by J G Jerome
“Hi,” she croaks. “I’m Norma.”
“Hello, Norma. I’m William James,” I respond. “Please call me ‘Will.’ I have an appointment to see the vacant apartment.”
“Sure, Will. Let me grab the keys,” she says. She walks over to a lockbox on the wall and pulls a ring of keys.
“Follow me,” she says as she barrels past keeping her eyes on the floor.
“Yes ma’am,” I answer and follow dutifully.
She walks outside and turns right, leading me to the door of Unit 13. Number 13 is right close to the entry and has a small courtyard out front. She unlocks the door and says, “It’s a no smoking apartment. If you smoke you will be charged a five hundred dollar cleaning fee. Rent is nine hundred dollars per month. First and last month’s rent plus a one thousand dollar deposit on move-in. Three month lease minimum.”
The apartment has a small living room with a small kitchenette in the back left corner. There is a window on either side of the door, plus one on the side wall in the kitchenette above the sink. The kitchenette has a two-burner hot plate, built-in microwave, a counter-height refrigerator, and a small stacked washer-dryer unit. There is a bathroom door in the back right corner. In the center, there is a short corridor that leads to a bedroom. The only furniture is a tiny dinette table with two wooden chairs.
I ask, “When could I move in?”
She shrugs, “Anytime you have the check, really. This afternoon if you like.”
“I can pay you today if you will take a check. If you need a cashier’s check, I would say tomorrow,” I tell her.
“A check is fine,” she said.
“Is there internet?” I ask.
She points to an RJ-45 port next to the cable box sitting on the floor, “Gigabyte internet connection. You’re on your own if you want wireless.”
I nod at that as I walk over to the kitchen and turn on the water. It comes out clean. I shut it off and turn on the burners. Both heat quickly. I shut them off and check out the refrigerator; it’s clean, cold, and odor free. The tiny freezer area is free of frost. I check the limited number of cabinets and drawers. They are clean finished wood - no grime in the corners.
I check out the shower, toilet, the cabinets, the corners of the floor tile. All scrupulously clean. The water through each facet and into the toilet is all clear. The bathroom’s exhaust fan works and is relatively quiet. The bathroom is like a ‘Jack-‘n-Jill’ setup from the living room into the bedroom. It has a fairly roomy walk-in shower instead of the tub-shower I expected. The bedroom is also very clean. The closet is small, but adequate - no grime in the corners. The closet doors are mirrored. I’m estimating the whole place is about 700 square feet. The ceilings look to be standard textured drywall - not fresh paint but no signs of an upstairs water leak. The apartment has almost no odor anywhere, including the bathrooms, kitchen, or closet.
I walk out to the sitting room and tell Norma, “I’ll take it.” I sit down and write out a check for $2,800 to ‘Doric Apartments,’ and ‘Unit #13’ in the comment. I hand her the check.
“Right then,” she says. “Let’s go get your keys.” She marches right back out the door and stands by until I follow her out. She locks the door and leads me back to the office. She pulls a form out of a filing cabinet and sits at her desk without looking at me. She hands the form to me with a pen. I fill it out and return it.
She looks it over and then gets up and puts it in a filing cabinet. Once all the paperwork is secure, she opens the lockbox, returns her key ring and retrieves another ring. She sits down, opens a loose leaf notebook, and makes a note.
Norma turns the book around and says, “Sign here for your keys. Note the numbers on them.”
“I’m back in the army,” I murmur as I note the numbers and sign for the keys.
She says, “The first and last month’s rent are not reimbursable.”
“I got it,” I tell her. “I’ll be back later with some baggage and furniture.”
“Yes. And thank you for your service,” Norma said. She never raised her gaze above the surface of the desk.
* * *
I spend the afternoon throwing clothes into plastic bins, tearing down my gear off the computer desk, and sorting through the remaining kitchenware to pack what’s going to the apartment versus what’s going to storage. My friend Gerry comes over mid-afternoon. He and I load the desk, my small TV console, and my full-size guest bed into the back of my 10-year old GMC Sierra extended cab pickup. I bought it used from an elderly gent in Dewey right after the divorce. It’s proven quite handy for furnishing my house, getting building materials, etcetera that my primary vehicle, a 2015 Honda CRV, won’t handle.
Fortunately, I am able to park on the street in front of the apartment. That’s not a given this close to the Courthouse Square, especially since it’s mid-August. I unlock the front door, and then Gerry and I carry the mattress in first.
He says, “Damn. Kinda small, isn’t it?”
I chuckle, “Yeah, and it’s not cheap either! But it’s fine to carry me through construction. I lived in our guest house in Phoenix for a month as I was packing my shit out of the house after the divorce. This is much nicer. Plus, internet is included, so I can still work. Also, having the washer-dryer is pretty handy. I’ve got a three month lease. The contractor is telling me nine weeks to do all the work. I’m assuming there will be a couple of delays, so I’ll probably be here for about two and a half months.”
Gerry shrugs, “I don’t know, man. I was talking to Mike at the gym. He works at Hanson as a site supervisor. Apparently the project manager for their residential projects quit. You need to stay on top of the work just to ensure they don’t fall behind.”
I frown at that. “I’ll have to talk to my site supervisor, Zach, tomorrow. He’s coming by tomorrow afternoon to ensure we’re ready to start demolition on Friday.”
Gerry scratches his head, “Well, good luck, man.”
“Yeah, I’ll take any good luck I can find. Thanks, Gerry. Let’s get the rest of this stuff unloaded. I still need to load up bins and haul the rest out to the storage facility.”
“Okay,” he says. “I can make one more trip tonight, then I need to get home and listen to Diana piss and moan for an hour before I can go to bed. She’s working her way up to a massive tantrum.”
I shake my head as I head out for another load. “Melanie was like that for about five years before the divorce. I don’t miss that.”
He shrugs and grins, “I can’t say that I enjoy it, but the make-up sex afterwards is generally epic!”
We laugh as we carry the bed frame pieces inside and snap it all together. Then we lay the mattress on the slats.
The TV stand comes in next, and we set it in the front corner next to the outlet. The desk is the last piece of furniture coming this trip. After that, I grab the bin of network equipment and Gerry grabs the desk chair. He brings in the 50” TV from the back of the truck cab, and he starts connecting it while I set up the wireless router and test it.
I pull the docking station from the bin and finish setting it up as Gerry brings in the computer monitor. I connect that to the docking station and plug my laptop into it. It all powers up, works, and internet access works fine.
I look at Gerry, “Okay! Let’s get the last of the furniture, and then you can go pay the price for your epic sex!”
We chuckle as we head out the door, and I lock it.
The second trip consists of a nightstand, a bedside lamp, a couple of floor lamps, a side table, and a small loveseat. We get that all loaded into the truck, off-loaded into the apartment, and then Gerry is off to pay the piper.
I head back to my house and load the back of the pickup with bins of clothing, bins of kitchenware, my Roland electric piano, a Zager acoustic-electric guitar, a Fender Telecaster electric guitar, and a small guitar amp. I get that all offloaded into the apartment and head back to the house.
* * *
I spend the evening packi
ng up the rest of my clothes. I bag up a suit and a sports jacket with a couple of slacks that I’ll keep in the apartment for work travel. I’m packing up cleaning supplies into another bin to go to the apartment when the doorbell rings around nine o’clock.
I check my phone to see Marissa Tomlinson standing outside my door, waving into the camera. She holds up a pizza box.
Marissa and I have an interesting relationship. I met her at the gym. I was doing some dumbell work on my shoulders - heavier versions of the physical therapy exercises I did when I injured it. I’d seen her around since I started at this gym, usually accompanied by one pretty lunk or another who seemed to have no personality.
The day we met, she was unaccompanied. She walked up to me with the shadow of a smile and asked if I’d spot her on the bench. She had more weight on the bar than I would work, but it wasn’t outside of my abilities. So, I said sure. We kept running into each other at the gym. We’d chat briefly, and she would work out with me occasionally if she was unaccompanied. One evening, she decided she wanted to come home with me. We had what Gerry would call ‘epic sex’ all evening, all night, and into the wee hours of the morning until I had to join a phone conference at 5:30am. She kneeled under my desk while I took the call. Definitely epic.
Ever since then, she has shown up at irregular intervals, and we would fuck each other’s brains out. I don’t know much about her other than she’s 24 years old, stands five foot seven, has golden brown eyes, 12% body fat, C-cup breasts, and can fuck like a bunny for hours on end. We did go out on one real date - I took her out for dinner at Atmesfir on her birthday. I didn’t learn much more about her; she kept everything to small-talk. I did manage to learn her dad is Irish, her mom is Mexican, and she works in medical sales. Then I took her back to my place for another marathon.
I go open the door and invite her in. She holds up the pizza, “I thought you could use some fuel.”
I pull her into a kiss, “That’s very kind.”
She gives me kind of an embarrassed look. “Will, I just started my period. You won’t ever believe this, but I just wanted to hang out,” she tells me.
“Wow,” I exclaim. “I thought you just wanted to use me for my body. How novel! And you brought a …” I lift the lid of the box “... oh, a Spicy Italian from Victor’s! My favorite wood-fired pizza! Are you going to propose marriage next? I will say yes.”
She grins at me, “Don’t press your luck, mister.”
“Yes ma’am,” I say as she looks around at my denuded living room. I explain, “I’m in the midst of moving into a temporary apartment. Demo starts Friday on the renovation. I am about done packing out. The dinette is still here, so let’s sit there and enjoy some pizza.”
She gives me a smile and takes the pizza to the dining nook. I follow while I admire the way her motor moves.
I detour to open the fridge. I call, “Drinks are limited to water, lemon juice, and Pilsner Urquel.”
“Beer sounds good,” she answers. I pull them out and pop the tops.
Placing a beer in front of her I say, “All the glassware is packed. You’ll have to drink out of a plastic cup or the bottle.” I return with two plates, knives and forks, and paper towels.
She raises the beer to her lips and looks deep into my eyes. She swallows and asks, “Do you have a conference call in the morning?”
Sadly, I don’t have a conference call in the morning, but after I finish my pizza Marissa crawls under the table to show me what she would do if I did.
After that, she crawls onto my lap for some quality slap-and-giggle cuddle time.
* * *
The rest of the evening, Marissa helped me pack the remainder of the kitchen and load crates and boxes in the truck. I backed the truck into my garage, which is the most modern thing about the whole property. Then we stripped and cuddled in bed until we fell asleep.
2 - Looks like I had a visitor
At the Doric Apartments, unit 13, an amorphous glow appears in the center of the kitchenette. It glides around the apartment like it is inspecting all the furnishings and the covered bins. Then it settles on the loveseat. It pulses several times over the course of a few minutes before it blinks out suddenly.
* * *
Waking up next to Marissa is an unusual treat. We usually stay up all night with bedroom acrobatics, and then she leaves early. It’s about a quarter after six in the morning, and I have some movers arriving at eight to pack out this bed, the remaining bedside table and lamp, the couch, the dinette, and the appliances to go to storage.
Marissa rolls over off my shoulder and burrows into her pillow. I kiss her back and gently slide out of bed. I walk my little friend and then start the shower. I shampoo, shave, and shower and pull back the curtain. Marissa is just standing from the loo and flushing. She wiggles her ass at me as she washes her hands. I towel off and wrap my arms around her. She pushes her bum back into Willy as she dries her hands.
Marissa arches her back to capture my head and pull me into a kiss. I cup her full breasts and tease the nipples as she moans in my mouth. I pull her nipples gently before sliding down to cup and squeeze her full globes.
She releases my mouth and asks, “Breakfast or a Bloody Marissa?”
I squeeze her back to me, “Are you still cramping?”
She looks at me funny before answering, “A little bit. Why do you ask?”
I kiss her cheek as I hug her to me. Meeting her eyes in the mirror, “Marissa, sex with you is an epic experience. Every time. If you’re cramping, I would rather have more of the hot cuddly Marissa I had last night. If you’re not cramping and you’re into it, I would gladly have Bloody Marissa for breakfast.”
She twists in my arms and wraps her arms around my neck. She looks up to me for a moment. Finally she says, “I’ll do it for you anyway.”
“No, baby. I’m flattered, but no. I felt you squirm a couple times last night. I won’t do that to you. How about we get dressed and run out for a quick breakfast?”
She smiles up at me and pulls me down for a kiss before she slides out of my grasp. She looks over her shoulder and twitches her ass, “You better hurry up then, Mr. James. I don’t have all morning, and neither do you.”
We hurriedly get dressed, and head over to Cuppers for coffee and a breakfast-bar to go. We get to the house and climb the stairs up the two curtain walls leading up from Cortez Street into the property. My house is a non-descript construction with worn grey siding. It looks like it was a shack with delusions of a Victorian porch that had multiple additions over the years. When I looked into the history of the place, I discovered that description isn’t far from the truth. Regardless, it won’t look like this when it’s done. We decide to sit on the edge of the north-facing porch and enjoy our breakfast. Then Marissa sits in my lap, and we enjoy each other’s lips.
Marissa leans her forehead against mine. “Will, I have to get going. I need to get ready for work.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “I am so glad you decided to come hang out. Come any time.”
“Thanks, Will. I had a great time. I’ll let you know when I’m free again,” she says. She kisses me and gets up. She looks down at me as she brushes her tushy, cups my cheek, and winks at me. Then she turns and bolts down the stairs back down to the street.
* * *
The movers showed up about five minutes after Marissa left. They packed everything up in about one and a half hours. They got it out of there rapidly. I followed in the pickup. They emptied out their truck and were gone in 20 minutes. I emptied my pickup and then headed back to the house.
Now I take one more tour around the house, emptying the trash, and picking up the last two beers from the fridge. I park the pickup in the garage and lock it in. Then I take a tour around the property. I think we’re ready.
I head down the stairs to Cortez Street, and I move the CRV to the apartment. After putting the beers in the fridge, I survey my temporary home.
I give the whole place a good scrub,
paying extra attention to the bathroom and kitchen. I make the bed, put clothes in the closet, and put linens in the bath. After that, I put dishes away, make a sandwich, and take it and a beer to the loveseat in time to catch a rerun of one my favorite HG TV shows. I take a sip of beer and devour my sandwich as I relax. I decide to call Zach, my construction supervisor, and let him know I’m all out, and that he’s set to start tomorrow.
I set the plate down on the loveseat with my left hand and reach for my phone in my hip pocket with my right. My left hand fingers sink into a gelatinous goo.
There’s a sizable puddle of goo on the cushion of the loveseat. Thankfully the upholstery is some synthetic leather stuff. I should be able to get it mostly clean.
I scoop up some of the stuff up to investigate. It’s a clear goo - thicker and more viscous than the stuff they put in Stretch Armstrong. This has a little milkiness to it, but it smells like rain in the air. I had a girlfriend once whose vaginal fluids had a similar consistency. I touch a little to my tongue. It tastes kind of like a really strong portobello mushroom - nothing like the old girlfriend at all. I am not going to be eating that.
* * *
The small shaft of light coalesces into a human shape in the corner next to the desk. The shape has two arms that rise to hold its hands in front of the head part of the shape. The shape appears to slowly slide down the wall into a sitting position. The hands rest on top of its bowed head.
* * *
I grab a roll of paper towels and the trash bin from the kitchen. I wipe as much of the goo up as I can with paper towels until there’s just a light sheen remaining. I then go for the bucket from under the sink, put some dish soap in it, and fill it with pretty warm water. I grab a sponge and the bucket and wipe the mess down repeatedly until it looks like the unaffected part. Then I dry the upholstery with more paper towels. Then I finally think to pull the cushions, which leads me to start all over again. Okay! I think that will do.
I look around the apartment for signs of where the goo might have come from. I unbuckle my jeans and go change into a clean pair. I throw the jeans and some additional laundry in and start the washer.
