New Neighbor

I had just move in less than a month ago. My apartment was in a nicer part of town. Across the street, there was another apartment complex, identical to mine. The street had a kind of an eerie look to it. Both sides identical. Street lights placed far apart, forming shadows in the corners and alley ways. I liked it. Maybe because it was mine, maybe because of the fantasies I played out in those dark alleys. Whatever the case, to this day, I still don’t regret moving out of the condo I shared with three friends on the other side of the tracks.

The move had been prompted by a new job offer. Making more money, I felt important. I felt maybe it was time I had something of my own to show off. So I packed up and moved out.

I still hadn’t put curtains up. I noticed a lot of windows without curtains. The apartments weren’t the permanent type. They were ones people moved into on their way up, stopping by to visit while they waited for that perfect house, that perfect home to find them.

I worked at a bar. More specifically I worked in the room above the bar. The Grotto Lounge was a popular place. Dark, with fluorescent hot pink lights, a nice wooden bar, a juke box on the wall opposite. The tables were placed far enough apart; they offered privacy but not isolation. The room above the bar was often used for poetry readings or up and coming wanna be bands to play, charging $5 a head to get in, minimum two drink requirement.

I first went there to celebrate. Or maybe it was to mourn. The ending of an era. I was free, I was devastated, I was independent, I was alone. My fiancé had left me for a younger woman, one with bigger tits and an even bigger trust fund. My friends idea of cheering me up, was parading me around like bait, luring younger guys into their trap. One night stands and plenty of them they reasoned. Guys dumb, young, naive, trainable.

They saw raw meat that night, lots of it. I saw opportunity.

Long story short, I convinced the owner to let me turn the upstairs room into a club of sorts. Not a dance club, like the ones lining the main strip of the down town area, but a hip, sexy place where people could lounge out and watch the acts. He agreed on a trial basis. After a few months, he gave me my own office and a permanent place to host shows.

That’s when I decided to move. Not only was it closer to the Grotto, but it was a place I could bring whomever I wanted home without having to worry about disturbing my roommates. That was an important factor now that I was getting over the pig I wasted the last few years with. Men were starting to look attractive again.

I came home one night, exhausted from a show. It was a hot one, even though it was a Thursday night, the place was packed. I had bought curtains earlier that day. Despite the late hour, I decided now was as good as any time to hang them. I moved my dresser in front of my windows so I could reach, clumsily clambering up, hanging the first curtain. Nothing fancy, nothing impressive, just curtains.

I stood back, admiring my work, looking out the window to the dark street across the way. Looking at the dark windows opposite mine. I finished in my bedroom and moved to the living room. I looked out the windows again, taking in the view. Nothing. No one on the street, no movement. I looked in the windows across from mine, I noticed light. I looked again, I noticed a man, standing in his living room, looking at me. I started back for an eternity, annoyed now by this brash invasion of privacy. I put my hands on my hips, showing my annoyance. He mimicked my movement. I folded my arms across my chest, He followed. Heated, frustrated, I thought about this for a minute. Who was this man? What did he think he was doing? How many times has he spied on me? I looked out at the other windows, dark. I wondered why he was up at this hour. What did he do? Testing him, I removed my shirt, holding it out in front of me for a few seconds before dropping it to the ground. He repeated my actions, dropping his to the floor as well. I stood there for a minute, wondering how far our little game would go. I removed my bra, smiling to myself, wondering how he was going to follow suit. He didn’t. He just stood there. Suddenly embarrassed, I dropped to the floor, out of view to the peeping Tom who lived across from me. I crawled over the light switch and switched off the lights, sitting there in the darkness, knees curled up to my bare chest, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. Finally I stood up, glancing out the window; I noticed his light was now off too. Smiling, I wondered if he was still there looking, hoping for any movement in my window. I quickly hung the rest of the curtains up, cloaked by the darkness. I stepped back, admiring my work, grateful for the privacy after what just happened.

The phone rang. I looked at the clock, 4:42 AM. No one I know should be calling this late. I let the machine pick up.

“Hi Beth. What are you doing? Are you fantasizing about me? Wondering where this would lead? I must admit I like the new view. If you’re interested in putting on that little show for me again in person, give me a call back. I’m sure you’re resourceful enough to get my number.”

I stared at the answering machine, a million thoughts running through my head. Who was he? How did he get my number? Paranoia set in. Then the voice of reason. My picture is all over town, with flyers advertising for the club, Book an Act, Call Beth Today at…. But they only offered my work number. I rushed to the phone picking it up, dialing *69. Writing down his number, wondering if I should call. I walked into the bedroom, number still in hand, laid down on the bed. I thought about calling him, I thought about just hanging up. But he’d know it was me, even if I blocked my number. I fell asleep, to thoughts of this stranger, to thoughts of us together.

A few days went by and nothing from him. No movement in his windows, no late night phone calls. I found myself disappointed. I played his message over and over again, his rough masculine voice turning me on. His crudeness, his assumption that I wanted him exciting me. My fingers leisurely working their way down between my legs. His voice sending me over the edge numerous times during those few days.

It was a Friday night, over a week since our window exchange. The club was packed, we were celebrating. My old roommates came out to help bask in the success. Drinks were poured and passed around a little too freely. At the end of the night, I stumbled home, alone.

I walked into my flat, leaving the lights off. I liked it better this way. Kept him guessing, wondering if I was home. In my head, he was curious. In my head, he watched for a chance to call again, waited for me to be home. In my head, he wanted me more than anything. Feeling the heat starting to grow between my legs, I reached over to the end table for his number. The alcohol gave me the courage I needed. I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Um, hi, this is Beth, I live across from you.” I stuttered nervously, unsure as to what I was doing.

“Hi Beth, I’ve been waiting for your call,” he replied calmly.

“How did you get my number,” I asked shyly, slurring a little more than I wanted to.

“I looked it up in the phone book, when I called, your roommates told me you moved and gave me this number.”

Making a mental note to myself to lecture my roommates on giving my number to strange men, I continued, unsure how to make conversation.

“Why did you call me?” I asked.

“Well Beth, it’s not everyday a woman strips for you in her window, not caring who sees, I bet you were hoping someone else saw, weren’t you Beth? I bet you got off on the idea of your body being showed off for anyone to see. Tell me Beth, what do you want?’

I was taken back by his openness, worried about what he thought this was, curious about where it would lead.

“You mean from us,” I heard my voice reply.

“Yes Beth, from this. Our little exchange in the window. Is that all it is? Or do you want more?”

I didn’t want him to know, didn’t want to fess up, to tell him that I fantasized about him, that I wanted him anyway I could have him. I knew this was bizarre, but I enjoyed it. Whatever game he was playing, I wanted in. I couldn’t remember the last time I had sex. I couldn’t remember the last time I wanted sex.

“No strings attached. Where ever this leads, it leads,” I blurted out before I knew what I was saying.

“Makes sense,” came his reply, “After all, I don’t know you, you don’t know me, but we want each other.”

“Tell me a fantasy Beth,” he demanded.

I was shocked. Here was a perfect stranger asking me to tell him my inner most thoughts and desires, as dark and perverse they might be. It got me hot, it got me excited, it got me wet. I indulged hesitantly.

“Oh you know the standard stuff every other woman thinks about.”

“No Beth, I don’t think that’s true. I think you need something more to do it for you. Tell me Beth, tell me or this conversation ends faster than it started.”

“I want to do it in public, I want strange men, I want sleaze, I want domination.” I blurted out, needing to keep him on the phone.

“So you’re a little slut Beth aren’t you? Insatiable? Willing to do whatever it takes to get some nice hard cock?”

“Yes,” I replied breathlessly.

“Tell me about one, in detail Beth. I want to hear it; I want to hear the excitement in your voice.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes Beth, you can and you will.”

“I like to imagine I’m dancing, a real dive of a place. I give a lap dance, he’s not supposed to touch, but he does, I encourage it. He begs for more. I slide my g-string to the side and let him slide a finger inside of me. I ride his finger, no one can tell, they think I’m just dancing. He slides another one in. I cum quietly. He demands I return the favor. I tell him to meet me in the bathroom in 15 minutes. I walk away. Go back up on stage and look for my next paying customer.”

“Go on Beth, tell me more.”

“After my set, I walk off, noting that he’s not in his seat anymore. Neither are his buddies. I think maybe they left. I still go to the bathroom, hoping he’s there. I’m hot, worked up, desperate for more relief. I love the men looking at my body, staring at me, treating me like I’m a piece of meat. I feel in control. It gets me horny.

I walk into the men’s room and there he is. Along with two of his friends. He throws a 100 bill at me and tells me to get on me knees. I say no, pretending I don’t want it. He forces me to anyway; He unzips his pants and whips out his cock. It’s hard for me. So hard and big, I can see the veins on the shaft, I see precum on the tip, it’s wet and glistening. It’s for me. I moan, I need it, I want it, I don’t want them to know.

He grabs the back of my head, forcefully, hurting me. He rams it down my throat, he’s fucking my face. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t wait for me to get used to it, he just shoves it deep inside of my throat, using my mouth like a pussy. I gag; I can’t breath, my hands reach around and grab his ass, digging my nails into his skin, pulling him into me. He grabs my hair again, pulling it so our eyes lock.

‘That’s it you beautiful slut. Suck that fat cock,’ he says.

I moan, his words hitting me hard, making me wetter. He continues for a few minutes, then pulls out, pushing me down on the ground. I whimper, I want his cock back in my mouth, why doesn’t he want me I wonder.

He looks at his buddies and tells them how good my mouth feels, tells them they should try it out. One steps forward, telling me he’s next. He unzips his pants, and I stare in amazement. 10 inches long, so thick, I need to feel him inside of me, I don’t care where, I want his cock, more than I wanted the last one.

His other buddy, comes up behind me and lifts me up. He lays down on the ground, tells me to unzip his pants. I look back and forth between the two of them, not sure what to do. Not sure who to take, who to listen to.

‘Do it slut.’ comes the command.

I reach down, I unzip him, pull him out. He’s big too. He lifts me back up again and impales me on his hard cock, filling me up.

‘Ride me Bitch’ he says.

I start off slow, taking my time, trying to get used to him, I’ve never had anyone so big. He pulls me down harder and harder on top of him, his cock rubbing at my clit every time I move up and down, my orgasm building. The other guy shoves his cock down my throat. I’m in heaven. My body wracked with pleasure, being used and degraded by two perfect strangers in a men’s room of the tittie bar I work at. I can’t see the third man, I know he’s there, I want him too. I want all of their cocks, in me, fucking me, using my body. I’m their little whore and they know it.

I feel hands on my ass, spreading my cheeks. I hear his voice. That same rough voice that told me I was his beautiful slut. His fingers run down my crack, lingering over my virgin hole.

‘No,’ I moan into the dick I have deep in my throat. ‘Not there,’ I panic, I’ve never took it in the ass before. I know it doesn’t matter to him. I feel his fingers sliding inside of me.

‘Oh yeah boys, she’s tight back here too.’

‘Stick it in her,’ some one says.

I moan louder. ‘No. Not there, please.’

But I want it. I want to be stuffed full. I feel the head of his massive cock, stretching me, I’m begging for him to stop, but he can’t hear me. My mouth is full. He grabs on to my shoulders and thrusts as hard as he can. It hurts like hell, but it’s so fucking good. I have three cocks now. One in my pussy, one in my mouth and one up my virgin ass. They fuck me for what seems like an eternity. Orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. The cock in my mouth pulls out, I feel his hot cum hitting my face. I take it like the good little cock hungry slut I am. He wipes it in my hair, cleaning himself off.

‘Let’s go guys, finish the bitch off and let’s get out of here,’ he says.

Moments later, they both shoot off. I don’t know who went first, one in my quivering pussy, the other in my tight abused ass. They pull out, the one under me rolls me off of him. I lay there, unable to move, weak, exhausted, from my thorough fucking I just received. They get dressed.

One of them, I think the one who fucked my ass, sees the 100 dollar bill on the floor, he picks it up, rolls it up and shoves it in my sopping pussy. See you next week, he says. All I can do is moan. I lay there for a few minutes, unable to move, not realizing I’m naked on the men’s room floor. Another guy walks in…”

“Beth are you playing with yourself? I bet you have your hand between your legs right now. I bet your soaking for me. Are you rubbing your clit or do you have your fingers jammed up your dripping cunt?” he says, bringing me back to reality.

I can’t do anything more than moan.

“Have you ever taken it in the ass before Beth?”

I manage to whimper, “No.”

“You will Beth, you will, and I’m going to give it to you, make you beg for it. You’ll be my slut Beth. I will have you.”

Looking back, I should have ended it right then and there. But I didn’t. Those words only got me hotter.

“When?” I ask, my voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“I’ll call you, when you look like you’re at home, when you don’t have company. Think of me while you fuck yourself tonight, Beth.”

I moan as he hangs up the phone. I didn’t even hang up, just left it off the hook, while I continued to fuck myself. I had two fingers shoved inside of me, my other hand moving to my clit, rubbing. I pictured him while I came, played out our conversation again in my head. I heard his voice, telling me I was his beautiful slut.

Finally, I went to bed, wondering where all of this would lead. Wondering when he would call. Wondering if I would go. I would. I knew I couldn’t resist.