I rarely meet my neighbours on the stairs. Perhaps our various activities are so asynchronous that the probability of seeing each other is low? They must be hardworking-get up early people. Who knows? After moving in, it was weeks before I saw sight of Ténèbreuse. In fact I met her then boyfriend first, a day when she/they were out and the courier left a small parcel for her at my place. I signed for it, and on cue, the boyfriend, a tall and robust-looking young man, came and picked it up. He thanked me tersely, but later on, as I was going downstairs to empty the kitchen refuse, I met Ténèbreuse, a small black-clad figure of a girl, red-haired and fast as quick-silver, rushing upstairs, and who thanked me with a radiant smile.

Her apartment is just above mine, I suspected her bedroom to be also above mine. Judging by the vibrations on the ceiling, transmitted through to one of my prize-winning chandeliers, I concluded that the boyfriend was put to good use. I am saying “was”, for after a couple of months, the vibrations stopped. It’s fair to say that I had for some time entertained some fantasies about my neighbour. But it was a few weeks before we met again.

One Saturday morning the door bell rang. I was just coming out of the shower in my regulation bath towel. “Hi!” she said with another glorious smile, “I just made coffee, maybe you want to pop upstairs?” Before I could think of an answer she was gone, right up the stairs, as I heard her door being pushed closed.

A few minutes later I stood in her kitchen. Her coffee was delicious, she, well, was stunning, wearing a dark blue peignoir that I did not have the time to appreciate earlier.

“Do you want to see it?” she asked abruptly. “I see you smile. Yes, Goliath is out, I don’t think he should come back any time soon. By the way, this is not an invite to… fuck me, yet.” I almost blushed. But then she lifted her peignoir. She wore only a pair of grey stockings underneath, up to the middle of her thighs. I admired the perfectly formed little mound and the crown of thin, red hair. “I am thinking of shaving,” she said, “What do you think?” I did not hesitate, and replied, as I tried to keep calm: “I would not, if I had anything to do with it…”

“My turn then.” And she expertly undid my jeans buttons. Her small hands stripped my shorts down, exploring with a resolution I found… engaging. “You are a good size, and I like those little balls of yours… Now, keep calm for now. I may want to find out out more in a while. Want another cup?” That is how we met, Ténèbreuse and I.


Image: Peter Emler, via                           danskprincip                                          


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