TITLE: The Mark of Power
AUTHOR: Stormrazor
PART 2
Devon was picking up the paper from his driveway on an overcast and crisp autumn morning when he heard the sound of a moving van pull up across the street. The “For Sale” sign had been marked with a “Sold” tag for a few weeks now, and he was curious to see who had bought the old house. A bright yellow Miata pulled into the driveway. He was a little disappointed. His son was grown, but it would have been nice to see a young family move into the neighborhood. Families didn’t usually own two-seater sport cars, though.
On the plus side, the woman driving it was enjoyable to look at. She emerged from the car, tousled auburn waves tumbling to her shoulders, porcelain skin gleaming in the early morning light. She wore a snug baby blue sweater that hugged her petite curves in all the right places. He found himself standing still, newspaper dangling in his hand, staring at her. She turned and caught him watching her, and lifted a hand with an impish grin.
Suddenly becoming aware of how he must look in his gray sweats, t-shirt and robe, he flushed a bit. Waving back and mustering a returning smile, he told himself that he should go over, introduce himself and help her out later. She turned away from him and went to help the two burly men with the truck. Gripping the newspaper, Devon headed back into the house.
A few hours and several Saturday chores later he managed to let the new neighbor slip from his mind. He was just about to sit down in front of the TV when the door bell rang.
He answered the door to find his new neighbor standing there with a look of helpless exasperation in her hazel eyes. His heart thumped heavily in his chest once before settling back to a normal rhythm. He felt a long forgotten stirring in his loins, surprising him.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said apologetically, “but there’s something wrong with the heater in the house. I think maybe the furnace didn’t get turned on, and I don’t really know how to check it. Do you think you could take a look at it for me, or do you have the number for somebody who works on Saturdays?” She sounded embarrassed.
It was hard not to stare at her moderate sized but firm breasts in the snug sweater. They looked even nicer up close. “Of course,” he said, a bit embarrassed himself. He enjoyed pretty women as much as the next man, but up until now he hadn’t been int the habit of staring at their tits.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it. I’m just worried about gas leaking or something and I want to get it taken care of before tonight. I called the real estate agent, but she’s not returning my call.” It seemed to all spill out but she stopped herself . “Oh geeze, I’m sorry. I’m Jen. Your new neighbor. Which… is pretty obvious, I guess.”
He grinned. Nothing like a woman in peril to make a man feel like a white knight. “Sure, let me grab my tools. And I’m Devon.”
“Thanks, Devon” she smiled. He grabbed his toolbox out of the garage and followed her across the street.
Despite his better intentions he could not seem to pull his eyes free from her ass. Nice and round and filling her jeans enticingly. Devon forced his eyes up as Jen led him into the house.
Stepping inside, Devon saw the usual clutter of boxes and furniture wrapping of a new move, and was grateful he wasn’t the one doing the moving.
“Sorry about the mess,” she said, picking her way across the room.
“No worries,” he assured her. “Looks like you got it all in pretty quickly. Which is good, since we may get snow tonight.” He felt a little foolish for saying that. Of course they would have moved everything in before night. That’s what the moving van guys were hired to do.
“Yeah,” she said, leading him down the stairs to the basement, but staying very close to him. Close enough to feel her warmth and to catch her quick glances at him a slight flush in her cheeks. “Another good reason to make sure the heat works,” she smiled, almost demurely, Devon thought.
“Here it is,” she said, opening the door to the small room housing it and the water heater. She moved in and kneeling down next to the furnace looked into it, showing a lot more cleavage in the process. Her breasts seemed even bigger, straining against her bra and the tight sweater. Good lord, he needed to get his head in the game. “I don’t see the little flame inside,” she said, her voice breaking his guilty thoughts. “Isn’t there supposed to be one?”
Kneeling down beside her, he took a look. The gas had clearly been turned off at the furnace and the pilot was out. Those thoughts were only registered in passing though, as being this close to Jen he caught her scent. It was unlike any smell he had ever encountered. The only thing he could describe it as was dark velvet and lavender. It was heady, and he felt himself looking at her swaying breasts again as if mesmerized.
Her voice almost seemed husky in the close area. “Can you fix it?”
Devon desperately wanted in that moment to reach out and take those swelling mounds. Rip off her sweater, forcing her to the cold concrete floor, taking a fist full of her hair and fucking her mouth. A deep, sharp stab of guilt suddenly shot through him. What the hell? Rocking back on his heels unsteadily he flicked on the gas and pressed the electric ignition, causing the pilot to flare to life. “There... All fixed now” he said, and backed quickly out of the closet and away from her. “I need to get back home.”
Jen looked a bit surprised and taken aback. But she was also clearly flushed, her nipples were taught beneath the sweater and her breathing was rapid and shallow. “Can I offer you something? I’ve got, uh, milk and pretzels.”
“Uh no.. I mean that isn’t necessary. Just glad I could help” Devon muttered.
“Well, I really appreciate it,” she said, leading him back upstairs. She looked a bit embarrassed. If she’d known what had gone through his head, he expected she’d look more than embarrassed. Hell, he was embarrassed enough for the both of them.
“Thanks again,” she said, as he nearly fled out the door, returning home.
Devon found himself for the rest of the day and evening going over his encounter with Jen. His reaction to her had been so visceral. Even now he could picture her in his imagination, bent over some packing boxes, her jeans slipped down, her bare ass waving in the air as she looked back at him with those eyes, pleading him to fuck her. She just seemed to ooze sensuality and femininity.
His reaction was even more puzzling after the bitter divorce had been finalized two months ago. His libido had been tamped down and replaced by more constructive outlets. The best outlet he’d found was the gym. His middle age body had responded very well to the almost fanatical visits, to the point of ego-boosting jealousy from some of the younger guys. The best part was that between work and working out, he had no time left over for a relationship. Bachelorhood suited him just fine. So why was he letting this woman get to him?