Neighbors

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Shy female lives out her sexual fantasies with her neighbor.
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He had a revolving door of females, I should know because I was always running into them leaving his apartment. I work the night shift 10pm to 6am every day. By the time I'd get home I'd always see him kissing his flavor of the month (week? day?) goodbye. Usually it would happen that I would crawl out of my car and on to the elevator of our apartment building barely able to stand, my scrubs stuck to my damp skin, my ponytail or French braid somewhat eschew, any cute attempt at makeup I'd made long gone. More times than I appreciate I'd come home pissed off about some verbal altercation that occurred either with a doctor, a patient or their family, or another nurse. Too often I'd come home depressed because of something I'd seen over the course of the night. So by the time I got to my apartment, I would usually be tired, cranky, hungry, crazy looking and there he would be looking refreshed as a summer breeze, on his way to work.

Sometimes I'd bump into him getting off the elevator (he always smelled good, me not so much), other times he would be just leaving his apartment as I was getting out my key to enter mine. His dark hair would look almost black, still damp from his morning shower, his perfectly tailored suit making him look as though he had just stepped off the pages of Esquire Magazine. Most days he was alone; but regularly he was with some female who looked happier than any one should be at 6:30 in the morning. They never really looked the same he didn't seem to have a type: tall, short, slender, curvy, shy librarian type, potential porn star type, all races, nationalities, he was like his own personal UN. But no matter what the woman looked like one thing was consistent: they all had the same deliriously stupid happy look on their face, like they knew that they had just had the best sex of their life. Over time I came to hate that look, it had been far too long since I'd seen it on my own face. On those mornings he would smile apologetically at me, almost as though he was ashamed that while I was saving lives and witnessing them come to an end, he was getting laid. I couldn't really be mad at him though, after all it wasn't his fault that my sex life- while certainly existent- left much to be desired. I would usually give him a half smile in return, too polite to roll my eyes but too tired to be overly reassuring.

"Good morning Rianne." He would say, his eyes sparkling.

"Good night Jay." I'd respond with as much cheer as I could muster (some days more than others) as I headed for the sanctuary of my bed. He'd laughed softly, his eyes following me as I entered into my apartment, not even pausing at the entry way to take off my coat or sweater.

Sometimes we would see each other in the evenings too. Not as frequently, but maybe a couple of times a week. I would be leaving for the hospital at around 9:30pm and he'd be coming home from work. I'd be more spry, my scrubs fresh instead of wrinkled, my jet black hair tidily pulled back in a ponytail or French braid, I'd have on a bit of lip gloss, maybe mascara if I was so inclined. He on the other hand would look slightly worn down from the day (though infuriatingly no less gorgeous), his tie loosened or removed all together, his perfectly tailored suit slightly rumpled, his hair slightly mussed as though he had run his hands through it repeatedly. Usually on those nights he was alone, having only just left work. He definitely worked longer hours than me, I often wondered how he found time to get a diverse array of ass on such a regular basis but I figured it was probably a guy thing. Some men act like if they can't have sex all the time their dicks will shrivel up and die, so they prioritize accordingly. I figured Jay was one of those guys. I would smile sympathetically at him and he would nod back, too tired to smile, too friendly to ignore me.

"Good night Jay." I'd say brightly.

"Good morning Rianne." He'd respond with as much cheer as he could muster (some days more than others) not even pausing in the foyer to turn the light on in his apartment. I'd laugh softly as I headed out, getting my work day officially started.

This was our ritual every morning and some nights during the week. It had been the case since I had moved in six months ago. We'd never really had a more substantial conversation than that other than the day he saw me moving in. He had come over to introduce himself, his name was James but everyone he liked called him Jay. I asked him if that meant I should call him James until he decides whether or not he likes me, he said he thought he already liked me so he'd prefer it if I called him Jay. I took a moment to check him out, he was gorgeous, he towered over my 5'9 frame so I put him at about 6'3, athletic looking, dark hair, green eyes with golden flecks, thick eyelashes (the kind women would kill for but men never appreciated), beautiful smile. I could tell right away he was a heartbreaker yet he still came off as a nice guy, he helped me with a couple of boxes and we briefly exchanged names and superficial details.

He:

• 28 years old

• Financial adviser for UBS

• Graduate from University of Michigan

• Grew up in Winnetka

• Moved back to Chicago in 2003 but wouldn't mind moving to the upper west coast

• Has a female turtle named Aunty Entity, or Ent for short (he appreciated that I got the Thunder Dome reference)

• Single - just came out of a relationship that didn't survive the distance or his fear of commitment, I suggested maybe he should see a therapist, he disagreed figured he must've known deep down she wasn't the one.

Me:

• 26 years old

• Registered nurse at Rush Medical Center- trauma unit

• Graduate from University of Illinois-Chicago

• Grew up outside of Milwaukee

• Have lived in Chicago 8 years no plans to leave but open to any possibilities

• Have a pet cat named Dog - he laughed when I explained that my old building didn't allow dogs so that was my own form of secret rebellion, he thought maybe I was the one that needed therapy I disagreed, I was pretty content with my passive aggressive tendencies

• Taken - A boyfriend named Carter that lives up north in Evanston.

He said it was a shame I had a boyfriend otherwise he'd invite me out for a drink. I said it was probably for the best since given his fear of commitment, one too many drinks could lead to a potentially awkward living situation. He laughed and said I could be right but that he could never resist a girl with big brown eyes like mine so he thought he'd take a shot. I took one look at that amazingly beautiful mouth and ridiculously large, well manicured hands and knew I should run for the hills. This was the only conversation we'd had, after that it was always good night good morning, good morning good night. We never saw each other on the weekends, which I always spent at Carter's.

Carter.

We'd been together almost four years; we were at a point in our relationship where it seemed like we were only together because it was more convenient than being apart. All of our friends were couples and we did things as couples. . .couples bowling, couples dinners, couples vacations. Who wanted to be the single person at the couples poker night? Not me. Plus we genuinely liked each other and frankly, it's hard to breakup with someone when you get along with them so damn well. The last major fight we had was about who would do the dishes after dinner, it went something like this:

"I'll get the dishes."

"No I'll get the dishes."

"But you cooked dinner, so I should do the dishes."

"But it's my house, so I should do the dishes."

"But I'm here so often it's not like I'm a guest."

"Why don't we do the dishes together?"

"Okay, I'll wash you dry."

"Sounds like a plan."

Our sex life was almost as exciting.

One weekend right after I had moved in Carter came over to "christen the new place." We spent a nice lovely weekend cuddling, cooking dinner together, playing scrabble and making sweet, if tentative, love. Now we were in bed, he was doing work for his job while I was catching up on my magazine reading. It was all so pleasant and healthy.

"Did you just hear that?" He said looking up.

"Hear what?" I said looking up from my magazine. He shushed me and we sat silent, listening until the sound came again.

"Someone's screaming?" I said looking at him wide eyed the sound was coming from my neighbor's apartment.

"You think she's in trouble?" He said. We put our ear to the wall, wondering if I needed to call the police, if there was one thing I had a low tolerance for it was domestic violence. I had seen too many abused women in our trauma unit. We listened intently.

"FUCK YES, STAY RIGHT THERE, KEEP IT RIGHT. . . THERE!"

"YOU LIKE THAT BABY, YOU LIKE THAT SHIT!"

"OH GOD I LOVE THAT SHIT, SPANK THAT PUSSY BABY, SPANK IT, DON'T STOP,

DON'T. . . .UUUUGGGGH, JAY, OH JAY!"

"THAT'S RIGHT BABY CUM FOR ME, AWWW SHIT, DAMN, FUCK." I clapped my hand over my mouth in shock, laughing. Carter had his ear pressed intently into the wall his eyes wide. He looked over at me.

"Is your neighbor usually that noisy?"

"I don't know we're rarely here at the same time." I replied.

"It's kind of rude don't you think? I mean, fuck I'd be embarrassed if my neighbors heard us having sex." I shrugged my shoulders..

"His bedroom is probably right next to mine and since he knows we have different schedules he probably didn't even realize that I was home. Or maybe he doesn't realize that the walls are so thin."

"Well the way she's screaming over there I'd be surprised if the whole floor couldn't hear them."

"Yeah lucky girl." I said under my breath I turned and saw Carter looking at me strangely, I quickly started backpedaling. "I mean she's probably faking it anyways no one really screams that loud except for in pornos." I said, even though if the weird, unattractive animal grunts were any indication she was definitely not faking, you would think one would fake prettier noises. I went back to my magazine but throughout the night we kept hearing her screams and him barking out commands. Carter kept looking at the wall and rolling his eyes.

"I should go over there are tell them to shut the fuck up."

"It's not a big deal, I mean I'm never here at night anyways so I'm sure this won't happen a lot." I said shrugging my shoulders. The truth was though I was fixated on the sounds coming through the wall, his aggressive commands, her screams and moans of passion. I was getting turned on like crazy, which made me instantly feel ashamed. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to subtly rub out the ache and pretend that I wasn't jealous of the realization that I would probably never get it that good in my life. Finally I turned to Carter kissing him softly, he smiled at me, kissing my forehead and returning to his papers. I pulled the paper out of his hands and mounted him, holding his face in my hands as I kissed him hungrily. At first he kissed me back, moaning as he gripped my hips and ground his pelvis against me, then suddenly he pulled back.

"I can't do this." I gave him what I hoped was a seductive smile.

"Oh that's not true, I'm pretty sure you've done this before, I was there remember."

"No I mean I can't focus when I can hear Jenna Jameson and Ron Jeremy grunting like animals next door, sorry honey I'm just not feeling it." I kissed him one more time and smiled wistfully before flopping back over to my side of the bed.

"Yeah you're right, it is kind of gross listening to them next door." I said flippantly. He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment.

"Babe, you're happy with our sex life aren't you? I mean anyone can fuck, dogs can fuck but what we have. . .is special." He said still looking at me.

"Car you're like my best friend, I love making love to you." I replied automatically. He smiled, nodded and kissed me again before he got out of bed.

"Want something to drink."

"A glass of wine would be lovely."

"White right? Wouldn't want to spill the red on the sheets." I hated white wine.

"White sounds perfect."

Eventually the sounds stopped and we were able to get some sleep. The next morning we went out to get breakfast. In the hallway we saw Jay and the woman who we knew more about than any stranger should possibly know about a person. Carter gave him an angry stare, I was too embarrassed to hard to pull off my own attempt at an angry stare. I was thankful that my dark skin covered up my blush. Jay looked back and forth between the two of us and quickly deduced that we had caught the performance. He at least had the good sense to look a little uncomfortable. Sorry he mouthed to me, I nodded, suppressing the nervous giggle that threatened to break through. After that I spent every weekend at Carter's.

That is until we broke up three weeks ago. When he broke up with me I felt relief. Not anger, not sadness, but relief. . .and gratefulness. One of us was going to have to get up the guts to put a bullet in this thing. He tried to say that it wasn't me that it was him, always the gentlemen to the end. But deep down I knew I was just as responsible and surely he knew that too. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't wholly responsible. But it was 50/50 which was only fair, that was the way we'd done everything else in our relationship practically. I felt a moment of sadness at the thought that I would probably be spending a lot of weekends alone, since all my other friends were off doing their couples things. I was going to have to get some new hobbies, I decided. The first weekend there was a two day film festival going on at the Music Box, so I went to that. When there was a movie that I didn't like I went out and hung out on the North side just taking in the sights, it was nice, doing something just for me, it was nice having my solitude. The second weekend I decided solitude was overrated and I visited a divorced friend of mine in Minnesota, she's convinced that she's going to die alone, I started thinking maybe I would too, that was sort of depressing. Now, on the third weekend, and I was watching the paint on my wall dry.

I decided to spend my weekend curled up in bed watching tv. I was on the fourth or eighth hour of a Lifetime Movie marathon. I'd already figured out who was the misfit who turned out to be a psycho (Kelli Martin, it was always Kelli Martin). I sighed and turned off the tv, looking over at the clock, it was 9pm. I refused to be the 20 something loser that went to bed at 9pm on a Friday so I settled for going downstairs to do laundry. Was it really any less looserish, probably not but it made me feel better to think it was. I grabbed my dirty clothes basket and laundry detergent and headed to the lower level.

When I got down there, of course there was no one there, who would really be doing laundry on a Friday night? But it was all the better, I could spread my laundry out and do it in three machines instead of trying to stuff it all into the two machines that management tried to limit us to. I loaded my clothes in the washing machines and started them up. While they were going I went over to our "lending library" which was really just a table full of old discarded books no one wanted any more. I picked through them until I found a trashy novel with a guy who wasn't Fabio on the cover. I looked at the cover "Internal Affair". I sat in a chair and started flipping through it, looking for the good parts.

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. . .Marco was typing furiously at his computer when he heard a knock on the door.

"What?!" He called out gruffly. His expression softened when Bianca came in, shutting the door behind her. She looked phenomenal. She was wearing a black matte jersey dress that came just above the knee with a deep v neck that showed a hint of cleavage and zip front closure with front shirred detail. She had on black stiletto boots. Her hair was parted in the middle and hung loose and wavy down her back. He felt himself growing aroused just by the sight of her.

"Hey"

"Hey yourself," She walked around the desk next to him and sat on the desk, dangerously close to him. He could smell her scent of gardenias, she smelled so sweet, he wondered if she smelled as sweet all over. She smiled slyly, as though she could read his thoughts.

"What?" He asked innocently. She leaned down and whispered playfully in his ear.

"I'm waiting for you to tell me the real reason why you wanted me to work so late." He was warm all over and fully aroused at this point.

"You know why. . ."

She looked down at his arousal. "I know but I want to hear it from you."

"I wanted you to stay because I need to have you near me in every way possible. I love you, I crave you." Her mouth curved into a smile and she kissed him lightly on the mouth. He stood up and stroked her face tenderly and then leaned in kissing her again with full intensity and passion. She wrapped her arms around his neck her breast pressed against him firmly, feasting on his tongue. . .

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I shifted in my seat, starting to feel a bit warmer. I found myself imagining that it was me standing in Jay's office, kissing him passionately while smashed up against his desk. I shut my eyes, seeing Jay's impossibly deep green eyes looking back at me, boring holes into mine, I swear I could just about smell the distinct scent of his cologne wafting under my nose as I leaned back, letting my hand run down the length of my neck, pretending that it was his. I opened my eyes to read more.

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. . .He ran his hands down her hips enjoying the feel of the material of her dress, he pulled up her dress enjoying the feel of her skin more. He kissed and bit her neck gently as she threw her head back and moaned his name softly. He turned her around so her back was to him and ran his hands over the front of her body, pushing himself persistently into her back. He pulled down the zipper of her dress, one hand stroking her stomach the other one rubbing her hips and thighs. She leaned her head back against him closing her eyes. . .

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The sound of the spin cycle switching on brought me momentarily out of my fantasy world. I looked dully at the washing machine before an idea popped into my head. No I couldn't. . .could I? I walked over to the door and peeked out through the glass into the hallway, there was no one in sight. I looked back at the washing machine. I walked over slowly, biting my lip. You can do this. You can do this. The voice inside my head kept saying. I walked over to the washing machine and slowly propped myself up on top. I hadn't pulled a stunt like this since I was 12 and first discovered the joys of masturbation. And certainly had never done it in a situation where there was a chance I could get caught. I spread my legs wider, moving the material of my tiny boxer shorts to the side so I could feel the vibration of the washing machine through the thin cotton of my panties. My leg jerked slightly as I felt the vibration on my clit. I opened the book back up reading more.

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. . .He rubbed his hand across her nipple, pinching lightly through her black lace bra. With his other hand he moved back the material of her black lace thong and began to play with her clit. She reached back and put her hands behind his head, playing in his hair and moaning louder, rotating her hips back a forth against him he bit his lip enjoying the friction and feel of her. He inserted two fingers inside of her, pumping in and out slowly as she continued grinding against him. She widened her legs so she could better experience the sensation of his long fingers working in and out of her. He pulled out his fingers and turned her around and sat her on the desk pushing all of his paperwork off to the side. She laid back on the desk and he kissed her stomach, pulling her legs open to resume fingering her rhythmically, looking down at her beautiful face, just wanting to watch her with her eyes closed in ecstasy. He leaned forward and kissed her chin and her neck as she threw her head back crying out Oh Marco, Marco. . .