in-ground pool that the house had. "Too bad it needs to be cleaned before I can use it," he said aloud as he glanced over to the map on the passenger's seat. He made the next left and houses started to appear sparsely. "Perfect," he thought as he made the final turn into the 'development' that turned out to be a simple two-street neighborhood without sidewalks. "Fucking perfect," he said aloud to himself. He should have turned off the stereo, but his sleep fogged mind forgot to do so as he pulled into the driveway of his new home. He turned off the car in the middle of the Arlo song and stared at the house. "Won't need to get yourself prepared" echoed in his mind as he pondered the mowed lawn and trimmed hedges. It actually looked like someone had cleaned the windows of the house. "Gonna have to thank that realtor," he thought, even though he didn't want to. Yule became momentarily ill at the though of the fat, bald, greasy little man. The Absurdity of Assumptions He was about to roll up the windows, but laughed aloud to himself. "Not in the city anymore, asshole," he uttered and stepped out of the car, flicking the air switch to let the car down. He was still staring at the house, while the car hissed, and slowly dropped, when he felt someone staring. He looked left, noting the shiny antique pick-up, then to his right, where Yule saw her. She froze him in place. *** "Fucking kids," Jillian thought as she stood on the porch, with the air rumbling and the noise almost deafening. There were only a few, in town, who had trucks this loud, she could hear them occasionally through the walls of the hardware store or at night, off in the distance. Though, not a one of them lived in this neighborhood. "What the fuck are they doing around here, this fucking early," she said aloud, she was mad; she only cursed when she was mad - or horny. Then the car turned the corner, it was purple, dark purple, almost black, and looked like it was a few inches short of touching the ground. It was then that she heard the song, and the words over the rumble of the exhaust and subwoofers. She knew it; her father played it when she was younger. Now Jillian was furious, and confused, as she watched the car pull into sweet old Mrs. Davies driveway, shutting down a few moments later. "Way to wake the fucking neighborhood," she spat, looking around at the shades of the sparsely laid out houses moving to the side. Everyone (which isn't many), as far as she could tell, was looking. "Not in the city anymore, asshole," was all she heard as the object of her anger stepped out of his car to a hissing sound. The car, as strange as it was to her, slowly moved until it was touching the ground. It was covered in road grime, but she could tell it was still nice. Chrome here and there, the paint reflecting below the patches of dirt, the occasional sticker in random places. Jillian had never seen a car quite so different, as they were usually covered in stupid multi-colored graphics like the movies, nor had she ever observed a man quite like the one that stepped out of it. He looked tired, very tired, he was slightly hunkered down, but still standing tall, the expression on his face was pure relief. His long sleeve plain white t-shirt was just tight enough to show his definition, and Jillian absorbed it. He was well over six feet, and lean, with his head shaved low, but not bald. His sideburns were long, and he had a few days beard growth, quite scruffy. He had an unlit cigarette in his ear, and sunglasses on the top of his head. His skin was light, but tan, the effect more than likely caused by the contrast of how black his hair was. She just watched him ponder the home for a moment before he started to look around. When their eyes met, his jaw dropped, and Jillian smiled. It was actually quite flattering for this grown up teenager to so boldly show approval. She was still a little angry, but her body betrayed her mind as she began to smile. "This could be interesting," she thought. Yule's brain was saying: "You are staring with an open mouth you idiot." Despite it, his body would not listen. He could not remember ever seeing a sexier blonde. She blew all the bleached ones from the city from his mind forever. A few seconds after she waved to him, he snapped back to reality with a head shake, smiled, and then returned the wave. He was too tired to do this right, he knew it, and he had to run. Reaching into his pocket, he hit the button on his key chain and popped the trunk. "Look at the car, concentrate, go to the trunk, grab your stuff, walk in before she comes over," he was repeating the instruction silently to himself and following as best he could. He stumbled a little as his brain screamed "BLONDE!!" but succeeded in grabbing his back pack and sleeping bag, closing the trunk behind him. When he came around to the side of the car, ready to make a b-line to the front door, she was standing directly in front of him. He had no where to go, and again had the stupid, slack mouthed look on his face. He really was speechless, and for some reason, he hoped he didn't smell. In the back of his mind, perhaps off in the distance, he heard someone yelling "racecar" or something close to it, but he couldn't be sure. "Hi there, Jillian Clark, it's a pleasure to meet you," she had her delicate hand out. Yule looked at her hand, then at her slightly exposed midriff, then at her perky breasts, then at her face, a face with its glowing, reflective green eyes. "SHAKE HER HAND ASSHOLE," his brain was screaming at him again, because it knew he was not a people person. He suddenly felt more nervous than the first time he was in combat. "I, uh, wow, hi," was the best Yule could muster as he grasp her hand. It felt like static shocks and porcelain, and appeared much smaller against his own. "...and you're name is?" Jillian was loving this, her anger now faded. He was much taller than her, and looked even better up close. She could tell he was attracted to her, and his genuine 'fresh out of bed' look, along with his obvious nervousness, was one of the sexiest things she ever gazed upon. He smelled like a day old worn shirt, warmth, and coffee. "Um, uh, Yule? Yule Chinski?" he honestly couldn't remember if he had it right. "Are you moving in?" Her voice was like music, and Yule could smell delicate flowers. He was beginning to think he was going to pass out, faint, right on the spot. His hindsight was kicking him in the ass for not staying at a hotel - and for not bringing flowers for her - before he arrived. Jillian was smiling in and out, especially since his slightly rough hand had not let go of hers. His eyes were the bluest things she had ever seen, and they put the sky in its place, making it seem ugly. "Are you moving in?" She asked him again, a slight quizzical look on her face. She understood he must be extremely tired; she'd chastise him about the music later. Her mind ran with thoughts of teasing him further, but assumed that he might pass out from over stimulation. "TALK ASSHOLE," his brain finally made it through. "Uh.... What? Oh, yes, I am, well sort of, my stuff doesn't get here 'til Wednesday, but yeah, basically." It was then he realized that he was, essentially, holding her hand, and snapped his own away, shoving it into his pocket. He almost apologized to her, but caught himself. She giggled, and he almost groaned, his face twisting with held back pleasure. He kept trying to think of something to say, but he was too tired, he needed sleep, he hoped he would be able to try again, after some rest. "You look tired, long drive?" Jillian asked, she knew the answer, he could only nod. "Well, I'll leave you alone, but before I skedaddle, mind if we use your pool today?" As Jillian continued, Yule could only think 'please don't leave' for a few moments, until he could no longer ignore his brain. It was screaming for him to respond, trying to remind him how not enjoyable fainting is. "What? We?" he said aloud, finally, while thinking: "Please don't be married." She had a ring on her right hand, but he couldn't remember what finger, on what hand, meant married. "Idiot," was what his brain said to him, and he knew it was right. He was in his thirties, thankfully, finally, and he still did not know what married women looked like. He continued with, "The pool? I guess I could clean it up before I get some rest, if it's not too bad, then I wouldn't mind." Sleep could wait if she needed something. "This is what normal men do, right? They do what women ask of them," he internally monologued to himself, not really knowing the answer. "Oh don't worry, Denise's dad, Jimmy, he already took care of it. He always does. Myself, Denise, and her kids are the 'we' since you are wondering." She waited for his answer, grinning. "Oh... ok then, go for it..." Yule was going to say something else, but he forgot what it was. It was involving something about being the only sexual man with two women, but it wouldn't form past the phrase "No husbands?" in his mind, so he kept it to himself. "Great! Thanks cutie!" Then she bounced off towards the house to his left before he knew what had happened. He watched her ass wiggle all the way to the door though, where she stopped, turned, winked, and then disappeared inside. "What the fuck..." Yule stated under his breath, cursing himself for having not moved, and for being such an idiot. This was beyond what he had anticipated. He had thought he could slip inside his newfound house before even seeing a person, and the intention to introduce himself was never there. Yule shook his head, again, until it felt clear as possible, and started towards his new domicile; walking up the classic wooden porch he went, past the screen door, to the solid glass front door with a dark stained border. He unlocked it, walked in leaving the main door open, and dropped his stuff. Yule took a quick look around, noting the back door. The only other thing he viewed, besides hardwood floors, clean white walls, and thermostat, was the couch in the center of the main room - the last remnant of the previous owner. It was one of those older wool textured couches with the plaid design. He walked up to it, then fell, face first, on top of it, feeling the rough surface scratch his beard growth. As slumber drifted into his mind, and he began to fall asleep, "did she call me cutie?" flashed into his mind. He arrived in Dreamland before he could think about it any further. *** Jillian hopped into the Rodgers's house, shutting the door behind her, and leaned directly against the smooth wooden surface once it was fully closed. "Oh my god," she said aloud as one hand went to her chest, the other to her mouth. Steven was at the window, but now he was looking at his Aunt Jill, wondering why she was acting so weird when there were racecars around. "Come finish your breakfast, Stevie," Denise said, leaning against the kitchen doorframe, turning to quizzically look at her best friend, now clutching her breast and midriff, and leaning against her front door. "But moooom, racecar!" The small boy was pointing out the window in cute, childhood awe. "Ok, honey, you can go look at it after you finish your breakfast, but no touching, got it?" Denise said to her child, amused by his fascination. "Okie-dokie!" the boy said and ran into the kitchen to finish his pancakes; his mother patted him on the head as he passed by. He had run up from the table at the sound of the bellowing vehicle approaching, the only one in the Rodgers's household who knew what it was. It had almost angered her, until she saw his excitement. "What? What was all that? What's wrong with you, Jilly?" Denise asked as she noticed her friend's nipples were hard under her shirt. "Oh my god, Denny, you should see him!" Jillian was looking at her friend with a wide-eyed stare. "Who? The noise maker?" Denise had not enjoyed the various nick-knacks, windows, and tableware rattling throughout the home. "Our new neighbor!" Jillian was excited, it was infectious. "Don't worry about the noise, he's hhhot!" "Oh really?" Denise was interested now. "How hot? One to ten?" "Twenty, easily a twenty. He looks like he's sculpted out of marble. I couldn't get much out of him, he was kind of tired, but, ugh, what a babe. He can't be much older than us." Jillian was getting wetter than she already was just thinking more about him. Saying it aloud didn't help much. "Oh, and he said we can use the pool." "Thank goodness." Denise was relieved. She had been too horny for months, unsatisfied by the local fare, and the pool was just what she needed today, sun and relaxation always did the trick. "Want some coffee?" "Absolutely." Denise turned and walked into the kitchen, with Jill bouncing behind her. *** Yule snapped awake, covered in sweat. He hated that dream, it was the worst. He shook his head until it felt clearer, rubbing his temples. He had thrown his shirt, belt, and socks off at some point while asleep. He now sat in only his jean and boxers. The house felt like a furnace. "Air conditioner," he said aloud and walked toward the thermostat he saw on the way in, his boxers too low, pants even lower. He should have turned it on before he fell asleep, but he could not remember why it was important. It was still light outside, but he honestly had no idea what time it was, or what day, having no watch, and having given his cell phone to a homeless man as he walked out of the office of his financial adviser. "He needed it more than me," Yule spoke aloud, and laughed to himself at the thought of no more ties to his old life. He had zero family, and the only things he needed from that life were in a manila folder in his backpack which he was now sifting through. "No more schedules..." he mused aloud to himself as he started to look around for the bathroom, toiletries bag and towel in hand. He needed a shower, he needed to shave, and he was disgusted by his own breath. After successfully locating the bathroom, which was nicer than he thought compared to the pictures he had seen, he turned on the hot spray and stripped. Grabbing his bar of soap and a washcloth, he stepped under the hot spray, his morning (afternoon?) wood glad for the hot wetness. While soaping himself up, the thought of the tight blonde he had met this morning flashed into his mind. "Cutie..." he repeated out loud to himself as he grasp his member at the base, leaving plenty to spare, and began long, slow, soapy strokes. Fresh, clean, and released, but still hard as steel, Yule wrapped a towel around his waist and went to work on the teeth and beard. He couldn't help but continue to think about the gorgeous blonde. Was she natural? He didn't know for sure, but her softly tan skin and green eyes quickly turned into a squirming, writhing, sweat soaked blonde, taking it from behind. "Man, you need to calm down," he said aloud, "You have to live next door to her." He spent a lot of time by himself and had somehow made a habit of occasional thinking out loud. He hadn't had sex in years, self imposed celibacy. He didn't think his penis would ever really forgive him. He knew his manhood was sick of novels and work trying to cloud the multitude of thoughts away. He cleaned up the mess he made, and walked downstairs to grab some shorts, a smoke, and his Zippo. Throwing on the thin netted shorts he had brought, he walked to the sliding door at the back of the house, and quietly stepped outside. The vision can only be described as epic. The entire back of the yard was lined with trees; so tall, they must have been there since the world began. The wooden privacy fence was lined with a foot wide border of wildflowers that stopped in two small patches where the gates in the fence were. The lawn was dark green, with an angled checker pattern mowed in, not a bare brown spot to be seen. The patio he was standing on was tucked into the architecture of the house, the master bedroom being directly above it, to shade the sun and rain. None of this compared to the pair of bodies, twenty-five feet in front of him. They were so close to each other that lesbian fantasies flashed in his mind, and his mahogany hardened more than he knew it could. They were the exact same height. The blonde, he remembered as Jillian Somethingorother, was on the right, in yellow fabric that should not legally be called a bathing suit. He was right when he thought her to be taught, she was five workouts from having too much definition. On the left though, was a body for magazines; it almost put the other to shame with its soft, fit curves. Yule had never seen a more perfect ass in all of his life. "A technician close to god," was muttered almost inaudibly, under his breath. Her black bikini was much larger than Jillian's, but still revealing. For the life of him he couldn't remember what Jillian had said her name was. "This could get interesting," he thought as the sound of giggling children finally broke the lust barrier in his mind. He stared at his silver Zippo for a moment, and the engraving "You never forget the life you save, and the life you save will never forget you" on the side, the letters "PFI" on the top. He let out a breath, flicked it open, and lit his coffin nail. Apparently the metallic sound of the lighter caught some attention; he hadn't thought it was that loud. He would have caught their attention sooner had he closed the sliding door, but he convinced himself that he was letting the heat out. "Hi Mr. Chinski!" He heard swimming children yell as the pair of lovely women turned to look in his direction. "She must have said something," he thought silently, this time. Jillian, on the right, turned to her left, and Denise, on the left, turned to her right. Lesbian fantasies flashed in his mind again as they waved to him, Jillian yelling: "Hi, sleepy head!" He returned their wave, sucking on the cigarette, and willing his rod to shrink. It barely listened, until he ran visions of standing in front of a high school class through his mind. It stayed semi-hard, just enough to be noticed. He could see the beauties chatting amongst themselves. "You were right, he's gorgeous, just look at him... and tattoos," Denise commented quietly to her friend. Strangely, to Denise, he looked like a bad boy with an earned innocence. Both women had their sunglasses on the ends of their respective noses. "I didn't know he had tattoos either, yummy, I saw him first," retorted Jillian. "We'll see," commented Denise quietly before raising her voice to say, "Why don't you come on over, hot stuff," and making a 'come hither' motion, then turning her attention back to her swimming children. They might have been old enough to swim alone, but motherly instincts always win. "Hot stuff..." he said aloud, quietly, causing him to smile. Almost six years in the city and he had never heard someone say something nice about him unless they wanted something. Now, it had happened twice in less than one waking hour. "So this is what 'home' feels like," he thought. Realizing this was his yard, and his home, he had no reason to decline. Like a ninja, Yule flicked the cherry off of his cigarette, and set the remainder, along with his Zippo, onto the corner of the patio. He adjusted his loose, ill-fitting shorts as best he could, and started walking towards his new neighbors, cursing himself for his hasty, suddenly uncomfortable, attire. Jillian, who had not stopped staring at him, quickly tapped her friend on the arm when he began walking over. As solid as he was, the simple act of walking made his muscles ripple, and when Denise turned to look, she couldn't help but coo. Both women were suddenly getting moist, and Jillian noticed her friend go slightly flush; barely noticeable, under her tan to the untrained eye. She was going to laugh at her friend and say something smart; until she saw his shorts fall to the height of low rider jeans. The sight made her skin rush goose bumps to the surface. He had hips like those idiots from that reality TV show. "Hello, again. Jillian, right?" Yule was pointing at her, smiling casually, slightly, a foot or so away from the pair of ladies. "Yep, Jillian Clark, and this is my best friend, Denise Rodgers," Jillian was fighting the urge to touch his abs and chest, and as he turned with the outstretched hand to Denise, she licked her lips. Both women's nipples were suddenly made of diamond. "Hello Denise, nice to meet you. Name's Yule Chinski," he said aloud, shaking her hand, but all he was thinking was that her tits should be illegal, and also government regulated. He almost looked straight at the sky, and said 'thank you' for being put in this situation. Yule fought to look at her hazel eyes instead, barely winning. The Absurdity of Assumptions "You have a racecar!" suddenly broke his mind from sexual thoughts, and he was glad for it. The small boy in the pool was grinning ear to ear. He looked just like his mother, same smile and eyes. Yule, being the kindhearted individual that he was, simply said "pardon me" to the lovely beauties on either side, and leaned down to the edge of the pool to speak to the boy. Yule liked his car more than most things, and was more than happy to indulge the kid. "Knock yourself out," was the reply heard from Denise as he leaned down, the crack of his ass just barely visible. Denise was hugging herself, and with a quick, returned glance towards her friend, she saw she was doing the same. They both returned their stares to his muscled, v-shaped back. Denise was slightly amused by the medium sized tattoos on his shoulders as one said 'LEFT' and the other 'RIGHT' - while trying to fight the urge to touch him. His spine was bumpy, slightly sunk into the pieces of meat that formed his back "What's your name, kiddo?" Yule asked when he had squatted down closer to the pool. "My name is Steven James Rodgers, and this is my sister L.J." The boy was pointing to his nearby sister. The little brunette was quiet and shy, but smiling as big as he was, not knowing how to react to a strange man, she also looked just like her mother. "L.J. huh? What's that stand for?" Yule never really interacted with kids, but he was going to be as nice as possible, he found them amusing, never really thinking if he wanted any of his own. "Little Jill," was the near silent reply, at which time, Yule turned to Denise, asking a silent question and slightly kicking his head towards Jillian. For a second, Yule couldn't help himself, and brazenly stared at her tits, noting the rock hard nipples. As fast as he could though, he returned his attention, to her eyes. The stare was not lost on Denise, who barely had time to look away from his ass to nod a silent reply. When he beamed his full smile at her before turning back to the kids, she felt her womanhood dribble into her bathing suit. His smile was genuine, she could tell, and it was glorious. Silently, she cursed herself for wearing black, and hoped he wouldn't notice her inevitable wet spot before the quartet left. After he had returned to look at the children, Denise stole a glance at Jillian, who silently mouthed the words "you slut" at her, with a huge smile on her face. The pair returned to visually dissecting his form, Jillian noting the edge of a scar under his arm. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you both," Yule said, still smiling. "But to answer your question, kiddo, it's not really a racecar, but it is close." "Is it fast, it looks sooo fast, vrrooom, I bet it's fast, it's shiny too, really fast," The small boy was going a mile a minute, Yule could swear he wasn't breathing. He replied to the child momentarily, after he had finished speaking, without pauses. "Well, it's pretty fast, kiddo, maybe I'll take you for a ride someday if your mom says it's ok," Yule was being genuine, he liked this kid, he was funny, and he had every intention of living here forever. He couldn't help but to keep smiling. "REALLY!!! AWESOME!! Thank you Mr. Chinski!" Then just as suddenly the boy dove back into the water splashing around. Denise had looked over at Jillian again, grabbing her attention and silently mouthing "he's sooo nice" to her best friend, Jillian could only nod in agreement and return to staring at him. "I like your pool," came the near silent phrasing as the boy dove in, and Yule turned his attention to the small girl. "It used to be Mrs. Davies's pool, but she went to heaven. She let us use it all the time. Mommy says it's your pool now." She still seemed shy, and quiet, but she had warmed up to him a bit. "Well," replied Yule to the tiny girl, "as long as your mommy says it's ok, you guys can use it, ok, hon?" "Ok!" she squealed, suddenly audible, then dove in after her brother, making Yule laugh, something he had not done in a long time. He stood up and turned to back to the pair made of sexual perfection. "That goes for the two of you, anytime you want, it's yours," Yule didn't notice the innuendo until he said it. "T-the pool I mean," he added as his right hand absently moved to the top of his head. He felt a little stupid for saying what he did, grumbling deep and absently looking towards the ground as his hand rubbed his head. It was then that he noticed the two dark spots at apexes of their respective legs. His full body laughter turned Jillian on more than she thought anything could, that was, until he tripped on his tongue and offered himself to her and her best friend, whenever they wanted. "Does he know how hot he is!?!" she was thinking to herself. It was then that he became embarrassed, just like a teenage boy, using the classic head grab/ground stare combination. His bicep flexed, and the muscle under his arm, along his ribcage, began to stick out. He had a long, finger wide scar at an upward angle, from front to back, on his ribcage, definitely not surgical. He was digging his toe into the concrete, lightly. Jillian's only reaction was to flood her swimsuit with hot fluids. She began to shiver, glancing at her friend, she saw the same. "Oh god, we're sluts," was the thought Denise had while returning her friend's look. When the pair of lovelies returned to gawking though, Yule had all the power. He was staring at one, then the other, the look on his face was almost confused, but he was all man again. His arm was still up, but it was still now, no longer rubbing his short, buzzed hair. He knew he had turned on both of these women just by standing, and being himself. It was a dream come true, and a nightmare. He didn't know which one to pick. It was pure fantasy to think he could have them both. "People didn't do things like that in a place like this, did they?" his brain wondered. He suddenly had performance anxiety; his semi hard piece pulling a turtle shell. He couldn't choose. Yule had made thousands of decisions worse than this, and they all suddenly seemed trivial by comparison. They were both looking at him. Denise's head tilted right towards Jillian's head tilted left. "SAY SOMETHING ASSHOLE," his brain screamed at him again. "I... uh," was the best Yule could come up with, his masculinity lost again, he was about to run, and buy a new house somewhere else, maybe even move back to the city, when suddenly his stomach began to growl loud enough for the women to hear. He jumped on an idea, so that maybe he could keep living here. "Where's a good place to get something to eat 'round these parts'?" Jillian's eyes were wide as Denise stole a momentary glance at her. Jillian was silently screaming "Do it, Denny, or I am going to murder you in your sleep." "My house, thirty minutes, can you last that long? Jillian will be there too, and you can meet my dad, he'll be doing the cooking. He always makes too much anyway. It'll be a blast," Denise was speaking faster than her son did about racecars. "Yeah, c'mon, it'll be great. We can get to know each other better," echoed the continuation from Jillian. The excitement from the pair returned Yule's confidence with a vengeance, also taking note to the twin like actions of the two. He had not heard a word about husbands, and Denise's innuendo was not lost on him. He wondered if Denise knew she said it. "Maybe I do have a shot," he thought inwardly, while replying: "For a pair like you, I could last all day, so yeah, dinner would be great, see you in a half hour, then." He was feeling like a man in charge, now. "See you in a bit guys," Yule hollered to the kids in the pool without turning. He stole one more glance at each sex bomb, and walked towards the house to rub a few out before dinner and then finish his cigarette. "Ok Mr. Chinski!" the kids yelled. Both Denise and Jillian watched the most perfect male ass they had ever seen walk away, each of them taking special attention to the tops of his butt muscles flexing with each step, popping out of his shorts. They took note of the dimples on either side of his spine, and his insanely defines calves. "Mmm hmm," Denise and Jillian whimpered in unison as they both began giggling like schoolgirls while barely touching each other in various places. The sound was not missed by Yule as he mostly closed his patio door. He knew better than to turn around. "Ok you two, time to get ready for dinner, let's go," Denise beckoned to her children, whom obediently hopped out of the pool and ran across the yard to the gate, the two women staying behind momentarily. "Did you see that tattoo on his chest?" Denise asked Jillian. "The one with the flag and the eagle that said 'All Branches, All Services'?" Jillian asked, thinking she got it right. "Yeah, that's the one. They have a plaque of it at the VFW, above the bar. I think he's military, or was military. ..Though he doesn't act like the type." Denise stated, contemplating. "That explains the scar. Ask your dad, he'll probably know, he almost always does." Jillian was intrigued even more by him. She did always like a man in a uniform. "I'm going to go dress sexy for our date." "My house, my date, slut," Denise said to her before turning and bolting for her home. "Ahh, bitch," Jillian retorted, bolting for her house, wondering if she could pleasure herself, shower, and be dressed in only thirty minutes. For once, she decided not to make a man wait. *** James was amused as he watched his daughter race into the house and up the stairs twenty or so minutes ago. He took note of her body in her swimsuit, not with attraction, but with pride at his creation. "He's coming over for dinner, dad! I have to get changed!" James thought her voice had suddenly changed to sound like she did when she was younger, first date nervous. He also saw the smile on her face when she quickly peeked into the bathroom at her kids washing their hands, on her way up the stairs. He was finishing the last of the salad, to go with the real mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, and the yet uncooked steaks, as Jillian came into the room. He was a good cook, his wife had taught him well. "Hey, Jim," Jillian said as she went straight for the cabinet, to grab plates for setting the table. "Hey, Jill," James said turning, salad bowl, full of salad, in between his hands. He stopped for a second when he saw her, but then continued to move to place the bowl on the table. He had paused due to her clothing, or lack thereof. She looked stunning in the short, low cut, green dress, which matched her eyes, without looking cheap. She had open toe sandals, with a three-inch heel, and her manicured toenails on display. He felt underdressed; not knowing it was that kind of dinner. "You look nice. All dolled up for the new neighbor, eh?" James was going to tease her, that's what fathers do to daughters and their friends. "His name is Yule, you know, like the actor? And yes, it's for him, he's quite handsome. So you be nice, you old badger. Seriously, be nice, he's kind of flighty," Jillian was smiling at him as she place plates, napkins, and silverware at the various seats. There were six chairs at the table. "Almost like we planned it," she thought to herself. "Well that does explain what was up with Denise," James thought as he stated, "Aren't I always," quite matter-of-factly, smiling. "What does he do?" James asked Jillian as he went to the stove to retrieve the other dinner foods from the stove and counter. "I dunno," Jillian spoke, "Denise thinks he was in the military because of one of his tattoos." "Oh yeah?" James questioned as he absently looked down at his forearm and the ink that stated '101st' while his mind drifted to the jungle for a moment. "What did it look like?" After Jillian gave the description, James stopped moving altogether, his jaw slightly parted. He knew that that ink was earned, and he had a sudden respect for a man he had never seen, nor met. "Well, that explains why he's flighty..." James said aloud, catching himself. He didn't explain a word further. "What?" Jillian asked, surprised by his reaction. He didn't speak, he just went back to kitchen things. "What? Seriously, Jim, what?" She was definitely intrigued. "Oh, pleeeease, Jimmy, tell me," she was pulling out the stops, and he was resisting. He knew the trick, his wife had used it on him many times, and he always fell for it with her, but he wouldn't let Jillian win. "You'll have to ask him sweetheart. It's really not my place to say." "What's not your place to say?" Denise asked as she walked to the wine rack, grabbing the perfect bottle and uncorking it, setting it on the counter to let it breath. She looked equally as attractive as Jillian, in a tight fitting strapless black dress that ended mid thigh, and started half the distance between her nipples and the top of her breast. "Good grief, you too?" James was commenting on her attire, Denise was rolling her eyes and smiling. "What, I don't look good?" Denise did a little pirouette after setting down the bottle, James remembering how she always loved to dance. "You do, you both look great. I just don't want you two cat-fighting later. If you are already trying so hard to win him over now... gee zoo..." He was good at teasing his girls, he had years of practice. Both girls were smiling at him. "So, what's not your place?" Denise asked again. "Your new boyfriends service record, so stop asking," James replied, as he grabbed the plate of uncooked steaks and stepped out onto the back patio, to throw them on the heated grill. As soon as he was out the door, Jillian spoke to her friend, smiling, noting how sexy she looked. "He's mine." "Nuh-uh," Denise replied, smiling just as much, and feeling like a horny teenager. She was thinking Jillian really did look good, maybe better than she did, as she poked her head around the kitchen door to glance at her kids, on the couch. "What'd he say about the tattoo?" Denise asked Jillian. "He looked surprised, his jaw actually dropped for a second, but he wouldn't say a thing, I even tried the pouting trick," Jillian spoke as she watched her friend grab two wine glasses from the top of an open cabinet. Denise was stretching, and Jillian was worried that the green dress might not be enough. "Denise looks great," thought Jillian, as one of Denise's black heels slowly lifted off the floor in her stretch. "Really?" Denise replied pouring two half glasses of the dark red liquid, "Interesting." James came back, empty plate in hand, as the girls suddenly went quiet, sipping their wine and looking at each other. He had to chuckle aloud at them, they looked cute and anxious. He rinsed the plate in the sink, under hot water, and dried it with a towel, setting it on the counter. "Come and get it guys," he hollered to his grandkids and they ran into the kitchen. One of the ladies had put little piles of salad on two of the plates. The children settled into their respective chairs, on opposite sides, next to James's chair at the end of the table. When Yule did arrive, Jillian and Denise would be seated either side of him, James would be directly across. He knew the women planned it, instead of the usual, hap-hazard, seating arrangements. Just then the doorbell rang, and both women jumped with a start, Jillian almost spilling her wine. "I'll get it," James replied casually, and was at the kitchen doorway before the girls could react. "Father's duty," he mused to himself, aloud. "Daddy, please..." was the best Denise could muster in the short span of time, she looked genuinely worried, and so did Jillian. "Don't worry sweetie, I have this." James knew he had enough time to greet the newcomer, size him up, and offer him a beer, before returning to his steaks. Mentally he switched to cop mode as he opened the front door. "Hi, c'mon in." James hadn't expected the Out of Towner to be the size of a local corn-bred farmer. He was a third bigger, and a head taller than James, it was intimidating. "No wonder they like him," James thought to himself. As James closed the door he watched the big man snap his head towards the sound of the clicked latch, then to the back door, for a moment, before turning back to face him. He was smartly dressed in jeans and a button down collared shirt "Poor kid," James thought, his thoughts drifting back to his return home from the shit. "You must be Yule, name's James Rodgers," he said with an outstretched hand, "call me Jim." Yule cocked his head to the side, "Sure thing, Captain Kirk," grasping the hand in a firm handshake. He stared at James's tattoo for a second, as he let go of the hand, saying "Death from above," aloud, but under his breath. "Yep, we're who the ladies love the most." James was smiling, the kid was funny, the Star Trek joke bringing back fond memories. "Combat?" Yule asked the man, he gave off a vibe of a police officer, but not a scumbag 'better than you' type. "Yep, 'Nam, enlisted, two tours, honorable." James said sternly, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Wow, thank you, Sir," was Yule reply, he really meant it. "Actually, son, thank you. The girls told me about your brand." James watched the large man suddenly sink, instantly looking very scared, like he was about to run for the back door and never return. "Don't worry, I didn't say anything. It's not my place. Want a beer?" Yule let out a breath, relief crossing his face, and his posture returning to normal. "Absolutely, thanks," he replied, causing James to inwardly laugh, Jillian always used that line. James led the way into the kitchen, noticing the girls were watching the men through the doorway, asking each other a thousand unanswered questions at the exchange. Yule had all of their attention. When Yule entered the kitchen, and saw the women, it felt like the soles of his sneakers were suddenly welded to the floor. His eyes went wide and stayed there. The women he had been drooling over in their bikinis looked even better with more clothes on, as if such a thing were possible. He was dumbfounded, he wasn't ready for this. This was too much. "Nine steps to the back door," was the thought most prevalent in his mind. "Hi Mr. Chinski!" came the cherubs in unison. The voices of the children had an instant calming effect on Yule, he smiled and his feet felt freedom. Before he could think of anything else, an open, ice-cold beer was thrust into his hand. "Hi guys," he said to the children, thinking maybe this is what he needed, "and ladies." He took a sip of the beer, it was wonderful, the neck of the bottle slightly foaming. "Have a seat, son." James said, motioning to the end of the table. "How do you like your steak?" "Anything but bloody, thanks, Jim." That was the second time in his life someone had called him 'son' and it made him feel warm inside. This man had naturally set Yule at ease. "He must have been a grunt, high rank, below an officer," Yule thought, he knew the type, they were the ones who were really in charge. He set his beer down in front of the plate and stood at the back of the chair, as James went outside to play grill master. Yule realized there would be a beautiful woman on either side of him throughout the meal, and it kept his smile burning. Denise and Jillian had both scooped various foods onto the children's plates, and some onto their own, along with James's, before setting the various dishes in front of Yule's plate. "Go ahead, have a seat, handsome, hope you're really hungry," said Denise with her eyes studying his form as he stood. She was moistening more and more, and her nipples were hard. She knew it was always the quiet ones. Mystery always had an effect on her, and his clean, slightly wrinkled shirt and shy demeanor was turning her on. Maybe it was the bulge in his pants? Maybe it was his smile, and his perfect teeth? Yule had a cumulative effect on her, an effect she hadn't felt since the first year of her marriage; she loved it. He was better looking than her husband on his best day, and he wasn't even dressed past casual.