Temmuz 12, 2024

The Apartment

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Babes

My second story plays around a couple of similar themes to the first one, plus the power of infatuation. It has some fetish content so please be warned. It’s a slow burn so you will need to be patient.

Whilst the characters are fictional, some of the events are based on fact. The Apartment really does exist as does its ability to transmit noise…

As usual everyone is well over the age of 18.

*****

My name is Caroline.

I’m 52 and I work as a designer. What I’m going to tell you about happened last year, starting in the spring. I can’t say I’m particularly proud of myself, but this is what happened.

So you can get an idea, I’ll describe myself. I am about 5ft 4 inches with smallish boobs, 34B to be exact. My bum is generous but still firm and I keep in shape so my stomach is trim for my age, just a few saggy bits. I have green eyes and dark hair which was at the time just below my shoulders.

Age has been quite kind to my face. Whilst I was never classically beautiful, I’ve made the best of my gifts. My lips are full and my cheek bones reasonably high. I suppose my nose is a bit big, I inherited that from my father, my mother always said..

***

When my marriage failed I was pretty short of money. I didn’t really expect to be but I was.

Even though my son was no longer a dependent, as he lived in France, making enough money to have a reasonable standard of living initially proved to be a challenge.

I resolved this by selling the family home and moving closer to my clients. That cut travel cost and time. However years of living in the country meant that property prices back in a city were steep, so down sizing was necessary.

Eventually I found an apartment in an old warehouse conversion and disposed of half of my furniture and belongings so I could move in.

What had attracted me about the apartment was the wood floors and the high ceilings. There was also a flood of daylight from the big north facing windows. The kitchen and the bathroom had both recently been re-fitted, so all I had to do was convert the third bedroom into a studio for work.

The first couple of weeks in a new place are always revealing. Moving back into an apartment had put me living much closer to other human beings than I was used to.

What I immediately noticed, was how the sounds of others resonated through some parts of the old building. The stairwells echoed with the sounds of banging doors and footsteps on the stone floors.

Some of this noise I found reassuring, but some was less than ideal, the bathrooms and master bedrooms were all on top of each other. Whilst I barely noticed it during the day time, at night, when the thrum of the city died off, the sounds of a shower running or a toilet flushing directly over my head took some getting used to.

I moved in during a cold snap in January, and barely saw any of my new neighbours for the first few weeks. They were mostly professionals who left early and returned late.

There was a small cafe and also a Tapas bar at the end of the street. Coming back from the shops, I got in the habit of calling into the cafe to pick up a coffee, and when my brother came over to see me, we ate in the Tapas bar. The quality of both places was surprisingly good, and the staff friendly. I felt comfortable in both too, which was really important at the time, as I was, for the first time in ages, on my own.

I wasn’t lonely though as I was incredibly busy with my work. I’d done some initial designs on some beachwear and accessories for one of the high street retailers before Christmas, and was now up against some tight deadlines pretty much every two weeks until the end of April.

My work routine saw me start at 8am. I would take a break at Noon and either go shopping or for a walk. When I got home I’d make lunch, and would return to my work until 6pm. I’ve always been very disciplined about not working late into the night or at weekends, unless meeting a deadline.

The nights started to draw out, and as the evenings got lighter I spent more time out and about. I joined the local theatre club, and a gym.

The only enduring problem with the apartment was the noise. Familiarity with the building had helped a little. I now knew what most of the creaks and groans were, but there were people in the apartment above mine whose intimate life I was sharing rather more of than I wanted to.

Knowing what was happening in their bathroom was bad enough, but of late I’d been subjected to noises from their bedroom that even ear plugs did not temper. The floor creaked to the rhythm of their love making and the moans and groans and occasional shout as a woman climaxed was very wearing…

Doing something about this wasn’t easy. Firstly I didn’t know who the occupants were, and secondly I didn’t know how I was going to tell them that their sex life was playing live in the apartment below…

I decided that I was going to have to either confront them or find a way to get to know them and then tell them. Neither was an an etiler escort attractive proposition. I mulled over how I could get to meet them without knocking on their door.

And then, by chance, fate played a hand, and changed everything.

One rainy April Friday I’d just got back from my walk. It was lunchtime. I’d got wet in the rain and was glad to get into the hallway. As I went to close the door, a young woman with long auburn hair pushed her way in, saying “Thank God!!”. She was only in a tee shirt and jeggngs, and was soaked.

“So sorry,” she said, “I forgot my key when I went to the waste bins and got locked out.”

“How awful, how long have you been out there?” I replied.

“Oh probably 10 minutes. Got pretty wet in that time. Just need to work out how to get back in to our apartment now…”

“Don’t you have a spare key with someone?” I felt sorry for her in her soggy and bedraggled state.

“`My boyfriend has the only other key and he won’t be home till tonight, he had to go to London.”

“Oh dear, that’s a pity. Which apartment are you in? Can you get in through a window?”

“No such luck. We are in number 16, the three bed on the top floor, where are you?”

“Oh I’m on the second floor in number 12, I must be beneath you, I’ve only recently moved in.”

“Yes I thought I hadn’t seen you before..”

“I’m Caroline.”

“And I’m Heather – nice to meet you,” and rather incongruously, we shook hands.

“Look Heather you can’t stand here all day, you’ll catch a cold. Why don’t you come up and have a cup of tea and get dry, and then we can work out what you can do to get you back in to your apartment?”

“That would be amazing…thank you so much. I really need to dry off.”

We made our way upstairs and I opened up. I showed Heather in to the living area which was warm and cosy as usual.

“Let me get you a towel,” I offered and disappeared off to the bathroom.

When I returned Heather had already stripped her tee shirt and jeggings off and was just pulling down her maroon bikini style panties.

She turned round as they hit the floor, and I handed her the towel.

In the few moments she was naked in front of me, my eyes drunk in her slender body. She had a small pair of breasts with small dark nipples that were swollen with the cold. Her delicate neck and shoulders were sprinkled with pale freckles. Her face was a perfect oval with high cheek bones and Cupid’s bow lips. She was beautiful, in all that soggy state she was truly beautiful.

I looked away and my face flushed slightly with the embarrassment of her nudity and my exposure to it.

When I looked back, she gave me a broad grin. She wrapped the towel around her body and tucked it in under her armpit.

“Sorry about that Caroline, I just had to get out of those wet things. I didn’t embarrass you too much I hope. I’ve always been rather relaxed about revealing my body.”

I tried not to look her in the eyes to avoid blushing more. Looking down I saw delicate feet with red painted nails supporting coltish legs.

I stole myself and looked right at her.

“No it’s fine, I’m used to nudity. I have just finished a swimwear range and I’ve models trying samples on all the time…”

“Really? What exactly do you do?”

I’m a designer. I mainly do accessories but occasionally I get commissions on lingerie and swimwear.”

“What a cool job! I love lingerie. Do you work somewhere round here then?”

“No I’m freelance and work from home. I’ve converted one of the bedrooms to a studio.”

“Wow! so cool. I’d love to take a look at your work sometime…”

“I’d be happy to show you. Now, let me go and make that tea.”

I left her in the living room and went Into the kitchen. When I came back, she was sitting on the couch thumbing an old copy of Vogue, leaning on one arm with her legs tucked up beside her.

“Here you are,” I said offering her a large mug of Tetley. “No sugar I presume…?” I put the tray down on the coffee table.

“Yes that’s great, thanks.” She took the mug from me without looking up.

Without thinking I picked up her wet clothes and shook them out before draping them over one of the radiators to dry. The gusset of her panties fell open as I straightened them out. There was a large dried creamy patch there. I hastily folded them over and put them under her jeggings. I checked to see if Heather was watching me and was relieved to see her putting her mug down on the side table. She hadn’t noticed.

“Do you want to borrow my phone to call someone.”

“Yes, thanks. I’ll just try calling Stephen, and she grinned again, revealing her flawless white teeth.

I fetched my mobile and I then went to the bathroom to have a pee so she could have some privacy.

When I’d finished I went back to the living room. Heather was now standing in front of my bookcase. She was leafing through a paperback. As I approached her I recognised she had chosen an anthology of erotica. I was embarrassed gebze escort by her choice. In a bookcase of probably a hundred books, she had chosen the only remotely smutty book I owned. I blushed…

“So can your boyfriend come home early?” I asked, wanting to get her away from the book.

“He didn’t pick up. I’m not surprised, there was something today about a new project meeting.”

“What does he do?”

“He works for the government, in defence, I don’t really know exactly what he does but he is mainly in the office either up here or in London.”

“Sounds mysterious to me..”

“Not really, he just does difficult things. He’s very talented,” and she beamed at me, her white teeth sparkling.

We spent another half hour chatting. Heather told me she worked in marketing for a credit card company and that she was 31 years old. She said she’d been a bit of a free spirit but then she’d met Stephen and they’d been living together for 9 months. She asked about my past and I told her a little about my son Alan, but nothing about my failed marriage.

When she went to the bathroom I looked her out some dry clothes. Remembering I’d a couple of samples of thongs from when I had been working on the last lingerie project I dug one out, along with leggings and a black buttoned tee shirt.

“I am not sure this will all fit but it will be better than sittting round in just a towel,” I said handing the clothes over to her.

“Oh that’s so kind of you Caroline,” and with no modesty she stood up and pulled the towel off.

I knew that it was really appropriate to avert my eyes, but something about Heather drew me in like a moth to a light, and I stood and watched transfixed. I was treated to a perfect bottom as she turned away from me to put on the thong. It was round, very white, and like her teeth, flawless. As she pulled the thong up and turned to face me, I saw her cute little breasts again and a flat stomach. Further down a generous thatch of dark brown pubic hair spilled out of each side of the skimpy little triangle that now covered her pronounced mons.

“It’s been a while since I had a wax,” she said with a small impish grin as she tried to tuck her pubes under the thong.

“Yes I tend to leave things natural in the winter, and I haven’t really found anywhere round here to get mine done.

“Oh, I can help you there, you can go to Cindy’s like I do. It’s only 5 minutes walk from here and she is really talented. I’ll drop you down a business card”

“Oh thanks, that’d be so helpful.”

As she was talking she put on the tee shirt and pulled up the leggings. Every action she seemed to make was measured smooth and elegant. The simple act of pulling a tee shirt over her head was done to a rhythm like a dance. I’d never witnessed anyone so beautifully coordinated in my life.

One other thing became apparent as she pulled on the clothing. There was the faint smell of Jasmine that I’d not noticed before. It was seductive for it’s subtlety..

“How do I look?” she asked as she ran both hands though her auburn tresses ending up with her elbows facing me and a rather coy grin on her face.

“You’ll do,” I heard myself reply, but inwardly I was scolding myself for not saying what I really thought which was that she looked gorgeous.

We carried on chatting for a while. Heather told me more about herself. It turned out she’d spent some of her early life in Singapore where I’d also lived for a couple of years. We tried to establish common places we could both remember. She was easy to talk to and her beauty and manner captivated me.

Sometime later she told me I’d done more than enough to help her and it was time for her to go. I suggested she could stay till Stephen got home, but she was adamant. She said she wanted to walk to the station to meet him off the train. It had stopped raining a while earlier and the sun was out.

In what seemed like a moment she was gone and the apartment fell quiet and empty once more.

I made myself some ginger tea and settled on the couch. My mind was disturbed. I could not work out what it was about the previous few hours that had suddenly rocked my equilibrium. My thoughts wandered to her young beautiful body, that bum, the small but firm boobs…I finished my tea and admonished myself for my febrile imagination. I put the cup down and headed for my studio to do some work.

***

I forgot all about Heather’s clothes drying on the radiator until I went to bed that night. I’d spent the evening catching up on the project as I needed to get the final artwork done for the coming weekend.

As I turned the lights out and headed for my bedroom I passed the radiator. I don’t know what made me do it but I stopped and sought out the small maroon bundle underneath the jeggings. I opened them out again and looked at the white stained gusset.

In curiosity, I brought it to up to my nose. I breathed in her scent…

It was sweet and sour and heavenly all at the same time. My body responded in a way göztepe escort that surprised me. My nipples started to swell and my vagina started to moisten. Still holding the panties to my nose, I undid my jeans with my other hand. Moving my fingers inside my panties I felt the moisture and reached for my clit.

I couldn’t – could I…?

I shouldn’t – should I…?

But I did…

And it was intoxicating…

I kept as quiet as I could when I came. My knees buckled with the force of an orgasm that I was quite unprepared for…

As I calmed down I started to feel guilty.

What on earth was I doing…? Sniffing a young women’s worn panties! Had I gone mad? I had never felt any attraction to women before, so what was happening?

I went to bed and tried to sleep. It did not come easily..

***

I was up early on the Saturday. My mind was still troubled, I was racked with guilt. How could I have…? Was I bisexual? I’d had female friends all my life who had never interested me sexually, why was Heather different?

I dressed and went to the kitchen and made strong coffee. I decided to wash Heather’s clothing and went to fetch it. It was if washing the clothing would also wash away my guilt.

I set the machine going and went to the lounge. I put the radio on to try and distract myself, it did not really work, the news was just too depressing.

I went and showered.

I spent an hour attending to all the chores. I plucked my eyebrows, shaved my legs, did my nails and put on my make up. Drying my hair, I noticed that the amount of grey in it was worse than I had thought. I made a mental note to sort it.

I dressed again, this time choosing some fitted pants and a blouse. I looked at myself in the mirror…I

I was 52 single and straight, but all of a sudden I was spending time thinking about a young heterosexual woman who was young enough to be my daughter.

Why was she so mesmerising?

Those eyes, the freckles, her swan like neck, that bottom…I wanted to kiss her, and caress those curves.

Looking in the mirror wasn’t doing me any good. This was pure fantasy. I decided to do some work.

***

Around midday, her clothes were dry and ironed.

I made up my mind.

I locked the apartment and went up to the top floor. I knocked at the door of Apartment 16 and waited.

Eventually Heather came to the door.

“Who is it..?” Her voice had a quiet rasp to it.

“Heather it’s Caroline. Sorry to bother you but I wanted to drop your clothes back. You left them in my apartment.”

The door opened. Heather, looked slightly tousled. She was in pale grey sweats that clung to her body. I could just make out those little nipples…

“That’s so kind of you Caroline,” she said as she took the bundle from me.

“Wait a second and I’ll go and get the things you loaned me,” and she disappeared off down the corridor.

She was back in a few moments.

“I’m afraid I haven’t had time to wash them,” she said smiling again and handing me a small plastic bag…

“We were out quite late last night and are only just getting up.”

“It’s OK, I still have other washing to do today so I’ll take care of it. See you around.” I turned to leave.

“Wait!.. Stephen and I were talking last night and we would like to repay you for your kindness. Would you join us for a bottle of wine and some food at the Tapas bar tonight at around 7pm?”

“That’s very kind of you. Yes I’d love to. I’ll see you there.”

I bounced down the stairs, happy about the invitation and the chance to spend more time with her, even if it was with Stephen..

***

I was nearly late. It wasn’t intentional, I went shopping and got side-tracked talking to the owner of one of the lingerie stores in the city centre.

I was quite pleased with my appearance as I walked in to the Tapas bar. I had bought a new black skirt and had teamed it with my best Whistles blouse and my suede waistcoat.

My time in the bathroom earlier meant I’d only needed to touch up my mascara and lips. I brushed my hair and put it into a clasp. I’d found what looked like a decent hair salon in the city centre and had booked in for a cut and colour the following Saturday.

As I walked over the road, I considered whether the opportunity would come up to talk about the noise they made. I knew really the answer was no. Having met Heather, why was I going to upset things?

Stephen and Heather had reserved a small table on the edge of the patio. It was half inside and half outside, perfect for a cool spring evening.

Heather looked gorgeous in a cream short sleeved blouse and black capri pants. I could smell jasmine again. Her hair was in a chignon emphasising her long pale neck with its dusting of freckles. She rose to greet me, her blue eyes shining, and introduced me to Stephen.

My initial impression of Stephen was that he was rather under-whelming. I suppose the Ministry of Defence thing had made me think he would be a macho James Bond type whereas the realty was he was rather ordinary.

Tall and dark yes, but he was skinny and his face was swarthy. He would have looked better if he had a shave. His eyes were intensely brown and sparkled. He shook my hand and smiled showing large white teeth.

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