#13 Here

This is a story of a quickly building relationship & romance, as the Stay-At-Home polices developed. One is a bit-too-cautious 36-year divorced man, who was laid off with half-pay. The other is a bubbly 25-year old young woman, and his upstairs neighbor, who is fighting the roller coaster of emotions of being attracted to him, but losing her job, her income, and maybe her apartment, and her future.

This is my late entry in the Covid-19 Contest, so please vote, if you read the whole story. I really appreciate comments, as they confirm, or add perspective to, my awareness of what this audience appreciates, or dislikes. However, pedantic nit-picking comments that do not comment on the storyline will be deleted.

For the few of you looking for lots of sex in the Romance Category; it's not here, either. The actual sex is at the very end of the story, is used for character development, and...well...is just too fun to write to leave out entirely.

Author reserves all rights, other than those ceded to Literotica.

*

After work, I parked my car in my assigned spot, under the steel-supported car cover. I had to wonder, once again, what designer's idea it was to have covered car parking in Arizona, which covered half the sidewalk in front of the car, and then left the hind third of the car exposed to the weather. And worse yet, with the angle of the sun, the whole back half of the car got roasted on hot days.

Thankfully, it was not that hot today, as it was only March 16^th. Yet, my mind was sweating with all the news about the spread of this corona virus thing, and all the talk at work about the owners cutting back or being shut down by rumored coming fed or state rules. If the business of carpet sales dried up, so would my commissions.

I fumbled through my bundle of keys to find that brass one with the sunrise-shaped holes in the top, and then used it to open my apartment door. I tossed my keys on the kitchen counter and then nearly dropped my backpack as I set it down next to the couch. Sighing heavily as I stood there, I blankly looked around my one-bedroom, ground-floor apartment.

Turning, I pulled my fingers through my too long hair as I wandered to the fridge. Staring into the half full fridge, I snatched a bottled margarita. The greatest benefit of not caring for beer was that I didn't have to choose among a zillion craft brands to choose what to stock at home. I tossed the twist cap at the recycling wastebasket, in which I kept the required clear bags, and of course, the cap landed a fraction short. I just watched in near disbelief as it then ricocheted off of the dishwasher, ran a circle around the floor on its edge, and then wobbled to a halt against the toe of my shoe.

"Et Tu, Brutus?" I growled, as I reached down, grabbed the bottle cap, and gave it a sharp fling into the recycling bin, where it settled into the depths with plinks and clanks off of the this week's bottles and cans.

Returning to the depressing potential future I had learned of today, I tried to wash the thoughts away with a solidly uttered "SHIT!", but found it only a partial relief. I slid the patio door open, and plopped into a patio chair, to the accompaniment of its mild screech as it shifted on the cement surface. I put my feet up on the footstool and slid it to me, which generated a loud squawk.

It was a particularly fragrant desert day, and the lovely smells fought to take the edge off of my gloom, as I continued trying to categorize my concerns about my future.

I enjoyed that my apartment was on the shady side of the building, and faced onto the main entry drive to the large apartment complex. And, at least it had a narrow view of the McDowell Mountain Range. I stretched my arms up and looked out from under the branches of the nearby palo verde tree, and around the branchless tower of the nearby flowering saguaro cactus.

As I stretched, my upstairs neighbor passed by in her silver Nissan Sentra. She glanced my way, gave a slightly startled look, and then immediately followed that with a brief smile and wave. I was only fast enough to smile back, before she was gone.

A few minutes later, as I sipped my bottle down to the mid-point, I heard the dull ringing of the outside, center-supported, cement stairs, and assumed that it was her that was heading upstairs. The distant thud of a front door, and then the sliding rumble of the patio door above me, confirmed the likelihood of my assumption.

In the almost two months she had been here, I had only seen her a few times, and just in glimpses. I'd never met her. What I had caught was dark, wavy hair, apparently nice features, and a figure that quite appealed to me, yet was a bit out of the norm. I say that because she was a taller, petite woman. She was slender with narrow hips, which yielded little taper at her waist. Her narrow build was stretched over her roughly 5' 7" height. Her breasts were not that large by general standards, but on her slender, straight frame, they were quite pronounced. And she moved in a lovely, fluid manner, which made it quite pleasant to watch her walk with those long legs.

The distraction of thinking of her was helping my mood. I listened to the rustle of her plastic chairs as she settled in above me. Soon, I was almost at the bottom of my margarita. That's when I heard the exclamation of "Damn It!" from above me, which was quickly followed by a thong sandal banging off of my metal railing, and slapping to a halt on my porch.

As I bent down to pick it up, I heard a lightly accented, "Sorry!" from above me. I stood, leaned out, and looked up at her apologetic face. Well, what I could see of her face, as it was half hidden by drooping hair, as she hung over the railing. Her hands reached down with wiggling, open fingers. I smiled, said, "Catch!" and then tossed her shoe upwards. She did an amazing juggling act before her shoe returned to me on the gravel just outside my railing.

"Shit!" she grumbled, before asking, "May I come down and get it?"

Certainly" I answered. I picked up the shoe and headed to my front door. When I heard the knock, I opened my door. That is when my concerns melted away...as well as my brains and manners. I was dumbstruck by the dancing, bottomless blue eyes that waited on my doorstep.

After whatever length of time had passed, she uttered a wary, "Hi" and extended her hand. Numbly, I put the shoe in her hand. She giggled, "I was going to shake your hand, but thank you for rescuing my shoe."

Finding it hard to break from the magnetic draw of her eyes, I finally stumbled, "Sorry! It's...it's just that..."

"My eyes," she interjected, "I get it a lot."

"Yeah, they're...Wow!...sorry, I am Nathan," I stammered, and extended my hand to shake.

She swapped the escaped shoe to her other hand, which already held her remaining shoe, and then shook mine with her surprisingly small hand, "I go by Keri," she smiled, before adding, "Nice to meet you. Sorry, but I have food heating, so I have to get back upstairs."

"Uh...sure," I said, as yet unable to pull my brain back from the depths of her eyes, even as they turned away when she reached down to slip on her shoes.

"Thanks, and bye!" she said with a giggle. That sound seemed as if it emanated from her crinkling eyes. She slipped away, and I stood there listening to the resonance of the stairs as she climbed, and then the sound of her closing door.

I closed my door, and wandered back into my kitchen, while still trying to shake off the influence of those eyes. I think she had a reasonably attractive face, and pleasant smile, but I wasn't really sure as I had been so fixed on her eyes, to the exclusion of nearly all else. I numbly picked out a frozen Supreme pizza, studied the back, and then set the oven to 450 degrees. I unwrapped the pizza and set it aside, as the oven preheated. Thinking ahead, I poured myself some Chardonnay wine, put a paper plate in a holder, and peeled off a paper towel. Standing, waiting, I suddenly remembered the pepper flakes and pulled out one of the extra packets I had gotten when I had brought home a pizza from the nearby Barro's restaurant. No way could this frozen pizza compete with a Barro's pizza; this frozen disc was simply a meal. I put it in the oven, pulled out the 'classy' cardboard tray, and then set the timer for 18 minutes.

Friday -- March 20^thThe word had come down that the carpet company owners felt that they had to close the showroom part of the business temporarily to follow the emerging corona virus guidelines, as well as for the societal wellbeing. Trying to be sympathetic to the plight of their sales staff, they told us that they would pay us half of what we had averaged each month, for January and February. And they would do that for the balance of March, the month of April, and plus May, if they didn't reopen.

So, on the 20^th, I found myself staying at home, and without a job to go to. Thankfully, I had some savings. Expecting to be staying at home for the month, or longer, I thought I should do some shopping to hold me over. Off to Costco I went, buying mostly Charmin toilet paper, Bounty paper towels, bottled water, paper plates, and frozen sirloin burger patties, as these were all great bargains. Plus, I was nearly out of all of them, as I had been procrastinating about standing in the long lines just for those few items. Getting back to the apartment, I stuffed these supplies into the laundry machine "closet", which is located off of my kitchen.

Full of ambition to succeed as a hermit, I next went to the local Basha's grocery and loaded up with all the frozen items that I thought I could stuff into my modest freezer, at the top of my refrigerator. Along with other fresh items, and refrigerated ones, I returned to play Jenga in my overfilled refrigerator. As I juggled items between the counter and refrigerator, I saw Keri's Sentra drive into the complex.

Shortly, I thought I had finally solved the food puzzle and had everything in the fridge, with no space to spare. As I stood there, studying my packing masterpiece, I heard rapid footsteps up the outside stairs. Suddenly, I remembered that I had wanted to leave out the sandwich I had bought for my dinner. Grumbling, I peeked into and prodded at the edges of my stuffed shelving, trying to find the clear, clamshell box it was in. Not finding it, I thought I may have, stupidly, left it in the car. I went out and, of course, found it sitting on the passenger seat.

As I walked back, I passed Keri's car, pinging as it cooled. She was lucky to have a parking space that was three spaces closer to our front doors, than my space. Walking down the open-air hallway to my unit, I happened to glance up. I saw a set of keys in the doorknob of Keri's door.

I put my turkey sandwich on my counter and went back outside. The fat bundle of keys was still there, so I went upstairs and knocked on her door, #213. Thinking of the newly suggested distancing guidelines, I took a few steps back. Not getting a response, I went up, knocked again, and again moved back. After a long pause, Keri opened her door.

Looking surprised, she stared at me. I was shocked to see her beautiful eyes half hidden by puffy redness exposed among scattered waves of hair. Before I could say anything, she heard the jingle of her keys and looked down. "Oh...I left these here," she responded glumly, as she pulled the keys loose, "Hi, Nathan. What did you need?"

I cautiously responded, "You can just call me 'Nate'...and I just wanted to point out that your keys were in your door. Didn't want them stolen."

"That's very kind of you," Keri said, looking like she had to remember to smile.

"Sorry to intrude," I quickly and softly added, "I just didn't have your phone number...or any other way to contact you."

"I appreciate your looking out for me. I hope I can do the same for you some time," she said, as she sniffed, and then drew a tissue up and wiped her nose, "Sorry 'bout that...should we exchange cell numbers...you know, just in case?"

"Sure" I said, and pulled my phone out, made a few taps, stepped forward, and then handed my phone to her.

"Excuse me a moment," she said, with an almost pleasant smirk, and turned back into her apartment. A moment later, she returned, wearing plastic-framed glasses, "Can't read without them," she added, as she typed in her phone number. Then she pulled out her phone, did the requisite tapping, and handed me her cell phone.

I tapped in my phone number, and handed her phone back to her.

Gesturing with her phone, she said, "I feel a little more secure with this...thank you," and a more instinctive smile appeared this time.

"I know we hardly know each other, but..." I hesitated, "...but...are you alright?"

"I..." she paused, and gestured, blankly, with the phone in her hand, as her eyes seem to well up. She restarted, her voice clearly faltering, "I just lost my job today. You know...laid off for this virus thingy." "Not sure what I am going to do. But thank you for my keys...I owe you one," were her last remarks, as she retreated back into her doorway, with a small wave, before she softly closed the door.

I slowly went down the stairs, hearing my own footsteps make that deep, hollow ringing as they landed. I wandered into my unit, #113, and closed the door. While I thought of her sad face, I gnawed on my errant sandwich.

Saturday -- March 21^st

I took Saturday and focused on my hermit plans. I was feeling torn, though, as I so wanted to go check on Keri. I just wanted her to be okay...to again see that brilliant face that had come to my door to retrieve her shoe. But, I didn't really know her and thought it wasn't my place to try to comfort her.

Even as I was out shopping for new books to read and jigsaw puzzles to frustrate me, my thoughts still veered off to my concern for Keri. I agonized that I didn't know how she was, but still felt she didn't deserve to have me intrude on her life, simply to satisfy my concerns. Plus, being in my mid-30's, and thinking she was probably in her early to mid-20's, I didn't want her to think I was trying to "get to know her." That could make her feel uncomfortable if she thought she had her older neighbor making moves on her.

Monday -- March 23^rd

My concern for her was still interrupting my hermit activities, frequently taking my thoughts away from my paperback of Dale Brown's Kremlin Strike, and fuzzing up my focus on finding that one piece of the puzzle that had that funny shaped knob with a bit of bright green on it.

As an attempt at further distraction from Keri's sad face, I even called a few buddies just to say "Hi", and found that their jobs all fell under the "Essential" category, so they were staying employed. I wished them good health, and they said we would talk again.

Tuesday -- March 24^th

Sitting at my dining table, which was covered in puzzle pieces, my phone dinged for a new message. "It's Ciara. Can I borrow a role of TP? Promise to pay you back, whenever I can find some to buy."

Curious, as this person obviously had my phone number, I texted back, "Suppose I can spare a roll. But, trying to remember where we met?"

Just a moment later, my phone dinged, "Upstairs, silly! OH! Sorry! Forgot! Name Ciara is Irish. It is most easily said as 'Keri' in English. Can U put TP on doorstep, to stay safe? Txt me, I PU?

I smiled, now knowing the faint accent that I had heard was Irish. I went and got two rolls, and set them outside my door. I texted back, quickly, "Cum & get em!"

Almost immediately, I heard rapid steps down the stairs, a pause, and then rapid steps up the stairs, followed by a rather loud closing of her door.

In my phone, I changed "Keri" to "Ciara", and then, before I could even set it down, it dinged, "THX, U naughty man! 2 Rolls! I really owe you!"

I smiled at her response, but was puzzled about the "naughty" remark. I looked back at the text history, and suddenly realized what I was! I quickly texted back, "Sorry! Did not think about that spelling of 'come'! Got lazy on the shorthand!"

My phone dinged a moment later, "Putting TP to good use at this moment! Talk soon!"

I laughed at that implication and got up to select my dinner. Just as I got to the fridge, my phone rang. "Ciara" it said on the display.

"Hello?"

"And here I hoped you were flirting with me!" she said, followed by laughter.

I chuckled, "I really didn't mean to..."

"Don't worry!" she shot back, "I was just having fun teasing you."

"Thanks for easing my concern," I sighed, "I didn't want you to think you had a creepy neighbor!"

"Oh!" Ciara laughed, "They have already warned me about the guy in #113 who lures women into his lair with the promise of real, Charmin toilet paper!"

"They!?" I asked, a little anxiously.

"Joke...just a joke," she chuckled, "Geez, don't take everything so seriously!"

"Alright," I snickered, "You sound cheerful. May I ask if everything is okay, now? I didn't like seeing those tears a few days ago." I heard a big sigh, and then a pause.

"I'm trying to stay positive. But I have no job, and no income. I can last for only a short while. If I call my parents, Dad is going lord it over me, and tell me to come home. I'm thinking of taking one of those jobs, like pizza delivery. But I hate the virus risk involved, and I'm just afraid the customers would really grate on my nerves. I want to stay safe, but I can't afford it.

"Sorry to hear that," I responded, "Is moving back home that bad?"

"It's in Chicago," she said, nearly spitting the name out.

"Ouch," I said, in acknowledgement, "Anyway, I would be kinda sad to lose you as a neighbor."

"You would?" Keri chortled, while still sounding genuinely surprised.

"Well...yeah," I said.

"I need some cheering up. So, why would you miss me?"

I was a little surprised by this conversation, but decided I would just simply be honest, "I have seen you, occasionally over the last couple months, and found you pleasing to look at, and..."

"Pleasing to look at?" she quickly repeated, chuckling, "That sounds rather dated. Are you older than you look?"

"Alright, I think you are sexy. Happy now?" I sighed, "And I will tell you my age, if you tell me yours."

"Sexy! Now I am feeling better, you flatterer! And women don't tell their age!"

"Now who is sounding dated?" I laughed. I took a deep breath, "36. Does that scare you off?"

"THIRTY-SIX?!" Ciara almost shrieked, "And you still have your hair and teeth!? God, modern technology is wonderful!"

I let a moment pass, as I shook my head, smiling.

"And 25...so there you have it!" she blurted.

"TWENTY-FIVE!?" I exclaimed, "No pigtails, and you're out of diapers. How fast they grow up!"

"Real funny, old man!" she laughed, "And remember, it was toilet paper I borrowed, so...yeah...I'm house broken...okay?!"

"Good to know...should these new rules ever let us be in the same place, at the same time," I laughed, briefly, "Anyway, as to why I would miss you; I would miss your open humor, miss an apparently decent neighbor, and...well...miss another opportunity to look into those amazing blue eyes of yours."

"Well!" Ciara said, with a sparkle in her voice, "Guess I'd better say 'goodnight' on that note. And, again, 'thank you'. Now I have three IOU's to repay."

"Don't worry about it," I quickly said, in an automatic response, "You don't owe me anything."

"I'm an honorable neighbor!" she said, with a playful formality, "And this Irish lass pays her debts. I'll think of something."

"It was only TP," I chuckled.