My New Neighbors Chapter 2 Moon Glow
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A Warm Glow free porn video
Two strangers meet as the old one closes and the new begins.
If nothing else perhaps a New Year can restore hope.
This was posted to BC's Christmas/Holiday story comp last year. I
thought it was time it got seen here.
Any errors, 'Italian' or otherwise are down to my failings.
This is a work of adult fiction.
No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright KLS 2007.
A Warm Glow
By Kristina.L.S.
It was far too late to worry about what others might think. This night
would determine if it was feasible and if that age-old question would be
decided one way or the other. Was trying to go on worthwhile or should
you just... surrender.
He had dressed carefully after all the preparations. Months and months
of electrolysis and other treatments, practicing the voice and
critically observing his own mannerisms and posture and constantly
comparing to the women he passed daily. Finally, a tracheal shave and a
nose job. And now 3 months later, New Years Eve, 'Anna' would see the
light of day and brave the night. A crowd a million strong was supposed
to crowd the harbour foreshores to eat and drink and cheer in the New
Year with another no doubt spectacular fireworks display.
'She' looked again trying to see what others might until with a sigh she
grabbed the large shoulder bag and the nylon hamper with travel rug,
light picnic a chilled cheap bubbly and a bottle of water. Glanced
quickly around the small bed-sit that was now home and with a double
check of keys and id took another look in the mirror.
The reflection showed a rueful smile on a somewhat weathered face. A
mannish face, which stood to reason, but not... too bad. Forty Two years
of male hormones and family and stress and weather... had left marks.
Lines that the last 12 months of injections and tablets had softened a
little, but not eradicated. A little makeup and careful selection of
outfit. The flowing calf length 'peasant' skirt, loose weave sleeveless
crew neck top, soft wool shawl tied loosely at the waist as combination
belt and wrap should it chill down later. Finally the strappy 1" wedge
heeled sandals, 6' was tall enough already. A final brush of the almost
shoulder length dark brown hair, not too much grey ... yet. Shook her
head and snorted quietly, "Silly old cow, stop procrastinating and go."
With a tense flutter in the belly hefted the bags and before the doubts
could formulate a suitable objection, headed out the door.
The bounce of the gel filled forms was a feeling she wished was real.
Doc Lucy had said it was unlikely that the meagre A cup that had ever so
slowly developed over the last year would increase. Slender as she was,
her chest was still bigger than most women and so... forms to jump two
cup sizes. It all helped to aid in 'passing'. 'So, what if you get read
by everyone that looks at you... what then huh?' Less than half a block
down the road and the doubts were starting up. The voice of his ex-wife
angry and derisory. The court order for maintenance of Emma.
Fourteen years old and about as self centred, sarcastic and cynical as
any politician. There was a tinge of regret at the loss of
relationship, the now thousand kilometre separation and the unspoken,
'don't keep in touch'. A couple of unreturned messages left on the
machine, an 'unknown at this address' letter on a birthday, don't call
us... we'll call you... but they took the money. Four hundred and eighty
dollars a month which along with doctors bills, the face work and the
small rent she paid would slowly eat away at the payout. Twenty three
years at the one firm... still, at least they had all got theirs. Other
companies had just folded and gone without the employees getting
anything.
The short bus ride into the city was uneventful, if nerve wracking. But
most were too wrapped up in their own affairs to wonder about some tall
fidgety woman sitting alone. Even the group of teenagers that had
noisily pushed past, blowing those curly paper whistle things as she
disembarked, had paid her no mind.
It took half an hour of wandering to find a patch on the grassy slope
that afforded a view and was not too close to the line of porta-loo's
that would probably start to smell a bit as the afternoon wore on.
Already the line was about 20 long and it would only get longer.
Spread the travel rug and set the hamper on the edge with her shoulder
bag next to her pulled out the springy straw beach hat and pushed it
into place and leant back to let Anne Rice' voluptuous vision of New
Orleans take hold.
It was one of her regular scans of the surroundings and crowd and she
spotted this man standing almost militarily erect next to the sandstone
wall on the edge of the bay. He stood alone and oblivious of the
surrounding multitude staring across the water, watching for...
An hour later as she felt the pangs of distress that signalled a need to
use those fibre-glass cubicles that lined one edge of the slope. The man
was still there, seemingly unmoved by the ebb and flow around him. She
had left her rug with hamper and paper back and waited in line for
almost half an hour. A few questioning looks, but nothing serious, she
thought.
He was still there, oblivious of the world that moved around him.
She settled again and tried to regain the swirling romance of mystical
New Orleans. But... the subtle calculation of those close, as to whether
this 'person' was a threat. Stranger danger... predators. Modern
paranoia of an ancient and immovable sickness. Raised by publicity to an
almost social discussion point, "..met any paedophiles lately?.. Oh yes
Johnny was approached in the park the other day... This strange 'man'
was staring at Melissa as she played on the swing... Alice was followed
home by a blue car..." Where did the line between ridiculous over
protection and valid concern stop... and what parent could afford to
make an error. The odds might be 500,000 to one... but what if your
Billy was that one? Could you ever recover... forgive yourself... if.
And so...
It was irrational and upsetting and yet, could Anna blame them.
Difference and aloneness, an aberration in the swirling group of
humanity of multiples or couples or family groups. She tried to ignore
and exude... serenity... 'I am not a threat'... Eventually the
surreptitious glances diminished and her thoughts returned to her book.
Yet, her attention kept straying to that man.
He stood still, after 4 hours, occasionally sitting on the stone wall to
rest and then returning to his upright stance. Indifferent and uncaring
of his surroundings. 'Why?'
She put down her book and stared... He was, what, 60's, but something
suggested younger. The crisp and neat suit and tie, rather incongruous
in the casual almost debauched surroundings, suggested care. 'An old
soldier? Sailor? Italian heritage she thought as the small tri-colour on
the left lapel, below two... medals?, registered. His hair was thinning
and his belt was strained by a slightly protuberant stomach. Five nine
or ten, solid and seemingly still fit. No smile, or discernable
expression lit his features as over time, hundreds filed past.
As the hours past she became concerned... he had not moved or drunk
water. Other than an occasional sagging lean on the small wall, he did
not move. It was after nine now and darkness had settled. If any noticed
him they did not acknowledge it. Nor did any speak to him... just
another stranger. The throng just flowed around and beyond.
Another half hour and the 'itch' began again as she glanced at the line
and sighed. There were times when being male was a huge advantage.
Sighing again, she rose and joined the queue.
It was 'only' forty five minutes and she hoped her rug and hamper were
as she left them. Her gaze travelled to that section of wall. He was
still there, looking slightly wilted and sun-blasted.
'Why?'
For no reason she could understand beyond curiosity she walked up to
him.
"Please. You have been standing for hours. Come and sit with me. I'm
alone and would welcome your company. New Years Eve is no time to spend
alone and even a stranger can give some sense of sharing."
She was never more glad of the time spent on vocal practice as he stared
at her for a moment. A certain rejection... and then with a tiny almost
invisible smile, " Thank you segnora. Your compassion does you credit.
Perhaps more humane than those that would claim superiority. I would
gladly join you."
A sudden cold shiver hit as she took in his words. He knew... and yet,
he had accepted 'her' clumsy invitation. With a bark of laughter he
offered his arm to her and despite the surreal feeling she gently took
it and led the way back to the rug, which was thankfully as she had left
it. It seemed unbelievably odd to have a man, shorter than herself and a
total stranger, sitting beside her on her first New Years.
He settled and after a few moments of polite refusal accepted some water
and a piece of chicken. Grapes, cheese, crackers, salad. A small meal
that he demolished in moments, oblivious of the fact that there was no
more.
He settled back and apparently slept. She was reading when some time
later he started talking. A tale of a life. Forced emigration, settling
in a new land, unfamiliar and strange. Growing from a small child to an
adult and becoming a 'native'. Holding allegiance to two cultures and
acceding primacy to the New home. The place his parents had chosen as,
far enough and therefore safe. Growing, learning, fighting prejudice.
With a nod of respect, became a part of rather than apart. Had married
and then when as his twentieth year approached, the call had come, he
accepted. War... pain and horror. Changed, he returned and rebuilt.
Children. Two, both dieing... drugs and an alcohol fuelled car crash.
His Sylvana unable to accept and blaming him had fought and lost to pass
on five bitter years later. Fifteen years of guilt and anguish eating at
his soul. Until the clench of pain had caused him to fold in half and
turn white as a dead fish as the stab hit his gut. Tests, indignity upon
indignity. Then a verdict. Passionless and direct. Cancer. Inoperable.
Options... all refused. And now pain was a constant, but probably not
for long.
She glanced at him then, watched his face as a small smile crossed over
the tired features. A sudden grimace and then eyes still closed, the
smile returned.
"So. Ma bella, how do you come to be as you are? Alone and insecure. A
woman who is not and yet is, more than some born to it."
He did not move or open his eyes as he lay on the rug seemingly at peace
as her thoughts ran rampant. How dare he. Get off my rug and go back to
where... Yet she said nothing. After some minutes she started to talk. A
convoluted tale of pain and longing. Baffled indecision and gradual
submersion as reality took hold. Marriage, disillusionment. Loss and
solitude, leading to... a possibility. A chance to be. An experiment
that should the night prove a failure would lead to... extinction.
At that his eyes cracked open and he almost snarled, " Do not surrender
yourself to the expectations of others. You must be yourself and live. I
see a woman that has heart and soul. More than many of the thousands
that surround us here in this place on the cusp of a New Year. A dawn of
possibilities. Be a new arrival, an immigrant. Seek your place amongst
those that might scoff or scorn what they do not know. Do not... just
give up!"
He was taken by a fit of coughing that knocked him back and left him
gasping as she tried to offer water and comfort.
After some minutes he sipped and smiling relaxed again.
They sat and talked of nothing from time to time. As it drifted closer
to that moment when old became new. A minute or two before and she
opened the bottle and poured two plastic tumblers of bubbles and helped
him to his feet as the count down commenced. They stood and watched the
flare and spray of colour. The boom and mad spirals. Flowing spray of
sparkling light as Pink Floyd echoed around the small cove. After twenty
minutes they stood side by side and she realised he had wrapped his arm
about her waist and did not mind. He whispered something like 'Grazzi ma
bella... Thank you for you kindness to an old man.' And then slumped to
sit heavily, pulling her down with him.
"It is a beginning Anna, do not waste it."
She felt him tense a few times as she tried to move and... do... what
exactly? He pulled his arm tight and short of wrestling she could not
pull free. Then only moments later his grip relaxed and he leant against
her. She knew, even without ever feeling it before. He was gone. Yet it
was not cold. The night... or morning, strictly speaking, was clean and
clear and fresh. She grasped his loosening hand and pulled it tight as
her other arm wrapped itself across his shoulders.
With a strange contentment and a warmth not fully from the still humid
sky, "Sleep well John... Gianni... may you find peace as you helped me
to." With her briefly loosened hand she poured another two tumblers and
toasted...
And so another Year might begin, somewhere, sometime...
Any thoughts or comments I can be contacted -
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Josephina
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