The New Neighbor Mowed My Lawn the Week My Divorce Went Through novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: The Dining Room

He came at nine exactly, with the tool bag.

I opened the front door in a green silk robe I had bought for a honeymoon and never worn.

He looked at it and then at me, and he said, "Where's the problem?"

"The dining room," I said. "The light is too bright."

"I can fix that."

"I know you can."

He followed me down the hall with the bag over his shoulder, and his boots were quiet on the hardwood.

The dining room is at the front of the house.

It has a bay window that looks straight out onto Sandpiper Court, and I had left the sheers open and the chandelier on full.

Greg had hated that window and kept the curtains drawn for eleven years.

Tonight the glass was black, and in it I could see the two of us in the light.

Across the street, in the old man's front window, a blue television flickered.

Tyler set the bag on the floor and reached for the dimmer switch on the wall.

"Leave it," I said. "I like the light."

He looked at me.

I walked to the long oak table, the one Greg's mother had given us, and untied the robe.

I let it slide off my shoulders onto the floor.

Under it I was wearing nothing at all.

I sat on the edge of the table, in the middle of my dining room with every light on.

I leaned back on my hands.

"Take your shirt off," I said.

He pulled it over his head by the collar in one pull.

"Now come here."

He crossed the floor and stopped between my knees.

I looked up at him, and my whole body was humming.

"Lie back," he said. His voice was lower than I had heard it.

"Who's giving orders?"

"Please," he said.

I laughed, and I lay back.

The table was cool and smooth under my spine, and the chandelier hung over my face with all its little bulbs.

I could see the window upside down, and the street, and the dark.

He put his hands on my knees and spread them, slowly, wide.

Then he pulled my hips to the very edge of the table, so my ass was almost off it.

My legs hung open, and he knelt.

"Tyler," I said.

"I want to look first."

"Then look," I said.

I felt his breath on me, warm on my thighs.

Out the window a streetlamp buzzed.

I turned my head, and I saw a woman walking a small white dog along the sidewalk.

She wore a pink sweatshirt, and her head was down over her phone.

She was close enough to the glass that I could see the dog's ears.

"Someone's out there," I whispered.

"I know."

"She could look in."

"She could look in, and I'm going to eat you anyway," he said, against my inner thigh.

"If you stop, I'll hurt you."

I felt his smile on my skin.

Then his mouth was on me, and I forgot about the dog.

He licked me slowly, with his tongue broad and flat and warm, from the bottom up, in a long, deliberate drag.

I heard myself moan out loud under the chandelier.

He did it again.

He put his hands under my ass and lifted me to his mouth, and his thumbs spread me open.

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