He watched the moving truck roll down the street from his second story window on a rainy Saturday afternoon. The apartment across the street had been empty for a few months and he wondered if this was the new tenant. Light daydreams passed through his mind as he absentmindedly clacked on the keys of his laptop. He had a project deadline approaching at work… but then again, when did he not have a deadline approaching at work. He wasn’t much for procrastinating, but he did love a good pie in the sky here and there.

He had been living in this apartment for 4 years without much adventure to his game. The walls were still bare and his setup was simply a desk to work and eat at, kitchen and bathroom essentials, and a bed. He really had no business renting a two bedroom apartment but the location had been too convenient to give up plus the price tag was reasonable. His life worked like clockwork; up at 6am, drive, work, drive, and home by 7pm. After coming home, he often found himself opening his laptop to continue working. He pretended that he was just diligently paying off student debt accumulated to gain that piece of paper for a career he loved, but he never minded being alone. Of course there were nights out with friends and causal dates here and there, but most nights he enjoyed a glass of red wine from his favourite winery, Burrowing Owl Estate, finished up work emails and headed to bed.

Much like his own, the building across the street was a 10-unit two story rental apartment built in 1955. The layout was quite simple: on the right, there was the front door with a long corridor that led to a good sized kitchen and dining room. The living room was the majority of the front windows and the bathroom door was at the back with two bedrooms off to the left. The only exception was that his apartment was on a slight hill so it seemed to leer down on its neighbours. The previous tenants always had their windows shut, blinds drawn, and curtains closed. Sometimes, he could make out blurry shadows of everyday life, but most of the time he assumed they were never home and went about his life much in the ordinary way. When they moved out, they took all the window coverings with them so now he could see into the other apartment quite clearly.

He watched a woman in her late 20s wearing an SFU baseball cap and hair in a ponytail step out from the moving van’s passenger side and start the orchestration of furniture and boxes into the building. Almost as quickly as they had driven up, she was signing the papers, paying the driver, and tipping each worker individually. He saw the last mover refuse the money and hastily pull a piece of paper out of his pocket and hand it to her. She smiled graciously, accept the paper, and slipped the money into the front pocket of his shirt. As they drove away, he laughed as he saw her shake her head slightly, toss the paper into the recycling bin, and walk into her apartment alone.

From here, his favourite pastime was watching her. At first, he would just glance over casually while he was making dinner or moving around his apartment. The street lights did a good job of lighting up the front half of her apartment, but she also kept a living room lamp on that she turned it off every night before she went to bed. After a while, he realized that from his desk, he had a clear vantage point into her windows. He was certain that she could not see him and even waved wildly at her a few times to make sure she did not react. Beside his seat, he hung a small pair of binoculars that he picked up from the large strip mall down the street. He knew that he had really increased his creep factor by thousands, but he was a fanatic for details. He knew it was also wrong but he couldn’t stop himself from unzipping his pants and jerking his cock until it exploded while watching her cook, clean, study, and repeat.

Her gorgeous looks and beautiful body gave her ample adventures and she had suitors every few weeks, but never duplicated. He caught glimpses of them as they rushed her down the corridor into her bedroom, only to emerge about 20 minutes later. She would firmly but gently escort them to the front door and open it expectantly. After they left, she would close the door behind him, slowly walk back down her hall with her head low and turn off her living room light. Some nights, after she turned off the light, he was too excited to sleep. His cock would be throbbing, looking for release as he imagined how she would move under his hands. He would sip his wine, stroke himself and fantasize about how he would satisfy her every need. He loved imagining her riding him, his cock thrust deep into her again and again making her cry out in pleasure. He often pictured bending her over her dining room table and taking her from behind. Mostly he imagined kissing her luscious lips until he exploded.

With the weather getting warmer, she had started leaving the bathroom door open while she showered and the steamy air escaped out of the door and disappear. As she walked around her apartment naked to air dry, her wet dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders and would slowly unstick from her small bouncy, perky, perfect breasts with nipples that were tiny rose coloured mounds of puffy flesh as it dried. How badly he wanted to put them into this mouth and suck them hard. Sometimes, when towel drying her hair, she would bend over so her backside faced the windows could make out she only had a landing strip and that her pretty pink lips were smooth and bare. Seeing her in all her exposed glory always made him stroke faster while fantasizing of penetrating her from behind, grabbing her thick hips, and pouring himself into her.

Now early July, the text books had slowly replaced by paperwork and a small laptop. He loved the way she pushed her glasses up her nose and sipped her white wine while she thought about what was in front of her. He often pretended that they were working together and he had many images of office flings on various furniture around her apartment. He thought it strange, but he had noticed a letter sized piece of paper go up on the wall above her dining table that faced his apartment. It read:

Call Me: 677 836 5837

He swore it was written in the same shade as her lipstick.


Ready for More? Read Part II Here: https://gretaspruce.com/2019/08/08/the-apartment-on…w-avenue-part-ii/