The Arms - Discovery

The Excelsior Arms is a mid-70's apartment building in the crumbling downtown district. Its rooms are poorly insulated, drafty and therefore, cheap. There is a frequent turnover, and more than an occasional incidence of drama. I have written of one. This is another of those.

The man knew that Brady Cobb had been watching him and his wife. He'd been watching Brady, too; he and his wife had talked about seeing him with the Asian woman from the third floor, sneaking around after her husband and kids had left for work and school. They both knew what was up. It bothered him that Brady seemed unnaturally interested in his and Denise's comings and goings, but maybe that was just his imagination. The man seemed to always be around, watching.

Justin Holman was twenty-two; a bright, good looking guy. His wife Denise was pretty. Justin was always good with his hands, and worked as a mechanic at a car dealership until he got a job as a millwright at a factory three blocks from this place. Denise Campbell had been a teacher when they met, and was still teaching now, almost a year after their wedding. Due to Covid-19, her school was on half-days and a limited class size, but they had a good life, despite having to live here while saving for their first home. The current explosion in housing prices was depressing to them, but they'd determined to ride it out.

Their sex life had not been what Justin had hoped for. Denise had been very hesitant when they first met, a twice-a-week church-goer who could only be described as 'sweet.' Their dates were usually either church services, or dinner at her parent's house. She was loving, if not overly affectionate. He hoped that would come later. He proposed, knowing he would never meet another woman as pure as her, and she accepted immediately. They moved into his apartment after the wedding. Six weeks ago they moved into the Excelsior Arms, to be closer to his work and to save money. Denise commuted to the suburbs each day to teach.

Justin was overly protective; his guard regarding Brady was up almost immediately. The man was old, but apparently that had no effect on his sex drive. Denise seemed unnaturally curious about him, and told Justin she'd listened outside Mrs. Lin's door the second week they were here, while "those two were going at it."

"Honey, it sounded like he was killing her in there," she exclaimed. "I heard slaps, one after the other! And the more he slapped and called her names, the louder she moaned. It was disturbing!"

The Holmans lived on the fifth floor, at the other end of the hall. Justin didn't ask Denise how she came to be near that apartment, but he did ask Denise jokingly if she would mind if he spanked her? She was too shocked to reply. That night, however, while making love to his wife, he slapped her ass, on impulse. She seemed upset, but she was secretly intrigued by this new-found eroticism. What she didn't tell him was that when he smacked her ass she had an almost instantaneous climax. Unfortunately for him, he didn't know how to read those kinds of signs.

"That was naughty," she rebuked him sternly later, and was then secretly aroused by the shame he displayed. She didn't confess her orgasm to Justin. It became one of her little secrets, something she felt gave her some power over him if the need ever arose. Her mother had taught her to look for things like that in their marriage, in case of his disloyalty, or the need to control her husband came up. Mother had no idea what form these things might take, but Denise recognized Justin's weakness as opportunity, and seized upon it.

Over the next few weeks, Denise became obsessed with Mr. Cobb's sex life. Justin noticed that was all she talked about. Her hours cut to teaching just two classes, she was home long before Justin, and before the Asian woman's husband or children got home. Finally he asked her if she'd been spying on the couple. Flustered, she told him, "I'm no pervert! But when they're at it, goodness me! That's about all you can hear in this building!"

The memory of that slap on her ass never left her mind, and her past reared its presence in her dreams late at night.

Justin had nothing to fear from Brady Cobb, however. The couple's eventual problem was entirely accidental - emphasis on 'accident.'

Denise was on her way to school one Tuesday morning. As was becoming common lately, her mind was on Mr. Cobb and the Asian woman. She hoped to be home early enough to "catch" them at it again, as she had the day before. Though it didn't happen then, the sound of that initial SLAP! still echoed in her mind. She began to think, once again, about him spanking her bottom. No! That wasn't right. She should be thinking about Justin spanking her! Flustered, she noticed that her left hand had dropped from the steering wheel to the hem of her skirt, and had pushed up under it a couple of inches.

Denise should have been mortified with herself. Instead, she smiled. She had become more... what was the word? "Exploratory," she said aloud. She was simply 'exploring' things that she'd once known as a single woman. 'That was before the church,' she thought, 'but I'm married now. I can do what I want.' Her thigh felt as smooth as silk, and she let her hand wander over the skin, thinking about what it was that boys found so thrilling about feeling the inside of a girl's thigh. She'd once been one of those girls. She felt like one again.

"Mmmmm. That does feel good!" She spread her thighs as widely as she dared; as widely as her pencil skirt would allow, actually, and slid her hand down towards the seat, teasing herself. She would be wet by the time she got to school, she knew. She'd brought another pair of thong panties to change into; the pair she'd bought 'for Justin', and he'd never seen. They were now another of her little secrets, one of her sheer, barely-there secrets. She washed them in her sink each day when she got home, though Justin never did laundry. She enjoyed seeing the stains.

She knew her fingers would eventually contact 'that place', but she let them wander, delaying the inevitable. In her mind, she could already feel the sheer material against her fingertips. And the delicious sensations of her skin, just beneath. She hoped traffic would delay her getting to school, if only for a few extra minutes of pleasure. She hoped...

BAM!!

Denise's head jerked forward as she struck the black pickup's heavy rear bumper. Her seat belt yanked painfully against her chest as her body ricocheted forward and back, hurting her slender neck. Her head smacked the headrest as the whiplash effect threw her back in her seat.

"Oh, my God!" She could see the metal of her hood crumpled upward, and steam began to plume upwards. 'I hit somebody?' she thought, the obvious not yet registering fully. Her next thought: 'I hope they're okay.' Shutting off her car's engine, she threw the door open, but the driver of the pickup was already out, walking back to survey the damage.

"Omigod, I'm sooo sorry," she told the man. "I must have been..."

He immediately interjected, "What? On your phone? You fuckin' plowed right into me! I just got this truck!"

Denise halted before his explosive accusations, shaking her head. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't on her phone; that she resented anyone who did that while driving. Part of her wanted to confess what she had been doing, but in the next moment she caught herself. 'I can't tell him I was playing with myself,' she thought. 'Oh my Lord, who does that?' She spared a quick glance downwards, almost expecting to see a big wet spot on the front of her skirt. As it was, her fingers probably smelled like sex. She tentatively raised her hand to her nose.

The man was still going on. "Good goddam thing I got insurance yesterday," he moaned, "though it'll probably go up now. First fuckin' day, and my new truck gets hit?"

Denise finally spoke. "Okay," she said, "I get it. You're angry. You have every right to be. I failed to notice your brake lights until it was too late."

"Yeah, I guess it was too late," the man turned on her. "There's not even any skid marks. You totally plowed into me, bitch!"

Having the man call her that was equivalent to a slap in the face for Denise. She was hurt by his remark, though she understood she probably deserved it. Strangely, she felt a sudden surge of pleasure go through her at being called that.

'What was that?'

An image came to her mind: this angry man, slapping her hard across the face, again and again. Her mouth dropped open, as if it had really happened. Her pussy spasmed, and she felt the immediacy of the thong, buried between the cheeks of her toned ass. It felt like she was riding a razor, the way her skin prickled, and she couldn't help the sharp intake of breath, a full second after his comment. A warm feeling spread through her tummy.

"I... I'm sorry," she repeated. "It was entirely my fault, but I wasn't on my phone." The memory of what she'd been doing flashed again in her head, and she felt another surge of guilty pleasure. She leaned back against her fender, sure she would climax if that kept happening.

He called the police and she called her insurance company. They agreed that, having further snarled traffic, they should move their vehicles to a nearby parking lot, but not until the man had taken pictures from every conceivable angle.

As she exited her car, he was standing above her. She saw his eyes go to the hem of her skirt as she put one leg out, then chastely drew the other next to it before standing up. Another jolt of sexual energy. 'God, what is happening to me?' she asked herself.

The man turned out to be pleasant, once he calmed down. His name, he told her, was Gavin, and he'd literally just gotten the truck. He was forty, with a bit of blonde stubble and sandy hair. 'Not un-handsome' at all, Denise thought. She felt bad for him, and told him again how sorry she was.

"Well, if you were my kid, I'd give you a good spanking for not paying attention," he joked.

It was meant teasingly, but Gavin couldn't help but notice Denise's reaction. Her eyes lost focus for a moment and she literally swayed on her feet. He reached out to steady her.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked. "Here, let's get you sitting down."

Denise was feeling a little woozy. "I.. I think my neck hurts," she told him. She plopped rather awkwardly onto the painted yellow curb. Her legs sprawled open, but only for a moment. It was long enough to give the curious man a look at her panties, she was sure. Again, that jolt of pleasure.

"I'm sorry," Gavin told her. "Here, come sit on my tailgate. If I can get it open," he added pointedly. It worked fine, and she gratefully took a seat on the warm metal.

"Thanks. I don't know what... I'm really sorry I hit you!"

The man laughed. "Yeah, I got that," he said. "But that spanking may still be on the table." He hadn't failed to notice the wedding band set on her third finger, but he thought he'd try that again. Her first reaction was... well, interesting.

This time she kept her eyes downward, avoiding his gaze. That, in itself, spoke volumes to Gavin. He immediately recognized that this shy young girl was probably submissive in nature. He'd dealt with a few of those, and knew exactly what they needed.

"So, are you married, then?" he asked. "What's your husband gonna say about you getting in an accident?"

"Oh, my goodness," she exclaimed, "I should have called him right away!"

"Why? Is he gonna come beat my ass?" Gavin asked with a smirk that Denise found kind of cute.

Again, she formed a picture in her mind; Justin in a headlock, with this guy smiling down at him. 'No,' she thought honestly, 'Justin wouldn't have a chance against you.' To him she said, "No, of course not. He's... well, he's a very gentle guy. I just don't want him to worry if the school calls him, telling him I haven't shown up yet."

They each described their lives to the other as they waited for a tow truck for her car. Justin was concerned, but she told him not to worry. "I'm with a very nice man," she said, smiling at Gavin as she spoke. "He's going to wait with me while they tow the car."

Gavin noticed she said 'the' car. "Do you not have another car to get to work in?" Denise shook her head, and he offered to drive her there, since his truck was, basically, undamaged.

"Oh, I couldn't ask that of you. I mean, I caused you all this trouble..." She trailed off, hoping his offer was sincere. She'd probably already missed the first period, but maybe she could salvage one class, at least. Teachers were as difficult to scare up as were students, with all these concerns over the virus. When he insisted, she hugged him warmly, and thanked him once again. Her hands lingered on his shoulders as she felt his hands grasp her waist. She inhaled his cologne as she hugged him, and smelled his hair. It smelled like coconut.

At the school, he waited in the truck for her to let her principal know that she was there, and unhurt. He'd leave as soon as he was sure she was settled. When she returned to his truck, however, her look was troubled.

"Problem?"

"She... they got a substitute in, but they want to give her both classes," she said. "They want me to go home, or at least get checked out. Insurance rules," she added.

Gavin was delighted. He'd enjoyed being near the shy little thing; the way she faltered over her words when he looked into her eyes, and that tight, toned body. 'This girl is keeping secrets,' he told himself, 'and I'm gonna find them out.'

"Okay. Home, or the hospital?" he asked.

Denise's neck was sore, but she was sure it wasn't anything other than a simple strain. At five feet nine, she was 'willowy,' with fine features and a slender neck. Kids in her middle school class had called her "giraffe" for a while, due to her sudden growth spurt at fourteen. Thankfully, they'd caught up in a couple of years, and she was fairly confident with her own body.

'Maybe a little too confident,' she thought ruefully, remembering what she'd been doing to cause the accident.

"Home, please. If it's not too much out of your way."

*****************

Gavin was a little surprised when he pulled into the parking space in front of her apartment building. 'This place is a dump!' he thought.

"It's not much," Denise said, as if reading his thoughts, "but it's cheap. Justin and I are just starting out, and it's hard." She realized she probably sounded a little on the innocent, naive side, but if she had to admit it, they both were. "I mean.. you know, with the economic situation and all..."

Gavin was beginning to truly understand the meaning of 'hard' at the moment. This girl; the more she talked, the more innocent she seemed, could in reality be a smokin' hot thing! The thought, and the way her skirt rode up her smooth thighs, had him aroused. "I'd better walk you in. This place looks a little sketchy," he said, and laughed. She accepted gratefully. She, too, didn't want to part with him just yet. Gavin reminded her of Ryan Reynolds in some ways, and she adored Ryan Reynolds!

Leading Gavin into her apartment, she quickly scanned the room, hoping it was presentable. It was; she was an almost obsessive housekeeper. Denise was very aware that her panties were wet from her playing, and hoped that Gavin couldn't smell her in the closeness of the apartment. Excusing herself, she went quickly to the bathroom, intending to change into the pair she'd planned to wear home. Bending at the waist, however, with the thong halfway to her knees, she paused.

Voices were arguing inside her head all at once, creating an inner emotional roar. Knowing what she had been wearing was not exactly "proper," she should change them, she knew. But they felt so delicious! Denise finally stepped out of them, kicking them under the vanity; giving in to the temptation to not wear any at all. When she returned to the room, she was shivering with delight.

Gavin, for his part, was looking at a picture of the couple that was propped on a small table. The kid didn't look like much. "This your husband?" he asked, as Denise returned. She nodded. "Good looking kid," he said, dismissing him abruptly. Denise suddenly felt the need to defend her husband.

"He's a machinist," she said. "He works really, really hard." She sat down on the sofa opposite Gavin, who was leaning back in Justin's recliner. He seemed to fill the chair, he was larger than Justin, she reflected. She bounced back up and offered him something to drink, and Gavin asked if she had a beer. "I do," she told him.

It was the only beer in the fridge, left by one of Justin's friends on the day they moved in; neither she nor Justin drank. She grabbed herself a bottled water and carried the two bottles into the tiny living room. She was surprised when she found the room empty.

"Gavin?"

He answered from the bathroom, his voice muffled by the door. "Be right there," he said. "Sorry, I had to pee."

Denise could hear it hitting the water in the toilet, and told herself not to listen. Then she remembered the discarded panties. Her heart jumped in her chest, suddenly pumping blood that felt like lead. 'Oh my lord, do NOT let him look at the floor!' she prayed. She could feel the humid air on her bare pussy, now; it felt like a hot breath. She knew she was damp again.

When he returned, Gavin thanked her for the drink, and sat joking with the pretty brunette until the bottle was empty. It was hot in there, made hotter still by the knowledge that he had her damp thong panties in his pocket. She was leaning back into the cushions with her knees just far enough apart to make him wonder what she was wearing under that skirt; not far enough to let him see. He decided to up his game.

'Now or never,' he told himself, and moved over next to her on the sofa. She seemed alarmed for a moment, but relaxed as he complimented her on their place. Then he paused, and sniffed the air. "Are you cooking something sweet?" he asked the alarmed girl.

"No," she answered him, looking confused.

Gavin grinned and pulled the thong from his pocket. "Ah," he said, "it must have been these."

Denise's face turned crimson immediately. Her first emotion was embarrassment' her second, the thrill of knowing what she'd done, and how he'd discovered it.

"I... I..." She couldn't find the words. He was holding the pair up by two fingers, the flimsy material dangling before her face. She could smell herself on them.

Gavin's other arm slid around her, drawing her closer to him. "Who's a naughty girl?" he asked rhetorically, enunciating the words as if he was talking to a pet. "Who needs a good spanking for running into good ol' Gavin's truck, and getting off on it?"

Denise immediately denied that. "I didn't get off on hitting you," she mewled, "I wasn't fresh, so I..." She swallowed nervously. "Please let me have them?"

Gavin grinned as he turned to her. "Nah," he said, "I believe I'll just keep these." He slipped them back into his pants pocket, not releasing the grip on her shoulder with his other hand. He could feel her shuddering; saw the way her eyes avoided his. He wondered if she was going to cry. Her mouth was working, but no sound was coming out.

"Denise," he said softly, "I wonder, if I looked up under that skirt, what would I find?" As if to answer his own question, his free hand dropped to her thigh. She flinched, but didn't draw her leg away. "Tell me, have you been a bad girl?"

It was all Denise could do to nod slightly. Her mind was whirling with conflicted thoughts. She'd been found out; this man could see what she was! His hand stroked the smooth skin of her thigh, working its way up under her skirt.

"Please... I... I'm not..." Words conscious though failed her. "I... ogod, don't..."