He was a little too charming, you know?
The kind of neighbour that's so agreeable, so content, so All-American.. that you just can't help wondering what he's hiding.
True he was divorced. That was enough dirty laundry right?
Ethan observed the man as he carefully cleaned the swimming pool in his back garden. The man crouched down on powerful thighs and calves to clean the edges, dressed only in his swimming trunks.
Nothing weird about that, just a guy enjoying some sun in his own residence, right?
Ethan spied the huge bulge in the front of the swimming trunks and felt saliva building on his tongue.
Disgusting, who shows their package like that? True, he must have been ridiculously hung, or he was storing a spare salami....
He made sure not to open the curtains too wide as he went on tiptoes, seeing the way the man's back flexed as he reached down to the centre of the pool, before stretching a little.
The man was a solid 6'2, and well built on an athlete's frame, porcelain skin and a shock of wavy dark hair contrasting each other perfectly as he prepared to dive in.
Ethan usually had no issue comparing himself to other men, but when it came to Phil, well Phil had him beaten on all counts.
Strength.
Height.
Looks.
Ethan toyed with his own wispy brown hair.
He had always been somewhat inferior in the way he dressed and looked, and his short stature was something that had always bothered him.... until Phil had ended up being their neighbour, at which point it had expanded into a full-blown complex.
Phil flew through the air, and when he hit the surface of the water and disappeared with the softest of splashes it was like watching a dolphin knife through the water.
"Having fun?"
Ethan jumped so violently that he nearly pulled a stringy muscle, whirling around to see his wife.
Brooklyn was a petit blond with a face that rarely emoted too much, and yet possessed the remarkable ability to reflect her mood with a simple flick of an eyebrow. She was also razor sharp, rarely wore more than the most trifling of makeup (but then, why would you need to with a face as full and pretty as hers?), and possessed the remarkable trait of taking charge in most aspects of life, including the bedroom (which was lucky for Ethan, because he was terrible in that department.)
"Hey honey.... Sorry, just uh... birdwatching."
She sidled over to the window, and crooked an eyebrow a hint upwards.
"Pretty sexy bird if you ask me."
His face went bright red, gorge rising in his throat as he imagined Phil pressing against his wife. It hurt him sometimes when she teased him like this, compounded by the fact she could get any man she chose, and he... well, Brooklyn was the only girl that had given him the time of day.
He thrust the curtains together.
"I've noticed you birdwatching a lot, ever since we moved in."
"Shut up."
"Like, a LOT a lot."
"Just... can we talk about this another time, I've got.... Stuff to do."
"Oooh stuff."
"YES, stuff."
"What exactly?"
"L... Laundry."
Her lip curled a fraction upwards.
"Real pressing affairs, huh?"
He grunted, before stamping off to go and check if the laundry basket needed emptying.
***
Over the next month his wife seemed unusually coy with him, offering suggestive comments or flirty touches. That in itself wasn't worrying.
What worried him was that they had stopped having sex.
He had never been the one to initiate, as she would drag him to the bedroom whenever she felt the need, forcing him on his back and riding him, either to completion or to the point where she could finish herself off.
The one time he had tried to move things upstairs, she had tapped her finger to his nose, chuckling.
"Cute... real cute babe."
He had been left with only his wounded pride, watching her ass as it swayed into the living room.
He was beginning to get erections at the merest sight of another human being... and especially when Phil was outside swimming.
Then one day, she made a proposal.
"Babe.... I have an idea."
"What?"
"We should go to a sex show."
"Huh?!"
"It'll be great... we watch someone else having sex, and we can have a good time as well."
It had been a while.
"Um.... Okay..."
"Good, clean your asshole, because we're leaving in thirty minutes."
"W-what?!?"
A touch of furrowed brow was all that was needed to force him whippet-like to the shower, where he freshened up considerably, including quite far where the sun didn't usually shine.
After feeling considerably more polished, he followed Brooklyn out to the car.
"Hey Phil!" Brooklyn called out to their neighbour who was on the front porch reading, "looking good!"
Phil looked up, in a pair of shorts that hid any potential bulges as far as Ethan could tell, but his shirt was welded to that body like it was made of oil, revealing every line of definition in those herculean pecs.
"Hey guys, nice to see ya.... Looking great today!"
Ethan stepped a little closer to his wife automatically.
"We're off to the
show
," said Brooklyn.
She emphasised the latter word, and Phil's ears pricked.
"Oh, the
show
huh? Well, have fun..."
Ethan detected an unusual tremor in his voice, but tried to ignore the worrying thoughts in his head as they entered the car and Brooklyn revved the engine. He noticed that Phil hadn't put his head down to read again as they backed out of the driveway, but was watching them go.
The car ride was awkward and silent, although Brooklyn didn't seem to mind, eyes on the road as Ethan fidgeted in the seat next to her.
What would be there in a sex show?... And was this why she had been avoiding sex, because she wanted to try something new?
Worms began to dig into his stomach as they left their sleepy suburb, racing towards the dirty part of town.
He could barely believe it when they parked in the dirtiest car-park he had ever seen, and the walk from the car park to a door hidden down a side street was one of the scariest that Ethan had ever experienced, clutching pathetically at Brooklyn's side as they walked through the darkness, ushered inside as if everything had been arranged beforehand.
A tangy smell hit his nostrils.
Ethan wondered how on earth this could be happening as he was led through carpeted hallways with club music thudding through speakers above him at just a quiet enough volume to be able to hear the occasional moan coming from behind marked doors.
Eventually she stopped in front of one and guided him into a circular room, with what looked like one long mirror running from the edges of the door all the way around.
In the centre on a raised dais was what looked like a pommel horse, with straps on the front and back.
