“Tess, don’t do that.” Allie yanked the curtain down. “You can see through, the material’s sheer enough.”
“Come on, we want to get a good look at him. Besides, you could use a little stimulation.” Tess turned, flashing her dark, brown sultry eyes.
“Thanks,” Allie sighed, feeling beaten down again by Tess’s brutal honesty. “Listen, I have work to do. Federal Express will be here by noontime tomorrow.”
Allie crawled off the love seat and watched Tess perched on the windowsill with the binoculars as close to the screen as she could get them, the seam of her short-shorts riding up her behind. Allie wondered how she could cope with that thick denim seam searing through her crotch all day.
Tess rested the binoculars on the cushion then scooted off. “Oh well, we’ll just have to investigate him now, won’t we?”
She walked over to Allie’s drawing table. “So, what do we have here? A wedding, baptism, or are those sympathy cards?” Tess eyed all the pastel drawings that lay on her table.
“They decide when they get them.” Allie started to organize her tools, eager for Tess to leave.
“Okay, I’ll stop back tomorrow after your Federal Express pickup.” Allie listened to Tess’s blackened bare feet slide across the hardwood floor and descend down the stairs.
Allie sat down and attempted to finish the meadow scene with a rustic, red barn in the background. Being in the greeting card business required a lot of thought, and the study of nature. Whenever she felt starved for new ideas, she’d just get in the car with her camera and drive. Nature never failed her.
A loud clanking noise drifted through the open window, coming from next door. Distracted again, Allie got up and went to the window. A rather interesting man had just moved in. The house adjacent to her and Dan’s lot had been empty for years, a foreclosure that just didn’t sell, but now they finally got their new neighbor.
Now Allie felt like a hypocrite as she reached for the binoculars and focused in on him. He looked to be in his midthirties, tall and lanky, with dark hair that rested on the nape of his neck, wavy and thick. He was walking in and out of his shed carrying planks of wood. His jeans hung low, clinging to his hips. With every swaggering step, it looked as if the red bandanna in his back pocket would fall out. There was a peculiar limp in his step.
When he turned, the intense magnification had her lowering the lenses from her eyes for a minute. Raising them back up, she zoomed in for a closer look. His eyes were a light-cedar brown. His chest was bare, displaying a crimson-red tattoo of a bleeding heart on his tanned upper arm. The inked droplets leaked from the bottom like red rain. He turned his head, as if his eyes felt hers, his gaze reaching her window. Allie immediately leaned back, placed the binoculars on the end table, and returned to her work.
THE SOUTH WINDOWhttp://www.amazon.com/South-Window-Siren-Publishing-Menage-ebook/dp/B0074AV7H4/ref=la_B008BTX0W2_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1396179217&sr=1-4
JC Szot- Author