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Hudson
Saturday
The feeling of eyes on you while working out isn’t exactly the most uncomfortable sensation but feeling it in your own backyard is a little offsetting.
The rope slapped against the ground beneath my feet with every jump, the sound ricocheting off the stucco of my home. I’d lost count at that point, no longer knowing where I was in the set; I could hardly focus. My thoughts were spiraling, considering every option I had about finding childcare for Jamey, but that goddamn sensation that someone was watching seemed to wrap them up in barbed wire.
My mom had agreed to take Jamey for the day, and I was more than grateful. As much as I loved having weekends with him, I needed time alone to think, to plan, to focus on what the fuck I was going to do. I’d spent the morning trawling nannying websites and local childcare facilities, hoping to strike gold and find someone as good as Jenny. But I couldn’t find a damned thing. Deep in the suburbs of Boston, my only options were pre-kindergarten and cheap daycare, neither of which I wanted to subject my son to. Everyone and everything else was booked solid months in advance—the drawback of living in a wealthy area, I suppose.
Sweat dripped down my body as I tried to recall what number I was on, but it was entirely pointless. The counts had been forgotten long ago, somewhere along the line of thinking that I could become some kind of evening fertility doctor, if those even existed. Normally, working out calmed my stress, but today of all days, it only amplified it beyond a reasonable degree.
Tossing my jump rope to the side, I walked on shaky legs out of the shade and into the blistering sun. I placed my hand above my eyes like an army cadet to shield them, deciding then and there that if someone was watching me, I wanted to know who. If it was going to keep me from being able to de-stress, I had to find the source.
A few of my neighbor's windows in the house that sat to the left of mine were within eyeshot of my backyard, though I’d never known the Traeger’s to spy on my property. They were elderly, in their late eighties, and spent most of their time downstairs. I couldn’t see anyone behind the glass of the upstairs windows and, considering my house backed up against a lake, that left one other option.
My new neighbor.
My cock twitched in my shorts at the thought of her watching me. Did she like what she saw? Was she glued to the pane of glass, unable to take her eyes away no matter how much she wanted to? Was she wet thinking about me? I knew I was in great shape—I made an effort to keep as fit as possible, and the muscles that resulted weren’t bad to look at. I got hit on frequently, be it at the gym or even in my office, with the occasional woman sending me a heated glance even in front of their husband. I never paid any attention to it but my new neighbor… she was dangerous.
Shifting my gaze as nonchalantly as possible, I made sure to keep my eyes hidden from her as I glanced up at her windows. Nothing in the top left… the middle? Nope. Top right.
There you are.
I could see the lower half of her upper body, her arms across her chest and hands clutching a mug of something steaming. Her long brown hair settled around the swells of her breasts, the curled ends hanging about her waist. I imagined her nipples hardening below her shirt, and that did nothing to help my growing arousal. I didn’t dare look higher to see her face. No, better to leave her thinking that I had no idea she was even there, for now, anyway.
I could have more fun with her that way.
I kept my eyes glued to her small frame as my hand inched toward the tie of my shorts. Do you want to see more? I could feel the little drops of sweat beading and sliding down my bare chest, my back, and there was nothing better than a dip in the pool after a hard workout. And considering Jamey wasn’t here…
Blood pooled between the hard lines of my waist, hardening my cock and creating a tent in the fabric that did little to hide what lay beneath. That small, sensible part of me that knew that she was my only real option for childcare screamed at me to stop, but her gaze on me was too much, too exciting for me to quit. I wanted to tease her, to excite her, and considering she still hadn’t moved, she clearly wanted that, too.
Removing the protection my hand granted my eyes in one quick motion, I pushed my shorts down my thighs, letting them drop to the ground with a wet thwap. My length was swollen, twitching, red—and most of all, unmissable.
I looked directly at her.
I wished I could see the blush spreading across her freckled cheeks as she physically jumped, the hot liquid in her cup sloshing and dripping down the side. Her immediate instinct told her to run, to hide, to pretend as though she hadn’t been caught, but it was clear she fought it as she kept her gaze directly on my naked form. Her eyes were widened with fear, her lips parted, and god, all I wanted was to shove my aching cock between them.
I gave her a little smirk as I motioned with one hand toward the pool. Care to join me? I mouthed, over-expressing each word so she could get the message from where she stood.
Slowly, she lifted her fingers and placed them in front of her lips to hide her spreading grin. Caught red-handed.
Naughty, I mouthed, unable to keep my laugh at bay. It seemed so ridiculous, her watching me—adorable, but ridiculous. She’d had every opportunity to introduce herself in the last month she’d lived here, and yet, this was how she chose to do it? Granted, she probably had no idea she’d be caught. I couldn’t help but wonder how many times she had watched me before.
The urge to touch my aching cock was overwhelming, but I didn’t give myself—or her—the satisfaction. No, if she wanted that, she had to earn it.
Turning my gaze toward the rippling water, I hoped she’d stay to watch as I took a running start before diving into the pool. The cool water was a shock to my system, forcing the air from my lungs and the blood from my dick. Resurfacing took more effort than I thought, the worry that she’d disappeared and left me hanging sitting like a rock in my mind, and as my head crested the surface, I found myself staring again at her window.
Still there, but smaller, as if she’d backed away. Her shoulders shook with what I hoped was laughter, and as the droplets washed away the sweat from my hair, I couldn’t help but join her. My head tipped back, dunking the strands again, as I let out a laugh that did more to clear my head than the exercise had. For the first time in nearly forty-eight hours, I felt like I could breathe, like I didn’t have this horrible, annoying thing weighing over me.
Somehow, it was because of her. Because of her and her wandering eyes and her playful laugh; because of her and her confidence; her determination not to shy away when she’d been caught.
Lifting my head from the water once again, I looked toward her window, only to find it empty. Immediately, the stress rushed back in like a tidal wave, pulling me under and drowning me.
Why had I done that?
She was the only realistic option I had. The idea that I might have just thrown that entirely out the window formed like a pit in my stomach, roiling my guts and chasing away the last of the blood that pooled. How on earth was I supposed to face her now, to ask her to watch my son, no strings attached? If she didn’t already know I was attracted to her from the way I looked at her the other night, she had to know now.
In the distance, under the shade provided by my back porch, my phone buzzed incessantly. I scrambled up the steps of the pool, wrapping a towel around my waist to not terrify the Traeger’s if they wandered upstairs, and jogged over to my phone. I hoped for a miracle, for a stray nanny to have found my number, wanting to offer their services, but as I picked my phone up in my damp hand and dragged my dripping thumb across the screen, it was a text from my mom.
