Just Good Neighbours - A Short Story

I've failed to suppress the latent eroticism in this short story, the first I've let outside. It’s no less daring for being written from a woman’s point of view.

Most of the time I suppress any hint of eroticism in my writing. Occasionally I don't. This short story – the first I've let outside – is an example of the latter, made no less daring by being narrated from a woman’s point of view.

Maybe I'm indulging myself, as it’s my birthday soon; or perhaps it escaped, after bubbling underneath with no obvious outlet at a poetry evening or writing workshop. Or, just maybe, it's for a more deep-seated purpose. After all, my plans are in place, words are being written, but success is still only a dream. Improving the chances of success should be a worthy goal for any writer. So here I am: Chancing something, trying to determine the fate of similar approaches in advance. So I can listen, adapt, improve or even reject.

I hope I’ve risen sufficiently to the challenge. Am I being brave, or perhaps naïve? The story may be to your taste, it may not. But you won’t know until you read it. I hope it’s not obvious a mere man wrote it. But, if it is, I want to hear what gave me away. Use a public comment, or whisper it in my ear, but please tell me. I need to know, even if those others don’t…