A new home; countless people move every day across the world. Some for work, some to grow a new life, and others just looking for a change. Whatever the reason we are looking for, people find a way into the lives of others, sometimes just by passing by.

New towns, new neighbors, that corner store, they bring us together, and give us a glimpse of a different life.

Even when you weren’t looking for more than a little change, you might just end up in the office of an Unrealtor, and find what you needed most. 

So, when the Devil gives you lemons…

The doorbell rang.

“I’m coming!” he shouted, not meaning to, but startled from what he was actually doing.

Ray’s heart skipped a beat.

He looked down at his exposed self, hand gripped around his member, he had been so enrapt in letting off a bit of steam after seeing that gorgeous redhead at the gym in her little lemon print shorts, he had lost track that he was still in the living room.

The curtain pulled shut, or not, it was a sheer material and the setting sun coming through from the kitchen window behind him meant anyone on the porch could see that someone was there. If not; thankfully; what he had been doing.

Ray quickly pulled up his pants, grabbed a towel from his gym bag, and wiped his hands off, before tossing it back.

He was for once glad he was not yet unpacked and picked up a box from in front of his bookshelf and shuffled to the door resting it on the wall at his waist to hide his erection and leaned back to open the door.

“Hi, hi, sorry I’m jus-” he stammered.

The woman in his doorway, it was her. That same cheeky smile she had eyed him up with at the gym, towering over him now here, the top of her headband just shy of his doorframe.

“Hi, oh… Did I catch you at a bad time hun?” She said in that southern drawl.

He nodded, then shook his head.

“No, sorry. I was just putting some stuff away, I just moved in.”

She had traded out her longsleeve sports top for a lowcut white dress covered in lemons, and an oversized open camisole sweater draped around her shoulders. Her dress hung loose, but only seemed to emphasize the mass of her bust, the material gathered just under her chest flowing freely was just like her shorts at the gym but in a slightly different pattern, lemons on a creamy yellow material. She shifted her shoulder the light brown cam slipping off one shoulder as she held up a white dish, tan skin, and no braline drawing his eyes like a beacon.

“Well that I did know, see,” she gestured with the dish, “I am yer neighbor hun. Names Rebecca, charmed.”

Ray stood up straight forgetting why he stood so awkwardly to begin with, just eager to greet her, the box tumbling from his grip, he winced and closed his eyes expecting the crushing weight of one of his boxes of books to strike him down in his hubris.

Yet, the weight startlingly never hit.

He opened his eyes to see this woman, Rebecca, bent over at the hip, one leg up in the air like a ballerina. One arm up high behind her still holding the casserole dish the other holding the box he dropped just hovering above his foot. And her eyes at his waistline, locked on his bulge.

It was quite the scene, to say the least. Especially as an errant breeze came through the door and blew her lemon-patterned dress down over her head like a veil to reveal she wore a pair of salmon pink boy-cut shorts with a bright yellow lemon on each cheek.

As she was, she now found herself flashing two old ladies walking the street who stood there looking very harassed.

Rebecca stood slowly, handing him his box and then the casserole dish.

“Uh, thanks…,” he squeaked.

So much taller than him, he felt rather like he might shrink to nothing beneath the withering glare she roasted him with.

“You, uh, you’ve got uh,” he juggled the box and dish into one hand and reached up and flipped her dress back that had become tangled in her headband. “Um, so, I can’t tell you how-“

“Nope!” She threw the words at him and turned and started to walk across the lawn, flipping a cold, “Ladies,” to the old biddies, who were still both giving her scandalized looks.

“Sorry!’ Ray called.

“Nope!” Again, was all she said back though.

And Ray just waved at the ladies, who suddenly jumped and seemed to realize they had elsewhere to be.

“Well Ray, you f’d that up,” he lamented, closing the door, though it felt more like bad timing than anything.

He looked down at the casserole dish.

She had still left it.

He’d have to make it up to her when he brought it back.

He took it to the kitchen and opened the glass lid to find a still-warm apple cobbler.

“Damn,” he took a bite right away, he hadn’t had a dessert this good since he lived at home.