by Mia Moore
A picture of Claire pressing the pulsing shower-wand to her pussy, one foot resting on the side of the tub, her fingers pinching a hard, button-like nipple, head thrown back, lips parted as she orgasms, fills my head. I almost miss a step but catch myself before going headfirst down the stairs. At ease Soldier— careful or you’ll never LIVE to see Monday.
Balancing the pizza and beer in one hand, I fumble in my pocket for the key to my apartment. As I’m sliding it in, Amanda leaves the laundry room carrying a small hamper of clothes. She turns her head to look at me and almost gets whiplash when her head swivels back to the elevator. Hello to you too— Amanda with the cunt that opens more than a revolving door.
Once inside, I set the pizza box on the counter and try to shake the uncomfortable warmth from my hand. Fucking heat, I’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. I take a long pull from the beer I’d left and strip the cap from my head, tossing it aside. No need for camouflage in here. It’s just me and Sarge, the stray cat who adopted me a few weeks ago. Speaking of which, where is the mangy lout? I haven’t seen him all day.
I open the box and pull a slice, taking a mouthful as I walk through the living room to the bedroom. This is weird. Normally Sarge comes running when he smells pizza. The bed is still smooth as a cardboard box and he’s not sitting in the window watching people’s feet walking by. The closet door is open just wide enough for him to slither in. I step over to check.
Oh my God. Sarge is lying on his side, and a bunch of dark wiggling shapes are nestled in at his stomach. His emerald eyes blink up at me and half close before he stretches to lick one of the kittens. His purr is louder than normal, as if he’s laughing. Son of a bitch. I have to smile; Sarge played me well with all the rubbing against my legs, adoring looks and sad meows. She looks happy being a mother.
I wander back to the kitchen and grab my beer before settling into the chair. The six monitors are in front of me. Each monitor has a series of squares like a chess board, and each square is a room in the building that I can zero in on and enlarge if anything interesting shows up.
I click on the mouse to enlarge the old lady’s place, not that I’m interested in watching her. I just want to make sure she’s alive. She hardly ever goes out and I’ve never seen anyone visit her. Who would know or care if she croaked? Someone has to step up. Okay, she’s eating cookies and watching some stupid sitcom.
Monday morning with Claire… I click the mouse to get a bigger picture of her apartment just in time to see her enter with her husband. Two people, a man and woman follow them in. Claire must have been waiting for them to arrive when I met her in the lobby. The woman, young, dark haired with an olive, Puerto Rican complexion walks up to Claire and kisses her. It’s more than the kissy thing women sometimes do when they meet. No, this is a sexual embrace, long and deep, hands groping each other’s bodies.
I cram the last bite of pizza into my mouth, undo the snap at my waist and lower my fly. This is going to be good.
Chapter 3
Claire is taller and has a few years on the little Latino chick. It’s not surprising that she takes the lead, pushing the Latino’s ruffled top down to reveal breasts that are the size of pears, topped with small dark nipples. They pucker when Claire scrapes her fingernail over the tips, causing the younger woman’s head to loll to the side, sighing through parted lips.
Claire’s husband…what the hell is his name? Oh yeah, Gerald. He’s angling closer to the two women and steps in front of the camera blocking my view. Fuck. I grab the mouse and adjust it, to reveal Gerald bent over taking the Latino’s nipple in his mouth. Her hand is cupping and rubbing his crotch.
Now it’s the other guy, also swarthy skinned, with a curly mop of hair hanging to his shoulders, approaching Claire. He slides his arm around her waist, and she turns to kiss him. His hands roam over her ass and his fingers pry the dress up. Oh God. The sight of the two luscious bare cheeks and there’s a dribble of pre-cum at the end of my cock.
The guy’s fingers clutch Claire’s ass, kneading and pulling her hips towards him. She kisses him quickly and smiles, and begins her descent to his neck, trailing her tongue along his skin while her fingers undo the buttons on his shirt.
Gerald is doing much the same to the young chick. He’s kneeling in front of the girl and sliding her panties down over her thighs. When they rest between her ankles, she steps out of them and lifts her leg, to place it over his shoulder. It doesn’t take Gerald long with her pussy in front of his face to get to work. Her fingers run through his hair, pulling his mouth harder onto her.
I take a long haul of beer, my gaze never wandering from the action on the monitor. It’s getting to me watching Claire pull the young guy’s cock from his pants and lick the head in slow circles. I put my finger in my mouth to wet it and rub my knob, mimicking her tongue. God, it feels nice.
Gerald rises to his feet and takes the young woman’s hand, leading her to the bedroom. I reach for the mouse and click to split the screen in two. I hope Claire and the Latin lover join them soon ‘cause there’s not as much close-up detail with two rooms. But she’s pretty busy sucking the young guy’s cock, head bobbing on it like a piston. To think…Monday she probably will have her mouth locked on mine.
Jesus! I’d better slow down or I’m going to come. I get up, holding the top of my pants and walk into the kitchen to get another beer. I like to pace myself in this game, try to hold off till they come as if I’m part of it. I hold the cold bottle against my forehead and close my eyes, relishing the icy sensation. A flashback of Karen, her fingernails digging into my back as she comes, ass grinding under me, pops into my head. But that was in another lifetime, before…
I flip the beer cap and follow my dick, wagging along, bouncing against my bare tummy, back into the living room. It’s still rock hard but the urgency has gone down. I’ll be able to hold off, at least until Claire comes.
Good. There’re all in the bedroom and most of their clothing is off. I click the mouse once more and adjust the light level of the camera. They’ve got the room dimly lit and I don’t want to miss even a freckle or mole on Claire’s or Chiquita’s bodies. The guys are finishing undressing, standing on each side of the bed while the gals are going at it again, laying next to each other, kissing.
I’m not the only one playing with his cock. The two guys are fisting their own meat as Chiquita sits up and flips around to give Claire’s pussy some tongue. That’s right. Spread her open with your fingers so I can see her clit. A firm button of flesh and then it’s gone, covered by Chiquita’s mouth. Claire moans, pushes the other woman’s legs apart and dives in, head first. Fuck, this is hot! Their tongues and fingers deep in each other, while the sight of their tits, slim waists and round hips, smooth soft skin…it’s beautiful.
When Gerald climbs onto the king sized bed, close to Claire’s head, she rises up and smiles at him. Her hand nudges Chiquita’s ass towards his thigh, as if offering him a gift, a sweet young pussy for him to fuck. He places his hand on Claire’s head and leans down to kiss her, some sort of silent communication passing between them. Chiquita is licking Claire’s pussy but when Gerald’s cock thrusts into her, her face is pushed away.
It’s time for Chiquita’s hubby to get some. In a flash, his hands are on Claire’s hips, pulling her so that her ass is resting on the edge of the bed, legs spread. For just a nano-second the head of his cock appears before impaling Claire with a thrust of his hips. Her enormous breasts roll up and down on her chest as he pumps into her. In the background the slap of Gerald’s balls and thighs against Chiquita’s ass fill my ears.
My hand is stroking my cock in time with the guys on the screen. It’s Claire’s hot fuck-hole around me, squeezing my shaft tight, milking it. She moans while her hand shoots down to play with her clit, arching to take more cock inside.
“Ahhh…yeah harder…fuck me hard with that big cock…” The Latin lover is pounding into her like a jack-hammer, hard and fast…. “Oh FUCK! I’m coming!” T
hat familiar scream when she orgasms, puts me over the edge.
My hand is a blur…cum spurts….”Ahhh yes…” My eyes are half closed but Claire’s face, distorted in lust is in front of me…her hot sweet cunt filled with my seed. Again and again, exquisite eruptions from my cock.
My hand stops as the sensation peaks, now too much to take. Gerald has stiffened deep inside Chiquita, ass spasmodically jerking into her as she collapses onto the surface of the bed.
We’re all done for a little while. I reach for a handful of tissue from the box in front of me and wipe my hand and the spots from my pants. Fuck that was good. Maybe it’s better than usual because I’m going to be fucking Claire on Monday. From the looks of Gerald’s and the other guy’s cock, she’s gonna like mine. It’s not only longer; it’s thicker.
But what about the other end? There’s no way I’m gonna try to kiss her. I wouldn’t put her through that. Maybe we can make a game of the ski-mask I wear—pretend I’m a burglar. I’ll think of something.
I finish my beer and scan the other monitors to see if anyone else is playing any games. The old lady is packing it in for the night, turning off the TV and heading off to bed. Nothing in Amanda’s apartment. She must be still at the bar. Sam the Stud is taking it easy tonight, just watching a Knicks game. Olga’s entertaining but it’s still in the whipping stage. It’ll take a while before it’s worth watching. Nothing in One-B—they must be out for the evening celebrating their first anniversary.
Everything’s dark in 3-A, but the new tenant won’t be here until tomorrow. When they told me it was a single woman, they didn’t mention her age or anything much about her. If she’s as hot and horny as Claire, that’d be a bonus. Hell, Olga and Amanda are good entertainment, even if they hate looking at me. No, finding another Claire isn’t likely. She’ll probably be like everyone else.
Speaking of which…I glance at the screen showing Claire’s apartment only to find the Latino couple getting dressed. Well, that was short. Usually there’s a second round with the swinger couple. I yawn and turn the sound down before getting up. With that new tenant moving in, I’d better hit the hay.
“Sarge. Here, kitty, kitty.” I open the fridge and get the carton of milk to fill her bowl. When I take the dry cat food from the cabinet and shake it, she comes running. “There you go, Sarge.” I pour a generous helping into the bowl. I’d better get some cream and a better quality of food for her with the kittens and all.
When I go into the bedroom, I peek into the closet at the heap of five helpless bodies. Two of them look just like Sarge, gray tabbies. The other three are all different--a multi-colored, a black and white and an orange.
Sarge, you little slut. How many toms were you with? Cat’s got a better sex life than I do.
I smile as I take my clothes off. Just three more sleeps until Monday with Claire.
Chapter 4
Wet sandpaper dragging across my face and a low rumble wake me with a start. One eye creaks open and there she is, hungry eyes looking into mine, reaching forward to sniff my nose. Whew! No more seafood flavored food for you, Sarge.
I scratch the top of her head and behind her ears. Maybe she’ll lie down and let me catch a few more winks of sleep. Her head butting and rubbing my chin tells me otherwise.
“Okay. You’re hungry and so are your babies. I got it.” I throw the covers back, sit up and glance at the clock on the bedside table. Ten after eight. The new tenant’s supposed to be here for the keys and stuff at nine. Just as well that Sarge woke me.
Sarge is doing figure eights, weaving between my legs as I try to walk to the kitchen. Patience is not a virtue she adheres to. “Okay, okay.” I mumble, entering the kitchen and emptying the last of the milk into her bowl. Guess I’ll have my coffee black today. You’re welcome, Sarge, though I didn’t hear even a meow of thanks. I fill her dish with kibble and turn the coffee pot on.
The ‘Star Spangled Banner’ begins playing and I dart to the living room to check the lobby area on the monitor. What the fuck! There’s a woman wearing a trench coat, dark glasses and a scarf, standing by the panel of buzzers at the front door. That’s got to be her. Fuck, she’s early.
I race to pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“It’s Tara Jones, your new tenant.” The voice is high pitched and tinny.
“You’re early. Give me five and I’ll be right there.” I click the off button before she can respond, already on my way to the bedroom to throw some clothes on. No time for a shower Miss Jones, you’ll just have to put up with my stink, along with my looks.
In two minutes, I’m grabbing the knit hat, shoving it on and going out the door. It’s early. No one’s around, so I don’t bother to lock it, for once. When I enter the lobby, her back is to me as she stands in the outer area. The dark green coat looks too big for her skinny frame and what’s with the scarf around her head? Who does she think she is, Audrey Hepburn or … wait, maybe she’s an Arab.
When I open the door, she swirls around and I can tell right away that she’s Caucasian with the pale skin above the sunglasses. Her hand flies to adjust the end of the scarf to cover her nose and mouth. She hasn’t even glanced at my face.
“Sorry I’m early. I was up and figured why wait. I’m Tara.” She thrusts a small bony hand at me while keeping her head averted.
“Come in. I’m Mike Mansfield the Super. Nice to meet you.” I shake her hand taking care not to squeeze it too hard.
It’s a short and sweet handshake and she’s reaching for her suitcase, once more keeping her gaze low. Behind her, two men in dark blue uniforms, scan the entranceway—no doubt the movers.
I grab her bag and hold the door, as she sidles by me, like a wraith—skittish like Sarge had been when I first met him. Uhhh, her. “Just a second, Miss Jones.”
I take a step outside to let the movers know about the rear entrance and the elevator. They give a nod and climb back into the large yellow van.
When I turn to her, she’s already on her way to the elevator, then pushing the button a few times to summon it.
“It doesn’t come any faster doing that, y’know.” I walk across the room, taking care that my good side faces her when I stand next to her. It’s bound to happen that she’ll see my whole face but for some reason I’d rather it wait. She’s acting so nervous; it might throw her even more.
“Yeah, yeah. Is it always this slow?” She stares at the numbered lights over the burnished doors and I can hear her foot tapping.
“Yup. I usually take the stairs.” There’s silence for a few moments before the familiar thud and the elevator door opens. “How’d you find out about this apartment? I didn’t show it to you.”
Most times the management company calls me and I end up showing apartments and giving an opinion on prospective tenants. It didn’t happen this time and if it had, I’m not sure I would have recommended her. The nervous way she’s acting puts me off.
“I dealt with the company directly and the manager showed it to me. My privacy is really important.” Again, when she spoke, she looked at the floor.
What the hell? What was she, in some sort of witness protection program or something? I’ll be having a word with management about this. As for her privacy…she had no idea how much I’d know about her before the end of the week.
“No problem. Most people in the building are quiet and mind their own business.” Yeah, everyone but me, that is.
The bell dings and the elevator door opens to the third floor. It’s an older brick building that has seen better days. When the management company bought it, they installed the elevator even though it was only four stories high. Better yet, they fired the alcoholic super running the place and hired me. They don’t pay much but I get the basement apartment at a discount. With my pension, it’s all I need.
Thank God it’s Saturday and Claire will likely sleep in. There’s no way I want her to see me in my grubby green work pants and sweater with the elbows gone. Not even a shower, thanks to this dame
arriving early.
“Here it is. Home sweet home.” I insert the key in the lock and maintain my chatter as l let her in. “As you probably know, there’s only one other apartment on this floor occupied by Miss Fernetich. She’s a woman who runs her own business from home.” Damned if I would give Tara any details on that one. “Above you is a professional couple in their late thirties who’re pretty quiet.”
“Below you, is Amanda Bennett. She’s in her twenties, works in an office and parties a bit on the weekend. If there’s noise from her apartment that bothers you, just call me and I’ll straighten her out.” Although I’ll know before you as I’ll probably be watching.
Tara moves from the entranceway to the living room and kitchen, her hands testing the counter and other surfaces for dirt. There’s no way she’ll find anything. I’d painted and been through this place with a fine tooth comb, cleaning it.
When I reach up and press the button of the smoke detector, testing it to show her it works, she jumps a mile. Wow, this woman is wound pretty tight.
“I live in the basement apartment, next to the laundry room. The utility room is down there with a dumpster for your garbage. Oh, we also recycle.”
In all the while I’ve been talking, she hasn’t looked into my eyes even once. “Here’re your keys.”I keep my fingers tight, waiting a moment for her to glance at my face. Nope, she still doesn’t look at me.
“I’d better go down and let your movers in. See you later.” With that, I open the door and leave.
Chapter 5
There’ll be plenty of time to check out Miss Jones later. The important thing right now is to look after me and Sarge, which means a trip to the grocery store and finding a pet store with decent food for her and the kittens. As soon as I enter my apartment, she’s on me like a feline Kato or something, circling my feet and yowling for food. Okay Sarge, I’ll take one for the team and venture out in public.
