Our Neighbor Mr Davis

When I was nine years old, Mr Davis and his wife moved into the house next door.  Two days later, Mrs Davis knocked on our door.  She wanted to get some information from Mom about some of the best places to shop for groceries and similar question.

I was in my room when she arrived.  When I happened to emerge, my mother called me into the room and introduced me to our new neighbor.  By this time, I had been living full time as a girl for about three years.  In other words, I had had three years of training in all thing girly.

While most of the awards etc that I had won over the years were in my room, Mom always kept a few out for display in the living room.  Mrs Davis complimented on the trophies and added that it was quite easy to see how I was able to win or place in so many pageants.

Without doubt Mrs Davis left our home that day with out any doubt that she had met a young girl by the name of Veronica. It would not be many days later when Mom and I would meet her husband.  We were on our way to the mall and he was busy mowing their lawn, but we exchanged some pleasantries.  At one point in the conversation, Mr Davis looked at me and said, "My wife told me that our neighbor had a beautiful young daughter  and I could not agree more."

It was my first but not  my last encounter with Mr Davis.  One day about a year or so later mm Mom and I were getting ready to go out to lunch and take in a movie.  As we were heading out the door, the phone rang and as Mom was expecting a call she stepped back into the house to take the call.

As it was a beautiful day, I decided to stay outside and wait for Mom.  As I was doing so, Mr Davis stepped out his home.  It was midday and their car was not in the driveway so I pretty much knew that Mrs Davis was at work.  He pretended to act if if he was preparing to water the lawn, but as he did so it was quite apparent he was
more interested in my playing nearby than in his gardening.

A few weeks before I had been a bit stupid.  On the weekend he had a tendency to drink more than he should -- according to my Mom.  When he did so he was always a bit less obvious about the attention he would give to me when I was in my backyard.  One day, rather than pretend I did not know he was looking at me, I decided to give him a bit of a show.

The phone conversation seemed to be taking a while and Mr Davis started up an conversation.  It only took him a minute or two to invite me in for cookies.  I could not deny that his wife did make delicious cookies.  And I was quite certain I would have enjoyed these cookies.  But I was somewhat certain that Mr Davis was not inviting me inside for  cookies.

To be perfectly truthful, if the situation had been different, I might have accepted the invitation.  And not entirely because I wanted the treat of cookies.  The window of  my  upstairs bedroom was almost directly opposite the window of their upstairs bedroom. On those hot evenings when I choose to leave my window open, they often left felt the same need to leave their window open. I did not know a great deal about what they were doing, but I often found myself on thesee occasion what it would be like to be Mrs Davis.

      

It is not entirely unlikely that his invitation was totally innocent, that his wife had baked some cookies and that they were just sitting there in the kitchen tempting a young girl to eat more than she should. At the same time a part of me wondered if he wanted to do to me what he did to his wife. Could he? Would he? All I really knew is that on those nights that I was 'forced' to listen to him fucking her, those were the nights I most wanted to be a real girl.