Knock, knock.

What you can’t see is my long hair in braids and wrapped up over the crown of my head like Heidi. Yeah, I know.

The Neighbor came over to ask for an envelope. I told him it’d cost him a fondle. He grabbed my left breast in the darkened entryway.

I got him the envelope, gave him a good show as I bent over, and walked him back to the door.

He reached for that flimsy barrier between our two lives — the front door — and grabbed my breast again. I pushed him against the wall, not caring the world could see in.

“Mmm, God, that feels good. I need-” and I searched for words while my head got light.

“Tell me what you need, Hy,” he whispered against my ear as he spun me around and shut the open door, pushed me against it.

“I need your hand on my tit,” I answered.

“Check.”

“And your hand down my pants.” His right hand reached around and crept to my closely trimmed mound.

“Got that covered, too,” his breath was hot on my neck, his five o’clock shadow scraping behind his nipping teeth and lips.

“And your hard cock pressed into my ass.”

“Done.”

And then I turned around in his arms and he kissed me deeply, my heart fluttered like a caged bird.

“Ok, I gotta go. I can’t stay. Five minutes here ends up being two hours before I realize what’s happened.”

He separated from me and opened the door again.

Shamelessly I told him he should just stay anyway. “No,” he asserted, “it’s dangerous. We weren’t supposed to do what we did the other night. But I can’t seem to help myself with you. You’re dangerous.”

He smiled, took the two steps to his private universe, and went inside.

Who knew a woman in braids and underpants could be such a threat to a man’s control?

Oh, who am I kidding? I absolutely took my pajama bottoms off earlier in the night because I had a hunch he’d have an excuse to stop over for something.

Who do you think you’re dealing with here? An amateur?