Finding a new place to live is a lot about luck – you can get somewhere in as good a neighbourhood as you can afford, but you cannot tell until you've been there a while whether the people, your neighbours, are any good.
When I moved to London last September, I have to admit I was pretty daunted by it all – big city, massive buildings, millions of people crammed into the place. It wasn't like I was a farm boy, but having grown up in a fairly small town and spent university in a pretty small city, I just wasn't prepared for London.
The new job came first, an offer I could not refuse, though the work itself wouldn't be all that interesting. I arrived and after three fairly stressful weeks looking for a new flat, at last I had my place, a fairly quiet street in quite a colourful part of North London. But just how colourful, I had never figured to start off with.
For the first few days, I didn't really meet any of my neighbours. Mostly, strangers in London keep to themselves, so I found nothing odd in the lack of 'community spirit' around my flat. I knew people at work, I had friends back home, and even a couple who had moved to London before me – so I wasn't worried. I heard my neighbours going up and down the stairs, and occasionally bumped into them, greeting them with the usual polite hello.
My world was fairly regular, travelling to work, working the full day, returning home for supper and bed. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. Until I came home one evening to find a beautiful girl sitting on the stairs outside my place.
The girl sitting on the step outside my flat was quite something. Young, slim, devastatingly pretty, she had the kind of looks that made married men wish they were single and single men wish they were A-list celebrities.
But she was in a state: her long brown hair all tangled as it flowed down her back, her beautiful big brown eyes red and puffy: it was quite clear she had been crying. And quite clear she had been hit.
"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, pausing on the small landing six or seven steps immediately below her. A stupid question – she was clearly not okay, the cut on her swollen lip seeping blood – but I really didn't know what else to say.
She nodded, but I could see she was holding back more tears.
"You live 'round here?" I asked her.
She nodded again, saying softly: "Upstairs."
"So we're neighbours," I smiled, "I'm Jack."
"Natalie." She looked straight in my eyes, and I swear my body temperature rose by five degrees.
"Are you... locked out or something...?" What to do? I couldn't leave her out here, surely? I was new to London, and I had figured that the primary law of people here was 'mind your own business', but I couldn't leave someone clearly in distress here.
"No," she said, and I was worried she would leave it at that, keeping it monosyllabic. Perhaps she didn't want me to poke my nose in where it wasn't wanted. But no, she said: "My father... he gets a little... angry at times. When he's been drinking."
I nodded sympathetically. "Your mother at home?"
She shook her head. "She ran off with some rich guy," she said. Her voice, now that she was using it, was nice, clear, intelligent-sounding. "Two years ago, they went to Spain, I think. Haven't heard from her since."
"Oh, I'm sorry." What could you say to that? It put your life into perspective: any quibble I had with the tedium of the daily nine-to-five was suddenly put in the shade.
I pulled my keys out of my pocket, indicating that I was going to head into my flat. "Are you going to be all right out here?" I asked her. I felt sure that inviting her inside my place would seem somehow seedy, and in that moment I realized I could see up her skirt in that position. She certainly had nice legs, but I caught my breath as I glimpsed a sight of her pink panties between those slender thighs.
It had been far too long since my last relationship had ended.
I looked hastily away, my eyes connecting with hers again, trying not to let her know I had seen anything. Not really thinking now, a little flustered I have to admit, I said: "If you want, you can wait in my flat – we can get that cut of yours cleaned up."
Damn it, she was in her school uniform and everything, I really shouldn't have been inviting her in. But she was in trouble, and I felt bad about just leaving her out here.
I was fully expecting her to say no, and though there wasn't really all that many years between us, she would give me a look like I was a dirty old man.
But she didn't. She looked into my eyes and for the first time gave a weak smile, before saying quietly: "That would be nice."
Inside, she sat on my bed and watched television while I dabbed at her injury with a warm, wet tissue. There wasn't a lot in my flat, just a bed, desk, chest of drawers and built-in wardrobe, so it wasn't necessarily odd that she should be on my bed – there was nowhere else to really be in there.
But as she sat there, cross-legged with me sitting in front cleaning up her face, I realized I could see her panties again. Damn it, I really shouldn't be looking. But it was hard not too, and inside my trousers things were also pretty hard.
I put some germoline on her cut lip, which stung a little but she took it well. She smiled, warming my insides again, and she said: "Thank you, Jack."
Somewhere, I thought, there was some really lucky guy who would be with this girl. But I was with her now, and this flash of her little pink cotton panties was the most intimate sight of a girl I'd had in over a year.
Finished tending her wound, I stood, putting the germoline back in my tiny little bathroom.
"Hey, this really great movie's starting," she called. "You mind if I stay and watch it?"
"Sure, go ahead," I said.
I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself – there was no room for me to do much in that flat with here there, but as I came back out of the bathroom, she patted the bed beside her, urging me to sit next to her.
She was smiling like she had no troubles in the world, saying: "Johnny Depp is so cool as a pirate in this..."
Natalie was right, it was a great movie, and as we sat back against my mass of pillows to watch it, I was able to forget that there was this staggeringly beautiful schoolgirl lying on my bed with me there in my flat. She was just a friend in those moments.
We chatted a little through the movie, mostly trivial stuff, movie stuff, but as the final credits began to roll, she said: "Do you have a girlfriend, Jack?"
A question loaded with possible subtexts.
"Uh... no..." I replied truthfully enough. "Not since university."
The corners of her mouth sank and she nodded slowly as if to silently say: "Interesting."
Then after a long pause, in which I became rather self-conscious with her just looking at me, she said: "I should go. Dad's probably fallen asleep by now."
"Of course," I said, getting up to let her out.
Then as she passed me on her way out, she stopped and smiled at me, saying: "Thank you, Jack." And stretched up to kiss my cheek. "Thanks for everything."
I didn't see Natalie again for some time after that, though through the thin wooden floors of our North London abode I sometimes heard the drunken excess of her father. My life settled back into the routine work-dominated pattern, and I thought little of my encounter with the pretty teenager from upstairs.
Then one night, just as I was getting ready for bed, there was a hammering on my door and I opened it to find her standing there, tears moistening her pale face, wearing little more than a nightshirt.
"Please," she said in barely more than a whisper, acting like a frightened rabbit.
"Natalie!" I heard someone – presumably her father – bellowing from the floor above. The voice was deep, angry but also slurred, drunk.
"Please let me in, please Jack..." she was begging me. I didn't need her to beg – my hesitation was purely from surprise at all this. As soon as I figured what was going on – and as I did so, we both heard the heavy footsteps coming down the stairs – I stepped aside and ushered her into my flat.
As I quietly closed the door, we heard the booming footsteps continue down the stairs, all the way to the bottom.
"Oh thank you!" she clung to me then, and still rather startled, I put my arms around her and held her tight, comforting this terrified girl. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."
She was warm against me – particularly since I was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts – and smelled faintly of sweet oranges.
"You're welcome," I said softly to her, stroking her back a little to soothe her.
"I emptied his whiskey bottle down the sink," she said. "I swear, he was gonna kill me this time."
"What're you going to do?" I asked, breaking apart from her.
"I could sleep here tonight..." her suggestion posed a question.
I paused for a moment, and saw the fear touching her again so I said: "Uh... sure... yeah, if that's what you want."
She smiled, truly a sight to behold, and flung her arms around me again, saying: "You're the best. I promise I won't be any trouble!"
She stayed that night, and though nothing happened, she did snuggle up to me in the bed as we went to sleep. It was nice – she was so soft, warm, comforting to be with. And somehow, I controlled my libido – not easy task when a girl as beautiful as that was pressed up against you.
In the morning, I left her sleeping to take a shower, but couldn't help but look upon her a while before I went into my little bathroom. She was so stunning, and where her night shirt had ridden up, I saw her little pink and white checked panties clinging to her hips, sending a jolt of energy through my bloodstream.
Half-regretfully, I covered her with the sheet again and headed in for a shower. My mind was all over the place, running over the ethics of lusting after such a troubled girl as Natalie. I had my back to the bathroom door and thought nothing of it until I turned, rinsing my body, to find her standing there, running her eyes all over my naked torso.
"Hi," she said with a mischievous grin.
My hands instantly dropped to cover myself.
"Uh... hi..." I said.
"I just wanted to let you know I'm heading out to school."
"Oh right," I nodded, trying not to look at her – she looked stunning in that nightshirt, her small but perky breasts pushing at the thin material, while its hem hardly covered much of her slender thighs. An erection now would not be good.
Oh, but there it was, and there was no way my hands would contain it.
"You'll be all right?" I asked, trying to keep her eyes on mine.
She nodded, and I could see her sneaking a peak. "Dad will be asleep still – he sleeps 'til noon once he's out. I should be able to get my stuff okay."
"Okay, well have a great day at school," I said awkwardly.
"And you have a great day at work, Jack!" she smiled again, blushing a little as she saw that I could see she was sneaking a peak between my thighs.
As she left me alone and closed the bathroom door, I felt pretty terrible, thinking she must have thought I was some dirty old man. Thinking I probably wouldn't be seeing her again, she wouldn't want a neighbour to help her out if he was going to be drooling over her, after all.
But then, after dressing for work, slipping on my jacket that had been hanging on the hook behind the front door of my flat, I found something strange in my jacket pocket. It was a pair of pink and white checkered panties – Natalie's.
I had to rush to work, of course, I was late and I was always late. I wasn't in the most interesting of jobs back then, it was office-bound and all too different from what I really wanted to do – creative writing. But on this particular day, the usual tedium of paper pushing was seasoned by the red-hot thoughts sweeping through my brain.
What had she meant by it, leaving her underwear in my jacket pocket? She knew I took the jacket to work with me every day – she'd seen me returning in it. It was a message, but what did it mean? Of course, I hoped it meant she was interested in me. But what if it meant she had noticed me looking at her, and was now taunting me?
Mid-morning, I took a break and locked myself in a cubicle in the gents', sneaking Natalie's panties in with me. I held them to my nose, breathing in her scent from the soft pink and white cotton. There was that faint orange aroma, which I supposed came from the soap she used.
But there was something more, something that teased something deep within me, something raw and primeval. I found the strip of material that had been directly against her pussy, and to my surprise it was still slightly damp. Touching it to my nose, there was that spiciness again, strong here, so thrilling. The scent of female arousal.
My cock was instantly hard between my legs, the odour was so strong, musky, spicy. Fire seemed to sweep through me as I realized she must have been quite turned on watching me in the shower that morning.
When I got home, I was half expecting her to be sitting there outside my flat, but she wasn't. I guess I was a little disappointed, but soon shrugged it off. The next day was Friday, only one day of work before the weekend, so that felt pretty good.
Then later, as I was settling down after a bite of supper, there was a fairly loud disturbance upstairs, sounding like shouting and banging, then finally the sound of breaking glass and a slammed door.
I knew it was Natalie up there with her alcoholic father, and I hoped she was all right. My sexual thoughts concerning her dissipated at that moment – what if she was badly hurt this time? Too hurt even to call for help?
I was relieved, then, when I heard a quiet knock at my door – she was well enough to come downstairs, then.
"Hi," she said softly as I opened the door. "Can I stay with you tonight?"
"Sure, of course," I said, standing aside to let her in.
"You're a life saver." She flung her arms around me and hugged me. My arms tentatively wrapped around her: I wasn't sure what she wanted from me now, after she'd slipped her panties in my jacket pocket that morning.
She was still in her school clothes, but from what I could see, she didn't seem too badly hurt – no real bruises or cuts to her face.
"Have you had something to eat?" I asked as she jumped onto my bed to watch the television.
"Yeah, before Dad got in," she was all she said before watching television.
I sat beside her and watched TV with her for a while – she didn't really talk much, we didn't really talk much. I guess she just wanted to get away from her father, she wanted a bit of peace and calm. She certainly didn't want to talk about her problems with her dad. We nattered a little about things on TV later on, but pretty soon she drifted off to sleep there on the bed, and I wasn't long in doing so either.
In the morning, in those moments of half-sleep that immediately precede waking up, I was dreaming that I was making love to Natalie. Since I was half-asleep, I felt no guilt, there was no concern in my mind that she was a troubled girl and that I was exploiting her troubles. Images of her were whirling around my mind, dressed in her school uniform one moment, in her thin night shirt the next, images of her pretty face, illicit glimpses of her panties.
I dreamt of her standing there while I was naked in the shower, ~I dreamt of her sexy scent, breathing it in from her damp underwear, the raw spice of her arousal fresh from her little pussy.
As usual with wet dreams, I woke fully only when I came – and in this case, came forcefully. It had been a while. But waking up fully, in that moment my mind was filled with the hugely embarrassing realization that Natalie was in that bed with me. Oh God.
But in the second split second of waking, embarrassment turned suddenly into surprise as I found the very girl I'd been dreaming of lying between my thighs, her hands around my softening cock, her lips and tongue cleaning up my last emissions.
"Morning," she said, smiling at me in that way that dazzled me and continuing to kiss and lick my penis.
"What are you doing?" I asked, though it was pretty obvious what she was doing.
"Taking care of you," she said, "I mean, you take care of me, so..."
"I'm not taking care of you because I want you to..." I stammered, horrified that she should think I was only giving her refuge from her father because I wanted to screw her.
"I know," she grinned, "but I like taking care of you."
I didn't know what to say. I mean, I felt pretty good on the whole after my morning blow job, but I felt uncertain about this whole thing with Natalie – was I exploiting her troubles at home?
"Did you get my present?" She made the question sound so innocent, yet how was I supposed to respond?
She climbed out of bed, rising to her feet and brushing down her clothes – she was still wearing her school things. "Did you like it?"
"Uh... yeah..." I didn't know what to say. The girl had given me her wet panties. What did you say to something like that?
She leaned down to kiss my mouth and whispered: "You really turn me on, Jack."
Then she said: "I have to get to school."
All day, I was thinking about her. I couldn't help it after what had happened that morning. At work, my boss even asked me why I seemed so distracted. Then, when a couple of my friends asked if I fancied going out for a few beers that evening, I turned them down though I hadn't seen them for a month.
I just wanted to go home, see if Natalie was there.
And she was, sitting on the step outside my flat. She was wearing some kind of two-piece lycra outfit and running shoes, her hair ruffled and damp from the rain but tied back in a long ponytail.
"Hi," I said, "Been out running?"
"Yeah," she smiled, standing up to greet me with a hug. "I like to go round Regent's Park when I can. I just got back, actually."
There was a slightly musky smell about her, her perspiration from the run, blending with that hint of oranges that was always about her skin. I inhaled deeply as we embraced. God, she was beautiful. Quite a sight in that tight lycra, her small pert breasts with hard nipples visible through her top, her flat smooth tummy, cute behind.
She kissed me on the mouth – so tender, so soft and so very sweet, I couldn't help but respond.
"What are you doing tonight?" she asked as we broke apart at last.
"Well, if you weren't doing anything, I was hoping to return the favour from this morning," I said. I was being quite forward for my usual standards, but hey, she'd had her lips round my cock that morning, I felt qualified to be forward with this girl.
"Oh," she said, a little surprised, perhaps. "That sounds nice. You wanna wait while I have a shower."
"Not particularly," I said, opening the door to my flat.
"Mmm, impatient, huh?" she purred, stepping past me.
She lay down on the bed and I closed the door, shutting us away from the world and its troubles. When I turned, I found her lying there on the bed, naked as the day she was born. Wow.
I guess she saw my surprised expression, because she said, explaining: "Well, I've seen you. It's only fair."
"Sounds good to me," I said, and as I started peeling off my own clothes, I couldn't help but run my eyes over her stunning figure. With her hands clasped together behind her head, she seemed happy enough for me to look.
She was incredible, I couldn't help but marvel at the slight mounds of her tiny breasts, peaked with soft pink nipples. Her stiff little buds were crying out to be kissed. And that went for the triangle of down nestled between her legs, too. My gaze slipped down her willowy form to her little pussy. Covered in a delightful sprinkling of soft cocoa brown hair, Natalie had a sweet little pussy. The tight little slit that divided the tiny v-shape rise between her slender thighs was tender pink, just like her nipples. I couldn't believe she was letting me see it.