Nobody's Neighbors

"I'll listen better after an orgasm or three," she agreed.

He turned to feast on her sex and to position himself for her mouth. They played that way for a while, he fingering and licking her until she climaxed for him several times, she using decades of practice to bring him close to the edge and then back off. When the foreplay became too much for them, he rolled on his back, and she mounted him facing forward, offering him her breasts. She rode her man until he filled her.

They cuddled when they were done, molding to each other with the ease and comfort learned through half a lifetime of love.

Finally, she spoke. "What's this idea involving me?"

*****

"How do I look with red hair and green eyes?"

"The carpet doesn't match the curtains, ..."

"I'm wearing a thong, smart-ass, so you're the only one who will know THAT about me!" Amelia giggled.

"Good." He stood back to examine her critically. "You're stunning. Frankly, I doubt anyone will notice the wig with that sexy dress."

"It's not too short, is it?"

"You won't get arrested for wearing it, but it's definitely short. Those heels make your legs and butt look spectacular."

She fussed with the ends of Jonathan's glued-on mustache. "You're a sinister man of the night with these dark clothes and this shaggy black wig. A little shady, maybe even dangerous, the guy in the shadows at the casino. Too studly for a jeweler." She checked her own appearance again in the mirror. "I don't look too much like a hooker, do I?"

"Way too pretty and high class to be a hooker, baby. You look like a celebrity."

"The women back home called these fuck-me shoes. I didn't dress this slutty in college. It makes me feel naughty going bra-less in public."

He chuckled and pulled her close. "My baby feels naughty in fuck-me shoes? That sounds promising for later. Now, I need to get going. Please don't be nervous. Our plan should work. I checked the place yesterday afternoon. Security is a joke. We can abort right up until the end. Your cab will be here in fifteen minutes. Remember your car key. I love you." He kissed her, got in her vehicle, and drove away.

When the taxi dropped Amelia in front of the expensive Zurich night spot, she paused for a moment under the lights to smooth her little black dress against her curves. Jonathan stood where they agreed, around the corner of the building, out of sight of the parking valets. He flicked a cigarette lighter three times to let her know she should proceed. She strode toward the front door, well aware her assets bounced with her steps.

The two uniformed young men greeted her professionally, trying not to stare.

She played with a ringlet of lush auburn curls draped over one breast. "I'm meeting my husband. His video conference ran late, so I'll wait at the bar."

They both rushed to open the lobby doors for her.

She grabbed at her ear and gasped. "Oh no! My earring! Dammit! I knew the back was bad on that one, but I thought it would hold!" She plumped her boobs until they threatened to spill out. "If it fell in my dress, it went straight through." She squatted awkwardly on her haunches in her high heels, giving the valets a glimpse of her black lace thong. "Would you help me look for it? It's a tiny onyx stud-type earring. I know it's not valuable, but they're the last things my father gave me before he passed."

Both men pulled small flashlights from their vest pockets and got down on all fours to help her search for the non-existent missing earring. She faced the corner of the building where her husband lurked, and the valets faced her. They never saw Jonathan creep up and select a plain metal key from the board they were supposed to guard.

The gleaming vintage sports coupe burbled so softly into the night, traffic noises hid its mellow sound. A few minutes later, Amelia's cellphone rang. Faking a sob, she dug in her clutch purse and pulled out the phone and some tissues. "Hello?"

"Baby, you won't believe what I got. No one's following me. I wish you could see this beauty. It's a classic Jag, nicer than the one your dad owned. You'd love it, and you'd look sexy as hell riding in it. I'm halfway to the barn. It's time for part two of your act."

"Honey, I'm outside the restaurant," she wailed. "I lost one of my little onyx earrings. Two nice young parking valets helped me look for it, but we couldn't find it. It could have fallen off in the cab or on the street - I just don't know. They were all I had left of Daddy." She paused to sob loudly. "I'm too upset to have dinner now. I'm going home. I'll talk to you then."

"Nicely done," Jonathan said. "See you soon." He disconnected the call.

Still sobbing, she dabbed at her eyes. Then she thanked the young men for their help and wiggled to the curb to hail a cab, leaving the clueless valets to gossip about the experience.

At her instructions, the driver dropped her a few blocks away, near where Jonathan had parked her car. She drove to a secluded spot in the country. There, she stripped off her wig, dress, and heels and replaced them with jeans, bra, top, and sensible shoes from a backpack on the floor of the car. She folded the dress neatly, stowed the outfit in the bag along with her colored contact lenses, and drove to the old stone barn.

Jurgen met her outside. "Did you have problems?"

"None at all," she grinned. "Where's Jonathan?"

"He is upstairs, watching them strip the Jaguar. He said it ran perfectly, and everything appears to be in excellent condition. The car is a beautifully restored example of a 1971 V-12 model. Obviously we can not keep it as it is, but it seems almost a shame to break it down. But, as you Americans say, business is business. Follow me."

They went into the dismantling shop. The dark green car was on a lift, its front end stripped to the subframe. Men worked underneath it, air wrenches screaming.

Jonathan kissed his wife. "In a couple hours, those guys will have everything torn down and put away. The foreman made some calls. The engine and gearbox will be on a boat to Kuwait in the morning, the shell will be the base for a project downstairs, and a plane leaves for Venezuela tomorrow night with the wire wheels and the interior."

Amelia whispered, "Speaking of interiors, take me home and do things to mine."

*****

She rode in the passenger's seat of her car for the drive back to their villa. "I felt so slutty at the restaurant."

Jonathan chuckled. "Those boys had no clue I was there. I bet they caught hell when the poor bastard who owned that XKE asked for his car."

"They seemed like nice young men. I hope they don't get in a lot of trouble. They tried so hard to help me look for that earring, but all they could do was look up my dress."

"I can't blame them, honey. It's a very nice view."

"Jonathan? Is it bad that I kinda liked them looking at me?"

"No. The whole idea was to distract them. If you liked flashing them, so much the better."

"Pulling a job again excited me. We always worked with stealth before, both of us hiding in the shadows. This was a whole new kind of thrill. We never had me out in the open as a distraction. Dressing like that, knowing I had to seduce the eyes of two men - it made me nervous but turned me on. I wasn't sure it would work. I didn't think they'd like an old woman."

"Old woman?" Jonathan chuckled. "To those kids you're a cougar. Young guys fantasize about someone like you. You're beautiful, and you have a better body than a lot of girls half your age."

"It was obvious they tried not to stare, but they couldn't help themselves. Being down on my haunches flashing them like that sorta made me wet, just like I am now. I need sex."

"Is that so?"

She reached across the console and fondled him through his slacks. "It is."

"Maybe I should do what I think you fantasized about those young men doing."

"What's that?"

"You'll see." He didn't move her hand away, but he said nothing more until they were parked safely in their garage. He opened her door for her like he always did, but this time he grabbed her arm and hauled her out of her seat. "Take your jeans off."

"Excuse me?"

He pressed her against the car and kissed her with force. He gripped her breasts firmly, squeezing them through her top and bra. "Take those damn jeans off. Now."

"Ooh, Jonathan!" she grinned, fumbling with the top button and zipper.

When she had them loose, he took over. He yanked her pants down to her ankles, turned her, and pushed her against the side of her car. "Bend over."

She was visibly moist when he pulled her thong aside, wet enough he knew he could have forced his way in fast. He considered it briefly. When Amelia got like this she wanted it deep and hard first. The tender stuff would wait till later in the bedroom. He worked his engorged penis from his pants and spanked her round buttocks with it. "You want it, don't you, dick-teaser?"

She wiggled her hips. "You see how I'm leaking. What do you think?"

"I think those valets missed out on a good thing." He began to enter her, and she pushed back to accept him, working to open herself for his insertion. It took little time for them to establish a firm, fast rhythm.

"Oh, dear God, Jonathan, this is what I needed," she grunted, helping him to push deeper inside her.

"We're only getting started," he replied, and he smacked her buttock loudly with his hand.

"Ouch! What the hell was that for?"

He thrust into her for a few more strokes and spanked her again. Then he pulled out, spun her around, and crushed her mouth with his in a rough, needful kiss. "The love pats? They were for talking me into this craziness and enjoying being slutty around those young men. What happens next is for putting up with me all these years." He kissed her deeply, more romantically then, holding her tight in his embrace.

She wrapped her arms behind his neck. "Who puts up with whom? It's your fault I'm this horny. Now, take me to bed and finish what you started. But get rid of that damn mustache and wig first."

"I love you, Amelia." He lifted her and carried her into the house.

*****

She woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Jonathan biting into an apple at the small table near the bedroom balcony doors. The sky outside was gray.

"Dreary morning, so I decided breakfast here watching you sleep would be nice," he said.

She yawned. "Did we really do that last night?"

"Did we really do what? And do you want juice? I can get some from downstairs."

She rubbed sleep from her eyes to focus. "You have fruit there, so I don't need juice." She got out of bed and shambled to the bathroom. When she joined him at the table in her robe, she answered him. "I was asking if I dreamed it, or if we really stole that Jaguar."

"What Jaguar? There's no Jaguar anymore."

"I must say those men were efficient. I don't know anything about tools or cars, but they were amazing to watch." She poured herself some coffee.

Jonathan grinned. "I thought maybe you were referring to you flashing your damp little thong at two university boys, or you grabbing my crotch on the way home, or how eager you were in the garage when I bent you over your car like a slut."

"No, I know that part was real. So was the way you ate me on the kitchen island, the blow job I gave you when you sat down to take your shoes off in the same chair you're in now, the way you railed me when we finally got in bed, and the cuddle-sex we had before we fell asleep."

"I'm not embarrassed to say you wore me out, baby," he laughed.

"Too worn out to join me in the shower after breakfast?"

"Did I say that?"

She grinned and peeled an orange. "Establishing a pattern will make it easier to get caught, so we can't steal the next car that way."

"Next car? Oh, hell, no. Last night was fun, but it should be a one-time deal."

"No one likes a quitter, dear. We didn't get where we are by giving up. The valet gag worked, but we can't use it again for a while. Too bad, since it got me all hot and bothered."

"You really want to steal another car?"

"Why not? I know we didn't make money, but it was amazingly easy, and it was exciting, wasn't it?"

"The celebration sure was."

"So?"

"So, no. It's bad enough we did it once. I don't like it," Jonathan stated.

"What's not to like?"

"Risk." He brought up an article from a Zurich news service's English website and turned his tablet so she could see. "Read this."

"'Valets were possibly distracted by a redhead in her thirties.' My God, honey! Her thirties?"

He shrugged.

She ignored him to continue reading. "Hmm. Wait a second. The theft wasn't reported until midnight. The valets swear at least one of them was watching the board with the keys except when the redhead was there, and they say that was around nine." She laughed. "I got there at eight like we planned, and you called me ten minutes later from the road. Oh, and listen to this! It also says they insist the redhead couldn't have stolen the key to the Jag, because they were with her, helping her the whole time."

She pushed the tablet back to her husband. "We're fine, honey. The kids are confused or lying to cover their butts. No one saw you drive away. The Jag could have actually been stolen any time over a four hour period. In other words, they don't have a clue what happened. The redheaded slut thing won't work again, but that can't be the only way to steal a car. We're both intelligent. Let's brainstorm after our shower."

*****

Several months later, the Wagners left Lucerne at dawn headed for the Hohwald resort near Beatenberg. Snow squalls lashed the road but gave way to cold sun by the time Jonathan and Amelia boarded a lift to the top of the slope. They were both experienced skiers, comfortable on far more challenging hills than this, but the resort was full of cars, many more interesting than the slightly ratty Range Rover they rented for the trip.

After stowing their gear in the SUV, knit ski caps and wigs they wore when they arrived in town partially disguising them, they checked out the local stores. Then, they found a place to park and settled in to wait, Amelia using the sun visor mirror to put in brown contact lenses and apply more of a shade of eye shadow she didn't normally wear. At a snowboard shop they spotted their prey. A flashy red BMW parked a little way down the street, and a young couple adorned in far too much car logo apparel got out and walked to the store.

Jonathan squeezed his wife's arm, the firmness of his grip betraying his nervousness. "If they each have a key fob, we need them both. I don't know if there's a remote immobilizer feature in the fob itself, and I don't want to learn the hard way. If this goes wrong, it was your crazy idea. Remember that."

She lifted his hand for a kiss. "You worry too much, honey. If this goes right, you'll need Viagra." She got out of the SUV and strolled to the shop.

Jonathan made a brief phone call to be sure the truck and crew were in place and then followed his wife into the store. He didn't acknowledge her inside where she examined a display of snow pants. The only cameras were at the door and the cash register, as though the storekeeper feared burglary or hold-up more than shoplifting. Perfect.

Amelia shadowed the female mark and approached her when she stopped to admire some boots on display. "You don't want those," she said.

The girl seemed a little startled by the raven-haired woman who had appeared next to her. "Why not?"

"Look at the seams in the lining. Cute colors, but second rate craftsmanship. Check these boots over here. They're not as trendy, but people who matter will know you bought quality." Amelia guided the young woman away from her boyfriend, checked her surroundings, and stole the girl's electronic key fob from her open designer bag.

Jonathan wandered to the rack where the young man was inspecting jackets and began looking at them himself. "These are nice. They should be for that money. I bought new snowboarding clothes least season, but the prices have gone up."

"My girlfriend and I only buy the best," the impeccably groomed young man replied. "We never did winter sports, but some friends told us snowboarding is fun. We came here this weekend to try it. Do you think this jacket is warm enough?"

"I wore the same thing in Colorado last year. With proper undergarments you'll be fine. Try it on."

The young man shed his coat, BMW scarf, and matching logo beanie and draped them over the rack.

Jonathan held the jacket to help him slip it on. "Any hardcore snowboarder will tell you that's a damn fine garment. They make a full ladies' line of apparel too. It's THE prestige brand in the sport these days, and it looks great on you. Go check yourself in the mirror." When no one but Amelia was watching, Jonathan removed the contents of the man's discarded coat pocket.

The mirror was near the front of the store. Jonathan stayed out of camera view and remarked to the shopkeeper, "The jacket is perfect on him, isn't it? He's a first-timer. He and his girl need everything."

The store owner quickly took the trendy couple in hand to try to sell them his most expensive merchandise. Amelia slipped her pilfered treasure to her husband and then busied herself at a display of snowboards where she could see out the front window. When Jonathan drove safely away in the BMW, she waited for another customer to exit the store and nonchalantly walked out behind him. She window-shopped her way to the Range Rover, checking to see if she was being followed, and called her husband. "I'm getting in the rental car now. Where are you?"

"Almost to the truck. I'll text you coordinates. It's about five kilometers south of town. Don't draw attention to yourself, but get here as soon as you can."

By the time she caught up with Jonathan, the BMW's security, immobilization, and tracking systems were disabled, and the car was in an enclosed van on its way to the chop shop outside Zurich. The Wagners stuffed their wigs, caps, and ski jackets into a duffel bag and put on other coats. Amelia scrubbed off her harsh make-up and got rid of her lenses, and they headed toward Lucerne in their nondescript rented SUV.

She was flush with success. "We did it! Those two were so caught up in making a fashion statement they never knew what happened. They were both in fitting rooms with mountains of clothing when I left the store."

Jonathan was sullen. "Dumbest damn thing we ever did. We definitely can't pull that caper again. They know our faces if they were paying any attention at all. They know we have American accents. Do you realize how easily we could have gotten caught? I drove a stolen vehicle past a damn canton cop car with TWO officers in it on the way to the truck, for God's sake! They didn't look at me, but that was stupidly high risk. I don't know how you talked me into it."

"Oh, for pity's sake, honey! If that couple has even figured out their fancy little car is gone by now, it doesn't matter. You know why? Because we planned this, Jonathan."

"It was an insane plan."

"No, it wasn't, dammit. It worked perfectly. The car is in a truck going to the shop. We wore gloves the whole time. We kept our heads down for the cameras. We can't hide being Americans - that's why there's a fake Squaw Mountain season pass on my ski jacket. So what? There are tons of Americans at every ski resort in Europe."

"Maybe, but they're not all damn car thieves!"

"Jonathan, the only thing connecting us to the theft is the crap in the duffel bag, and we can throw the whole thing in the furnace when we get home if it will make you feel better. When they figure out how the car was stolen they'll be looking for a woman dressed like some goth girl and a man with strawberry blond hair peeking out from his cap driving a new BMW, not a respectable middle aged couple in a crappy Range Rover."