Note: The beginning slightly overlaps where Part 1 ended.
While scouting the neighborhood where the Chaffins lived, Reese had noticed the realtor sign in the yard of a house that was three houses away from the cul-de-sac that held the Chaffins' home. Instead of risking being seen, he simply checked the listing on the realtor's website. A quick inquiry as to the hours the house could be shown told him that there would be no curious shoppers around when he needed to be there.
Aside from one very small target in the house Reese wasn't interested in the neighborhood - too damned middle class. He preferred to live well and had already made a fortune in his trade. But at thirty-five, he still lived for the hunt and wanted even more money to live the luxurious style he preferred. Why rent an opulent villa of an heir or a European noble with more title than ready reserve when he could buy one for himself?
A half hour after sundown, Reese eased his red Maserati GranTurismo convertible down the street before backing it into the driveway. Hell, just parking here might have doubled the property value of the place in his estimation. But the housing market quickly fell from his mind as he focused his high-powered binoculars on one of the illuminated front windows of the house.
Seeing nothing, he panned to the next window. Oh, now there was something...yes. With a predatory grin, Reese congratulated himself on tonight's bonus.
Just as he was starting to lower his binoculars, he thought he detected movement to the side of the window. Peering through the lenses again, he watched but only saw the shadowy outline of the shrubbery. Setting the binoculars on the passenger seat, Reese left the car.
Pausing, he scanned the area to make sure no one was watching. His car wasn't very discreet, but he preferred to drive than fly here since it wouldn't lead any obvious trail of airline tickets or a charter. And if he was going to drive, he was going to go in style. Satisfied that all was clear, he moved on for a bit of pleasure and business.
A few mild thumps from upstairs made Andrea look up at the ceiling and grin. As usual, she was letting Erin stay up a little late while the girl planned some exhibition for her. Tonight was going to be a parade in her room featuring her collection of stuffed animals. Since Erin was already in her nightgown, putting her to bed afterward would be quick. If all went as usual, the little girl would be asleep before her bedtime story was halfway done.
Having kicked off her sneakers earlier, Andrea walked barefoot across the living room with her glass of ice tea. Spying her reflection in the darkened, wall-mounted television, she paused to consider her slight profile. Tugging the hem her yellow t-shirt down, Andrea wondered if she should have worn a longer shirt to go with her black yoga pants. In the dimness of the screen, she could see the tight curve of the lower half of her rump. Sighing, she tugged on her shirt again before returning to the chair where she had left her book.
Until a week ago, she had never given much thought as to how much she was exposing herself. Whether she was in a skirt or shorts or a swimsuit, she simply enjoyed being herself. But that was before that party and Bobby Mueller.
It had been one of the silly kissing games. Names were drawn to see which girl and boy would spend two minutes alone in a large closet with the lights off. Andrea had played this a few times with the kids her age at these parties. Usually, they were gathered in the basement and were always wary of a parent coming down to check on them so the games were rather off and on. Before each drawing, Andrea found herself filled with dread and anticipation and felt the relief with a touch of disappointment when her name was not called.
Up until then, her adventures in a closet with a boy had been with hands on each other's waist (with space between their bodies) while their lips bumped and brushed against each other. Once, a boy who was a year older than her had pushed his tongue out just enough to touch her upper lip for a moment. It made Andrea feel a bit disgusted and intrigued at the same time.
Like that other boy, Bobby Mueller was twelve to Andrea's eleven. In the stifling darkness of the closet, Bobby too, had extended his tongue. As she was unsure of what to do, Andrea felt his tongue slide between her lips. She had heard about kissing tongue-on-tongue but was terrified at the idea. Instead, she kept her jaws clamped shut, presenting her teeth as a barrier and Bobby could only feel the braces she wore there.
In her mind, Andrea was counting the seconds until the door would be opened. Everyone outside was always hoping whoever the couple was would be so lost in their kissing that they would be lost in the act. To her relief, Bobby removed one hand from her waist and she took it to mean he was about to give up and move away from her.
Suddenly, his hand returned - but on her chest. Through her shirt and the thin cup of her training bra, he touched her right where he shouldn't. Stunned, she couldn't move. What was he going to do next? And should she start yelling?
The knob on the closet door clicked as someone on the outside tried to furtively open it. Bobby jerked away and Andrea quickly exited without saying a word. The other kids noticed her flushed face and wondered what had happened but Andrea would not give a hint. Neither did Bobby but she suspected that he would brag to his buddies about where he had felt her later on.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Mr Double's Palisade
A MrDouble Production:
Changes last made on: Monday, March 05, 2018