Living Next Door
2002-05-05 @ 7:26 p.m.
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Badsnake and I bought the house we live in from an elderly lady who smoked like a steam engine, wore chipped white fingernail polish, went to the neighborhood Baptist Church, and mowed the lawn in high heels. We'll call her Mrs. Kressman. She used to live next door to Jake and Sara.
About a year after we began an intimate relationship with Jake and Sara, Bad and I decided to buy a house in their neighborhood. One evening when Jake and I were preparing to go look at yet another house "just around the corner," (Bad was working late, so Jake was serving as back-up) Mrs. Kressman came to their door and announced that she was going to sell her house and would they like to have her barbecue grill. I was standing behind Jake and immediately said "I want to buy your house!" We had all admired Mrs. Kressman's house from the day that Jake and Sara moved in. I particularly coveted her yard, more specifically the beautiful blooms in her back yard. From pink azaleas and white gardenias to eight foot sunflowers, I drooled over her plantings.
That evening Mrs. Kressman took Jake and me through the house. It smelled like old woman and stale cigarette's, but it was in fabulous condition. We were particularly enamoured of the attic. I think we all immediately knew what the attic would turn into.
Several friends recommended against moving in next door to Jake and Sara if we wanted the relationship to continue. Living next door, they assured us, would surely end it. They were wrong.
A few days before Mrs. Kressman moved out and we moved in, Jake and I stood at her kitchen sink washing dinner dishes. We saw a light in the bathroom next door (our future bathroom) go on and then off, then the bedroom light went on and off again. Jake whispered to me in that sexy voice she uses when she is already turned on, "Just think, I'll know where you are and what you're doing all the time." That started a voyeuristic fantasy between us that inspired me to leave the blinds and curtains open as much as possible. Once, not long after we moved in, she called late in the evening to tell me she liked the pretty panties I was wearing. I'd been changing into my nightie for bed. I may have blushed.
We've been living here now for about three years and still, everything I do on that side of the house has an erotic charge to it. I feel sexy folding laundry. Making the bed is a given. I once got myself so turned on ironing in front of a window that I tried to write an erotic story about ironing. It didn't translate to paper all that well.
I always feel sexy cooking. But that is partly because it's a very sensuous experience. It's also partly because Jake comes into the kitchen sometimes to help me, or just watch me. I particularly enjoy it when she is watching, and I feel incredibly turned on doing things as simple as chopping potatoes. Sometimes when we have guests and everyone is sitting in the back yard or even in the living room socializing, she sneaks in to pinch my nipple and kiss me, just because it's fun to be sneaky when there are guests about. It's no wonder I like being in the kitchen. Today, in the kitchen by myself, I put Bonnie Raitt's Fundamentals cd (one of the sexiest cds ever made) on and wiggled my hips around while I peeled potatoes. I had to pull myself back to reality enough to keep from slicing a finger.
For supper tonight we're having roast pork shoulder which has been slow-cooking in the oven for about three hours in a broth of ham bouillon, tomato bouillon and red wine with cumin powder, salt and a touch of chili powder. I've added water a couple of times while it cooked, and I'm going to try to make a gravy out of what 's still in the bottom of the pot. We'll also have mashed potatoes and green beans.
I have a special Bandol ros� that I've been saving for a meal like this. It is more earthy and complex than most ros�s. I can't wait to see how it matches up.
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