Veronica toiled to get the children in the house, they were being resistant and unruly today.  Her daughter was usually easier, leading the way with her brother following, but not today.  They were fighting and crying, and the groceries weighed thirty pound more some how.  Veronica trudged to the front door, and carried the last bags in to the kitchen.  Her husband was on the couch.  

"Steve, could you keep an eye on the kids?"  He was wrapped up in video games and he didn't hear here.  "Steve! Steve? StEEEEEEEve?!"  

"What, Vee?  I'm in the middle of something. "

"I need you to keep an eye on the kids? I gotta go out for a bit."  To keep my head from exploding and throwing a glass at your head.  "You can put your game on pause."

"Where you gotta go?  It's after 4."  He didn't look up when she walked in.  She stood, shaking.  

"Out, just out."  Steve had learned to stop challenging her when she used that voice.  She picked up her keys and her purse and left, the door closing loudly behind her.  Finally, some peace and quiet.  Steve would be fine with the kids, he was a good dad when she reminded him to be a dad instead of another kid to take care of.  It just took a lot of reminding.  

Veronica stopped at the mailbox, she hadn't on the way in, just to make sure there was nothing from the bank.  She had applied for her own line of credit, in her maiden name, outside of marriage.  She wanted to start making some decisions on her own.  There was nothing from them, just a few mailers.  As she stuffed them back in, a little envelope fell out and landed by the post of the mailbox, sticking up out of the flowers that trimmed the path.  They always kept up appearances, and the gardeners had done a good job with the front.  Hot pink geraniums lined most of the front walk, the grass was clean, trimmed and green.  The envelope was cream, good quality stationery, with hand writing on it, no stamp.  Her name was across the front, just her first name.  

Intrigued, she looked back to make sure Steve was not standing watching her at the door like he did sometimes, and she stuffed it in her pocket.  She walked down the street, as she often did, sometimes taking a one or two hour walk to cool down and get perspective.  By then, the kids would be calm, and it would be time to make dinner.  Steve could get annoying, but he sometimes he'd forget to pester her for something, everything, anything.  

She read the note, and read it twice more. Mr Sunshine?  Who the fuck was this? She looked around, suddenly feeling scared and vulnerable.  Was someone watching her?  Who was this?  Her highschool mascot had been Mr Sunshine, but that was a long time ago in a land far away, and she had only gone out with him once.   Tim Jansen, no one special.  Who was this?  Veronica stormed around the block, the 2 mile walk she used to cool down a couple days a week, winding down the paths at the park, taking the extra turns on the cul-de-sacs, just to add extra mileage.  She had been fit before the babies, and it was hard to get the body back.  Just some extra effort on the walks sometimes felt like it was carving lines back into her body.  Veronica rounded the corner down her street, and was passed by a blue Prius, which turned into the driveway across the street.  The new neighbor.  It was time we made friends, she thought, and decided to go knock on his door instead of her own.  The envelope  was refolded, and stuffed in her pocket.  

Jacob was surprised to hear knocking so soon.  He had only left the card about two hours ago, and then he had panicked.  He had thought to go back and take it out, but her could see her husband walking around the living room through the window, and so he drove off to unwind.  What if ... what if.... what if?  The knocking persisted.  She stood at the door, hand raised to knock, looking a bit sweaty and disheveled and cross, what if she knew and was angry?

"Hello?"  he answered shyly.  

"I'm Veronica, your neighbor across the street.  I thought I should introduce myself.  Is now a good time?"  She was a bit breathless, like she had been exercising, not as if she had come across for a coffee and a tryst.  

"I'm, um,"  Jacob didn't see the card anywhere, should he mention it?  "I'm Jacob.  Jacob Westfalia.  Veronica? Charmed."  He extended a gentle hand, not shaking, just taking her hand and squeezing it softly.  "Would you like to come in? I have just put on some tea."  He turned, gesturing towards the kitchen in the back.  "Earl Grey."  Veronica smiled, and stepped in.  His hand sent a signal of heat back to his brain, and his body turned up a couple notches of attention.  It was all he could do to not get an erection right then.  She was still breathtaking. 

"I would love some Earl Grey."  She followed behind him through the foyer and living room, the opposite lay out of their home.  There wasn't much furniture, and a lot of unopened boxes stacked in the corners.  She wished for a moment her life was this uncluttered.  Jacob from behind looked pretty normal, he was dressed in soft jeans, worn at the right places, and a dark blue v neck sweater.  She wasn't certain, but it looked like cashmere.  Veronica wanted to touch it, but kept her hand back.  She hadn't bought cashmere in ages, she thought of the days when she had the time to luxuriate in the finer things.  The handshake still pressed into her palm, his soft and well manicured hands had caught her by surprise.  She loved it when men paid attention to the details, the small stuff that would go without mention but not unnoticed. 

Jacob had a cup and tea box out on the counter, and the stainless steel kettle had already boiled and turned off.  He opened a cabinet, and pulled down another cup, and a tea pot.  It was a glass tea infuser, it looked like some of the Italian design they had at the shopping center.  Veronica had an eye for finer design, the sleek lines and seductive curves of simple every day objects.  Steve always went so Americana, like he was trying to relive the Walton's life.   One neither of them had ever lived.  He liked plaid, and calico, and things that looked like a country store.  Jacob's  furniture was spare, simple, elegant.  His cups looked to be hand crafted, maybe raku, Japanese, no handles.  He poured off the water, and set the timer to 4 minutes.  "Sugar?"  

"No, just a little honey, if you have it. "  Veronica found herself suddenly blushing, as if she had propositioned him somehow.  Had that sounded like a come on?  Her thoughts went back to the other night, the standing naked in the window, the shadow across the street, her round breasts arched against the flat, cold panes of glass.  She picked up her cup after he poured it, and stirred the little spoon.  Alessi.  She licked the rest of the honey off the end, putting it on the counter.  

Jacob had moved over to the kitchen table, glass on steel, beside the window.  Her table was wooden, square with lathed legs of an older style.  She suddenly felt frumpy, outdated, irrelevant.  Living in LA hadn't rubbed off on Steve as much as she'd hoped, his style was more Kentucky.  Jacob's taste seemed impeccable, he carried his trim but muscular body gracefully as if he was a dancer or yoga instructor.  He didn't lumber, he didn't bump into things, he was aware of his surroundings, he glided.  Veronica had always admired this quality in men, their lithe awareness suffused with confidence.  It turned her on, she found herself warming up again, heat coming from her belly again, and a tingling between her thighs.  Oh, she thought, it's going to be like that.  Usually when this happened, and sometimes it happened, she would say "Nice to meet you," and walked away quickly.  Lingering would make it worse.  Today, she had no inclination to leave.  She pulled into her chair and sat across her new neighbor.  His soft brown hair, blue eyes, medium build, the opposite of her neanderthal husband, was immensely arousing and she was in the mood to be aroused.  Heat and moisture flushed into her crotch, warming her and sending shivers up her spine.  

Veronica didn't remember what they were talking about, Jacob was saying about his job, something about psychology, and then something about telescopes and astronomy.  He spoke with a slight German accent, impeccable English, but the softened esses and elles and arres. It reminded her of something from a long time ago, but she pushed it aside.  Her very present self was hot in ways she had forgotten heat, breaths coming more shallow and quickly, and tingles through her pelvis, her belly, her breasts.  Her nipples pushed against her bra, and she longed to unbutton her shirt, and pull his face into her breasts.  He offered to show her his telescope, it was upstairs on the balcony, did she want to see it?  Suddenly Veronica remembered her family, and said,

"Oh, no, no, oh, sorry.  I forgot myself,  I have to go.  Perhaps another time?  Maybe I can bring my children, they love the stars."  She felt stupid suddenly, awkward.  Suburban domesticity collided with European savoir faire.  Damn.  "I'm late, my husband will be worried."  Which was true, and she didn't want Steve seeing her exit the house.  He'd get ideas.  She turned and put her hand on Jacob's arm, to stay her goodbye a moment, and the heat of lightning passed between them.  She pulled back her hand, surprised, and gasped.  Jacob stepped back, he too was surprised.  This chemistry, this fire, this... this was more than he had thought possible, or had hoped for.  

"Please, please, bring them sometime.  I love children," he stammered, although that wasn't really true.  He didn't care either way, he just wanted her luscious body in his home again, her pheremones filling his atmosphere, her breath sharing molecules with his.  Some day, maybe just a little more.   He put his hand on the wall beside her as she turned, and they found themselves much, much closer than either had expected.  He could hear her shallow gasps, he was sure she could see his heart beating through his chest.  

"Yes, yes I will.  Soon."  Veronica longed to lean forward, and start kissing him.  Maybe she'd start with his lower lip, and trace with her mouth down to his adam's apple, her hands crossing his chest under the cashmere sweater.  She put her hand up, briefly, and then touched his shoulder.  He tried not to flinch from excitement.  This was going so very much better than he had thought, and she hadn't even mentioned the card.  Should he?  "Cashmere?"

"Um, uh," he looked down at the sweater, surprised by the sudden change of conversation.  "Oh, this, yes.  Yes, it is cashmere."  

"Great," she whispered, and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on one his dimpled cheeks, leaning toward his ear, "I love cashmere."