If you have not read pt. 1, I’d recommend it. It is much shorter, and the first couple chapters will not be as interchangeable as the rest. If not, here’s a recap:
Max moved into is new place with his cousin.
Feel free to reach out with comments or messages: like Max, I’m very responsive to feedback.
Max Wright came from a well-to-do family. Father’s name was on the front of a major law firm; Mother ran a high society non-profit that could put together a gala within hours of a national disaster. They were exactly what you’d imagine finding on the centerfold of Old Money magazine. They were also a bit dysfunctional, distant, and stiffly formal. Mr. and Mrs. Wright were rarely affectionate around one another, and the household staff often joked (with the Wrights absent) that the pregnancy must’ve been some kind of Three-Stooge-esque accident. Enter, young Maximillian. One day, years ago, Max’s mother walked in on him with a picture. Being the rational, warm mother she was, she shrieked, ran from the room, and called a priest. Now, many priests would’ve kept a bit of a sense of humor or perspective about the gravity of the situation. Many priests would’ve recognized that he was barging into a pivotal moment in someone else’s life. Many priests would have just given him a short, gentle word of rebuke. But the Father in question was more of a fire-and-brimstone man. He paid the Wright home a visit that lasted several traumatic hours. A healthy belief that sexual attractions were a filthy, humiliating thing took hold.
Somehow, someone in his class heard about the incident, and the following week became the undisputed worst of his life. Humiliated, he found himself a social pariah overnight. He never spoke to the girl again.
Very slowly, his social stigma faded. But he developed an inability to talk to girls, especially ones he liked, that did not. He grew into a nice-looking boy, but his painful awkwardness was not well received by the girls with whom he went to school. In high school, he was quiet but well-liked among his friends. He was a fairly normal kid, bright and well-intentioned. However, despite many friends’ best efforts, he dated infrequently and quite unsuccessfully up to college.
After several moments of paralysis, he pulled himself out of horrible memory lane with a start. His eyes trained on the stilling fabric of the curtain. He raced to the window and peeked through, but the bedroom was empty now.
Had she seen?
How could she not? The windows took half the wall.
Surely if she had she would’ve stopped and yelled, or at least stared awhile.
Who notices someone peeking and then just goes about their business?
Well what was she supposed to do? Come bang on the door that led to his room from outside?
He could hear the water running all the way from her bathroom when the door was open… how could she not have heard the curtain’s bar banging on the window?
Who the hell insulated this place? Two bedrooms in separate houses, 3 feet apart with giant windows taking up half the wall? They’d literally hear each other coughing.
Maybe all she heard was tapping, who’s to say her curtain didn’t obscure it?
He peeked cautiously past his curtain and found her room empty, the door to the bathroom shut now. He rocked his curtain and stared at the mirror she’d stood before moments ago. The motion caused it to spring into vivid clarity through the wood strips of her blind. Dread gripped him. He put his back to the wall and slid down until he was sitting, his hands in his hair.
How could she have missed that?
He spent the next three days creeping anxiously around his own home, trying to avoid his neighbor. In the mornings, he’d peek around outside then make a break for his vehicle. In the afternoons, he had to come in blind and make a mad dash for the door, fumbling his keys into the lock before disappearing inside until it was time to repeat the ridiculous process again in the morning. The day his cousin and roommate Jacob asked for help with groceries was particularly nerve-racking.
He didn’t have much of an end game in mind, he’d have to run into her eventually. But maybe he could just delay it for a year or two. After all, people do move from time to time.
The fourth day, his luck ran out, and she pulled onto their block right after him. Misery swallowed him whole. He considered driving straight and pretending later it wasn’t him, but it was too late. He pulled into the drive and stepped uncertainly from his truck when she called out, “Max come give me a hand, would you?”
His manners appeared, “Sure thing, Mrs. Melissa.”
And several minutes passed of quiet bustle as they carted her bags in. She seemed relaxed as ever, and he found himself perking up. He dropped the last brown bag on her counter. The more he thought about it, the more cautiously optimistic he became that he might have lucked out.
This was the moment she chose to ask, “Max, what’s the matter sweetie?” Her clear brown eyes bore into him with concern as ice shot back through his veins, “You’ve been avoiding me.”
A moment stretched between them.
She paused, “Do you…not like having a grown up neighbor?”
Shocked that she would think this, Max spat out, “What- no, of course not. I mean- I don’t mean ‘no’ as in no. I…” Max trailed off his stumbling explanation and finished, “…I like you a lot, Mrs. Melissa.”
Max thought that might’ve been too strong of a statement, but she smiled warmly at his praise.
She said, “well good. Although I’m sure you’d’ve preferred some cute little girl who’d flirt with you every chance she got.”
Max’s face flushed red, and he said quickly, “No! I…” He trailed off, then said, “I don’t want to live next to someone else.”
He wasn’t sure what he was saying. He wanted to say he liked her in a polite company sort of way without saying how else he liked her. Whatever he was saying, she seemed to understand.
Her smile remained, “You’re too sweet. Well, if it’s not that, why’ve you been avoiding me?”
Max went back to anxious, his reprieve over. His mouth opened, wordlessly, then shut.
She reached over and touched his forearm, quieting him. She watched him for a moment, mulling something over in her head. She opened her expressive lips and paused before saying, “…Are you feeling guilty about when you saw me getting ready to shower?”
The caught-red-handed look on his crimson face confirmed his humiliation. But she said quickly, “Because that’s hardly something to be embarrassed about. You’re an 18-year-old boy. I should be smart enough not to waltz around like that now that your room’s occupied.”
Max sat motionless, eyes wide.
She continued confidently, “Well I’m glad we settled that. I like having a boy around who enjoys talking to me too much to let something silly ruin it.” She stood up and walked around the counter. She placed a warm, soft hand on the side of Max’s face. She bent down, and pressed her lips to Max’s cheek.
Minutes later, after a blushing goodnight, and an awkward walk to the door to hide his body’s response, Max was in his bed, furiously masturbating. His cheek was marked where her lips had been, the skin still tingled. He didn’t even need to imagine anything, just remembering the nearness of her had him gasping. The back of his mind was simultaneously unpacking everything that had just happened. She did know he’d watched, but she wasn’t upset. She already knew he had a crush on her. His stomach squirmed…
The teacher was late that day. The class found itself unattended as the boy stood gleefully at the head of the classroom. He had a buzz cut and a triumphant look upon his face. The other boy’s red face burned shamefully into his desk, trying to block out the situation.
“He wants to be all alone with her so he can kiss her all over. Max! MAX! You know she doesn’t like you, right? Max, I heard you have a picture of her under your pillow. What did you do with it?”
The fact that Melissa knew triggered all of it again. In his mind, it was as if she’d walked in on him naked, masturbating to a picture of her. She knew he thought about her that way.
Yet she’d discovered his dirty secret…and didn’t seem upset. She’d even kissedhim! Shame and tension tried welling up, but she knew and said it was “ok”. Max literally couldn’t fathom that to be true, but he knew she meant it. She…knew what he was in here doing and who he was thinking of. And she had essentially demanded he keep talking to her. Six years of repressed sexual urges flooded out of him and latched on to her as his fist pumped up and down his shaft.
The cat was out of the bag. He remembered her hand and soft warm lips on his cheek. She seemed flattered at his interest. Warmth blossomed in his belly as he imagined that she liked him touching himself to her. At that, he groaned and his orgasm erupted. He found himself in bed with wide awake eyes.
The next day he hung around outside until she returned from her jog. He eagerly approached her and said hello. She smiled broadly at him. They chatted politely for several minutes. When it was over, he stood nervously in place, not moving. She watched him for a second before she realized. Then she laughed musically and leaned in, pressing a kiss onto his cheek.
The next several days passed in much the same way. Classes began. Jacob had a revolving door of friends coming over that Max was trying to get acquainted with.
Jacob introduced him to several girls, and he found himself relaxing around and liking many of them. Jacob noticed immediately, having witnessed his cousin’s catastrophic awkwardness in the past, and was thrilled. He brought up each and every girl Max met anytime the two were home alone, trying to strike a chord. But Max’s interest was in one place and one place only. A pretty girl named Jenna who had taken a shine to him even gave him her number.
Despite his disinterest, Max did notice that his sex drive was getting outlandish. Jacob smirked and said it happened to everyone when they moved out on their own. Girls too, if Jacob was to be believed.
He never got to see Melissa naked again, but he guiltily peeked every day. All he got for his trouble was the knowledge that she took very long showers. He got to know her better through their now daily conversations. She was going through a divorce. She liked sci-fi movies. She didn’t have any kids. She liked Italian food and was allergic to peanuts. She had been married for over 20 years. She hated old westerns but loved old samurai movies. Their chats were getting longer as Max grew bolder in what he’d ask her. She’d even give him personal answers without prodding. The marriage had been because of a pregnancy that didn’t make it to 9 months. She hadn’t been single since half her lifetime ago; she was nervous to be on her own.
He knew it was silly, but when it came to her, he was in it deep. To her, he might be just a nice boy with a crush to her, but each night he imagined every inch and curve of her body as he went to sleep.
Each time he saw her, often after a period of pretending to busy himself outside, he’d rush over. He’d be all eagerness, and she’d give him a smile that melted him into a puddle in his shoes. When they’d said their goodbyes, she’d always make him stand there for several moments, burning with nervousness before she’d laugh, lean in, and kiss his cheek.
One day, Max awoke to find a plumber’s van parked right in front of Melissa’s house. He stepped outside when she was returning from her jog. She saw him several houses in advance and smiled brightly at the sight of him. He shyly reciprocated and put a hand up in greeting. His smile lasted until she pulled up next to him, breathing heavily.
He gave her a moment to catch her breath then asked, “So what’s up with the van?”
She took another moment with her hands on her knees. His eyes flicked toward her cleavage but danced away to avoid detection. “Pipe burst last night. Out of nowhere, too.” She smiled ruefully, “And now I’m without water.”
Max nervously pressed himself forward until he blurted “Use mine.” Her eyes found his. He added, “Until it’s fixed. If you want.”
She replied, “That’d be really nice actually. I was about to drive across town to my sister’s. I’m going to go inside to grab a few things, then I’ll be right over.”
He flew frantically into his room. The overture of “Barber of Seville” thundered in his ears as trash and dirty clothes found their way into laundry- and waste-baskets indiscriminately. The bathroom was tossed like a German raid, and collard shirt found itself covered unceremoniously in the grime that had previously lived on the ground behind the toilet. After 180 seconds of high-intensity cleaning, Max sat on the bed and looked around anxiously. He was trying to remember what a relaxed person sits like when the knock came. He walked over on oddly wooden legs and opened the door for her. She smiled warmly, and he grinned back. A minute later he was listening to the disruptions of the water that meant she was lathering her naked body. He sat back on the bed as his dick throbbed eagerly. His ears pricked up suddenly. A few minutes past and shook his head. He almost swore he heard her breathy voice from in the shower. But when several minutes of silence went by, even his imagination had to admit its first thought of what she could be doing in there was unlikely. She took another eternity in the shower before the water cut off, but Max’s energy and nerves made it seem like seconds.
Two shadows appeared beneath the door, and Max busied himself with an alarm clock that didn’t work (another casualty of move-in day). The door cracked open. Her damp face peeked out, “if you still need the sink, you can come back in now.”
He didn’t but eagerly went through the door. He’d been hoping she’d still be in a towel and was disappointed to find her in a change of clothes already. They both began to brush their teeth, and the heady, clean scent of her shampoo filled his brain. His dick pressed forward slightly. They pressed together side by side for mirror space, their hips touching. His dick stirred more. This broke so much of the safe formality between them. He felt like they were Ozzie and Harriet. He should’ve been worried about her spotting his growing bulge, but what was happening was too good to cut short.
She bumped him with her hips, mock-pushing him away to claim the mirror for himself. He stepped back in behind her, peeking over her shoulder for mirror space. She stepped back, planning to use her ass to cast him aside again. Instead, the firm flesh of her rear pressed into his erection. His mouth came open and almost let out a groan of pleasure. She saw his reaction and felt the cause throb against her. Her eyes widened and she was motionless for a moment. Then she stepped away and spat into the sink. She rinsed and stepped wordlessly out of the bathroom with her bag. He panicked, and spat out, wondering what he’d just done. He rinsed and quickly went back into his room, fearing that she’d already left without a word. His panic was for nothing, however. She was there, toweling her hair off. She smiled brightly at him and thanked him for the shower.
She stepped forward and kissed his cheek with a minty breath, taking a moment to wipe some invisible toothpaste from his face where her lips had been. Then she was gone. He ran his hands up his hair and fell backwards into bed. All he could think about was her ass against him, and how good it felt. The look on her face came to him as well. Not shock, not disgust. It had been uncertainty etched in her features. As he settled in to relieve his furiously aching hard-on, he indulged himself, imagining that her look had been as if she had reached into a cookie jar in jest, expecting it to be empty, and didn’t know what to do with what she’d found. He imagined her in the shower, desire wrestling with her own conscious. He imagined a part of her desperately wanting him. His dick was burned with pleasure. When he finally came, his eyes flew open. He stuffed a pillow over his face as he rode it out. He’d never cum half that hard that he could remember.
The rest of the day went on, but he stayed wrapped up in their encounter. He didn’t know what to make of the look, but that wasn’t for lack of trying. He was walking around willing down a semi all day. She’d managed to again stumble upon his dark, private thoughts (even further this time) and again left him with a smile and kiss. He didn’t think she was actually interested in him, but she hadn’t shied away when things had turned adult.
Night eventually came and with it, heavy rain. He’d been in his bathroom imagining the swell of her ass against him, this time with his hands on her hips, when there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find Melissa waiting outside, in a raincoat with no umbrella. He snapped into a mode he’d seen his parents doing for years, quickly ushering her in out of the rain and taking her dripping coat. He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a towel and wrapped it around her. He stopped himself before he started rubbing her down as his parents would have.
She smiled softly at him, “You’re too kind, sweetie. Would it be alright if I used your shower again?” Hey eyes were softer than their usual piercing brown, and he found his eyes easily locking with hers
“It looks like you already have, what happened to your umbrella?” Something about her waterlogged, damsel-in-distress appearance made him a bit less nervous for once.
She said, “I didn’t have one today.”
Max thought this was strange, she had multiple in her room that he’d spotted while peeking in, but he didn’t question her.
Instead he said, “Of course you can use the shower, go right ahead.”
Max sat on his bed and watched the door. But Melissa was done so quickly, Max barely had time to will his erection down before the door opened. Melissa’s sleek hair caught his eye, because the towel still wrapped around her was attempting valiantly to be big enough to hold her breasts and cover her thighs, and he didn’t trust himself to look anywhere else.
Her expressive eyes and pouty mouth implored him, “Max, you don’t have a pair of clothes that would fit on me do you? I don’t want to go outside in just a towel.”
Blood thundered in his ears. Any nervousness that had left him was back in full flux now.
“Oh, uh, yeah sure.” He dug out a soft shirt and a small pair of pajama pants.
Melissa smiled and took them, “Thank you sweetie. If you don’t mind, I’m gonna stay until the rain lightens up. You can take your shower now, I won’t poke around.”
“I can keep you company, I wasn’t about to shower,” Max lied.
She smiled, “Then why was the water running when I got here?”
Shit, he thought.
She laughed, “Go ahead, take your shower. I’ll be good.”
So, max found himself naked in the shower with a beautiful, half-dressed woman in his bedroom. He was rushing through, not wanting the rain to clear and her to leave while he was in here. He rinsed off and cut the water, toweling himself off furiously. He had just wrapped the towel tightly around his waist when there was a knock on the door.
“Max,” she called, “If you’re done in there, I forgot to brush.”
Wordlessly he opened the door and she stepped in. She was wearing his favorite old T-shirt. It was not the one he’d given her. He felt nervousness; she had poked around then. Her free breasts squeezed the fabric, her nipples sliding against the surface with each step. The pajama pants hung loosely on her narrow waistline, but tight lower down against her hips and legs. He gulped as his dick sprang to life against a thin towel. This wasn’t some girl from Spanish like Jacob was always talking about. This was a gorgeous woman, in his room with him, completely naked under his clothes. He’d again already brushed his teeth, but they settled in front of the mirror to brush, her in front and him behind, trying to hide his erection. But it was getting bigger and bigger. He absently put the brush in his mouth, forgetting that he hadn’t squeezed out almost any paste. He realized a moment later but kept pretending to brush. Her eyes were on his, a pleasant, domestic smile on her face, but his were avoiding her.