"Seduction" Excerpt

Please be aware that ALL of this writing is copyright protected as my own creative content, and NO PART of any post/story may be reproduced, copied or used in 
ANY WAY, ANYWHERE, at ANY TIME. Links to (and comments on) this post are always welcome.

© Luba V Nel  Dreamstime.com
copyright 2013, Brandi Kennedy


Lifting the edge of the window blind, I sighed.

It seemed like the thousandth time I had watched him walk out my door – the thousandth missed opportunity. I had wanted him since we were teenagers, but all he had ever seen in me was a “little sister,” the girl next door. And it didn’t help that with my parents dead, he felt responsible for me somehow.

Over the years, he had become the person I called in any emergency. He rescued me when my car broke down just outside of town; he slept on my couch one night when I thought an ex was stalking me. He cradled me in the strength of his arms when I found a dog hit by a car in my driveway.

If something broke at my house, he would fix it. He'd drop by sometimes, just to check on me, and one year when I was single, he even took me out for Valentine’s Day – to keep me from sitting at home alone, he had said teasingly. We'd text or talk on the phone many times a day, and I’ve grown to love it when something breaks in my house – because then I can call him over to fix it. I especially liked the night when my oven element went out right at dinner time, and he volunteered to stay for dinner, to make sure everything was working perfectly. That was our first movie night – I had just turned eighteen.

We’ve had probably a dozen movie nights since then, and I had really thought he was growing to see something different in me ... lately when he'd been at my house, it wasn’t uncommon for me to look over and catch him watching me; if I asked why he was looking at me, he'd just say, "No reason," and turn back to the movie or back to his plate. Or back to whatever he happened to be fixing.

It even got to be a joke between us, how often he had to come over to fix things in the old house I had inherited from my parents, and honestly, I’d started wondering if maybe I wasn’t somehow breaking things on purpose without even realizing it. So imagine my surprise when I went to take a shower tonight and found the shower broken. Half dressed, no less!

I spent my days doing secretarial work in a banker’s office, and I had worn a corset-style bustier to work that day under my usual women's pantsuit – I liked knowing that I could look professional at work while still feeling sexy underneath the suit. I had only come down to my corset and panties, and I was standing in the bathroom brushing my teeth when I reached into the tub and turned on the water with no problem at all. But when I'd tried to turn the shower on, the water had simply stopped coming at all – but I had to work the next day, and it was well after maintenance hours on our building, so I had no choice but to call Jeremy to come save me, again.

“Okay, surely I couldn’t have broken the shower, right?” I muttered to myself, staring at the tub in horror. “I mean, really. This is getting ridiculous.”

By the time he showed up, I had thrown on a robe to cover myself – but this time, I figured if the universe was going to keep throwing Jeremy and I together, the least I could do was be helpful. After all, it wasn’t like I didn’t want his attention. So I hadn't chosen the worn terrycloth robe I usually wore when I got out of the shower. No, instead, I had dug down to the bottom of my lingerie drawer to choose a black silk robe with lace trim that matched the camel-colored polka dots on my corset. The robe tied neatly at my waist and fell softly to just above my knees – modest enough to look like I wasn’t trying anything, but sexy enough to maybe make him think he could if he wanted to.

If I was willing to lie about my prowess, I could tell you that I seduced him by craftily letting the robe fall from one shoulder, that I accidentally let it fall too far open down the front, or even that I dropped something on purpose so that I could bend over to pick it up again. I could say that I used my feminine wiles to capture his attention – finally – and that he had found himself helpless and unable to resist. But I’m not willing to lie, and I didn't do any of those things.

And now I'm kicking myself for not doing any of those things, while still foolishly expecting him to just jump me like I'm some kind of … well, my grandmother would have probably called me a “street trollup” if she knew what I’d been hoping for.

Our interaction had gone just as smoothly and casually as always, with Jeremy giving nothing more than a cursory glance at my clothes, coupled with a curiously quirked eyebrow. He had taken down the shower head, cleared the clog that had somehow formed in the pipe just behind it, made fun of how everything around me seemed to break. I had joked that the house was falling down around me, and he had grinned, saying how lucky I was to have him next door to come dig me out of the rubble. Everything had been fixed and put back together within an hour and then he was gone, clearing his throat quietly just before telling me that he’d let me get back to my shower.

I have barely a minute to realize that he still hasn’t left the porch yet to walk across the space between our houses, and the sound of the doorbell shakes me from my thoughts. I walk from the window to the door, catching my lip between my teeth, wondering why he came back. He’s meticulous about his tools – there’s no way he could have forgotten something. But then I look through the tiny window to the side of the door, and he's there, one hand dragging its way through his hair, the other stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, his toolbox resting on the step at the edge of the porch.

"Hey, what are you doing back?" I ask, opening the door. I hold the front of my robe closed with one arm belted around my waist, watching his emotions flicker in his eyes, and swallow. He’s never done this before. "Um, you forget a wrench or something?" He meets my eyes, and I step back, opening the door further in silent invitation.

Stepping through, Jeremy shakes his head and comes further into my space; I release the doorknob and back away, giving him room and he kicks the door closed behind him, just as he always has. But this is different, and instead of making his way around me into the living room, he steps closer, into my space, almost right up against me, and frankly, I'm too shocked by the break in our routine to step back. I can't think of a time when he's ever come this close to touching me, and even as I recognize the deliciousness of his proximity, he moves closer.

Edited to add: Seduction has now been edited and revised, and has nearly doubled in length. The above portion is only a small snippet of the story, the whole of which is now available exclusively to my Patreon supporters. To view this story and others like it, please support my writing here. (March 2017)