Her Neighbor’s Pleasure – Excerpt

Written by Shosha Pearl. Shosha Pearl writes Orthodox erotic romance where the sexy stuff conforms with Jewish law. She has recently published her new novella, ‘Her Neighbor’s Pleasure’, which traces the story of Esther – teacher, mother and rabbi’s wife – who undergoes a sexual awakening when she accidentally witnesses her neighbors having sex. The following extract comes comes from ‘Her Neighbor’s Pleasure’. The full story can be found (for FREE) on most online retail platforms. To find out more about Shosha Pearl visit www.shoshapearl.com, follow her @shoshapearl or visit her on Facebook. Click here to read more Jewrotica writing by Shosha Pearl.

Heavy rain beat down on the van, pummeling its windscreen. Esther could barely see more than a few feet in front of her. She crawled down the narrow driveway and waited behind two cars, each one taking its time to swipe security cards at the barrier; the boom gate slowly rising to let them in. It was a relief to move forward, to edge inside the entrance to the underground car park. The thunderous beating of rain on the roof of her van ceased in an instant; suddenly the world seemed so quiet.

Water dripped across Esther’s arm as she lowered her car window and reached out to swipe her card. “We’re home little one,” she called to her passenger in the back. Noticing his silence, Esther turned to see that her son had fallen asleep in his car seat. Ever since Meir was a baby, the sound of rain had lulled him to sleep. She glanced several times in her rear mirror during the crawl down the descending darkness into the below ground car park; he was breathing slowly and heavily.

Esther and Sholem’s apartment had two parking bays on the second basement level; Esther pulled into the one on the right. It took a few minutes to get Meir out of his safety straps and into the pusher. Once he was securely fastened, she removed the shopping bags from the back of the van, leaving them in a pile on the ground, next to her sleeping baby. There was a lot to carry. If her husband had still been home she would have called him to come down to help her, but his car wasn’t there, which meant he must have gone out already.

“Do you need any help?” Esther heard a man’s voice from behind. He stood next to a small blue sedan in a parking bay a few rows across and paused before moving towards her. Tall and blond, the man had a tan that seemed almost golden in the fluorescent light. As he came a little closer she felt there was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t place him. He picked up the bags before she had made up her mind about whether to accept his offer of help.

“That’s very nice of you,” she said. “But weren’t you on your way out?”

“I was, but there’s no rush. I was going to pick up my wife, but I’m early, so I’d have to wait for her anyway,” he said.

The bags looked heavy in his grip. She’d either have to accept his offer and move to the elevator or politely decline; either way, she needed to do it now. A part of her brain told her it wasn’t right to accept help from a stranger, especially as a religious Jewish woman. It probably wasn’t the safest idea either. But there was something so pleasant about him and the casual way he waited made the idea of refusing his help seem silly. Perhaps it wasn’t a sensible idea, but she was tired and it would be such a struggle without him.

“It’s really very kind of you,” she said, pushing her sleeping son away from the car towards the elevator behind them.

It took a few minutes for the elevator to come. Inside, once the doors had closed, Esther began to feel self-conscious. The lights were bright, but the space felt small and inappropriately intimate. She caught herself running her eyes along this stranger’s arms, noticing the way his biceps seemed to be flexing; the fullness of his chest muscles. He must have been about her age, although perhaps he was a year or two older and closer to thirty.

“You live here?” she asked.

“Yeah, we moved here a few months ago,” he said. “We just got married.”

“Congratulations,” Esther said. “And welcome.”

She had been about to say “mazel tov”, which would have been her normal response to hearing this sort of information from anyone in the community. There were many Jewish families living in these apartments – they lived close to the Jewish schools and shuls – but Esther doubted that this particular neighbor was Jewish.

She had the key ready when they reached the floor to her home. Her apartment was a few doors down a beige corridor; its speckled brown carpet designed to conceal as much dirt and wear as possible.

“This looks exactly the same as our building,” he said as she turned the key in the lock. His voice felt close behind her.

“Please, just drop them on the kitchen floor,” she told him. Inside, the apartment was more subdued than usual. The storm was still raging and the light that streamed through the windows seemed more suited to early evening than lunchtime. “I really appreciate your help,” she said, pausing to leave the front door open.

He stood straight after placing the bags on the tiled floor, looking around the apartment, crammed full of furniture and toys. Esther saw their home through this stranger’s eyes, noticing the pile of Hebrew books sitting on the table; the many Jewish ornaments around the rooms; the toys spilling out of the children’s storage boxes in the corner of the living room.

“It’s amazing,” he said. “Our apartment is exactly the same shape and design, but we’ve hardly got anything in it. Yours feel so much more like a home.”

“Thank you,” she said. “It could be a little less chaotic.”

“No, it’s great,” he responded, moving towards the lounge room. “You can probably see our apartment from here,” he said. “That’s it over there.”

It was difficult to see through the driving rain where exactly he was pointing, but after a moment she managed to make out a set of dark windows immediately across from her own, no more than 60 or 70 yards away. At that moment Esther understood why this man seemed familiar; this was not the first time that she had seen him.

Standing beside him at the window, the rain streaming down the glass, Esther took a moment to gaze across at the buildings, thinking how many times she had watched this man and his wife through those windows. Theirs was one of the few apartments without blinds. They had wispy curtains that did little more than dance in a breeze and certainly did nothing to protect their privacy. It made her uncomfortable now, with him beside her, to think about just how often she had watched them. Esther hadn’t deliberately spied on them, but Meir was still not sleeping through the night, so she was often up in the darkness with her baby boy, looking out at nighttime movements in the neighboring buildings or down into the communal garden. Then she began to notice them at other times. It was usually by chance that they unwittingly drew her gaze – and when they did she would stop for a moment to watch. She liked to observe them eating or sitting in front of the television together, legs stretched out across each other. The rhythm of their daily lives was reassuring in its casual, easy intimacy. After a while, she felt like she was keeping abreast of friends.

Esther turned to her tall, handsome neighbor. He had been so generous with his help, but she wondered how he would feel if he knew that she had been spying on them. She knew she should feel guilty, but instead she was pleased to have the opportunity to witness him so close; to be able to fill in the detail of part of the picture she had been watching.

“I’d better be going or I’ll be late to collect Michelle – my wife,” he said, moving towards the door.

Esther followed him to the entrance. “Thank you so much for your help,” she said.

“Not at all,” he answered. “That’s what neighbors are for, right?”

Esther smiled as she went to close the door; a thought stopping her before it clicked shut. Stepping out into the corridor, she called to him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask your name.”

“It’s Jason,” he said.

“Jason,” she repeated the name to herself. “Very nice to meet you Jason – I’m Esther.”

Esther and her husband had guests coming that week for Friday night dinner and then they were entertaining again the next day for Shabbos lunch. Esther had finished grating the carrots and potatoes for kugels. She was making multiple portions – some she would freeze for another time. The mountain of carrot strands felt dry and wet simultaneously. She added beaten eggs, raisins, a long stream of honey, a touch of lemon, and some flour. She liked her carrot kugel to be sweet – very sweet. The ingredients began to form a mushy wholeness as she pushed them through her fingers. In the background, the ardent voice of an English rabbi was speaking in low tones. She couldn’t remember his name. He was young and upcoming, they said. A woman from shul had dropped the CD round, telling her how much she’d enjoyed listening to his lectures.

For the first five minutes of the recording her son played quietly in the room with his toys. Esther enjoyed being able to cook and listen as the rabbi spoke about ways to elevate the meaning of Shabbos. His material wasn’t new, but she liked the way he said it. Fairly soon, however, Meir was banging his toys on a pot. Esther walked over and turned off the CD.

Esther’s cell phone rang on the kitchen bench at exactly the moment she started pouring the carrot mix into baking trays. She let the last of the carrot bulk fall over the bowl’s edge and then moved her little finger across the screen, pressing the speakerphone icon. It was Tzipora.

“I’m so pleased you called!” said Esther. “Are you back home from the hospital?”

“Baruch Hashem, we’re home,” Tzipora said.

“How are you? How’s the baby?” Esther asked.

“Baruch Hashem, we’re all doing well,” Tzipora answered.

Esther’s hands were still covered in kugel; she wanted to rinse them but the sound of running water would have made it impossible to use her speakerphone. “Do you want me to pick up Simcha and Shlomo when I get Chaim from pre-school?” she asked. “I’m coming round anyway with some meals for you.”

“Oh, yes please,” Tzipora answered. Esther could hear the onset of a newborn cry coming through her phone. They both needed to go.

“He sounds hungry,” Esther said. “I’ll let you go.” As soon as the call was over, she washed her hands and slid the kugels into the oven. Meir was rubbing his eyes in the corner of the room. Esther looked at her watch; she had enough time to give Meir a nap, make the two chicken dishes, pick up Aviva from school and then get the boys.

That night, in a tiny quiet moment before sleep, Esther thought about her friend at home with a newborn. Tzipora was the same age as Esther. She had married more than a year before Esther, when Tzipora was still only eighteen. Tzipora’s husband, Osher, worked long hours and travelled a lot for his business, often leaving his wife at home alone with the children. It must have been difficult for her, but Tzipora seemed to manage somehow. She was an inspiration.

Tzipora’s five children filled a home in the way that Esther’s three did not quite. Esther wondered how it would be when, b’ezras Hashem, they too were a family of seven.

It was late Motsei Shabbos. Saturday night was merging into Sunday morning when Esther heard her son cry. He did not call loudly, but her eyes flashed open as soon as the first tentative sounds squeezed through the thin space between the door and its frame. Esther looked at her sleeping husband as she dropped her feet to the floor. Sholem’s skin seemed so clear and young in the blue-grey light that invaded their room from behind the blinds. He breathed lightly through a partially opened mouth without any sign of disturbance. She had never known a person could sleep as soundly as her husband did.

The apartment was warm, almost hot. Summer was beginning to take hold of the darkness as well as the day, and yet Esther slipped her feet into house slippers that padded softly along floorboards. She always wore slippers, whatever the weather.

There was milk prepared and ready in the refrigerator. The microwave door clicked a chunky, hollow sound and wheezed a little as the bottle turned in the yellow light. When it was done it made three short soprano beeps. Meir was standing in his cot; his plump fingers wrapped around the wooden bars, his brother sleeping soundly in the bed by the wall; their sister in the next room. “Here you are,” she said, handing him the warmed milk, “Lie down little one.” The teat was in his mouth instantly. She did not stay to watch him fall asleep; he settled faster when she was not there.

Already before she had left the kitchen, Esther’s mind had clicked into wakefulness. She knew from experience that she would not be able to sleep for a while so she would have to find something to do. Like most people in their chassidish community, Esther and Sholem had no television in their apartment. Sholem had received permission from the rosh yeshiva some years earlier for a computer with Internet access, but Esther had avoided using it for anything other than functional matters. She had no Facebook account; she didn’t shop online. In truth, she was a little afraid of the Internet.

Sometimes, if she could not sleep, Esther tried to read. Occasionally, she tended to the piles of laundry that she saved just for times like this, to be folded in the pale light that shone in from the communal garden. Often, however, she just sat and watched the movement of dark leaves, huddled together around heavy, ageing branches that stretched out over faceless figures returning to their homes. She watched the outside world and let her thoughts roll at their own pace.

Sitting in the silence of the night, a light flashing on in the apartment opposite immediately caught her attention. Unwittingly, Esther smiled as Michelle walked into her living room. A moment later Jason followed, removing his wife’s light summer coat and dropping it on a chair behind them. He looked different from afar – smaller, slighter, darker – but having seen him up close so recently allowed Esther to smooth out the differences of perception.

Michelle and Jason were standing close, almost swaying together, but without seeming to touch. And then Michelle moved forward. Esther watched in surprise as Michelle slid her hand between Jason’s thighs and kissed him. She knew she should turn away, but could not – even when the urgency with which Jason grabbed Michelle made Esther catch her breath. Esther saw Jason take Michelle’s face and push his mouth on hers with a force that seemed almost violent. But far from fleeing from her husband’s forceful advance, Michelle brought her body closer, pressing her pelvis against him. Through the thin veil of curtain, Esther saw her neighbors rub against one another in a slow, purposeful dance.

They continued in this way until Michelle eventually broke away. Standing back from her husband, she removed her dress, undoing the straps at each shoulder until it fell around her. She stood before her husband, swaying her hips, her dark underwear so brief that it was barely visible to Esther from where she sat. Fascinated, Esther watched Michelle lower her arms to unfasten and drop her bra.

Jason stood still, his focus entirely on his wife. Held still by a mix of fascination and horror, Esther’s eyes remained locked on her neighbors. But when Michelle released her husband’s erection from his trousers, Esther’s mouth dropped open in riveted horror. She knew she should turn away, that now she had gone too far. It was bad enough that she had become so complacent about watching her neighbors in their innocent domestic intimacy, but this was something else altogether. Esther knew that if she did not look away now she would be crossing the line into the taboo. A part of her even remembered that there was some sort of halocha forbidding Jews from watching animals have sex, which made her suspect that what she was doing was not only wrong but also forbidden. And still, she could not turn away.

Alone in the dark, Esther watched Michelle leisurely slide her panties to the floor. She bent her backside towards Jason, which he took as an invitation to advance. He grabbed his wife and pushed her forward, their momentum carrying them until Michelle’s outstretched hands landed against the barely curtained window. Jason had his naked wife pinned against the glass, her flesh forced against the window. Esther could see the paleness of her naked skin clearly; her pink nipples forming circles between the parted curtains.

Esther watched, captivated. In all her years of marriage she had not known intimacy could look like this, that it could take place outside the framework of a bed with sheets. Esther’s heart raced with excitement as Jason’s hands ranged all over Michelle’s body; she felt a rush of warmth between her legs when she saw him move his fingers around Michelle’s thigh and in between her folds, which – she realized with shock – seemed as bare and hairless as a child’s.

And then Esther heard her neighbor.

To invite the summer breeze through their apartment, Sholem had left a few small windows partially opened throughout their home. Through at least one of them now, the sound of her neighbor’s pleasure was travelling to greet her. Michelle’s high-pitched moan made Esther start. She could feel her own heat rising as the echoes of this woman’s desire began to assail her. Jason dropped to his knees behind Michelle. He raised his hands and drove fingers inside her, the call she uttered pinned Esther to the sofa. She was not sure if she was still breathing when she saw Jason slide himself through his wife’s thighs and plant his face upon her mound, having peeled Michelle’s pale skin from against the window. Her body moved to an upright position, her back arching against the pressure of his face between her legs.

Michelle cried out with pleasure. While Esther watched her cling to the curtains and battle against the assault of her husband, whose clothed back was now pressed against the window, she lay her own hand against the outside of her underwear, feeling the warmth that was emerging. Esther slid a finger underneath the wide elastic rim of her panties, and was startled at how much moisture was pouring from her.

Esther’s apartment was filled with wordless cries of intimacy. Worried the impassioned sounds would wake her family; she scanned the room for their entry point. She could see several open windows, but she was too scared to close any of them for fear of being spotted. Instead she sat there, glued to the sofa in a mix of anxiety and arousal, listening to the sounds grow to a crescendo.

Their curtains were now completely parted so that Esther could see everything without interference. Esther watched Jason withdraw from between his wife’s legs and position himself behind her, his trousers now sitting around his ankles. His hands were on her hips as Michelle leaned forward, head down, hands pressed against the glass and tilted her backside towards her husband. When he entered her, Michelle’s body jolted forward; her breasts hung roundly below her, trembling slightly with each of her husband’s thrusts.

And still the noises came into Esther’s apartment. “Oh yes, yes,” Michelle called. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard,” she continued. The language was shocking to Esther in its coarseness, but it seemed so right. And with each command, Jason increased his tempo; pushing harder and faster against her. His furious thrusts continued for minutes that seemed like hours to Esther, the woman who could not turn away.

Eventually, the moment arrived when Esther heard Jason’s cries above those of his wife. An audible burst of primal male exhalation rolled across the evening air, and hit her like a blow to the gut. Esther sucked in her breath in terrified excitement. She was aroused beyond her understanding and afraid of the desire gripping her body.

Long after Michelle and Jason had moved away from the window, their lights eventually fading, Esther sat in the darkness unable to move, her hand still inside the elastic of her underwear.