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"Um. Yes ---shit --- sorry, yes. I would love to join you for dinner." She stutters out, shocked.
"Great. I'll come by to collect you at seven. We can walk." I sound lame, even to myself.
"Seven it is."
That was possibly the most awkward call I have ever had. She had this way of disarming me and truthfully, she hadn't even done anything particularly disarming.
At six o'clock the nanny arrives home with Taylor. Taylor clearly had an amazing day at the aquarium and is jumbling about sharks and sea horses. The nanny is booked to stay late tonight specifically because I want to go out to dinner with Gianna.
"I'll get him bathed and ready for bed. He didn't eat much today so is it alright if I find something in the fridge for him?"
This dude-nanny is pretty efficient. I have definitely made the right choice hiring him.
"Yes, he loves chicken nuggets. I think there is a box in the freezer. No sauce otherwise you'll find the nuggets being thrown around the room rather than being eaten."
He laughs and heads off to sort my little Taylor out.
Taylor is in the middle of telling me about the purple seahorse when he sees his nanny leave the room and bolts after him. "Waits for me!" he shouts as he runs.
Clearly getting on really well with each other.
I think again about how well Taylor is settling into this new lifestyle and consider my own progress in settling in here. There is an element of lower stress living here. The long drives to the city are made easier some days by calling for a driver, meaning I can work during the commute. The quietness of the suburbs is rather enjoyable, but the stress of the court date is still a big and constant burden on my mind. A constant heavy load to carry around with me.
Although, if I am entirely honest with myself, Gianna has been somewhat of a distraction from that stress. In a weird way. Maybe trying to deal with a smaller issue like a nosy neighbor is just a less stressful escape from the bigger stress of the court date.
Her fiery body is certainly enough to distract without anything else.
It's after six when I snap out of my thoughts and realize I am going to be late. I had better hop in the shower and get ready.
At seven sharp I am standing at Gianna's front door, dressed in dark blue jeans and a black shirt unbuttoned at the top. I am sure I did not need a suit and tie for the local sushi place, but I still feel like maybe I should have put more effort in. More effort in for what though? This isn't a date. This is me making friends with my neighbor.
Music drifts from the other side of the door. Vibey and loud. Much louder than I'm sure her neighbors appreciate! Although I couldn't hear it from my place.
I knock hard on the door. Not sure she can even hear it.
"It's open!" she shouts from inside.
A little uncertain, just walking into her house, but I push open the front door and invite myself in. Maybe it is old-fashioned to greet your guest at the door these days.
Her house is not at all what I expect. Actually, I am not sure what I expected, but it is bright, modern, and feminine without being over the top or pink. She has neutral earthy tones mixed with splashes of dark grey and a lot of leafy green houseplants to fill the open spaces. It would appear that her choice of decor revolves more around plants than art. It is really soothing to stand in her space.
Her home smells like vanilla and something else? Sandalwood? It is a sweetly dark scent.
She calls from the bedroom.
"I'm so sorry I just had a tiny issue at work and only arrived home a few minutes ago, so I had the quickest shower ever, but I am almost done."
She walks through to the living room area where I am standing. She is wearing tight jeans and an elegant white, thin strappy top.
Her legs and her ass were perfectly framed in the light blue denim. Her tiny waist and large breasts are accentuated by the soft fabric of her top. She holds her white sneakers in her hand and walks softly past me in her socks towards the couch where she can sit down and slip them onto her feet. My gaze is locked onto her, the way she moves, the way her hips sway, the way her hair flows loose over her slender shoulders. I can picture pulling the thin strap of her top down over her shoulder the same way I would pull her swimsuit off.
My cock begins to stir, and I force myself to turn away; pretending to admire the interior of her home. These jeans have zero breathing room for a hard-on to be hidden.
"You haven't got bad taste," I say trying to distract myself from my erection.
"Gosh, Hudson, gee, thanks so much. For the --- compliment? If that is what I can call it." She quips sarcastically.
"I meant; you have really good taste." I clarified that it was not an insult.
