Naughty Next-Door Neighbour is a Nefarious Narcotic
Awakening on the Saturday after the hate fuck with Sasha the previous evening, I was determined to rid myself of her toxicity. As luck would have it, I was spending the weekend on Phillip Island, an hour's drive to the south, to see a favourite band.
I jumped into my car and made the scenic journey. Along the way, my phone pinged several times with messages from Sasha, but they were ignored. I wanted to put as much distance as possible between her despicable behaviour and me, even if for 24 hours.
Pulling into the pretty town of Cowes, the island's principal town, with the sun shining and sparking across the calm waters of Western Port, was undoubtedly a palette cleanser. However, the forecast was for rain later as ominous black clouds coalesced in the stormy waters of the Bass Strait and drifting north.
I booked a cabin at the local holiday park, a short walk from the main thoroughfare. The gig was at the Hotel Phillip Island, facing the Main Beach and Cowes Jetty. After a long, relaxing shower, I dressed and headed out for a few beers before the concert commenced. Sitting in the main bar, watching the water gently lap against the beach, I looked at Sasha's text messages. They were mostly apologetic but appeared insincere as if papering over the cracks.
The last one asked where I was because my car was absent from the driveway. Against my better judgment, I replied, stating where I was.
"Why are you there?" She asked.
"I'm here seeing a band," I replied, annoyed. "I told you about this a month ago."
"Oh, right," Sasha replied, "I remember now. When will you be back?"
"Sometime tomorrow."
"Okay, see you when you get back."
Seeing Sasha again was not something to relish, but it was unavoidable as she lived next door. I needed the fortitude to resist her deadly temptations, but that was a character trait I sorely lacked. I avoided conflict, even if it meant acting against my best interests.
In true faulty personality fashion, I avoided responding but did not develop a plan of action to confront Sasha the next day when I arrived home. I kicked that can down the road and prepared to focus on the gig.
After a typical pub dinner, I staked a position towards the back of the dance floor that gave me a direct and uninterrupted view of the stage. People began trickling in so that when the band took the stage, the dance floor was packed.
The crowd went mad for all the old songs and even for a couple of the new ones. As the set list progressed, two women sidled up to me and took the two seats to my right. The plump blonde directly next to me had an enormous rack and was unusually pretty, wearing a red top and black pants. Her friend was also attractive, with an angular face, short black hair, and an athletic physique. She had her phone plastered to her ear and seemed to be engaged in serious debate with the receiver. Both drank cocktails.
"What do you think of the band?" The blonde asked me after a couple of songs went by.
"Yeah, really good," I yelled over the music, "What about you?"
"Loving it."
"Did you come down from Melbourne," I asked, "Or are you local?"
"I live at San Remo but teach here on the Island," The blonde replied, "My friend here is from Melbourne and is staying for the weekend."
"She doesn't seem to be interested in the band," I noted, gesturing towards the animated phone call occurring.
"Yeah, she's having boyfriend issues," The blonde chuckled, "Been on the phone all day."
"Well, I hope it's worked out before she misses the band," I smiled.
"I doubt it," Chuckled the blonde, "I'm Dakota by the way."
"Jason, nice to meet you," We clumsily shook hands.
We continued chatting and flirting until the concert ended, hardly noticing the hits that came and went. Her friend never let that phone leave her ear. I learned Dakota was a sailor with a master's certificate and regularly sailed around Western Port when she escaped the clutches of the classroom.
After the band's encore concluded, the concert goers left the venue. Dakota and her friend, whose name I never learned and who had finally peeled the phone from her ear, followed me to the main street, where we were surprised to find it raining hard.
"Where are you staying?" Asked Dakota as we sheltered under an alcove.
"Just around the corner at the caravan park."
"You heading back to Melbourne tomorrow?"
"Something like that."
"Hit me up for a coffee before you leave," Dakota suggested, "Here's my number."
As the taxi arrived, Dakota turned to me, pulled me close and kissed me passionately before reluctantly leaving. It was her friend that pulled her away from me.
In the rain, I ran back to the caravan park, exhausted yet exhilarated, stripped off and climbed into a welcome bed that took the chill off from the wet.
The rain pounded all night on the tin roof of my cabin. Rather than sleeping, I periodically checked my phone for Dakota's message, but she was silent. There was also a number from Sasha.
Being my next-door neighbour, I knew I had to reply and clear the air. She had apologised, so that was something. I remained unhappy that Sasha was playing me and was involving herself with my ex-girlfriend, which sat uncomfortably with me.
Sasha did, however, possess a fantastic body with a sexual appetite to match. However, she fucked around a lot with many guys of dubious character. There was no chance of an exclusive or monogamous relationship, which is what I sought. There were no mutual feelings between us, but it was a convenient arrangement - nasty sex on the weekends.
I fired off several gentle responses, rolled over and tried to sleep. Hours later, I packed my bag and headed to Cowes for breakfast before returning to Melbourne. Around 10 AM, Dakota, the attractive woman I met at the concert, sent me a message.
"You still around?"
"Sure am," I replied, "Just finishing breakfast."
"Cool, you fancy catching up for a coffee?"
"That'd be nice," I said, "Where and when?"
About an hour later, I pulled up at a café in the small seaside town of San Remo, looking north towards French Island. Dakota, looking radiant, was waiting for me. She greeted me with a hug and peck on the cheek. Despite the previous evening's downpour, angry clouds scudded the sky, and the humidity remained. I fully expected another soaking before Sunday ended. After I sat down next to Dakota, the waitress took our orders.
"How did you sleep?" Dakota asked.
"Not well," I replied, "The rain kept me awake. How about you?"
