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As the first leaves began to change and flutter to the ground, ushering in the arrival of fall, I found my mind wandering to the young man who lived next door. Not the balding, middle-aged father, but his handsome college-aged son.

One crisp September evening, I saw the boy unloading boxes from his car after returning home for a visit. I pretended not to notice him as I bent over to adjust my flower pots on the porch, intentionally giving him quite a view. He stumbled and nearly dropped a box, his eyes locked on the generous slope of my breasts.

The next day, I appeared at his door with an apple pie, claiming it was a “Welcome Home” gesture. He invited me in and I made sure to “accidentally” brush against him as I passed by. Our bodies touched ever so briefly, but the spark between us could have lit a fire.

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