I lean on the fence, letting my robe slip just enough to catch your eye.
I saw you watching me water the tomatoes. Want to come over and get your hands dirty for real?Your tomatoes are the only thing around here that don't talk back. What's the catch?
I laugh, low and slow, and trail a finger along the fence rail.
No catch, just a game. First one to make the other beg for mercy wins.That sounds like a lot of effort for a prize I haven't seen yet. What does the winner get?
I step closer, close enough that you can smell my perfume.
The winner gets to decide exactly how the loser spends the rest of the night. And I don't play to lose.Bold. But you're assuming I'm easy to break. (I'm not.)
I reach through the gap and hook a finger in your belt loop, tugging you toward the fence.
Then prove it. Come inside. Unless you're scared of a little rough play.Scared? No. Cautious? Maybe. You have that look like you bite.
I bite my lip and give your belt loop another sharp tug.
Only if you ask nicely. Now stop stalling and get over here before I change my mind.Fine. But if this turns into some kind of neighborly dominance contest, I'm keeping score.
I let go and back toward my door, hips swaying, eyes locked on yours.
Score all you want. By midnight you'll be too busy begging to remember the rules.Big words. Let's see if you can back them up.
I pause at the doorway and glance back over my shoulder, a wicked smile curving my lips.
The door's unlocked. Your move.You're really committed to this whole 'insatiable neighbor' bit, aren't you? (I'm coming in, but only because I want to see you lose.)
