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Having to move in with your grandparents, at the ripe age of 28, wasn’t the worst part of your life right now as a struggling artist. It wasn’t the fact that you had become pretty much your grandparents’ home attendant, or the fact your parents wouldn’t take you back in because they had gotten use to an empty nest. The stress and rejection wasn’t great for anyone, but it was all peanuts compared to one little problem of your next door neighbor ruining your bedroom’s one window view on a near daily basis.
You were an artist! The lighting was totally shitty in that room to start with and the light that window could provide was a desperate resource for you. But you’d seen things on accident from that window, stuff that you couldn’t unsee. Things that also made you wonder if you were really losing your marbles.
You tried to be understanding at first, you’d been a teenager yourself once but how in the hell did that kid never have his blinds down when he chose to masturbate? How much could one preteen masturbate?! The first time you’d looked up at the wrong moment, you’d ruined 4 hours of work on a watercolor piece. The damn window just had to be eye level with your desk, and why did all these stupid suburban houses have to be the same cookie cutter designs? He could see right into your room and you into his! Didn’t he notice?
Then there was the weekend where….well you don’t know what exactly was in there with the boy but it seemed like some kind of sex toy? A robo cop sex bimbo? He didn’t stop humping the damn thing for a whole weekend! All your sketches turned out like garbage, as you refused to have your blinds open.
Then there were more times than you could remember seeing a space ship land next door? Or flashing green lights? Your grandparents didn’t seem to think anything strange about the Smiths, or maybe they were just too….unwell to notice. Too many pills for too many aliments, bad memory….bad hearing, and bad eye sight.
But it been almost 8 months since you moved in with them and you couldn’t take it anymore. You’d never gain any ground in improvements if you couldn’t keep your window blinds up, and you had no money to spare for enough lighting to fix your room’s issues.
Giving it one last chance, on a Saturday afternoon, your hand yanks the cord down hard for the blinds. You stare almost in a mindless state across the way for the moment. Of course it was the weekend, what else would the little punk be up to? You storm out of your room to confront your neighbors about the issue. You wouldn’t embarrass the kid personally but you could chew out his parents about it. After storming down the stairway, you’re out the door before the old folks can really be disturbed from their naps in the living room.
The Smith’s garage door is open, as you proceeded up the walkway to the front door. Ringing the doorbell first, you lean against the wall crossing your arms. Tapping one foot, with its rhythm picking up speed to match your growing irritation-you try knocking next. Still no one comes to the door.
Your knocking has caught the attention though of whoever was in the garage. “Come on I know someone has to be home, open up!” You start pounding your fist harder on the door, giving into your frustration and no longer caring if the true source of your problem even answered the door. You know he could hear you up there.
“Do you need something? Which family member of mine-“ a loud blech interrupted this line of question coming from some old man peering around the garage door, “has pissed you off? I bet it’s Jerry….fucking Jerry man. Or was it Su-“ You cut the slurring old geezer off, “Neither! Look um…Mr….Smi-“ You were cut off in return before you could finish by the lanky old man’s indifference turning to disgust, “Rick Sancez, I did not spawn an idiot like Jerry.”
You hold up your hands in front of you in defense, “Ok ok, man chill out. Someone has quite the disdain for the son-in-law.” You whispered that last remark, approaching him. Better to just get to the point and get away as fast as you could from this boozy smelling lab coat wearing old man, “I live next door, my room is across from your grandson’s. Can you make that kid close his blinds please? I can see….everything he’s up to. All the time, he never closes them for anything!” You swipe a hand over the side of your face to tuck some loose strands behind your ear and hide your eyes from the old man. Your face was quite pink and contorted by disgust.
“Why don’t you just tell my Morty off yourself? I’m not gonna tell the kid what he can and can’t do in his own space.” Rick unscrewed a flask he’d pulled from his lab coat pocket, and took a swing. “Besides,“ another lovely blech from him, “Why the hell does it matter? You have your own blinds don’t you?”
That line of questioning pulled forth a long winded explanation about your suffering craft and lighting problem. The more your passion for the issue vomited from your lips in form of complaints it seemed to bring out the worst enjoyment from Rick. “So you’re telling me-Morty is keeping you from reaching your full potential after you were suckered into paying for an art degree? I mean school is for stupid people anyhow but paying for college is outright ridiculous.” Rick seemed to be enjoying pulling any reaction out of you he could, or maybe that was his actual belief. You weren’t sure but that was enough to seal your opinion of the stuck up scientist.
You pushed past Rick, rather roughly which caught him off guard. Your strength was enough to knock him back a few steps as you retreated back to your own house. It would be several weeks before Rick saw you again, but he did start to take Morty out a bit more on adventures on the weekends during the day.
Rick sometimes saw you with a beer on the roof and he’d wave (laughing whenever you’d stick your nose up at him and pretend he wasn’t laughing at you), or he’d keep an eye out for a laugh when you opened your blinds to find his grandson ruining your view again. It shouldn’t have been as entertaining as it was, but your face was more animated than most. Maybe it was because you were an artsy type. When he’d had the party with Summer, much to the distress of Morty, he’d almost invited you over. He didn’t even know your name, not exactly. When he’d frozen time to save all their asses, after the party had gotten out of hand is when he really learned more about you. They’d been all over town during those months, messing with everyone they could find when not repairing the house. When the kids fell asleep though, Rick couldn’t exactly fall asleep all too easily at first along with them.
That’s when he started intruding into the home of the hot headed woman whose name he still didn’t quite know. He’d left her grandparents unpranked, he wasn’t a totally unreasonable douche after all. The house was littered with the relics of long times past, gross candy in glass bowls and a shit ton of medications but none of the fun ones. He found the girls room after snooping around downstairs. It was as dark and gloomy as she’d described. She was frozen in place on a stool, in a heavily stained baggy shirt and shorts. Crouched over some sketch, with a paint brush mid dip in a pot of Indian ink.
“So this is the crap Morty is ruining? Seems like a lot of fuss over nothing,” Rick left her that time with a shake of his head. Unable to see the appeal, he continued to come back several more times over the 6 months in which time had been frozen. He’d been a dick and snooped in whatever sketch books he found in her room, and the more he found the more he was starting to see the escape in her works.
It wasn’t that long after the near debacle with unfreezing time and nearly dying in the aftermath that Rick came to the conclusion to maybe nip the blinds issue in the bud. And maybe have some fun doing so in the process.
The summer had turned to early Autumn, when your most unpleasant neighbor unfortunately came knocking at your door. “Oh if it isn’t Mr. 20-going-on-one foot-in-the-grave-Sanchez,” your lip curls while you block the doorway from him entering the house, “A bit long winded but accurate,” Rick cuts off your attempt to brush him off. The air is heavy as neither of you make a move to gain or lose ground, “Do you need something? Last I checked I didn’t get a call from your family to be your nurse too,” you crack a remark towards Rick’s age hoping it sends the odd man off your porch. “Isn’t that Morty’s job anyway?”
“What a way to talk to the guy-Urrrp!—Whose here to fix your problem,” Rick gives you a smug smirk before shouldering past you without much effort. You don’t know exactly why you let him in without much of a fight but it had been awhile since you’d socialized with someone other than your own relatives, even if it was someone you didn’t particularly enjoy the company of. You followed after Rick suspicious of how he seemed to know his way through the house, as he went upstairs towards your bedroom.
“Do I really want to know why you know how to get to my room?” you asked Rick while crossing your arms tightly to your body, as he stepped over the threshold of the doorway. “You’ve seen me invite aliens over for house parties, my flying space ship and I’m sure other unsavory questionable acts of science from your puny window these last few months-and you think I can’t guess the layout of a cookie cutter suburban home?” Rick throws his thumb over one shoulder towards your window which faces Morty’s room. Blood rushes to the tips of your ears and apple of your cheeks from embarrassment and annoyance.
Rick yanked the blinds open and unlocked the window seal so he could shove it open, “Hey, but who am I to judge where a young fertile mind goes in terms of depravity.” The girl’s face shot up, twisting in his direction with the funniest look of shock. “Well am I wrong come on, I’m a pretty fascinating–Urrp!—specimen!” Rick teased her before glancing out the window and seeing Morty clear as day, beating it off. “Urgh gross,” Rick turned from the window back to her.
You had your hand over your brow like a visor, looking everywhere but at the window, “See what I mean! It’s awful. So what are you going to do about it?” Rick has moved close enough towards you, it’s begins to fray your nerves. “Rick seriously what are you doing to do about it?” you ask, and in return Rick only tugs your hand away by the wrist, surprising you with how strong and callused his fingers are. They feel more like the hands of man in his 30s, strong with a sense of purpose and direction. “Morty doesn’t learn from nagging. You could give him a show stopping lesson if you follow my lead,” his boozy breath tickles the flesh where your pulse resides, it’s rhythm gaining tempo.
“You can always say No,” Rick rattles on giving you a few moments to say so, but you don’t. You know you should say no but you are dangerously curious about the mad scientist’s idea. His mouth isn’t petal soft, they are chapped from his drinking habits. He’s brushed his lips over your inner wrist then down a ways to your elbow. His other arm snakes around your back to pull your body closer to his. You aren’t quite touching, he’s oddly more considerate than you would of guessed. He’s let your wrist go, so both of his hands can guide you by the waist towards your desk.
Rick pushes her body against the edge of the desk, easing her to sit on top of the surface. Her hands press into the wood top arms keeping her body leaned up towards his own, as he crouches over her form. His hands slid up from her hips to around the underside of her ribcage. From here he could cradle her back with one arm comfortable while the other darted towards her neck, turning her flushed nervous face back to meet his own gaze. “No?” he asks once more and isn’t stopped, again.
You haven’t been kissed like this ever, the way he held your body and guided you wasn’t sloppy in the slightest. It was almost like an artful dance lost to another generation. You let Rick do the leading, as he finally leans in to kiss you. Really kiss you. The kiss doesn’t taste as bad as you thought it could, wondering how much the man had to drink to have a permanent hint of Eau de ethanol to his scent. Your toes can hardly scrap the floor as the kiss deepens, with Rick exploring your mouth with his talented tongue. He’s leading you to lean back further and further against the desk and you let him.
Rick shifted between her legs, so he could press closer to her body as he posed them against the open window. His kisses moved to the crook of her neck, while hands moved to the buttons of her blouse. Once it was open, she even rolled her shoulders back to help him slip the fabric off her body faster. His lab coat was the next to go, along with his shirt. He stole a glance out the window unsurprised Morty was still up to no good.
Rick was a god with those hands and his mouth, but he wasn’t touching you in places you needed to be touched. He was driving your skin’s sensitivity to the breaking point for you with every nip at a clavicle or bruising your throat with a hungry kiss. You moved your leg over his hip, drawing his body in as close as you could. You could feel his erection against your other thigh, as he removed your bra tossing it towards his lab coat. “You like that?” he growled in one ear, before knotting a hand in your hair to drag you back down towards the desk. You have to squint against the sunlight as Rick continues to kiss down your throat, and rubs himself against the apex between your legs.
You moan as he’s finally kissing the side of one breast…..then trailing over to the other to give it the same treatment. You wonder for a moment where his hands have gone but the sun is too bright and the pleasure is too delicious to ignore. That’s when you heard it, some sort of loud bang across the yard.
Rick had reached for a contraption of his at one side of his belt. It would shoot a pellet a 100 yards away if need be and explode on contact with the most obnoxious bang. Pretty much just a parlor trick but it helped with needed distractions when trying to survive off world on weird planets.
You crack your eyes open wide enough to see across the yard the mortified expression on Morty’s face. He’s almost tripped over his pants trying to get to his window to yank the blinds down. Rick’s tongue is running over your neck, while a throaty laugh leaves him too. Finally those damn blinds are down, and Rick’s moved away from your body. “Satisfied?” Rick says, smirking down at you.
Usually Rick wasn’t one to leave in the middle of potential sex, but there was the more pressing matter of a few errands he needed to run in other galaxies and he calculated with certainty it would be more in his favor to leave her frustrated. This could be the start to a fun long running affair if he pushed the right buttons. “Not yet,” she was flushed, her voice breathy as she reached up to pull Rick back to her body but he wouldn’t let her win, “Too bad. That’s all I can give you today. I got those blinds down, that’s only one errand on my long list for today.” Rick drew out the word long as he pressed his length into her thigh one last time before pulling away.
You watched Rick redress, and shift his still hard member in a way to hide it until it would wilt, “That’s it?” you ask him hoarsely. “For now, I mean unless you want to beg me….” Rick grins heading for the door, those last words of his sent any lingering desire out of your body like an exorcised spirit.
Or that’s what you’d tell yourself after the old man’s left, still laid out flat on top of that desk-topless and frustrated and confused about your own desires. You almost had sex with a man god knows how many decades older than you, someone’s grandfather! An old man who knew how to grate on your nerves faster than a cheese grater tearing into a fresh piece of mozzarella, you should feel revolted at the idea! But you find your head turning back to look at the Smith’s house….catching Rick’s eye as he’s heading back to their garage. “Fuuuuuuuck me,” you groan, slapping your hands over your face in exacerbation-and you could swear you hear Rick’s voice in your head bleaching, ‘anytime’.