Coffee. That’s what Earl was here for. He was sitting patiently at this blonde’s table, picking at his nails. He watched as Vic hauled his equipment off, scuba-ready. He was going to look for his car, the car that Earl had accidentally pushed into the swamp while trying to prove Vic wrong.

“Y- Y’know.. Mrs. Warren used to bake bread here,” he tried to distract himself by speaking about the past owners of the house next to his. “I could smell it all the way to my house.” But Earl was quickly cut off at the sound of a zipper. Vic had unzipped his wetsuit’s small zipper, revealing his chest. He made sure Earl was watching, unclasping the crotch guard and not flinching when it clattered against the floor.

Shit, Earl felt like he was being seduced. The shorts of the wetsuit were itty bitty, only reaching barely halfway down Vic’s thighs. This tight, black outfit left very little to the imagination.

“Uhm..”

The older man cleared his throat, looking at his neighbor and trying to ignore the feeling stirring in his jeans. Why was he feeling this way? God-.. He felt weird about watching his thirty-year-old neighbor undress, at his age of forty-nine.