My Young Neighbor The Stealth Hottie

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the characters depicted here and real individuals is coincidence. All characters are over age eighteen.

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A young woman down the block makes a mature decision.

***

I hardly noticed Bettany as she grew up. She was so shy and quiet that she just seemed to fade into the background. Then one day a few months ago I was outside cleaning my car and wondered who the young lady down the block was. Somehow, little Bettany had reached age nineteen without me noticing.

She was still shy and quiet, now in jeans and hiking boots, t-shirts, old sweaters, and no makeup. Most people would describe her hair as dusty blond, perhaps with a bit of red. Her eyes were greyish and she had a few freckles. Bettany was a bit on the tall side and somewhat athletic. Her face was gentle, but she didn't smile often. She had grown up to be the very antithesis of glamorous.

As I worked on my car, I caught myself looking down the street at her and realized she had become quite beautiful, but not in a way that most men would notice. Ordinary BABEDAR couldn't detect her lack of makeup and outdoorsy clothing. Bettany had become a stealth hottie. By the time most men noticed...well, it was too late.

What was I doing? I reprimanded myself for checking out not my neighbor's wife, but worse, my neighbor's daughter. My neighbor's daughter! What the hell? So I went back to cleaning my car, then noticed I had missed several parts.

Days later I saw her while out walking in the open space near the house. A dirt trail wound through the sage and pines and beside the creek. "Hi, Bettany," I said.

"Hi, Mr. Donlin," she replied.

"Oh, Kent will do. What have you been up to lately?"

"Just college."

"How's that going?"

She said nothing, but her face said, 'Lousy.'

"Uh, oh. College not going well?"

"College is fine; it's the people, my sorority sisters."

"Sorority? What's the problem?"

"There's a lot of pressure to dress a certain way, look a certain way, act a certain way. They even taught us how to enter a room so that the men notice you. They're on me to wear heels and makeup. There's a lot of pressure about sex...too. The boys are awful and, and..." I could tell she needed to vent, yet embarrassed about actually saying it.

"Reminds me of when I was in college and asked a girl out. Only after she agreed did she tell me she lived at a sorority. When I came to pick her up, she came to the door and spoke through a crack. She said she was sorry but she couldn't go. A day or two later I called and asked what the hell. Her sisters would only allow her to date fraternity boys, and not just any fraternities. I didn't belong to one at all let alone the right one. I think I may have asked her what right they had to do this. All these years later I'm still pissed off."

"It's worse than that. They want me to have sex before my freshman year is out. And..." Bettany's face sunk. I tried to think of something helpful to say, but she spoke first. "They keep score. I mean about sex. And they're on me to 'get on the scoreboard'." Bettany turned red, "I'm sorry," she said and left. I called after her twice, then figured I'd better not push things.

Weeks went by and on a Friday afternoon, I saw bringing in a laundry basket from her car. "Hi, Bettany."

"I'm glad you're here, Kent," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Mmm, okay. For what?"

"I just ran off last time."

"Of all the things in the world to worry about, that should be last. Forget it."

"I just don't have anyone to talk to and I dumped on you."

"What about your mom, or BFF, or..."

"Oh, both my parents keep telling me how important the sorority is, how it will help me get established in life. I just want to run away, maybe quit school."

"I'm really sorry to hear that, Bettany. Puts you in a rough spot. But last time we spoke, you said you liked school. Are you sure you want to quit? Can you quit the sorority? I mean, if it's really not working for you... Have you told your parents about the pressure?"

Bettany shook her head, "I'm scared to death they wouldn't back me up."

"Oh, crap. Bettany, I'm so sorry."

"They call me zero."

"Zero?"

"Meaning I've never, you know."

"Another last thing you should worry about at your age. Everybody has their own time." Bettany looked at the ground. Clearly, college didn't get off to a great start for her.

"I'll try not to worry about it."

"At least you have options, and I think your parents would have an easier time if you left the sorority than if you left school altogether."

"Yeah. Mmm. Can you help me with something? My browser is really slow."

"Sure, Bettany."

I helped her clear her cache and cookies and so on. But when I went to clear her history, "Oh, no! No!" she cried and pushed my hand a little. "Oh, shit!" There were a number of porn sites coming up on her history. Bettany turned beet red and began to tear up and exclaimed, "I was just trying to educate myself. I don't know anything. The girls laughed at me and grilled me one night about all these terms..."

"Frank Zappa was right, ladies can be assholes too. It's alright. Another last thing to worry about. Really."

Bettany bent over sobbing with her face in her hands.

The pressure was on me now to say something helpful. It took me a few seconds and they felt like years. "Hey, Bettany. Good on you for educating yourself. Nothing at all wrong with it. And it stays between you and me. I won't say a word to anyone." Then I lifted my arm to put it around her, but stopped myself.

Bettany didn't speak, but if I had to guess from her body language, she felt some relief. Finally, through tears, she said, "I just feel overwhelmed..."

"These things pass, Bettany. You just graduated high school last May, then you moved away from home for the first time, started college, and you're dealing with a stressful living situation. You're entitled to feel overwhelmed from all the changes. I can't make a decision for you, but I can say there are options."

"I just don't understand why? Why are people such assholes."

"Answer that and you'll win a Nobel Prize." I think she may have smiled just a little at this. "Look I think your sorority sisters' goal in life is to be sex toys for men. Some sororities protect their members at a time when they can be very vulnerable. Others think their girls can get far in life only by being everything the average, run-of-the-mill, garden variety, b-flat misogynist desires in a woman. And it seems to me you realize none of that will work for you. You need something different."

"Everything is about getting ahead in life. My parents say that."

"I'm not going to criticize your parents; that's not my place. But, for a lot of people, life isn't about getting ahead. It's about feeling fulfilled, feeling you have a purpose, finding meaning. And getting ahead, for some people, means only money and cars and houses. It doesn't float everyone's boat to amass stuff. Maybe you, Bettany, didn't come from the same cookie cutter as your parents. My point is that maybe, just maybe, you're different. I was different. There was a comedian some years ago name George Carlin. He's gone now, but he said 'Oh, I'm not crazy; they are.' It's similar to that line in Alice in Wonderland about all the best people being mad. It's a good way to look at things."

"You're right. I am different. I always have been. I've always felt out of place." She sighed and said, I've got some thinking to do. Oh, but shit! This?" Bettany said, pointing to her laptop.

"Oh, please, you think I don't look at porn. I'd even be willing to bet a dollar your parents do too. It's not a big deal. You're trying to learn and some porn can be educational."

Bettany sat for a moment, then slowly looked at me. "The girls talk a lot about 'getting fucked and fucked hard'. There was one girl that was a zero like me. There was a party at a frat house and got back really late. They all asked her if she 'got fucked hard' and she said she had. Later that night she was crying and freaking out. I tried to talk to her but she couldn't speak. She just left school. I don't know what happened."

"Did you know that college age women are at the greatest risk of being sexually assaulted?" I said. "It's because they're away from home and don't have a good protective network established. Sororities sometimes can be protective, but it doesn't sound like yours is one of them. Do you think..."

"I'll never know what it's should be like." Bettany looked at me again. "Is it like the porn flicks? Really? They all seem to enjoy it so much...the videos. But it all just seems so cold, like...I dunno...gardening."

"Well, they're paid actors. They get parts based on their performance. But the sex is probably a lot like shovelling shit."

"Yeah!"

I smiled at her and said, "Seems like you have a few things to think about. Remember, there will be such moments in life. They seem like hell when you're in them, but they pass. Then you do it all over again."

"Thanks so much! I'm gonna do me some thinkin'.

I didn't see Bettany again until the Saturday evening before Thanksgiving.

"My parents said an apartment is too expensive so if I'm going to quit the sorority, I have to live in the dorms."

"Well, good you've decided."

"But I can't get into the dorms until next semester, in January."

"Sucks. Do they know? Your sorority I mean."

"No, not yet. I won't tell them until I have to. I brought a lot of stuff with me yesterday. I'll bring the rest when I come home for the holidays. Then I'll tell them. If I get a room, that is."

"Clean break. Good for you. You're feeling better about things?"

"Yeah, thanks to you."

"I just talked. You did the hard part."

"Still, I'm grateful," she said, smiling so broadly. "Hey, my parents left me alone for the night. What are you up to? I mean, tonight?"

"Nothing," I began, my mind racing. "I thought maybe I'd watch a movie, or read."

"I wanted to ask for some advice." She paused for a moment. "I don't have to...uh...pick a major yet, but I'm thinking about a couple of options. Could I come over later?"

"Okay," I said, oblivious to how it might look to some of the neighbors to see a nineteen year old hanging out with a fossil like me.

Bettany knocked on my door about eight or so, smiling sweetly, but nervously. We sat on my couch and we talked about potential majors.

"I'm thinking geology or anthropology, or something that keeps me outside."

"I can see that suiting you better than, say, business or finance or..."

"Or a degree in MRS. The jeans and boots give it away, right?"

"A little, yeah. Unless you're planning to be a hiking boot model. Geology and anthro are quite different you know, as different as rocks and people."

"Some people are rocks."

"Very true. And some rocks are people."

"Maybe geology then. People confuse me. Men confuse me. But you don't."

The change in topics didn't throw me. I figured early on that she really wanted to ask me about something else. "I've had a hard life," I said. "I've learned things along the way. That's all."

"But you're not at all like the guys in college."

"I know. My knees are so-so, and my back..."

"No, you're really different."

"I meant that sometimes the difference comes with age. But not always. I grew up with lots of men that are the same now as they were in high school and college. Haven't grown at all. Never will."

"But you did."

"I like to think so; always a work in progress."

"I had a date," Bettany said. "Maybe he'll change."

"I'm not following."

"It didn't go well. He was a frat boy. I had to push him away. We barely finished dinner and he was on me. He seemed ashamed of himself and apologized. Hardly said a word besides that."

"Ten bucks says he's under pressure same as you. A lot of pressure at fraternities to score, you know. I wouldn't be surprised if they called them Zeros too."

"Most aren't like him. They won't change?"

"Most won't."

"They just want to score and be done. Like we're just meat."

"A lot of men think of women and sex the same way they think of cars. That's all they know because that's all they've been taught. Everything else, like whether his lover gets there, or if they enjoy the foreplay are secondary. For some men, they never think about what the woman needs or wants. For me, I want the woman to feel safe and to feel needed, both emotionally and sexually. I want to kiss her cheeks and nibble on her neck and ears. I want to hold her hand and run my fingers through her hair. I want to make her breathe, sigh, moan, and cry out. I want to make her heart rate climb and I want her to sweat. I want to make her quiver, shake, and have an org..."

Suddenly, I turned red. What the hell was I saying? I was talking to my nineteen year old neighbor about nibbling ears and orgasms!

Bettany came in close for a hug. This wasn't a good idea. Nope, not a good idea at all. But I'd be a liar if I said I didn't enjoy it.

"You're not like the others," she said into my shoulder.

Suddenly, Bettany kissed me, right on the lips. It was an awkward kiss, stiff and too forceful.

"Mr. Donlin, I..."

"Kent." I said, thinking I should gently push her away. But I didn't push her away.

"Kent," Bettany replied, her voice shaking. "I...uh..." She sighed, then looked directly into my eyes. "Can you teach me?"

I raised my eyebrows and said, "Teach you?"

She kissed me again the same way. For the next minute or two, we kissed several times, each kiss awkward. She was so sweet and so beautiful. Bettany stopped and said in a shaky voice, "Show me. I'm ready. But I don't..." My thoughts raced. On the one hand, it would be such an honor to be her first lover and to show her what it could be like. On the other hand, I wondered if I was I just taking advantage of her youthful hormones? Or my old man hormones? Was all this just too convenient?

"Bettany, you need to be clear with me."

She kissed me again and said, "I don't want to be a virgin any more, but I want it to be special, to be like you said it could be. I want to decide it for myself. I'm only going to have one first time and you're right here." She pulled away a little, then added, "Don't you want me?"

"Bettany, sure I do. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. You're absolutely sure?"

Bettany kissed me again, hard, and began kissing my cheeks. "Yes," she said, her voice quivering. "But I'm really nervous."

"That's normal, Bettany." Then it was my turn. I gently caressed her cheeks with my fingers and let them slide past her ears and into her hair. Then I kissed her as gently as I could on her mouth. As I did, I heard a nervous breath escape her lips. Desire was in conflict with the urge to stay somewhere familiar. "Bettany, think about this. I'm your neighbor, a friend of your paren..."

She grabbed me and kissed me again. "I've thought about it," she said. "For the first time since, I dunno, I'm sure." We began kissing again.

Something in the back of my mind said, 'Not right, not right. Run away!' But something else said it was all just fine. If it were some other old fart, and everything else was the same, I'd say it was a healthy, mature decision for a young woman. Right?

Right?

But we were kissing and holding each other, and that drowned out all the little voices.

As we kissed, I held her head with my fingers in her hair. Her breathing was still nervous and shaky, and heavier and more urgent. But our posture was awkward and simply wouldn't work. I didn't think she'd be ready to sit on my lap, which is a lie. I was the one not ready, knowing that with her on my lap I'd get an instant hardon.

"Kneel down beside me, facing me." I helped her move her knees into the position I wanted. Bettany then naturally leaned her butt against my lap, but thankfully, not on it.

Now comfortable, we hugged and kissed each other for several minutes. I wanted to let go, to let my instincts take over and make love to this woman without overthinking it. But I had a responsibility too. I quickly resolved that this experience really had to be for Bettany. It was her needs that I needed to meet. Mine were secondary.

I gently bit her bottom lip and pulled on it to encourage her to open her mouth, then did it again. I wanted her to introduce to her the idea of being creative. Surprised, Bettany smiled, and I kissed her again, this time with some tongue. That was a little awkward at first, but she caught on and began giving me her tongue in return. Soon, our tongues were frolicing together like baby river otters. Bettany was now creating every bit as much as I was.

We pulled away, both of us smiling. I saw wonder in Bettany's eyes. As I kissed her several times on her cheek, then moved toward her ear. A tiny little moan escaped her as I reached the area just past her jawbone and under her ear. Kissing her there again, she moaned just a little louder.

"Do you like that?" I asked. It was a dumb question; we both knew she did.

"Yeah."

Then I kissed her neck again, a little more aggressively.

"Oh," Bettany moaned, still shaking a little. Her breathing now was heavy.

I moved my hands down around her middle and pulled her closer. She moaned a little and as I squeezed her gently in my arms, she came up and kissed me. After kissing her neck and ears for a few moments, Bettany kissed my neck, bringing a little moan of my own. We pulled away and smiled at each other. I held her face and looked her in the eye, asking her without any words if everything was okay. Her eyes said they were as they darted between my right and left eye.

I asked if she was ready for more. Bettany gulped and smiled nervously. So I brought my hands up to her face and kissed her again, then pulled the collar of her blouse aside so I could kiss her close to her collarbone. Then I went to the other side and did the same thing, making sure she would feel some strain on her top button.

I pulled back and looked her right in the eye, asking again, then gently unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. Her breathing was shaky and her eyes had that same conflict of wanting something new and yet fearing it too. I kissed her, then stroked her hair, trying to tell her it was alright.

I took her hands and brought them up to my topmost button. She looked at me and gulped again, but unbuttoned it. I smiled at her, trying to convey that she should keep going. Apparently Bettany got the hint and undid another button. At that, I undid another of hers and before long I had her blouse around her shoulders and began kissing her there.

"Mmmm, oooooh," she moaned, breathing hard. I kept kissing and nibbling on her shoulder, then her upper arm, all the while pulling her blouse off, leaving her arms in the sleeves. Then I changed sides and did the same. As I did, Bettany wiggled both her arms free of her blouse. We broke again and looked in each others eyes, both of us breathing hard with desire. I asked with my eyes again.

Receiving a 'yes' from her, I kissed her shoulder several times, then bit onto the bra strap and pulled it off her shoulder.

Bettany giggled a little, then moaned,"Mmmm, oh." I came up and looked at her, then pulled the other strap off with my hand. Keeping my eyes glued to hers, I reached around behind her and unclasped her bra, then pulled it slowly off to reveal soft, shapely, freckled breasts with taut nipples. "Oh," she moaned again as she looked at me.

I looked down, wanting her to watch me look at her body. I went back to her eyes, smiling at her, letting her know how beautiful she was. She smiled too, with relief. I pulled her hands up to my shirt again, and she knew what to do. As she pulled the second sleeve off my arm and grabbed her waist and pulled her close to me, her soft breasts and hardening nipples squished against my chest. We kissed several times as I held her tight, then broke again. My hands opened around her waist and as I drew them up toward her breasts, I looked in her eyes. Seeing Bettany was okay, I ran my hands across her lovely freckled boobs.