Marie Walks into an Apartment

The train was at least an hour late by now. Marie still waited patiently on the platform, but it was increasingly obvious that something major was going on. She saw no trains pass through any of the three tracks. Hundreds of people waited at the station and they kept piling up by the minute. She texted an update to her husband, "this sucks." It was crowded.

She texted her boss that the trains were way late, and just then the loudspeaker came on reciting some random train number arriving 22 minutes behind schedule. What train? People didn't memorize serial numbers of trains, they memorized what time trains arrived at stations. It was so frustrating and unhelpful, she wanted to scream.

The crowd was thickening by the minute and that told her more than anything the day was lost. It was a Friday and all the casually dressed commuters showed up early so they could also end the day earlier, but somehow it all got screwed up and no one was going anywhere. She never dressed casually so her feet were hurting from standing up. But she could put up with discomfort. What she couldn't put up with was that starting work later meant you were going to be stuck there late. And on a Friday!

But even waiting two hours was better than driving to the city and fighting for parking space. As she was playing around with her phone, someone came up to her and handed her an envelope. Instinctively, she took it and flipped it over looking for a label, which said "Read in ten minutes." It confused her, it was so unexpected. She flipped it over to the blank side in confusion and re-read the front before she bothered looking up. Why would anyone hand her an envelope at a train station?

He was handsome.

Short trimmed hair and angular face, and she immediately turned red at the implication of what had happened. He smiled and walked away and she got flustered and shoved the envelope in her purse faster than a rattlesnake. She felt like she was blushing. Was this a... she hadn't received a hand-delivered note in fifteen years! As the man disappeared in the thick crowd, she kept fingering the envelope in her purse. What did it say again? Wait ten minutes? Why ten minutes?

Feeling very self-aware about strangers having seen that exchange, she moved away from the group where she stood and thought hard. Why wait ten minutes to read a note? This was a mystery and she didn't like waiting. What if she opened it up right now and looked at it? She felt embarrassed and didn't know why.

Half an hour later, the loudspeaker voice upgraded the mystery train to 45 minutes late, which didn't make any sense. It was 22 minutes late 30 minutes ago, and that would put it past ... forget it, she thought, it was obvious there was some kind of a major meltdown. It happened a few times a year. Trains derailed, they broke down in chokepoints, and morbidly enough, people occasionally threw themselves on the tracks. It was starting to look like a hookie day.

And maybe it was. Just then a train announcement came on and the loudspeaker hamfistedly explained that all trains were canceled until further notice. She typed out a note to her boss that the trains had a meltdown and she'd be working from home once she got there, and then remembered she had an envelope to read.

How could she forget so fast? It'd only been a little while, but, more she thought about it, she felt a distorted sense of time. She ripped the envelope apart and started reading a neat handwriting.

"It's hard for me to write this note but I've been noticing you for awhile. I don't know if you're attached because I couldn't stare so brazenly waiting for the trains but I feel that you might be. The trains are all screwed up today and I felt that I'd never have another chance like this. You're beautiful, and I love your outfits. Did you ever feel like damning all the rules and chase a yearning, just for a moment? Explore that feeling with me. I live at the corner of the East parking lot, apartment 715, and I want you to come over. You don't have to do anything but I would love it if you would come. Least you could do is watch me beat off. I'm respectful, I'm clean, I'm not a freak, I'm just awkward at making friends and what's the harm anyway? It's unlocked. -Brad."

Jesus Christ! She blushed, then read the note a second time and pondered throwing it away in the trash can ahead of her, but then she compulsively looked at her watch and got distracted by it. It was a Friday, approaching 9 AM and she should've been at the office an hour ago. No one was at home, she was now supposed to work from home, and didn't have to be there right away. Why was she reviewing her schedule, she wondered? Emptying her thoughts, she started walking toward the parking lot underpass.

Was she really pretty, she wondered? She mentally inventoried her outfit and thought she looked respectable enough. Muted colors, but memorable enough. Black skirt suit with a sharp white button-up, dark gray pantyhose and her comfortable black pumps. And then her intense highlight, vividly colored ruby earrings and matching lipstick and nails. Dash of personality but not too cluttered. And someone noticed!

Closer she got to her car she pondered lazily which direction the far lot was facing. East? West? North? South? Just out of curiosity, she assured herself. After years, she should probably know that, but she simply didn't. Were the tracks oriented exactly north to south here, she wondered. Her phone map told her she was parked at the East lot, by one of many apartment complexes. But that was just an academic exercise, she had to go home right away so her shift wouldn't end way too late.

Her phone dinged and a text message informed her it was alright to take comp time for the train meltdown. Her boss was very understanding. Total hookie day and Friday night could start at a normal time with her favorite glass of pinot noir. That made Marie very happy to where she fist-bumped a ghost and squealed a "yes!" louder than she should have. Her time constraints relaxed and she couldn't wait to get out of her confining hosiery.

She was almost at her car when she paused and spotted a nearby building. Number on it read 700. She fished the envelope out of her purse and glanced at the handwritten note again, and it said apartment 715. So it was close, no big deal. No harm in knowing things like that. She unlocked her car and got in, but then didn't turn the ignition on.

She just sat there hunched over staring at the ignition button, pretending that the trains would magically start working. She leaned back and justified to herself that's why she wasn't driving off. But secretly, no, it was the love note that made her pause. What else could you call it? As dirty as it was, it was a love note, a forgotten byproduct of middle and high school days. Something you just didn't see anymore. A handsome stranger told her, a middle aged woman (albeit on the far youthful side of that), that he'd been checking her out. And as much of a pervert as he was toward the end, he was considerate enough to notice she was probably married. She inspected her wedding ring and pondered if it signaled her unavailability as much as she thought it did, or if her looks had faded over the years. She thought of the lines she blushed out in the mornings.

Feeling nervous, she got out of the car telling herself that she would trudge toward the announcement board to double check the train meltdown, but instead she ambled in the exact opposite direction, toward the apartment complex. What was she doing? Her legs got a little wobbly. Around the corner from the first building she found the entrance to number 715. It was secluded and she just stared at the door for a few minutes in complete indecision. Was it really unlocked? Did she care to find out? She tried it, and the door opened.

Oh god. That was the wrong thing to do. She felt like she was climbing a mountain of nervousness, and she had just looked down to face the drop. There was a sign right in the foyer that read "Nervous? Fix yourself a drink in the kitchen and then come to the bedroom."

She looked to her left and thought, "who drinks this early?"

But then she realized her hands were shaking and she wasn't sure why she was here to begin with. She put her hand back on the door handle. Was she here to find out whether a door was locked? No. And, well, it wasn't. She took a step toward the kitchen and then remembered to close the front door. Force of habit, forgotten so quickly. What the hell, she always closed doors behind her. Why did she forget this time, she wondered. The door clicked shut and that simple routine instilled a modicum of normalcy.

A variety of bottles were arranged along the kitchen backsplash, next to a tub of ice and plastic cups. She grabbed a glass out of a random cabinet instead - she had standards - and filled it with ice. She eyeballed the cabinet door and realized it was a classy shaker style. Not cheap. Then she casually picked a liquor bottle, a cheap Jack Daniels, and poured. Subconsciously wanting to stall for time, she poured some water from the faucet into the mixture and took a sip. Was it filtered water? Fine, guess it's her who drinks this early. Not like she had to go to the office anyway. She would take comp time. Friday night just started a little earlier today, that's all. She took a second sip nervously, surprised at how low the liquid got, then topped her drink off and walked right toward the bedroom.

The moment she went through the door, she saw the same handsome man from earlier laying down on the bed. But this time, he was entirely naked and was stroking his veiny cock.

Jesus.

He was chiseled, muscles and abs and calves and everything, and he had a huge cock. He was just watching her without saying anything and kept beating his meat up and down. Still the same strong handsome man she remembered from the station but somehow very different, far more vulnerable being found like this. But he was also so very real, not an idealized creation. He had three small scars spread over his chest. Laparoscopic surgery, she wondered?

"Come in, have a seat," he invited her toward the corner of his bed with a glance.

Marie hesitated but eventually put her purse on the floor and sat on the far corner of the bed, staring at his cock. He kept beating it slowly while looking at her and that made her nervous so she looked away every time they'd make eye contact. Is this how people hooked up? Her drink was in her left hand and she was resting on her right, nearer to him. Her skirt rode up when she sat down, far above her knees.

"Do you want to touch it?" he asked.

Marie shook her head, her voice cracking, "I'll just watch a minute."

"That's fine," he replied.

He started beating it fast, then slow, then so slow he was stretching it, then flapping it from side to side. Dear god, he had a thick and long cock, and he shaved his balls. Marie had never seen that in person before. He was quite attractive and that made her feel slightly insecure about her body. He looked to be in his mid 20s whereas Marie was clipping high 30s. Mesmerized, she straightened up and rubbed her inner thigh nervously. Pondering their age difference, she took a sip of her drink. But before she even finished swallowing, she took the hand off her thigh and grabbed his cock without thinking. He let her.

The moment she wrapped her fingers around it, she closed her eyes and croaked a moan, and wondered what the hell was it that she was doing. This was a stranger's lair and she had her hand around his penis. What the fuck was she doing here? She was supposed to be at work, or heading home. She felt his hand wrap around hers and guide her to stroke it up and down, so she did. It felt so thick, it was so big, she had never touched one like it. And they were all alone.

They were all alone, she realized in complete horror.

Nothing and no one there to check her impulses, nothing to put limits to her actions. Did he really think she was attractive? She'd put on a few pounds and she was now sure she had at least a decade on him. She never did this sort of thing! It was just the stupid trains and a freak chance. She felt sick to her stomach, and yet here she was, stroking his cock up and down and to her dismay enjoying it. A secret moment. She never planned on doing any of this.

Just then the sound of the front door opening brought her to reality. Her heart leaped into her throat and she jumped up and looked through the door and saw a woman walk in. Oh Jesus, did this man's wife come home early and catch them? She tried to remember, did he say he was single? The drink spilled onto her hand when she lurched so she absentmindedly wiped it off the side of her skirt and just about reached for her purse when she realized that the newcomer had walked toward the kitchen and was making herself a drink.

She gazed at Brad and it took her a second to realize what had happened. He was looking away and unapologetically started beating off again. Marie felt stupid.

"You didn't give that note to just me, did you?" she asked him.

She didn't wait for a response. What could he possibly say? Fuck it, she downed her drink and set the glass on the night stand, then picked up her leather purse and started walking out of the bedroom. Just before crossing the threshold, she paused and sighed. She felt stupid for being tricked like that, for needing to feel wanted, for being made feel special by a lie. But she'd already walked inside and touched it. Now that she was pushed through that door she argued to herself, what was the harm? And why did she pause?

Clanging noise from the kitchen reminded her. She sighed again and then using up last of her dirty moment reserves, she walked backwards a few steps and without looking at him grabbed his cock and gave it a few quick strokes since this moment would never happen again. What a guilty pleasure. It felt so thick in her hand and she wondered why of all days this happened today. She'd been a faithful wife for a decade, and lost her integrity all in a heartbeat to a cheap trick.

"Thanks for the drink," she chirped ironically, wiping the few fresh drops of precum off her skirt as she walked out past a very confused blonde woman pouring vodka into a glass of orange juice. Remarkably, they had a similar outfit. She smiled at the stranger and the cut of her skirt suit, then walked out not bothering to close the front door behind her.

Ten paces later she heard it shut and then noticed another woman, similarly dressed, walking toward her. A younger brunette who looked flushed and avoided making eye contact as they passed each other by. Marie gave it another dozen paces and then curiosity got the better of her. She turned around and confirmed the flustered woman was headed for 715.

"Really?" she spluttered in disbelief.

Oh no, she was not special at all. She just happened to be wearing a business skirt, just like the other two women, making them a very extreme minority on a Friday.

"Unbelievable" she muttered to herself and got in her car.

She hit the ignition and buckled up and was about to back out of her spot when she thought to peek toward 715. She removed her hand from the shifter and decided to just wait a few minutes to witness a couple of angry women walk out of his apartment. She smiled. Why not, seeing that would make everything right.

One minute turned into two, and then two into three, and soon it was five minutes. Surely by now the two women would have realized what happened. However, neither walked out. Was she peering out at the right door?

Ten minutes into waiting she felt frustrated and didn't understand why. She was supposed to be heading home, not fuming in her car. What was so different about these two women? Were they arguing? What was taking so long? Did they get different notes from hers? Is it possible they knew him? Couldn't be. She looked at the note again and realized that she should definitely throw it away, and not keep it laying around in her purse like she just caught herself doing. Why weren't they walking out like she did earlier? Her knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel.

Without planning to, she shut her ignition off and then wondered why she did that. Not to waste fuel, she reassured herself, which surprised her because she subconsciously knew she wasn't going to drive off. Maybe she just wanted to see the train wreck from the two women realizing they were duped too. Maybe she just wanted to find out what was going on. Butterflies came to her stomach and she didn't know why she was getting out of her car. Before she could realize she covered all that distance, she was facing the door again. She glanced angrily over her shoulder, just in case another woman was walking up, but saw no one.

She went back inside and headed straight for the bedroom. Dear lord, the two women sat on either side of him and were taking turns jerking him off. Neither looked up, they just looked as frazzled and nervously hypnotized as she felt earlier and yes, they took turns jerking him off a minute at a time. Blondie's orange drink was half empty. Why didn't she leave when she ran into Marie earlier?

"You came back," he said and looked at Marie.

She flushed because this wasn't turning out how she thought it would and that highlighted how stupid she felt about being tricked. She walked past one of the women and grabbed her old glass, thinking to leave it in the kitchen sink. It left a water ring on the night stand and in any other universe she would want to wipe it down. But not here. She hadn't committed to staying yet but instead of leaving she caught herself fixing another drink. What the hell was that all about, she didn't drink usually. And certainly not this early. Then again she didn't usually walk inside a stranger's apartment and touch his cock, or watch him get jacked off by two women. She went back in the bedroom, rudely knocked folded clothes off a corner chair, sat down and watched.

She took a sip of her drink and crossed her legs.

Things had escalated a bit. He started groping the blonde woman on his right, touching her hips, fondling her back, her leg. She was beating him off and didn't seem to mind being touched. The woman on his left took over and started stroking his cock slowly up and down when he touched her too. She looked up at Marie as if pleading with her for help, or maybe seeking guidance. Was this acceptable? Wasn't it? This was apparently all new to her as well and she didn't seem as receptive to being touched as the other woman, or maybe just didn't expect it.

Marie said nothing and signaled nothing to her, just stared in fascination.

After a long second the brunette seemed to accept her fate and looked away, staring at his cock. Brad's right hand came up in the front of her unbuttoned jacket and slid right over her breast, cupping it. You could see displeasure on her face the moment he did that, but she didn't stop him. Marie suddenly realized she felt glee at the woman's predicament, because she suddenly wasn't the stupidest woman in the room. Woman on his left clearly wanted him to stop touching her. She should have walked out just like Marie did earlier, but she didn't. Stupid bitch. And so, Marie surprised herself in enjoying the woman's discomfort. Very much so.

The moment Brad started groping both her breasts over her shirt, she again eyed Marie with a furtive question on her face. All Marie did was smile and the woman looked away and continued stroking his cock faster.

The other woman removed her jacket, apparently not intending to leave anytime soon, and Marie realized that the blonde on his right was the one setting the mood in the room for everyone else. Her receptive behavior made it normal for the clearly uncomfortable woman to go along with. It was fascinating. And Marie was supposedly the encouraging observer, or the voice of reason. And yet she was silent. Noticing that she was shaking her legs rhythmically, she uncrossed them and leaned back in a very unladylike manner, setting her drink between her legs.