I knew the small house next to mine had been sold, but had no idea who the new owners were or
when they were moving in. I had been mowing their lawn when I did mine for the month of May,
and had just finished the mowing on Saturday, this first weekend of June, when the moving van
pulled up in front and a car pulled into the driveway.
I shut the mower down and walked over to give the first neighborly ‘hello.’ Beach Road, or our
one-block stretch of it, was a very friendly community where we all knew each other’s business.
During the summer families would be out and around, kids playing in the street, neighbors
conversing. I was the only single on the block– everyone else was married, most with kids not
yet in high school. Because I’m single, I suppose, I was considered a little odd for not dating very
much, not at all in the last five or six years. At 42, having been divorced and burned in the few
relationships I had since, I was willing enough to live a monk’s life punctuated with a few affairs
along the way. Since most of those affairs had been with neighbors’ wives, each very much a
secret unto itself, the notion of my monkly life prevailed.
As four women– obviously a mother and her three daughters– got out of the car, I held out my
hand and introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Bob, ” I said, “your next-door neighbor.”
The mother, who I later learned was 38, looked at me and smiled while shaking my hand. “Well,
hello back to you,” she said, “I’m Anna.” Then, looking to what was surely her middle daughter,
Anna said, “Peggy, here, take the front door keys and let the movers in. They’re getting paid by
the hour, so we don’t want them dawdling for no good reason.” Turning back to me, she added,
“We’re not rich, so we watch pennies when we can and dollars all the time.”
I laughed. “I know that feeling, Anna, I’m an English teacher here in town. The summer vacation
is great if you don’t have to find a second job to keep the cash ooze going.” Anna was a good
looking woman in a plain sort of way. She wore no make-up, her dark hair was cut short, barely
covering her ears. What lit up her face was her beautiful smile and white, even teeth. What lit up
her slim, spare frame were her breasts. I guessed they were c-cup (which they were– ahem!), and
her bra held them high and out, sort of in-your-face if she had been taller. I guess she stood about
five and a half feet. I guess all of ’em did.
By the time Peggy was back from her mission, Anna proudly turned to her girls. I shook hands
with each as her mother introduced us, suddenly wishing I had done some serious analysis of
window alignment when remodeling my house a few years before. They were an eyeful.
“This is Gail. She’s eighteen and will be finishing high school this year.” Gail was a little taller
than her mother, and it looked like her round ass would split her tight jeans if she bent over. With
her dark brown hair and shining brown eyes, Gail looked as if she had some Irish blood in her. I
tried not to stare at her breasts as I said hello, quietly hoping she would be in my senior English
“And this is Peggy, who just turned sixteen and who will be a sophomore this September.” Peggy
was a live one. She just seemed to revel in being a teenager and having the ability to turn a man’s
head simply by walking by. Where Gail had worn a pressed Oxford shirt, Peggy had on a halter
top that just molded her apple-sized breasts, and her shorts showed an ass smaller than Gail’s, but
one which fit her body perfectly. If I could realign windows, the first would be to get a good look
at Peggy. She looked pure Sicilian.