Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
I look at myself in the mirror. My nipples poke out ever so softly through my white tank top. I adjust the spaghetti straps, so my large breasts sit perky and bounce ever so slightly. I turn around and check out my ass. The bottoms of my round cheeks hang out ever so slightly. Perfect.
After looking at my curvy reflection one last time, I run to the bathroom and grab a brush. I run it through my long, curly brown hair and let my curls flow down my back. I brighten up my lips with a small swipe of lip gloss. After throwing on a few strokes of mascara, I look at myself in the mirror.
I look older and more mature. If I’m going to get this grown man’s attention, I can’t look like a kid after all. I have to look like the adult woman that I am, and bring a luscious woman’s assets to the table for him to enjoy.
I run down the stairs and look through the kitchen window over the sink. I see my new neighbor pruning flowers in his backyard. The light hits him squarely, illuminating that broad, bronzed back. In fact, this is perfect because he’s kneeling in front of the bushes that line the fence separating our two yards. It’s time to put my plan in motion.
2
Brady
* * *
The bright Remford sun hits my back, searing it with bright rays. Damn, it’s hot, and I mop at my sweaty brow with a rag. Rivulets of sweat are trailing down my form, highlighting my bronzed muscles. I wish I could take off my shorts, and not just my shirt because it’s so freaking hot.
But that wouldn’t be right because one, who does that? Second, I’ve only lived in this house for about a month and my neighbors would be shocked. But finally, things are coming together. All of my boxes are unpacked, and my furniture is mostly in place. My house and my life are starting to come together and feel normal. When I’m not at work, I’m doing normal chores like gardening and working on my Jeep. I feel calm when I’m doing these things because since I was eighteen, my life has been anything but normal. That’s when I enlisted, and war is hard on a man.
I take a break from pruning flowers and just sit back on my heels for a second. In the middle of my garden, I start thinking about my last tour. A grimace comes over my face, and I look down, breathing hard. It was difficult because I lost my best friend, Tony. Tony graduated from the same military high school I did, but we didn’t know each other until we were both sent to the same location on our very first deployment. Since then, we’ve managed to be together for most of our deployments.
When we were back in the States, we normally found a small flat or apartment in a busy city and just lived life. Neither one of us dated anyone seriously and someone always had a sock on the door. We drank a lot, cried together, and shared some of our most profound memories. Civvies will never get it; only a buddy who’s been there can.
Our bond was strong, and when my parents died, Tony was the person by my side at both of their funerals. I couldn’t imagine doing life without him, yet here I am. Damn him.
After he died and I returned to the States, I wanted to live a different life. It’s partly Tony’s fault. We used to talk about how we’d settle down one day with a luscious woman and pump out a couple rug rats. We always laughed at the idea, but over the years, our tones grew serious. We wanted a family, and a woman to greet us at the end of every deployment. We want children, although now, Tony will never have his.
Fuck. I have to slow down at some point. I have to put my friend out of my mind. As a result, after packing my shit, I randomly chose a city on a map and moved. There happen to be an affordable house on the market in Remford, so I bought it.
Suddenly, a loud voice interrupts my train of thought.
“Hi neighbor, how are you adjusting to everything?” I stand and turn around, looking at the gate that separates the back from the front of the house. A large-bellied man is standing there, waving happily at me. His face is red and he’s sweating profusely.
I wave back. “I’m doing well, thanks. The neighborhood is really nice.”
He beams, looking a bit like Santa Claus.
“I’m Joe Matthias, I live around the corner. What’s your name?” he asks.
I wipe my hands on my shirt and stick it back into the waistline of my pants before walking to greet him.