Copyright 2021—All rights reserved.
This story is written for the 2021 Summer Lovin' contest.
Subject: Shan's matchmaking threatens to be big trouble for Chris.
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It was the middle of a Saturday afternoon in late August and it was hot as blazes outside. Fortunately, parts of the yard were covered by the shade of our towering trees.
Stopping in one of the better shady spots, I slowed the engine on the mower and took a drink from my water bottle before looking at the tracker app on my phone. It said the package was out for delivery, but still hadn't set an estimated delivery time. It didn't matter that much though; while I couldn't wait for it to arrive, I had to finish mowing and doing the rest of the yardwork before I could take advantage of it.
Our yard is a decent size but it has more trees than any other lot in the neighborhood so I don't have nearly as much to mow as most of our neighbors. Therefore, instead of the riding zero-turn mowers owned by most of them, I had a 21-inch Zwirco Industries self-propelled, reel-type mower that I use to mow our Zoysia grass and get exercise.
After wiping my brow, I went back to it and mowed for another ten minutes or so before seeing the delivery van turn the corner onto our street. It passed by our house, continuing down to the end of the cul-de-sac before coming back my way. It stopped right in front of the yard and I killed the mower's engine.
I approached the truck to await the driver, who was reaching in the back for something. Having delivered to us many times before, she saw me and smiled as she stepped out.
"Hi, Mr. Jones," she said with a somewhat thick Eastern European accent. "I have a package for your wife."
"Thanks, Tatyanna."
She handed it to me with a smile and quickly turned to go. She's paid by the delivery, not to stand around and talk. However, I guess I'd just saved her from walking all the way to the front door, so she turned and added, "If this is what I think, she's going to love it and you're going to absolutely adore it. At least my boyfriend adores all the sets I've ordered. Repeatedly," she said with a grin. "Enjoy!"
I turned bright red at this pretty young lady knowing the contents of the package but was a bit turned on that she'd share a little intimate knowledge about herself. As the van pulled away, I looked at the package and realized the company's well-known initials and return address were clearly visible on the package. With the firm's current near-saturation-level advertising campaign, it wasn't too hard to guess the nature of what was inside.
I quickly took the package into the house. "Shannon! Your present's here," I called loudly, trying to attract her attention in the far reaches of our home.
"Chris, are you trying to impress the whole neighborhood?" she asked with a smile as she immediately rounded the corner toward me. She leaned in and kissed me, causing my eyes to open wide, before putting a hand out to keep me from pulling her close.
"You're sweaty, big boy. Now let me see."
I slit the tape for her with my pocket knife and gave her the box, which she set down on the dining room table. She opened the box and peeked inside.
"Oh, my! It's as lovely as it looks online." She took the fabric between two fingers and rubbed them together. "And, oh, so soft. No padding in this; it's going to be all me," she purred as she held up the sheer silk bra with its trimming of see-through lace. "Chris, it's divine!"
Shannon's an educated woman but when she's breathing like that and starts using words like 'divine,' I know we've either finished a really hot lovemaking session, she's on Cloud Nine about something, or she secretly has her egg vibrator going. Knowing it wasn't the first and when her eyes didn't start rolling up as with the third, I figured Cloud Nine it was and that she really loved it.
"I can't wait to see it on you," I told her before leaning in to kiss her neck and cheek. "I've got to go back out and finish up, but I'll be dreaming of seeing you in it and yearning to take it off of you."
"You'd better be!" She was looking forward to it as much as I was. Another kiss and I was on my way, but not without her pinching my ass as I turned away.
Back in the yard, I went back to mowing as I dreamed of my red-headed angel strutting around in high heels with black lace hose and her new black lace bra and thong panty set. I spent the next half hour or so imagining how incredible she'd look in them and the joy I'd get from helping her out of them. Needless to say, I have a fertile imagination when it comes to our love life and she always does her share in keeping it that way. With the bottom of my t-shirt hanging down over my shorts, I could enjoy these delightfully delicious thoughts and my body's heated reaction to them without worrying about anyone seeing anything unseemly.
I had just a few rounds left in the front yard when I saw the white Cadillac creep around the corner onto our quiet street. On seeing it, I slammed the mower's propulsion gear into high and took off mowing practically at a run, thankful for the Zwirco's 7.6 horsepower engine that easily cut through the grass as quickly as I ran over it. Speculations on Shannon's new outfit premiere and the after-panty party would have to wait.
The white Caddy pulled to a stop right in the middle of the first house on the far side of the street. I couldn't quite see the female driver's features through the glare of the windshield, but on seeing her looking out the window toward the house, I was able to confirm that it was exactly who I thought it was: Miss Arabella Bustamonte, the bitchy lady from our Homeowner's Association or HOA.
Miz Busybody, as she's commonly known by most members of our community (when we aren't bestowing her with less complimentary titles), was making her weekly rounds searching for HOA violations. While most such HOA inspectors would write up anyone caught with flagrant violations, Miz Busybody apparently considered herself a professional observer. I'm sure she took it as a personal affront when she couldn't discover a single violation on a homeowner's property; however, anyone unlucky enough to be caught with even the most mundane of transgressions would surely hear about it from her in an e-mail sometime during the weekend and by snail mail on Tuesday or so of the next week.
With the exception of the last little rectangle of uncut grass, my lawn looked good, but our huge, mulched "tree islands" always need work. With so many trees, there are almost always fallen sticks and limbs scattered over the pine bark mulch that provide cover for the naturescapes that are highlighted with Shannon's flowers. Most weekends I gather up enough sticks to serve as starting kindling at a college pep rally bonfire. Looking at the situation around me, I knew there were at least four technical violations that Miz Bitchybody would note if I didn't move fast.
And it would have to be fast since she'd finished the first house and moved on to the second. I quickly finished the mowing (one violation down!) while Bitch moved to the third house, directly across from ours. There were a couple more houses before the cul-de-sac round and then she'd be coming back our way.
I quickly carried the sack of yard waste out to the curb. Pickup by our local jurisdiction wasn't until Monday, but that was one of the few things she let slide, probably since her yard service did her yard on Friday and she couldn't object to the rest of the members of the HOA doing the same without writing up herself, too.
She was starting around the cul-de-sac, so I quickly grabbed the gas can and pushed the mower into the garage (two down) rather than taking it to the storage shed in the backyard. Setting down the gas can, I closed the garage door, eliminating a third violation over an open garage door when not in active use. Glancing down the street, I saw that Bitchyhottie's car was coming out of the cul-de-sac and moving down our side of the street toward our house.
With only a few houses left, I ran back to the big front island and started tossing sticks into a yard waste bag as fast as I could pick them up. I'd made good progress and had the bag half full when she pulled up in front of our house.
