The Girl Next Door

* * *

With strands of early morning sunlight streaming in through the lush curtains of her room, Kellie stood, poised before the mirror, her hands smoothing over the dark navy jacket of her suit. She always wore dark suits to work, either navy or black. Nothing dramatic or faddish like Heather and the rest of her coworkers. She stuck to the good ole classics that had always served her so well in her profession. Her hands adjusted the collar of her crisp white blouse making sure it was perfectly aligned. She sprayed a spritz of perfume to the pale flesh of her throat and a little upon her wrists and the pulse points of her neck. One of Kellie's vain indulgences was expensive perfume. It made her feel daring in a secretive way. Her tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses were perched primly upon her nose as she finished pinning her lustrous dark auburn tresses into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck. Why did her hair have to be so untamed? Why couldn't it be so silky and straight like Heather's? Finally, with her panty-hosed feet safely tucked into the comfort of the matching navy heels, she was ready to go. Kellie, your friendly neighborhood bank teller was reborn for another day at the trusty old Bailey Brothers Savings and Loan. There were no traces of who she had been or what she had done the night before.

Kellie hurried out of her apartment, locking the door behind her. She made her way towards the elevator at the end of the hall. It was usually very quiet during the early morning hours, her footsteps hushed by the cushy carpeting. Her mid-town apartment building wasn't overly crowded. Some career-minded single people, a pair of older seniors, and only one family of three. Kellie could tell you the name of her neighbors, their occupations, much of their life history, but very few of them knew much about Kellie. She was the polite, well-mannered girl who worked at the bank two blocks from the apartment. The majority of them banked with her company.

She passed the door on her right as she walked by. Mr. Arnold Lewis. Real estate agent. He had moved in six months ago after he and his wife divorced. Real sweet older gentleman.

On the left, Mr. Charles and Annie Mae Carter. They were high school sweethearts, on the verge of celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. They invited Kellie over to dinner at least once a month.

On the right again, Milan Sanchez, jet setting model. She kept the apartment just to have a place to crash for a day or two between jobs. Kellie and Milan had actually become "friends". Yet it was a clearly one-sided friendship, with Kellie taking care of Milan's place while she was traveling, which was almost all the time.

Then across the hall from Milan, Ricky Pratt. Handsome, big time advertising guy. He was normally polite when they stumbled across each other in the hall, although he barely noticed her. He was probably in the same fraternity as Ross Byner, the one populated by great looking men who were after great looking women. Kellie figured he would probably make a good match for Milan because he had never given her a second glance.

Finally she made it to the elevator, her slender fingers finding the down button. Waiting for the arrival of the elevator, she sighed softly contemplating her day. Then there was the muffled sound of rushing footsteps. A man in a hurry she thought. Her eyes closed recalling whom it might be coming from that direction.

* * *

Still in a fog from the night before, Ricky tumbled out from his apartment toward the elevator. He was already running late for his breakfast meeting with his contact from St. Claire Industries. He had almost turned the corner by the elevator when he realized that he had forgotten the file he had thrown together to prep for the meeting.

'Damn!' He ran back to his apartment and retrieved the file. 'Fuck! Now I'm another two minutes late! That's what I get for staying up so late watching some beautiful young woman masturbate online! What a god-damned fool I am!' With a chuckle, he hustled to the elevator but still couldn't wash the image of SexyPrincess from his mind. He had been mesmerized by the sensuous and erotic way she had touched herself and he had grown so intensely aroused from watching her. Even his dreams had been filled with erotic flashes of her body, her smile, and her eyes.

Ricky rounded the corner and stepped up to the elevator. Standing there was... oh, what's her name, who lived down the hall... the Bank Chick... Kellie, 'Yeah, I think that's her name.' He remembered seeing her nameplate by the window a few times when he had banked his paycheck, but always remembered her as the Bank Chick. She always looked so... so... so plain, always dressing so ordinarily, with her hair pulled back severely and the big eyeglasses. Not like her girl friend who lived across the hall from him that he had seen her hanging out with, that hot model chick, Milan, and certainly not like his new-found Internet fantasy girl SexyPrincess.

"Hi," Ricky said politely when the Bank Chick glanced over at him. He reached out and pressed the down button even though it was already lit. Stepping away from the elevator door, his mind bounded back to SexyPrincess and the sensuous way she had licked her lips and dipped her hand inside her panties. 'I'll bet the guys are all over her in real life. And oh, the things I would do to that sexy body of hers!'

"Hi," the Bank Chick answered softly. "Why do people always do that?"

"Huh?" Ricky said, tugged out of his dream by her question. "Sorry, I'm sort of distracted this morning. What did you say?"

"I asked why people always press the button even though it's already lit." She smiled at him shyly.

"I dunno," he replied with a nervous laugh. "Force of habit or something. Just want to make sure it's pressed all the way." He noticed the way she looked at him, probably thinking the worst of him. Oh well, it's not like he was really interested in her. He pictured her coming home and slipping into a big fuzzy bathrobe and bunny slippers and curling up with a thick self-help book. Not like Milan or SexyPrincess.

The bell rang and the elevator door opened. Ricky reached in and held the door back gentlemanly so that she could pass inside. An older woman moved to the back corner as the Bank Chick and he got in. They stood silently side-by-side as the door closed and the car began to descend. The older woman was grinning in their direction, obviously misreading the situation.

Ricky became aware that the Bank Chick was glancing at him from the corner of her eye and when he returned the glance she smiled weakly. He took a deep breath. At least her perfume wasn't frumpy; it had a very lush expensive scent, certainly not an old lady perfume like the old broad in the corner was wearing.

The elevator car slowed and stopped at the ground floor. Again, he reached his arm through and held the door open so that the ladies could exit safely. He felt the Bank Chick brush against his arm as she moved past, mouthing a soft, "Thank you." Then he moved out himself and followed the two women through the lobby and out the front door.

"Would you like me to call for your car, Mr. Pratt?" the doorman called out to Ricky.

"No, thanks, Leonard." Ricky replied. "I'm meeting a client at Strumpet's over on 52nd street for breakfast. That's only a couple of blocks and close enough to walk."

"A 'power breakfast' again this morning, sir?" Leonard inquired with a straight face. "Third time this week." Leonard was a friendly middle-aged black man with a medium complexion and a trace of freckles who was always dressed in a clean crisp uniform. In the old days he might have stood his post outside at the door, greeting residents and their guests. But with modern security measures he presided behind a semi-circular desk arrayed with monitors and remote lock switches. Still his friendly demeanor never failed to bring a smile to all but the most pickled faces. He knew everyone and everyone in the building knew him.

"Of course ... what else?" Ricky answered with a hearty laugh.

"Just be careful of the hi-carbs," Leonard warned. "Very out of fashion these days!"

Ricky laughed again and turned in the direction of the restaurant. At the crosswalk, he found himself standing beside the Bank Chick again. Then he realized that Strumpet's was in the same block as her bank, an interesting coincidence. Oh well, it was a beautiful morning out and he had lingering visions of a beautiful sexy girl dancing in his head, and he hoped to have them there all day.

* * *

Fumbling through a few items within her purse, Kellie halted at the crosswalk, finally looking upwards after giving up on finding the stamp for her letter. Looking to her right impatiently and then to her left she observed her deadly handsome neighbor, Ricky Pratt, standing beside her. He was smiling nicely, the faint indentations of his dimples highlighted by the early morning sun. He had the most serene look on his face. Probably the net result of a tawdry liaison with some leggy uptown girl. He was so tall and well built with broad shoulders, thick chest, and narrow hips. His hair was a sandy brown, light and wavy, his eyes were green and deep. She didn't want to appear obnoxious by staring at him but having never been this close to him, she couldn't help it. Nice round cheekbones and an engaging smile always melted her. But this one was just like Ross Byner. They were probably fraternity brothers.

"Guess we're headed the same way this morning," Kellie said softly, smiling warmly at her handsome neighbor. Her cheeks nearly blanched pink as she thought of his deadly good looks. She scolded herself for being silly enough to be taken in by his striking good looks. Then the light changed, her heel dropped from the curb and before she knew it, they crossed the street together and conversation was rising to her lips with surprising ease. "Have you met Milan, yet? The girl who lives across the hall from you?"

"I've run into her once or twice," Ricky replied with mild surprise tingeing his voice. "You two are friends, aren't you?" He shot an interested look her way.

"Yes," Kellie answered quickly. "Yes, we hang out together. Often. Well, as often as her work allows."

"Thought I had seen you two leaving the building a couple times."

"Maybe you have," Kellie remarked with a grin. "Milan is quite the club girl."

Surprisingly their small talk continued as she stepped up the curb upon the other side of the street to put the blur of passing traffic behind them.

"She's some kind of fashion model, isn't she?" Ricky asked.

He had a great voice, deep and resonant with just a slight sexy rasp. Kellie could listen to him all day and had to stifle the urge to think of him as more than a neighbor. This thought was confirmed when his eyes glanced toward her and seemed to look through her, past her, as if looking for someone else.

"Yes, she is," Kellie answered. "A Ford Model."

"Figures," her handsome neighbor replied with a self-satisfied smirk. "What else do girls like her do in New York?"

Kellie's smile curled her lips again, brilliant and just bursting with a sudden impulse. "Say, would you like to have dinner with us sometime? Milan and myself? Maybe you could bring a friend?" Kellie knew it was bold and Milan would probably kill her, but she had already mentioned to Milan that she thought the two of them would make a good match and now here was the chance. She also knew that Milan would be back in town by Wednesday. "How about Wednesday at 7? Can you make it? Please say you can... I guarantee you'll enjoy yourself. Besides we should all get to know our neighbors!" She laughed softly at her own silly wisdom.

Kellie halted outside of the bank as she awaited his answer. She still had a few moments before she needed to be at her teller's window. Her glittering sky blue eyes locked upon his, hoping for an affirmative answer.

* * *

"Wednesday at 7, you say?" Ricky replied suddenly intrigued by the possibilities of having dinner with Milan Sanchez. He did have that late meeting with the Morgan Group to go over their second quarter campaign, but that should be done by five or six at the latest. "Yeah, I can swing that. You sure that Milan can make it? I heard that she was out of town."

"I know," replied the Bank Chick with a soft smile and trace of a giggle. "She's always out of town. But she'll be back by then, I'm sure of it."

"Great! Sounds like a fun way to get to know one another," Ricky replied.

Even with the bitter taste of rejection still on his tongue from his abortive date with Veronica Taylor, his thoughts immediately turned to Milan, whose reputation as a hot, go-to model was legendary. He remembered the first time he had seen her swooping into their building, flirting with Leonard the doorman, who had subsequently tipped Ricky off as to who she was and other pertinent details. Then there was the last time, when he had seen her and the Bank Chick leaving to go out clubbing, and how absolutely smokin' she looked in a strappy little top and snug hip hugging pants. Maybe this was meant to be or something... Kismet, fate, something. Maybe she would be as hot and sexy as the SexyPrincess he had seen online. He could only hope. "Say, do you know where she's been?"

"Barbados for a swimsuit photo shoot," the Bank Chick answered. "Before that a fashion layout in Italy and southern France."

"Tough job," Ricky laughed.

"Maybe tougher than you think," the Bank Chick answered. "From what she tells me."

"Well, I'm in advertising and work with models all the time," Ricky said. "It isn't the easy work that many people seem to think it is."

"A lot of times there's more to any job than meets the eye," the Bank Chick replied.

"Like yours I suppose," Ricky said, looking over at her closely as she nodded and smiled shyly. This had probably been more conversation than they had ever shared before, certainly more than he ever intended. She seemed pleasant enough. Smart too, and if she could provide a tasty entrée to the love of his life, then it was more than worth it playing nice with her.

"Well, speaking of it, here's my bank," said the Bank Chick as they neared the door to her branch office. "I hope you have a great day."

"Yeah, thanks," Ricky replied. "You too... oh, and thanks for the dinner invite!"

The Bank Chick smiled sweetly, wiggled her fingers in a cute little wave, then turned and walked through the heavy brass revolving door. Beneath the stiff fabric of her skirted suit, his eyes caught the sway of her ass as she disappeared into the bank. Not a bad shape entirely. Maybe with a little makeover or a few glasses of wine she might loosen up. Nah! Too much work with no guarantee. Besides his mind was more attracted to the prospect of meeting Milan Sanchez over dinner in a couple of days, up close and personal. If that didn't work out there was always the online SexyPrincess. Ricky glanced at his Rolex. Strumpet's was just around the corner and he had five minutes to spare before his breakfast meeting. Life is good, life is sweet!

Part 2

Kellie Andrews's workday had been uneventful but passed quickly. She watched the clock as the bronzed hands clicked down the last seconds until five o'clock. She smiled and waved goodbye to her coworkers as she glided out of the heavy brass revolving door of the bank onto the street. It was only Monday and already she was itching to be free of the constraints of her job, responsibilities and just be herself. She fell into the flow of the sidewalk and lost herself for the few minutes it took to walk home. She grinned at the thought that spending another evening as SexyPrincess could help her relax. Kellie laughed as she waved to Leonard poised behind the security desk.

"Good day, Miss Kellie?" he grinned as she placed a fleeting kiss upon his cheek.

"It was good enough, Leonard. How was yours?"

"Nothing special. Although, Ms. Sanchez did fly in and out in an awful hurry. She said to tell you she was booked for a last minute shoot in Belize and wouldn't be back home for two weeks."

Kellie's face fell flat as Leonard shared the news.

"Are you kidding, Leonard? Just when I had planned a way for Mr. Pratt and Milan to meet!" She began to laugh nervously, tossing her hands into the air, "Well, there goes dinner."

She grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note upon it.

Plans for dinner have changed. Give me a call at 241-8957 or stop by. Thanks! Kellie

"Leonard, if you wouldn't mind, when Mr. Pratt arrives, could you make sure he gets this?"

"Absolutely, Kellie. You know, I'd be willing to be a stand-in if you need help evening out the numbers for your dinner with Miss Sanchez."

Kellie shook her head, admonishing the kindly doorman. "Behave, Leonard." And with that she disappeared into the elevator.

Kellie noticed amongst her mail was another check from Live Girls Now!!! Her first had been for a few hundred dollars. She had banked half of it and spent the other half on upgrading her lingerie drawer and splurging on some ridiculously expensive European perfume. Each week seemed to bring a larger check, the apparent result of her growing popularity. Maybe those skinny perfect cheerleader types had the boys flocking around them at the clubs and raves, but she had all that and a little something else to take to the bank.

Upon first signing up, she had felt ill at ease, almost afraid that she'd become some sort of cheap online whore selling her charms to the highest bidder. But a few weeks into it, Kellie didn't feel like a whore inside; besides she wasn't selling her virtue, only a virtual image of it. And with each successive evening, she grew more relaxed and discovered that she could be in charge, she could be in control for once, she could set all the rules, and if the guys didn't like it, she could tell them to fuck off, literally. And if she was just going to end up going home alone and masturbating, why not pick up some sort of compensation to go along with the satisfaction?

With her last check Kellie had gone out and bought a new camera, one with a higher quality lens and a remote control that she could use to zoom in and out and pan all around her room if she wanted. That improvement alone had increased the number of visitors and lengthened their private shows. Her wicked little secret life as SexyPrincess had brought her many nights of sexual fulfillment and had ensured that her private life was no longer endlessly boring.

Three hours later, following dinner, her transformation was complete. Kellie knelt upon her bed, thighs split wide, hands covering the swell of her breasts. Glistening oil-slathered flesh peeked between her splayed fingers as she squeezed her full heavy globes. She laughed wildly as she rolled her hips, feeling the hum of the buzzing toy nestled so deep into the channel of her heat. Damp velvet walls clenched upon the small egg-shaped vibrator as the thin blue satin of her panties held it inside. Ribbons upon ribbons of dark auburn hair fell down the curve of her bare back as she swung her head back and forth.

averageJoe: ride that toy, baby!

hornyinhonolulu: omg...you're fucking gorgeous!

Supporting her breasts with one arm, attempting to conceal her hardened nipples, Kellie reached down to peck at her keyboard.

SexyPrincess: okay guys ... who's ready for a hot private?? Don't make me get dressed again!!

hornyinhonolulu: i'm ready bb!

averageJoe: no $ = no pvt :(

MichiganMan: princess..i'm about to..fuckkkk...

Kellie's chest heaved as her breathing labored and burned her lungs. Then her screen flashed as one of her many fans had clicked into a private show. MichiganMan. She wasn't surprised in the least, since he had visited her room several times before. Her hands slid down from her breasts down over the plane of her belly till finally her fingers fluttered over the swollen nodule of her panty-covered clit. The swift motion caused the sweetest of twinges to pulsate through her body. Her arms squeezed her glistening breasts together, her taut and erect nipples throbbing with each heartbeat. Her head dropped forth, spilling her hair forward, vivid blue eyes peering at the camera before a kittenish smile flashed upon her saliva moistened lips.