skip to Main Content

Old Bob

Old Bob

By Fiona69m

Misha becomes more interested in her elderly neighbour.


Misha had just made herself a grilled chicken salad topped off with on-the-vine cherry tomatoes. She had taken a break from the financial report she had started yesterday for the impending external audit that had given her so many worries recently.

She thought working on it from home when her husband Ken was at work would make for less distraction, and she would be able to finish and recheck it in a couple of days, as opposed to the week she had set herself at the company’s main office. Working at home was something she hadn’t done before.

Sitting at the small kitchen breakfast bar with her mineral water and lunch, she flicked on her old radio and enjoyed some tunes while replenishing her strength.

She was halfway through when she saw Bob next door go into his old work shed. She hated the old crummy hut, as it was impossible to miss from several of her own house’s windows. The hut had caused a few arguments between her and her elderly neighbours, which had festered and resulted in them not talking to one another for the last two years. Not even the death of Linda, Bob’s wife had eased any tensions.

But somehow she felt sorry for old Bob today. He was struggling up the small garden path with his weeding tools after reappearing from his hut.

Misha had noticed him yesterday at the same time while she had stopped for a quick bite and to listen to some soothing music. She had noticed how she had at first just caught a glimpse of him going into that hut, then found herself watching him more and more as he pottered about his small vegetable patch.

Today she found it the same. The radio blended into the background and she noticed only silence as she watched her neighbour in his garden.

As Misha opened the side door to her kitchen, she nervously looked over the fence.

“Fancy a coffee?” she offered.

Old Bob looked startled. Her heart jumped as she worried she had scared the old man.

“Err, no thank you.”

She felt she had to try harder.

“Oh, come on now, Bob. I make a mean coffee.”

She smiled as kindly as she could. Bob seemed to fight with himself, as if asking if it was okay to make eye contact with her.

“If it’s not too much trouble, Misha.”

Misha slipped back into the house and clicked the kettle on. She continued to watch Bob as he set about the gardening again, while her hands busily prepared the cup and coffee.

Less than five minutes later, Misha was stepping over her slabbed patio towards the fence. (Ken and she were far too busy to bother with gardening.)

Bob had come over to meet her

She made sure she made eye contact with him.

“you’re welcome.”

She waited for him to sip the black drink.


She waited and watched his puzzled look.

“Do I make a mean coffee?”

Bob glanced down to the cup.

“Oh, yes, yes. Very nice, my dear.”

She didn’t know why, but at the mention of “my dear” she had felt a little light-headed.

Bob arched back and with his free hand pressed it to the lower of his back. 

“You okay?”

Misha found herself genuinely concerned about her neighbour.

“Just getting old, my dear.”

Again, the same feeling with the same words

“You know I’m sixty-six this year?”

Misha was impressed.

“I didn’t know that.”

She somehow seemed to be unable to judge if he looked his age. Sure, she knew he was in his sixties but now, up close, he looked good, and not just good for his age. He looked good!

“I believe you just had a birthday. Last month, was it?”

He startled her from her deep thoughts.

“Oh yes, Ken took me away for my big three O.”

Bob pursed his lips and nodded his head in approval.

She found herself watching his face, trying to gauge his reaction to her being thirty. Most people would guess mid-twenties, but her petite blonde frame made her look younger.

“This gardening is becoming a chore. There was a time when I loved it, but it’s a bit much on my old bones now, my dear.”

This time there was less light-headedness and more of a tingle that ran from the nape of her neck down her back.

She looked him over again. He looked healthier than she could ever remember him looking. She also never remembered him being handsome before, even from old pictures when he was in his teens and early

“You need to take it easy.”

She said it, but that wasn’t what she was actually thinking, what she really thought was
, ‘whatever you’re doing, keep doing it, because you’re looking great!’

God! This was her pensioner neighbour, and she found herself having a liking for him.

“It won’t do itself.”

He smiled at her.

Misha looked back to the side door. She really needed to finish her report.

Bob puffed as he bent down and pulled a weed from beside the path.

Misha looked back at Bob.

“Look…sit down on that bench. Just tell me if I’m doing it right.”

She clambered over the fence, all the while trying to regain her composure. She was annoyed she hadn’t managed it more elegantly than she had.

Over the next hour, she followed Bob’s instructions as she continued to de-weed and tidy the small path. She wished she had chosen to wear something other than shorts and a t-shirt.

“When’s Ken due home?”

She had forgotten all about Ken, and not just coming home. She had forgotten she was married and she was in this neighbour’s garden, a neighbour she hadn’t spoken to in years. What was she doing? She had the most important report of her career to do and she was gardening! She didn’t do gardening. She hated it.

“My dear, are you okay?”

Suddenly, her worry was gone. She was ahead with the report and she was doing a neighbourly deed for Hot Bob. ‘Oh my god, Hot Bob. Where did that come from?’ She giggled at the thought.

“I’m fine. You want anything else done?” She was actually offering to do more. She wanted to do more.

“No, I think that’s enough. You’d better go home before Ken comes back. We don’t want him thinking something is going on between us.”

He laughed and so did she. After all, she was only being neighbourly.

Misha had just passed yesterday off as being a good neighbour, and possibly feeling guilty about being harsh on the old man next door. Still, when Ken had asked her how the report was coming, she said it had taken up her full day. She deliberately left out the gardening and the conversation with their next-door neighbour.

Ken left before eight, as usual, and she decided to get up and start early, as well. After showering, she changed into a silk nightie and sat in front of the laptop. She studied the near-complete document but found it hard to concentrate.

She decided after twenty minutes that maybe it was still too early, and she would have a coffee to wake herself up.

Clicking on the kettle, she flicked on the radio. She leaned forward on the counter, waiting for the kettle to boil.

The figure of Bob coming down the tidy little path they had worked on yesterday caught her attention. He waved, and she instinctively waved back, worrying about how underdressed and inappropriate her nightie was.

Again he disappeared into the hut and she returned her attention to the kettle. The next couple of minutes melted away as the music faded into the background and her attention was on Bob kneeling by the hut.

She was caught off guard as he suddenly looked over and held one finger up before mouthing, ‘Do you have a minute?’

Suddenly Bob was Hot Bob, again. If he hadn’t told her his age she would have guessed there were only days between him and her. She panicked about her apparel but decided to open the side door.

“Everything all right?” she called, while as much behind the door as she could hide.

“Do you know anything about these?”

She stood on her tiptoes to try and see. “I’ll get dressed and come and have a look if you like…”

He looked from her and back to what it was he had. “It’s okay, my dear. If you don’t have time, it’s fine.”

‘Damn.’ The tingle ran down her back. He wanted her to take a look at what it was he had. No time to dress, she took a deep breath and straightened up, which pushed her pert little breasts out against the silk of her nightie. She hoped he wouldn’t notice the shape of her nipples if she was too close.

“What you got?”

She walked over to the fence. She knew the other neighbours wouldn’t be able to see in because of the angle of the houses and a few large trees at the other side. That’s why she had chosen to climb the fence, yesterday.

“a vacuum. Can’t seem to work out how this bag-less thing works.”

Although she hated housework herself and hired a cleaner twice a week, she tried to explain how the clips released, and the whole center part half-turned and pulled out. She found herself slightly agitated. She was aware of the report she still had to complete, and helping someone with housework was just not her thing.

“That’s okay, my dear. I’m sure I will manage it.”

The tingle was unbelievably relaxing.

“Hold on, Bob. A man like you shouldn’t need to do housework. That’s what women are here for.”

She knew she had said it, but she also didn’t believe it,…did she? She was sure she didn’t feel that way, yesterday.

“Oh really, my dear. You don’t think men should clean houses?”

Again, the tingle.

“Not at all. Women should do all that. Men are too busy to worry about that stuff. Now…let’s see if we can get this cleaned out and working again, shall we?”

In silk nightie and nothing else, she climbed the fence again and almost mechanically snapped the cover back in place before picking the vacuum up and following Bob into the house.

Over the next five hours, she scrubbed, dusted, vacuumed, and tidied harder than she had ever done before in her own house. Bob had watched her go about the renovation in the short nightie, and she could tell he had enjoyed the show.

She even made his dinner before going back home and showering. She knew she was now behind with the report, and the rest of the night became a worry. She had left it ’til the last day and would have to rush it.

Ken had left as usual, and she was alone. She knew it was a perfect time to pick up some kind of pace on the report.

She drained the last of her coffee and made to switch off the radio before she felt the tingle again.

She strangely found that she no longer had the same enthusiasm for finishing the report, the worry of it not being done no longer there…

She found herself back looking transfixed on the neighbour’s house.

She was sure she knew what was important now. The report, her job, none of it mattered anymore. Women weren’t meant to be in that world, they didn’t have the brains or the required patience for it.

No, what was important now was looking after your man; finding the best male specimen you can attract, and being the best female you can for him.

And Misha knew now the best specimen, the most perfect man wasn’t her husband. It was Bob Kosinski, the man next door, the man of her dreams.

To be continued…..

Back To Top