The Real Sam

Simon Says: I am going to apologize up front. This story will PROBABLY not eventually end like you want it to. Or expect it to. The one thing I do not like about Literotica is the category list. The beauty of a story sometimes is not knowing where it is going so if I categorized this up front it would spoil it in my mind. So I am not. And some of you will not like the outcome. So I fully expect this story to be rated lower, etc.

That's ok though as I need to tell the story, for me. Most of what I write begins with a "what if" moment for me. For the Safe Girl story it was: what if a guy falls in love when he desperately is trying not to? For the Good Girl story it was: what if a guy and a girl spontaneously discover a shared control sort of need that they had no idea even existed? And for Inside Out it was: what if a nerdy socially maladjusted guy got stuck in an isolated environment with the perfect girl? I am not going to give you this what if . .but it exists. That said, I did give it secret tags in case people were looking for that very kind of story. As it is, it's a romance. And that's an honest category.

Standard caveat: My stories more explore character development over quick surface level sexual encounters. I am not disparaging anyone else's work, but I love the slow burn. This story is no different. Sexual tension and some third base stuff is in this story, but not full on sex. If I continue this story then maybe . . . .

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I rounded the corner to the front of my building only to find myself faced with a small U-Haul and a stack of boxes on the sidewalk. I knew that one of the six flats in my building had sat empty for some time so this sort of encounter was sure to happen eventually. Actually the flat in question was located immediately above me.

I pulled out my key to the front door and began walking up the steps when the door opened and a woman nearly ran into me.

"Sorry!" She smiled shyly at me. Cute face, long light blonde hair, light blue eyes, petite, very pretty smile, she moved to the side to immediately let me pass

"No, no. My apologies. I should have been paying attention."

She didn't exactly argue with me but began moving past me. It then dawned on me. "Oh, are you the new tenant moving in?"

She nodded and smiled again. "I am Jon. I am in 102." I put out my hand to shake hers. She looked down for just a moment and returned the gesture by holding her hand out.

"Sam. Um . . 202 I think." She blushed. "Getting used to having an address. . . " She mumbled almost to herself.

I held her hand probably for about five seconds too long, but I liked the feel of her soft warm skin beneath my fingertips. It wasn't actually a shake. Just a warm greeting.

I studied her for a brief moment. This girl was all kinds of awkward. She looked so uncomfortable, which I found highly interesting considering how very pretty she was.

"Nice to meet you Sam. Can I help you carry some stuff upstairs?"

A brief look of panic moved across her face. "No, no. That is. . sweet. But you probably do not have time for that . . . " Maybe the girl was nervous about strange men. Or guys who looked kind of like me. Or guys who looked exactly like me. But honestly I am so very harmless.

"And I can do it." She brought her eyes up to mine. She wasn't scared of me, I don't think. Just nervous. I could handle nervous.

I raised my eyebrow as I glanced at the huge amount of stuff stacked in the truck and on the sidewalk. I grinned at her with the seriously-are-you-telling-me-you-can-do-this-all-by-yourself look.

"Nonsense. You shouldn't have to carry stuff up on your own when you have super manly neighbors to help you out." I grinned as I grabbed one of the bigger boxes. "It would allow me to try to impress you with my huuuuuuge muscles." It should be noted here that I do not necessarily have huuuuuge muscles, and this was obvious to Sam, who saw the joke as easy as I intended. She smiled. "Plus Sam, it would be my pleasure to help. I am ok. Trust me." I gave her a sincere look.

Everyone needed people. It wasn't too long ago that I desperately needed people. And she needed someone right now, at least for a very small amount of time.

She bit her lip seemingly struggling with a decision. Humorously I let her think she could decide as I stood there with a heavy box wedged against my chest, but I intended to help whether she wanted it or not.

She finally quietly nodded, maybe even sensing my determination. Good girl. Get used to me being pushy.

"Excellent. Well the plan is for me to carry the big stuff and for you to let me know where you want it." Yeah, I got a little bossy at times, but mostly when I knew someone needed it. I wasn't taking over Sam, just pushing her along a good trail. Some people just found it difficult to accept help, but I never let that slow me down.

She quietly nodded, grabbing several bags and a lamp and started heading back up the stairs. I took a brief perverted moment to enjoy her ass as she slowly moved up the stairs. Slender, cute, swished a little, snug in her skinny jeans. Don't judge me as I couldn't help it, man! Sue me for having a penis . . She was cute and I was behind her.

Her apartment was obviously on the second floor and sadly there was no elevator, so the moving exercise actually proved to be a good workout for me. The layout looked to be exactly the same as mine: small kitchen/ living room space, small bathroom, small bedroom.

She didn't have a huge amount of things, mostly boxes and some bags of clothes, but she also had a mattress , a TV, a stereo, two mis-matched chairs and an old dresser (which I had no idea how she would have gotten those up on her own). Aso, interestingly she herself carefully brought in this huge guitar case looking thing. I think it was a cello.

Once all was in, I plopped down on one of the chairs to rest for a moment as she stood in the middle of the living room contemplating the layout, I imagine.

I watched her, honestly initially just enjoying the view but also becoming interested in how this girl's face worked through everything right on the surface. She started off concentrating . .then seemed to not like one idea so she shook her head. . then seemed to really dislike her second idea . .And on it went.

"Want to talk through your ideas?" I leaned back in her chair, which incidentally was not a very nice chair. In fact it was the very kind of chair people got rid of when they couldn't stand their chair any more and went out to replace it. It was the kind of chair that broke up marriages. It was the kind of chair that only recently graduated very poor frat guys would be fine putting in their apartment. What had been sitting in chair and what was still potentially living in the chair proved a little concerning. But the chair was facing towards her so I had grown to appreciate its merits.

She seemed shocked at my interruption, as if she was not used to such things. She began to speak. . then thought better of it. . then thought better of not speaking as she almost started to speak again. .

This girl's awkwardness was seriously growing on me. It was all kinds of adorable.

I leaned forward, trying to look sincere. "Sam, tell me what you are thinking."

"Um . .well I was trying to decide on whether to put my bedroom stuff out here in the living room."

"Ok, cool, so what are you thinking of putting in your bedroom?"

"It would be my music room . . ." She kinda said it quietly. A personal reveal! And a discussion point.

"What do you mean by music room?"

"Like, where I would practice." She pointed at the musical case.

"Ok, I get it. Is that a cello?"

 She nodded and smiled, maybe pleased that I knew.

"That's really cool. Is that, like, your job?"

She nodded again. "I am in the city philharmonic, 3rd chair." She smiled, maybe a little proud.

I returned the smile. "Very cool!" Then I stood and moved up to her. I could almost feel a little tension in the air between us as I stood right next to her in the center of the floor.

"So mattress and chairs out here?"

It was like I was too close to look at me so she continued to look at the room . . But it felt like she kept an eye on me as we talked, standing side-by-side. "Well one chair . . One would be my practice chair." She pointed back to the bedroom door indicating where the second chair would go.

"Oh . .and TV out here?" She nodded.

"So where will your guests sit when they come over?"

She didn't respond for a moment. And I immediately regretted the question. Her pause gave me all the information I needed to know about that topic. She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could respond I immediately jumped in . . . "I mean if I am going to come up here on a regular basis I need a place to sit . . "

I saw a hint of a smile. A little bit of a sad smile but one nonetheless.

"Well this apartment may have to become permanently BYOC." She turned to me for a brief moment with the beginning of a grin.

"BYOC?"

"Bring your own chair." She smiled a warm smile at me.

Yep, I was breaking through her little shell a bit. It's ok Sam, I won't hurt you.

I laughed at her joke. "Well let's get your stuff where you want first before we start working on the published visitor guidelines." She giggled and nodded.

She then began pointing to where she wanted things and I moved them. Honestly she could have moved them herself, and I was not some sort of sexist thinking women were helpless, but I got the sense that Sam did not have a lot of people in her life and having someone help her might be good for her.

And honestly selfishly it gave me pleasure to do so. Did I happen to mention that she was very cute?

Once the very small number of furniture pieces were in place I then insisted on staying to help with hanging pictures and doing drapes and even making the bed. I know you think I was just setting it all up to just get her to repay me in sex, or maybe a nice blowjob, but that honestly was not really going through my head.

I mean sure I pictured her naked, like I pretty much did with every women I met, but this girl was different. I liked how she was like a nervous fawn in the woods . . Where I had to step lightly. So pursuing her proved more interesting. This sounds arrogant, but I generally didn't have a problem landing dates or partners for sexual romps. Confidence and being laid back coupled with apparently generally agreed upon good looks made me a catch apparently. So I looked at her as very different than the bikini modelesque girls of late, in a good way.

And there was strength there. I could see it. But obviously things in her life had happened in some context causing her to be a bit skittish. And I kinda wanted to know what those things were. And I even wanted to help.

I had been on a string of dates recently, many ending with good sex and some resulting in a second date. I was good at dating: small talk, smiling at the right times, helping a woman feel comfortable and desired. But with those I felt like I needed to do it just to get them in bed. With Sam, well it felt like I was needed by her. And that was different. And honestly very refreshing.

Please don't get me wrong, if Sam pushed me into bed I probably wasn't going to stop it. But that was, for the first time in awhile, not my end game. I liked how this felt. It felt .. better.

We had gotten most of the tiny space in order. Almost all of her posters/ pictures were music performance posters or some rather feminine flower pictures, that interestingly looked a lot like vaginas. But it must have been the perv in me.

"Georgia O'Keeffe." I heard her speak behind me as I looked at one of the tulip vaginas.

"Sorry?"

"That's a Georgia O'Keeffe painting. I always thought they were beautiful."

I smiled and looked at her. "Yes, they are." I then walked back over to her. "So looks like most is in order . . "

"Do you have to go?" I couldn't tell if she was hoping I'd leave or if she was hoping I wouldn't. Didn't matter. I felt like I knew what she needed so I was going to go ahead and do my thing.

"You can't get rid of me that easily." I grinned. "Rather than you have to immediately go to the grocery I thought I might order some pizza? I know a great place at the end of the block."

She looked conflicted again.

"Sam, you have to eat." She nodded agreeing with my logic. "And you don't have any food." Another nod followed by a little shrug and snicker. "Plus, I didn't get you some welcome-to-the-neighborhood-flowers so a take out pizza will have to do."

She smiled again and nodded. "Thank you Jon."

"My pleasure." I started walking towards the door. "Back in twenty." I started to pull the door closed as I entered the hall and I noticed the conflicted look on her face again. She stared directly at me until she realized that I saw her looking.

She had baggage. And I probably shouldn't be getting involved but I felt this compulsion to do so. It felt good to be helpful. And I wasn't lying to myself that I wasn't being selfless . .I definitely was getting pleasure out of this, but I liked that I was doing something for someone else in hopes of seeing her into a better place. At least that was what I thought.

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I knocked on her door. It was 7 pm, right at my scheduled arrival time, but I amusingly heard Sam yell out "shit!" I just chuckled to myself.

I heard the bolt move and watched the door move open a bit. Sam poked her head around the corner with a small grin. "Sorry . . was running late. Come on in."

And with that that she left the door open and ran to her bathroom with a stack of clothes in her hand. I got to enjoy the lovely sight of her legs, thighs and below bare, beneath a short towel. Apparently she had just gotten out of the shower.

I chuckled as she closed the bathroom door. "I like the towel!"

"Shut-up Jon!" I could hear the humor in her voice.

In the week since she moved in we had seen each other several times, mostly down in my apartment as I actually had a couch and a chair, but to her consternation I had insisted on meeting her here tonight. I really wanted her to open up to me and letting her be on home turf I hoped would help her out.

She remained generally guarded, but seemingly interested in spending time with me. She looked like she constantly suffered a battle when we met, with at least the side gunning for my interest winning each time. I found myself feeling general affection for her and didn't want to lose that.

And one thing that I knew about her just got proven true: she was always running behind. I know that some musicians were Type A personalities: organized, neat, scheduled, precise. Sam was not one of those. She kinda was a little bit of a mess. And I liked her imperfection. It gave her some color.

I stepped out in the hallway to bring my present in, setting it down next to her one seat in her bedroom/ living room/ kitchen. I then leaned against her kitchen counter, facing her bathroom door, awaiting her grand entrance for the big reveal.

I was not disappointed.

She opened the door a few minutes later, her blonde locks tied up in a sort of casual up-do, her shoulders barely covered by thin straps that held up a very pretty white sundress. Modest, feminine, very pretty. And I just stared at her. And she seemed to bask in my obvious fascination.

"Wow, you look so lovely." I finally regained my composure. And she seemed to beam in pleasure even more.

"You are too sweet." Her eyes finally moved from my face to my present. "What's this?"

"Just following the new yet-to-be published visitor guidelines." I grinned as I stepped forward and leaned on the back of the chair I had dragged in. I had opted for a nice modern white chair, one that I thought fit her personality. I actually considered buying a matching sofa and a daybed for her to use but I didn't want to freak her out . . Maybe eventually.

"Jon . . . " She began, looking actually concerned. I stepped towards her, "Sam, please take the chair. I honestly have no way of visiting you without it." I shrugged my shoulders, "plus it totally matches the other one!"

She laughed at the obvious lie, looking at the crap ugly maroon plaid 1970s monstrosity contrasted side-by-side with the sleek new modern chair. But then nodded. "Thank you Jon. You are too kind."

I shrugged and smiled. "What's for dinner?"

So we enjoyed a nice pasta dish. Apparently Sam can cook pretty well, even with a very lacking kitchen. I am pretty sure I only remember putting one box in the kitchen when I helped her move in.

"So where are you from originally?" We were enjoying the after dinner coffee phase, so I thought that was the perfect time to casually dig.

She paused for a few seconds, maybe considering how to redirect the conversation. I had so far had a pretty rough time getting any personal details out of her. "Um . .west coast really."

"Oh yeah, where on the west coast?"

Another pause. "Oregon."

"Cool. Did you move here from there?"

She nodded. She actually was almost avoiding my eyes. Actually she was completely avoiding my eyes.

"Why did you move out here?"

Now the pause went on for much longer. I had decided that the best thing for me to do was to gently pry and give her room to respond. I wanted to get to know her but I needed to let her set the pace a little, once I made the initial push.

She finally responded with "A few reasons."

"Oh yeah. Like what?" Her eyes came up to mine. She almost looked angry as I casually looked at her.

Yeah, I have been accused of being obnoxious, nosey, and even aggressive. But really what I am is a person who is pretty good at reading people. And I knew that Sam had something that made her deeply private. But I also knew, from personal experience, that keeping things private and letting it impact your whole life was not healthy. So I was going to get this girl to open up if it killed me, not just for me, but also for her.

"Jon . . . You have been very sweet. I appreciate everything. Maybe we should call it a night."

I leaned forward, leaving the mismatched coffee cup on the floor next to the chair, "Sam . . I want to get to know you."

"Why?" She almost looked like she was going to cry. I didn't expect this.

"Because you interest me. And I like you."

"You don't know me, Jon," she almost whispered.

"Exactly! And I want to."

"You . . . will not . . .you shouldn't ask more questions, Jon." She stood up and starting moving towards the kitchen. "You shouldn't."

She actually wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve as she set the mug in the sink.

She looked stressed. And angry. And sad. I definitely did not want to upset her but I wanted her to break free of whatever these chains were. I wanted her to be her with me, and I felt like in so many ways she kept a large chunk of herself hidden from me. Shame? Anger? Pain? I had no idea what it was but I wanted to know it, see it and even feel it. And I felt this crazy burning protective urge to help her deal with it. And frankly this was all a very new feeling for the player sitting in her crappy plaid monstrosity of a chair in her apartment.

"Help me understand, Sam."

Her eyes started to look weary as she looked directly at mine. She wasn't angry at me prying, maybe frustrated but definitely sad. A tired kind of sad. "I . . . can't . . ."

"Sam . . . "

"Please Jon, can we call it a night?" Her voice broke in the middle . . .

I stared at her. She gripped the edge of the sink, her eyes almost pleading with me now. I had pushed her a bit and her back was apparently against a wall. Maybe that wall will disappear one day but apparently it wouldn't tonight. And I knew better than to keep pushing as I didn't want to lose another opportunity to spend time with her.