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Snob Appeal

"Snob next door finds she needs him to get out of a jam"

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"Damn! Another complaint from those bitchy neighbors."

Mike sped his truck toward the swanky north Dallas country club neighborhood where he was in process of building his most lavish custom home to date, a spectacular Mediterranean villa. At just thirty six years old and with four large custom houses in process and under contract, Mike felt his relatively new home building business was on track. He'd been excited when he got the opportunity to build on the last available lot in this ultra-exclusive country club community and had hoped it would lead to rich referrals. But it was quickly becoming his biggest headache. The neighborhood representative for the HOA lived next door and complained at the littlest things, so he had to spend half his time smoothing out things between the crews and the security guards.

"I almost feel sorry for the Connors'. They seem too nice to have to live next to all those snobby assholes," he thought.

He had gotten the call from the leader of his masonry crew, telling him that the guards had asked them to begin packing up their stuff shortly after four. By the time Mike got there, they had left.

"The HOA rules say that we can work until five on weekdays. Why did you make them leave early?" Mike asked the security guard.

"The orders came from upstairs," the guard said. "I was just doing my job. The rules say they can work until five. That means they have to be gone at five. So I'm supposed to come remind them to begin loading up their tools and cleaning up the site before then."

"It's never been interpreted that way before."

"Yeah, but I think the rich lady next door to your house is making a stink, and she's a big shot in the HOA and in the club. She's the president of the Women's Tennis league, and she's on the architectural oversight committee, and she has her nose in every other committee around here."

Mike could tell that the guard was sympathetic, but there was nothing he could do. This house was already behind schedule. Every time one crew finished late, the crew that was scheduled to come behind them would start on a different job, then the site would sit empty waiting on them. These bitchy neighbors were going to cost him money. Every month the bank charged interest on the construction loan.

"Damned housewives have way too much time on their hands!" complained Mike, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

At the time, Mike didn't know how tough the housing crash of 2007 was going to be. He was luckier than most builders; he had no inventory of lots, little overhead, and all his houses were under contract. Unfortunately, the Connors' contract fell through when their business became a victim of the recession. So Mike immediately put a FOR SALE sign up on both the house he was living in and in the expensive home he'd been building for the Connors', which was now almost complete. With nobody able to get financing for the expensive home, he decided to rent his small home, move into the large one, and hunker down as inexpensively as he could live until things returned to normal. He was able to get odd jobs remodeling or adding on to existing homes but nobody was building new homes.

"At least I've got a fabulous place to live, and as long as I'm careful I can wait out the market for years," he thought.

While Mike tried to be civil, waving to neighbors as he passed them in his truck or saw them at the club where he worked out, they avoided eye contact and acted like he didn't exist. So Mike was surprised to hear his doorbell ring one afternoon and even more surprised to see the beautiful woman waiting on his front step. He recognized her as the bitch next door, though he hadn't seen her close up before. She was startlingly beautiful, one of the most incredibly beautiful women he'd ever seen. She appeared to be in her mid thirties, had short blond hair and very blue eyes. Her tennis outfit showed off her fabulous figure, and she was wearing lots of expensive looking jewelry. Mike was temporarily unable to do anything but stare. Stepping forward, she leaned very close to Mike, stuck out her hand, looked into his eyes and said, "Hello. I'm Ronnie, your next door neighbor. I wanted to say hello."

"Oh. Hi," Mike stammered stupidly.

"What's your name?" the angel of beauty asked.

"Sorry, I'm Mike. Mike Curtis."

"Curtis Custom Homes?" she asked.

"Yes, that's me," said Mike.

"Well Mike, it's good to meet you. I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

She leaned in very close to Mike, almost overwhelming him with her nearness and the wonderful scent of her perfume.

"Sure," Mike said. "What can I do?"

"Well, my husband is out of town and something's wrong with the overhead lights in my kitchen. I had my yard man check the circuit breakers and they still don't work. You're an expert on homes. Can you take a look?"

Mike grabbed a voltmeter and a tool belt and went next door. When he went inside, he was amazed at what he saw. Mike had been proud of his home, but he couldn't believe the extravagance of this house, and all the expensive rugs, art and furniture in it. Ronnie led him into the kitchen, where he removed the switch plate and tested the light switch.

"Here's your problem, you have a bad light switch. I don't have one at the house that matches this one, but I can install a different one and pick up the right one tomorrow at Home Depot, if you'd like."

"Oooh, that would be so nice. I insist on paying you your normal rate."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Ronnie. These switches only cost a couple of bucks. I'll be right back."

Mike had a temporary replacement switch installed in no time, and Ronnie immediately escorted him to her door.

"I'm so glad to have a nice neighbor next door. I'll see you tomorrow," Ronnie said, shutting the door before Mike could respond.

Mike was no fool. He knew she had used him like a tool but he didn't care. He looked forward to seeing her even if only for a moment while changing the light switch the next day. She was so gorgeous. Unfortunately, when he showed up the maid answered the door and let him in. He replaced the switch in minutes, then left disappointed that he hadn't gotten to see Ronnie again.

So he was delighted to hear his doorbell ring a few weeks later, and see her on his doorstep again.

"Hello Mike," she said, standing very close to him and looking him in the eyes with those beautiful baby blues. She was wearing a pair of shorts, a polo shirt and sandals, with her usual complement of expensive jewelry. She looked and smelled absolutely incredible.

"Hi. What's up?" Mike asked.

"I was wondering if you could do me a big favor again," she asked. She could have asked him for anything and he would have done it, just to be near her. "I hate to ask, but my husband is such a klutz and he's always traveling, and you're so good with all this house stuff."

"Sure, what's wrong," Mike asked.

"My circuit breaker keeps tripping when I try to use my hair dryer. It used to do it every week or so, and I'd reset it. Now it does it all the time. I'm afraid there's something wrong with our wiring or something."

"I'll take a look," Mike said.

This time she led him into her master bathroom. Mike admired the beautiful stonework on the walk in shower, roman tub and his and hers vanities. He turned on her hair dryer, but nothing happened. He pushed the reset button on the GFCI plug and tried again. It worked for only a second before tripping again.

"Let me grab a new GFCI plug, and I'll be right back."

"Oh, thank you so much," Ronnie purred. "You're so smart."

Mike found the circuit breaker for the GFCI plugs, switched it off, then replaced the bad plug. Within minutes, he had fixed the problem. Before he left, Ronnie said, "While you're here, Mike, let me ask you a question. You know those lights you have in your yard? The ones that have kind of a blue-green tint to them? I wonder if you could recommend someone to install those in my back yard."

"I can take a look," Mike offered.

Going into the back yard, Mike was impressed with the beautiful landscaping, pool, waterfalls and spa. It was very private, with an eight foot high stone wall around the perimeter of the yard and mature shrubbery against the walls. The middle of the yard was open, allowing for a nice sunning deck around the pool. Mike saw a towel thrown over a chaise lounge and could tell from Ronnie's tan that she used it often. Man, would he have liked to have a view from his house, but there was no way. The yard was too private for him to see anything, even from his rooftop.

"This is really nice," Mike said. "The people who had contracted to buy my house next door had planned on doing something like this."

"Oh, is that why you're living there? The people didn't follow through on their contract?"

"Yeah, they lost too much business in this recession. It's too much house for one person, but I can't sell it right now. Jumbo loans are almost impossible to get."

Ronnie explained that she'd like to have some lighting to be able to enjoy her back yard in the evenings during the fall, when it got dark early, or on nights when they entertained. Mike told her that he could install mercury vapor lights high in the trees that would shine down, giving the yard a moonlit feel. He could also uplight some of the specimen shrubs or palms, if she wanted.

"I'm not a licensed electrician, but I can do the job myself and it would be less expensive. I wouldn't pull permits or anything. If you're okay with that, I can give you an estimate. I did the job at my house myself," Mike explained.

"That's perfect; we don't care about pulling permits. The county already assesses our house enough, our property taxes are unbelievably high," Ronnie said.

Mike sketched out a plan and gave Ronnie an estimate for the charges. He had a sample contract stored on his computer. He just had to put in the specs and get her to sign it. It called for half of the money as a deposit and half after the job was done. The contract was for $4000, so Ronnie counted out $2000 in one hundred dollar bills.

"You're not a big fan of checking accounts?" Mike asked.

"My husband is weird about that. He's from Mexico and he doesn't like paper trails for anything. We use cash for everything, even our utility bills, property taxes, and insurance."

"OK, well, I'll get the materials today and get started tomorrow. I might have to order some of the fixtures, but I'll start on the wiring at least."

"That explains a lot", Mike thought to himself as he was driving to his lighting distributor's warehouse store. "The guy's a Mexican national and he's obviously extremely wealthy. I only see him in town occasionally, I bet he's got a family in Mexico and this is just his concubine. Pretty expensive whore, but if anyone's worth it, she probably is. I'd sure like to get some of that. Or even just a look at it."

"WAIT A MINUTE," Mike thought. "Duh! I CAN get a look at it, at least out in the yard in a swim suit. That must be pretty spectacular."

After Mike finished buying the materials he needed from his lighting distributor, he drove over to the security distributor that provided closed circuit TV cameras, monitors and other equipment that his security conscious clients demanded.

"Hello Mike," said Randy, the owner of the store.

"Hey Randy. I need to get a few specialty items for a job. They want cameras in their yard, but they don't want them to be visible at all. Do you have any outdoor hidden cameras that still have high resolution and low lux?"

"Sure, let me get Dan to show you."

Mike had done plenty of CCTV work for clients to monitor their stores or houses but never had been asked about hidden cameras. There was a lot available. Some had enclosures, but Mike planned to use the enclosures that held the light ballasts and capacitors so there would be no extra boxes to arouse suspicion. He selected cameras that were motion activated so they wouldn't record while nobody was within view. While he was in the store something else caught his eye in the telephony section.

"How do these work," he asked, pointing to one of the products.

"You connect to a phone jack and it automatically records a data file on your computer every time someone makes or receives a call," Dan explained.

"I'll take one of those," Mike said.

"Put it on your account?" asked Randy, when he brought his cart to the register.

"Not this time," said Mike. "These are cash customers. They didn't want any record of this job, so they paid cash, and I'll do the same."

"Suit yourself, but if you want no trail, you can't use your sales tax ID. That means you have to pay sales tax," said Randy.

"That's the way the customer wanted it."

Mike spent a couple of hours sketching out the job on paper, then got permission from Ronnie to work in her back yard, laying flags where fixtures were to go, planning the trenching for wiring, and most importantly, deciding where to hide the cameras for the best view of the sunning deck and the spa. He considered the possibility of trying to hide a camera looking into her bedroom window, but decided it was way too risky.

Mike got an early start the next morning and got the trenching done before the afternoon heat. He installed the enclosures on the trees that would house the ballasts/capacitors and secretly house the cameras, along with their power transformers and transmitters. They had been painted dark brown to blend in with the tree trunk and from where they were installed you couldn't see the tiny pinhole that allowed the cameras to view the yard.

He installed a circuit breaker, hooked up a couple of the wires that would operate the cameras and took a break so he could check out the cameras. They transmitted wirelessly, so he could receive the signals from his house and see if the cameras needed to be directed differently. He had everything ready to go on his end; the receiver was connected to his computer and the software allowed him to switch from viewing the tanning area to the pool to the spa area. Everything was working perfectly; the cameras were auto-focus and they were directed perfectly. This was going to work better than he'd dared hope.

He felt like a pervert, as he'd never contemplated doing anything like this before, but he couldn't think about anything except the beautiful woman next door from the first time she'd shown up on his doorstep. He knew if he was caught he stood to lose everything; his reputation, money, even his freedom. But he was entirely unable to think of anything but watching this babe, unknown and unseen, as she lounged in her swimming suit. He was hopeful that she'd wear even less in the hot tub.

Everything was working out as planned. He'd use one circuit breaker to provide continuous power to the cameras and another circuit breaker to provide power to the switch for the landscape lights. He would buy some large, removable disk drives and install them on his computer to continuously record the video from the cameras, periodically deleting the parts he didn't want. His plan was to record for some weeks or months until he got plenty of good footage. Then he would go to service the lights he installed and remove the cameras and all traces that could get him in trouble. He figured his plan was foolproof.

The next step was the telephone. Ronnie spent almost every waking moment yapping into that telephone and Mike thought it would be fun to see what this little vixen talked about. He tapped into the network interface box, ran the line down to the ground and buried it in a shallow trench to his house. He ran it up into his Network box and connected it into an unused line going into his house. From there it was an easy matter to connect it to his computer, load the software that came with the box, and be able to listen in to any of her calls, either real time or a recorded version. He filled in the trench and raked mulch over it to conceal it. Then he cleaned up his mess, grabbed his tools and left for the day. He'd be able to finish tomorrow.

Over the next few days, it was almost impossible for Mike to get...

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Written by Sweetdreemz
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