My Next Door Neighbor

The bedroom was dark, and I was holding my wife's hand, feeling like I wanted to do something a little daring.

But as I moved her hand, she suddenly stopped me, her hand trembling slightly.

When the movie ended and the lights came on, I was shocked to realize that the person beside me wasn't my wife, but our neighbor, Lesley Mendoza...

After a few encounters with the couple across the hall, we became more familiar with each other.

The man, Joe Mendoza, worked in sales at a company, and his wife, Lesley Mendoza, was a teacher at a training institute. Lesley was 5'5", with fair skin, striking features, and an excellent figure that often drew attention when she stepped into the elevator. Even when dressed conservatively, her figure had a certain allure that caught the eye.

She had the kind of grace and charm that a married woman exuded, a contrast to the energy of a single woman.

Women always have plenty to talk about, while men tend to bond over work-related discussions. So, my wife and I often hung out with them.

One day, I was in Joe's kitchen, flipping a spatula as I prepared a dish from my hometown.

The dish needed more salt, so Joe went downstairs to buy some.

"Honey, I'm back. What are you making today?"

A cheerful voice called from behind as someone hugged me, and I immediately noticed the softness pressed against my back. They turned out to be as big as they looked. I couldn't help but imagine how amazing they would feel in my hands…

It was Lesley. I had a similar build to Joe, and I was wearing their apron, so it was natural that she mistook me for him.

I teased, "Don't recognize your own husband? Or are you trying to take advantage of me?"

Lesley let out a startled scream and then quickly composed herself. I wasn't sure if she had done it on purpose. "Who's trying to take advantage of you? What makes you better than Joe?" she asked.

I laughed. "Why don't you try and see for yourself?"

I took her hand and placed it somewhere below my belly. Surprisingly, she didn't resist. When she reached somewhere hard, she got out of my grip and softly called me a "scoundrel" before adding, "Phil, you're Joe's friend."

Seeing that Lesley seemed genuinely upset, I began to feel uneasy. Why had I let myself act impulsively? If she mentioned this to Joe or my wife, Tess Gibbs, it could ruin not just our relationship with them but possibly my marriage as well.