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The first time she had brought a guy home, they had gone to the outdoor sofa to avoid her parents. Her dad was drunk, but he woke easily. He didn't want her dating, even though she was eighteen, but there was nowhere to go in this tiny town to have sex. She had worked up the nerve and unbuttoned the boy's pants, taking him in her mouth and sucking him off. When she looked up, there was Grant, watching from his back porch.
At first, she had been scared. Would he tell on her? Would she get in trouble?
The fear eventually faded as hormones took over, and she had let that boy take her in every way possible. Grant never told anyone. She should have been disgusted or have felt guilty for corrupting the kid, but she didn't. It was thrilling. He didn't look at her like a kid. It was always those eyes. Those eyes had been so mature in his young face. He had watched her the entire time, and it had been exhilarating.
But, she was done with him watching. Now she wanted Grant to fuck her in that same spot.
"You want me," he said. It wasn't a question, but Melissa nodded anyway.
"I want to fuck you, like a man, not like those little boys you played around with. I want you to ride me on that sofa and scream my name. Ride me like you used to ride those jocks you brought home. Every one of them I used to wish was me. I used to jerk off for hours thinking about how you would suck them off and let them fuck you. You drove me insane."
"Do you want me to make it up to you?" she asked coyly. Her earlier reticence faded away, replaced with warm lust and desire. All guilt and reluctance was gone. This was who she was. This was what she liked to do, small town gossip be damned.
"It's going to take a lot of making up from you. You fucked with my head for a year."
"Melissa!" The cry came from the back of her house. Her mother looking for her. Melissa shot to her feet as if she was caught in the act. Grant chuckled, but it sounded exasperated.
"Melissa!" The call was louder.
"I gotta go," Melissa looked down at her neighbor.
"Come back later, Melissa, so I can give you a proper homecoming," he said with a smile, staying seated even though his Southern manners told him he should have stood when she did.
"Uh, sure." But Melissa wasn't at all sure of anything anymore. Maybe it was a good thing that her mother had interrupted.
The next few days were a blur of activity. She spent the days working on her daily social media posts and the nights going through Mother's financials, cleaning, and setting up her living area. Her mother wasn't in as dire of straights as she had implied, but it wasn't good. Melissa was aggravated to see that there were a lot of unnecessary expenses. Her spending would have to be stopped from here on out. It wouldn't be easy, though. Her mother was a stubborn creature. Melissa was appalled as she confirmed that her mother had a few trips to the plastic surgeon this year, including a boob job and a neck procedure. She also went on three vacations. No wonder she was blowing through the insurance policy so quickly.
The plastic surgery was confusing. She had talked to her mother about getting out there, maybe dating, but she had adamantly opposed the idea. Why was she getting work done if the woman wasn't interested in dating? Her mother had always liked male approval; maybe she only needed for them to still notice her, not actually spend time with her.
After the second operation, the life insurance policy was almost depleted; it left only the pension and what little income she got from a rental property in the center of town. A place next to the grocery store. Grant's parents owned the store, which Melissa assumed was now run by the man himself. It was a sizeable amount, but it wouldn't hold if her mother kept spending the way she was doing.
Her thoughts drifted to Grant often and then were quickly consumed with the man when she wasn't busy on some task set forth by her mother. After that first night, she went to her bedroom and took out her favorite sex toy. She hadn't come like that in a long time. She had imagined he watched her as she fucked herself, lying naked on the bed with her legs spread and her huge silicon dildo deep in her pussy. She had invited him to watch her, leaving her blinds up and drapes pulled open. Did he watch her?
"Melissa," her mother's voice shook her out of thoughts of Grant. She looked up from her computer and noticed that her mother was spotless as usual, dressed in a lavender garden dress.
"Yes, Mother."
"I'm going to Maddie's. We have a board meeting about the beautification project. You know we're trying to get the old Kiln House restored to its former glory."
"Yes, you told me about that."
"Well, I'll be a couple of hours. Can you return the serving dish on the counter in the kitchen to Grant? He brought the eggplant for your party, wasn't it wonderful? That cook he keeps on staff at the grocery does a wonderful job with fried foods."
"Grant?"
"Yes, the neighbor boy. Suzanne and Greg's son. Just run it over. And you know it wouldn't hurt to get to know him. I know he was a little strange when you went to school together, but he's well-respected in the community; maybe he can show you around. Get you out of this house."
"Yeah, sure." Her mother looked at her and frowned. She desperately wanted Melissa to assimilate and had hoped for that when they had moved here. She had put her in every group event she could nab an invite to and had forced her to join dancing, theater, and sports. You name it, Melissa was pushed into it. None of it took.
It looked like her mother was back to her old tricks. This time she was pushing in the right direction, though.
After she left, Melissa made her way to the kitchen and scooped up the plate, intent to run it over and maybe share a bit of conversation with the neighbor boy. That's it. Conversation only. But then she had second thoughts and ran to the bathroom. She freshened up, changed out of her jeans and tee, and into a matching bra and panty set. She slipped a sun dress over the sexy set but didn't bother with make-up. Her only addition was to spritz a bit of perfume on her chest.
She knocked on the back door, the butterflies in her stomach an unwelcome guest. Men didn't make her nervous; this was unusual for her. There was one thing about Melissa that she was proud of, and that was her confidence. She was never lacking in that department. Why Grant was different, she couldn't nail down. He just was.
The door opened, and the man was better looking than she remembered. A sly grin slipped over his face, and she couldn't help but smile back.
"I brought your plate," she held up the large glass plate.
