I was late in 2001. I was in my early 30's, and had been living in Chicago. I worked for a major retailer, in our local regional office. I had literally worked my way up from the stores over the previous 10 years, and was proud of having clawed my way up to junior management. Oh boy.
I had just received a promotion with the company. It was a healthy 50% bump in pay, so naturally I grabbed it with both hands and ran. The only downside was it necessitated relocation from Chicago to Minneapolis.
I wasn't precisely thrilled, but I didn't have too many other options on the ol' career path. This, unfortunately, required the Big Talk with the girlfriend, Vickie.
We had been together for about 2 years, not counting the month we spent apart due to my need to pry my head from my ass. I was torn about what to do on this one. I loved her, or I thought I did. But if she came with me to Minneapolis, this would naturally be the next big step in the relationship. You don't follow someone across 3 states unless there is something in it. Something like, say, a ring. With a diamond. A big diamond.
So, what to do?
I enjoyed our time together. We shared a lot of interests. I am a world-class gear head, and you don't meet too many girls who not only can drive a stick shift, but can change a clutch as well. She was fairly laid back. A pony-tail and no makeup sort of girl. Very low maintenance for the most part.
Unfortunately, in bed she was about as adventurous as cold soup. She had a list of don'ts much larger than her do's. Not that I'm looking for anything kinky, mind you. But I'd be nice to maybe get a bit of back-door action during a blow job. I can't even get the blow job part. She'd do it, but begrudgingly. I don't like the idea of begging for anything. So, usually what would happen is I'd ask, she'd say no. I'd be miffed (she claimed I was pouting), and she'd simply roll over and go to sleep. There were all sorts of other boundaries as well, but I don't need to go too deep, I am sure you get the idea.
So, I decided I had to end it.
I felt really bad about this one. I was her first time (who meets a 23 year old virgin anymore?). But, I knew if I dragged her happy ass up to Minneapolis and broke it off with her there, I'd have to deal with 4 pissed off brothers of hers wanting to kick my ass.
So, there I was in a new town. Alone. I knew no one but my boss and later, a few other employees who found their way to the great white north. What the hell was I doing here? I wasn't sure it was the right answer to have broken up with Vickie, but, hell, I wasn't sure she would have come with me anyway.
I figured now was as good a time as any to buy my first house. I was living in temporary "corporate housing" (read: Hotel) when I was relocating. Hotels get old after a while. So, started on the house hunt.
Finally, I settled on a nice townhouse as "real" houses were slightly, shall we say, "aspirational" in my price range. This one was part of a duplex. Two to a side which faced two more identical units across a driveway. They were kind of tall and skinny, barely wider than the garage door that made up more or less the entirety of the first floor. Above that were two more floors, with a balcony above the garage. It wasn't fancy, but it was a place to put my stuff.
The weird thing about my new little cul-de-sac is that the two townhouses on a side faced each other. The easy way in to and out of your house was via the garage. So, you'd pull in, shut the big door, and never have to see or talk to anyone. However, you also couldn't help but see across the barely-wider-than an alley driveway in to your neighbor's unit. No talking with one another, just voyeurism. So most people kept their blinds shut all the time. Welcome to suburbia: packed in like sardines, everything painted beige, and a cold shoulder.
After a few weeks, I noticed a young woman living across from me, and down a unit. Nothing unusual about her. I guess she was in her early 20's. She was maybe 5'4", with dirty blonde hair in a pony tail. She was well proportioned. Certainly not skinny, but was in possession of some curves. And, a pair of weapons-grade boobs. All in all, she seemed to be an easy-going type of girl, and I'll take that over a smoking hot drama queen any day.
She smiled and said "hi" when she passed by from time to time. Unfortunately; I'm certainly not one to start any conversations with girls. I was quite the ineptinarian when it came to making small-talk. But, she certainly was cute and seemed to be friendly. A smile does wonders. Oh well, maybe someday I'd talk with her at the swinging hotspot known as the communal mailbox.
So, after a month of living in hotels and finally buying a townhouse, it was time to actually get to work at work. I was a manager in a small department in our company. Like I said before, I didn't really know anybody in this office. But, once I acclimated to the people around me, things seemed to get better. I started to understand the office etiquette around dress, use of the coffee maker (it seems that it is not appreciated to make coffee three times stronger than normal with the understanding that people who wanted weaker coffee should just dilute it...), and the cliques of people who went to lunch and whatnot. It was still pretty lonely for the first month or so. Go to work, come home.
It certainly didn't help that I moved to Minneapolis in the fall. Just in time for the winter, which is lethal. So, my neighborhood's habit of opening the garage door long enough to get in and out spending no time outside was intensified. I didn't get to see much of the neighbor girl, except for the occasional mailbox sighting. But, she was still intriguing to me, even bundled up like an arctic explorer.
Once spring rolled around, people in Minneapolis seem to emerge from their cocoons. People go outside and walk or jog as soon as it's above 40 degrees. For me, it meant I could sit out on the balcony over the garage on my townhouse and enjoy a nice cigar.
So, it was late spring, and I was sitting out there reading car magazine, smoking a nice Fuente, and drinking a little bourbon. I had turned to put the sun at my back, on the magazine, and all in all, was simply relaxing. It was one of those days where you feel that life is good.
I noticed my cute neighbor girl pull in to her garage. When she got out of the car, she looked up, saw me, and gave a little friendly wave. The type that you give to your neighbors to say "Hi there" but not friendly enough to say "Come on over, I've got some fresh pie."
About 5 minutes later, I noticed her in the second floor bedroom. The sun was streaming at my back and right in her window. She seemed to be wearing the "corporate business casual" uniform of a buttoned down dress shirt and dress pants. She probably worked in an office setting, as opposed to, say Taco Bell. So that was a good sign. The next thing that happened almost caused me to drop my cigar.
She must not have been thinking as she just unbuttoned her shirt right as I watched. The cleavage was most impressive. Her rather large breasts were in a black bra, bulging a little around the sides and out the middle. The bra was a little lacy around the edges. She couldn't have been more than 35 feet away from me, so I had a pretty clear view. Ray Charles could have seen these breasts from this distance.
I didn't know what to do. I felt like a Peeping Tom for a moment. But, I couldn't look away. Would she go further? How did she not realize I could see her clearly? Hell, couldn't she see me? Maybe not if the sun was coming directly from behind me. I felt giddy and a little nervous. I had to keep looking.
