Tall, svelte rather than slender, great tits, a fantastic ass and long shapely legs made even better by the spike heels. Green eyes prone to twinkle, under a mass of close-cropped curly auburn hair. Okay, she was 40-ish, but the hair colour was natural. I could say this categorically because she was naked -- except for the heels that is -- and the shade of the lush pubic curls matched the hair on her head exactly.
As the elevator doors rattled closed, I reached over and gently squeezed her rearend. She tensed immediately. Correction, she "tightened", deliberately. Believe me, she was in no distress whatever. Quite the contrary. She flicked me a sidelong smile -- a GENUINE smile. Nor did she need to "tighten". Her ass was firm enough without...well, why belabour the obvious?
In short, despite her age, Riki was a fox. And I could keep her naked -- squeeze her ass -- in fact, I could do whatever I liked with her. ANYTHING I liked. Because I'd just won her in a poker game.
Well, sort of.
Maybe I should explain...
A few weeks previously, my grandfather had passed away: bequeathing me the apartment block. According to the Will, I could do anything I wanted with the apartments also -- except sell them. At least not until I graduated. It seemed my grandfather thought the responsibility would teach me something about business, while paying for my education.
There were only 8 apartments in the building. Older, but airy and well-maintained. Rather pleasant places in a not-bad location.
Today was the first time I'd been around to collect the rents. Nice tenants -- two real lookers (fellow students) sharing number 202: either of whom would've been more than enough to give me a hard-on. And had...certainly on one notable occasion. (But that's another story) Then 301. Forget the last name. That was unpronounceable. Laslo was 50-odd: short, dark, muscular, more than slightly inebriated, but quick and funny. Charming, always charming. Riki was the tall shapely redhead: clearly enroute to bed when I arrived, partially undressed, and now she was wandering about in an open bathrobe over one of those short black slips. The stiletto heeled slippers would have been a bit much on most women her age. But not her.
From the carnage it was obvious a poker game of some duration had only just finished. Riki cleared a place where I could sit, at the cluttered table, then brought me a beer. A little early for me, as a rule -- but who was going to argue? Besides, I needed the moisture -- kept having to clear my throat. Meanwhile, Laslo sat opposite, shuffling the cards idly -- making small talk for a time (what a great old guy my grandfather was, etc), before offering to "play me for the rent".
Seemed he hadn't done very well overnight.
I was about to refuse, when Riki nonchalantly shrugged off her robe and folded it neatly onto the table in front -- letting her slim fingers caress the fabric, and smiling provocatively, while she asked how much I'd put up against this garment. '20', I mumbled, taking a deep swallow of the beer...'50', Laslo replied promptly, while Riki took a chair herself -- angling toward me and crossing her fabulous legs. We debated the issue for a time, until Riki chuckled and said she couldn't possibly let it go for under $30, "all things considered".
Nodding, I sipped my beer. Then, for something to say, I asked: 'Eastern European?'
'Slovak,' Laslo answered, chuckling. 'Riki is. I'm purebred Magyar.'
Whatever he was, his luck didn't improve. So Riki nonchalantly peeled the slip up and off, adjusting the straps on her fully-laden bra as she folded the slip atop the robe. Then she fetched each of us a fresh beer. I NEEDED one. Laslo was beyond caring one way or the other.
Two hands later she was out of the bra, her tits undulating beautifully -- the nipples hard as rocks: in blatant competition with my cock! And when the time came, she was every bit as relaxed about sliding off her panties.
Believe you me, I had a very uncomfortable bulge in my pants by then. Just as I did when we left the pissed Laslo singing in his chair, and passed down the empty corridor to the elevator.
Which, of course, is where I'd left off...
You probably won't be surprised to hear that I left my hand on her gorgeous naked ass during the entire descent of the elevator. In fact, my fingers did a little wandering -- stroking the cool firm flesh, easing down and through between her thighs, which she parted slightly to allow me access. So I was positioned to insert a fingertip into her twat as the elevator shuttered to a stop. Just the tip, mind. And was she wet! Soaking wet!-- the muscles working instinctively to pull my digit up inside! -- the tremor genuine, confirmed by the sharp soft gasp! And by the distinctive sharp musk odour in the small space.
Then the doors opened, and I pulled my finger out -- literally. She chuckled and I grinned at the soft tight "plop". We stepped out, her heels clicking on the concrete floor: unnaturally loud in the confined space of the small underground garage. I left my hand on her ass, gently guiding her toward my car. She didn't seem in the least concerned that someone might see her -- that someone else might already be there, or might drive in, or walk in from the laundry room on the same level. She was as horny as I was, to that stage where "who gives a damn".
