Epilogue

I guess I kind of knew when I opened my door and kicked against a small envelope on the floor. On its bland white face was written in large, capitalized letters "To: MISTER".

I hadn't seen her for roughly two months. I hadn't really thought much about it at first, the pre-Christmas season being a busy period at work for me, but I'd suddenly realised a couple of nights back that it had been a while since I last saw my neighbour's daughter.

Prior to that, we had been meeting regularly for our little trysts, and it had even seemed that we were getting together even more regularly -- her parents seemed to be taking those out-of-town trips more and more. I never questioned when she didn't call me over -- it was really up to her parents' schedule after all, and it wasn't like we had had any sort of 'agreement' or anything like that.

I guess I was really enjoying our little arrangement, because she seemed to look forward to me coming over, even if it was just for the night. It was really nice to feel so wanted... I can't say I've had such a feeling for a while now.

But there were more recent times when I wondered when and how it would all end. I mean, I'm not an idiot -- this young woman was almost 20 years younger than I, and there probably wasn't any way her parents would like the idea that she was seeing me, never mind that we were fucking so regularly. Maybe it was something she said or did... I'm not sure, but I got this mild sense of foreboding that it was too good to last.

When I saw that envelope that had been slipped under my door, my heart sank. I had been right all along. I picked it up and left it on the dining table, daring myself to not open it to read the letter inside, but I knew I had to. So it was with a heavy heart that I had a light dinner, followed by a couple of glasses of wine. I peeked out the peephole at the door opposite, but knew that there wouldn't be a light shining under it. There hadn't been any lights in that apartment since the previous day.

Fuck it. I should just read it and get it over with. I picked up the envelope and smelt it. There was a hint of fragrance on it. Damn, it reminded me of her. I picked up the letter opener and carefully opened the letter. A couple of pages fell out, along with a small photograph. I ignored the picture, choosing instead to look at what she had written.

"Dear mister,

I know it sounds cliched but by the time you're reading this letter, we would have moved out of our apartment. I guess I'd known it all along, but I thought there was a chance we would stay at least until I finished my degree here. I was wrong. Dad got a new appointment and we had to up and leave again, all of us. The story of my life.

To be honest, I'm really tired of all this moving around. We've been moving from city to city for since as long as I can remember, which is why I don't really have a lot of friends. It's kind of hard to make friends when you don't know when you have to say goodbye, you just know you do. That sucks and I hate it. That's why I never asked for your name, and I didn't want to give you mine. I just thought we shouldn't become friends. Or maybe I didn't think you would want to be friends with me anyway.

Anyway, I'm glad we did. Become friends anyway, that is. I mean, OK, we did more than just what friends do I guess, but you know what I mean. I wasn't expecting that we would get to know each other quite so well :). Mmmm... and I'm certainly glad we did get to know each other the way we did.

I know I've told you some of it, but I want to tell you everything so you know just how much you did for me... do you remember that day, when I asked you to come over to fix the gas? I was going through a pretty bad time in school and with my parents, and I did think of ending it all, but I chickened out. That made me feel even worse... I couldn't even succeed at killing myself. What a loser, huh?

Anyway, I'd planned on gassing myself, but I couldn't go through with it. Then I thought of slitting my wrists, but when I put the knife against my wrist, I just couldn't do it. I think I convinced myself that it was because I was still a virgin. I'd heard the other girls talking about sex and how great it was, and I'd often wondered what it'd be like. But I didn't trust any of the guys in school because they talked amongst themselves too -- comparing the girls they'd fucked in terms of how they looked naked and all that.

The week before, when I'd convinced myself that I was gonna kill myself, I decided to try it once. I sort of went up to Tommy and asked him to meet me at the shed behind the football field. He looked kinda surprised but he turned up anyway, which surprised me too. I guess it got kinda awkward from then on because I didn't know what to do, and he wasn't very helpful either. We talked about our classes for a bit, then he asked me why I'd asked to meet him there.

Like I said, I'm chicken. I couldn't bring myself to tell him I wanted to give him my virginity. I just looked at him dumbly, and he took the chance to jump on me. He ripped my clothes off, groped my breasts and stuck his finger in my ass. Then he said he was gonna fuck me in the ass. I kept saying "no" but he wasn't listening. He was getting ready to stick his cock into me when Bella came in. You remember Bella, Tommy's girlfriend, right? Anyway, he suddenly pushed me away and swore that I'd come on to him. I was crying and begging Bella for help because he was trying to rape me, but instead of believing me, she started taking pictures of me. Naked. Tommy held me and posed with his fingers in my pussy. Then they took pictures of me bending over while he pressed his cock against my asshole.

He didn't fuck me, of course. Not in front of Bella, but he did threaten to do it at another time. "When I get you alone," he said after he came up to me on campus the next day. He said he thought I would make a good assfuck because he said I was too ugly and he could only do it to me if I was turned away.

Bella of course took the opportunity to blackmail me into do her assignments for her. That sucked because I didn't have time to do my own assignments and my mom, she's kind of anal about my results. Bella threatened to post the pictures up on the school webpage and I guess that was what pushed me over the edge. I was determined to kill myself because I couldn't face up to the shame of it. I just couldn't.

Then, when I had the knife on my wrist, it occurred to me that I hadn't done it yet. I guess that was the only thing I could use to stop myself from going ahead and ending it all. That's where you came in. I heard your keys in your door and decided I should have my first sexual experience with you. Yeah, I knew you were much older than me, but the idea didn't gross me out when I thought about it. I mean, you're not bad looking anyway, and besides, I'd overheard one girl telling her friends that older men were better lovers.

So I thought I'd do it with you. I guess I wasn't expecting it to be so mindblowing that I couldn't stop thinking about it. I mean that. I guess I was expecting it to be painful and maybe a little exciting, but that first time, it was fantastic. I kept thinking about it so much I realized I couldn't just go like that. I had to try it one more time, to see if it was really that good, or if I was just kidding myself.

And it really was good. I mean, GOOD. I didn't know my body could feel the way it did, the way you made love to it. I was just blown away by it all. And each time we did it, I wanted it again. And again. I didn't want it to stop, and I hated it when you had to go back to your apartment. I wanted you to be around so I could feel that again.

I think it would've been simpler if it had just remained great sex, but when you started advising me on what to do with Bella and Tommy, I was really touched. You didn't have to, but you did, and you followed up with visiting campus to reinforce the story I'd told the two of them. You even went to the extent of following me when I went to meet them, just in case anything went wrong.

Of course, what happened there was epic. Like I'd told you afterwards, I didn't have the pictures, but I didn't need them. The pictures are all in my head. And guess what? Just the week after, Bella came up to me in the girl's room and asked if I thought you went walking in the woods often. It took me by surprise because she seemed to be quite nervous and flustered when she asked me, and when I said I didn't know, she muttered something about you needing to walk the dog somewhere. That's when I realised what it was she was really after. It was Blackie! Funny, huh?

I guess I shouldn't be laughing at her expense, but I thought it a little funny that the most popular girl in school would get so hot and bothered over Blackjack! I guess there's always something to learn, every day.

Speaking of which, I haven't forgotten any of the lessons I've learned from you. Words like "fuck", "pussy" and "cock" I already knew, but I learned how to say them without being embarrassed. I learned that sex wasn't evil or bad, but fun and really exciting, especially if your partner is willing to try different things with you. Remember how we played "doctor"? That was really great fun... although your cock is so big I was dropping huge bombs when I had to shit the next couple of days. That's not a complaint, you know... I know you did your best to make sure I wasn't hurt or in pain... just like you did the very first time. You were always gentle and kind to me.

That's what I'll always remember about you -- how you were so gentle and kind. I think I lucked out with you because it could have turned out real bad, I know. But you seemed genuinely concerned about me, and it seemed important to you that I knew that. I know I'm not the prettiest girl in the world :), but you managed to make me feel like I was... and that was good enough for me.

I just want you to know that you are special not just because you stopped me from killing myself (or maybe I should just say "entertaining thoughts of killing myself"), but because you cared. For once in my life I found someone who cared enough about me to want to know what I liked, what I wanted. And who was willing to explore that with me too :). I'll never forget how I stood naked at the window while you entered me from behind. I was scared as hell someone would see me standing there without a stitch on, but it felt good to know you were right behind me. Almost as good as what you were doing to me. I felt so liberated, so free to be able to stand at the window like that. Oh, thinking about that's making me wet again.

You seem to have that effect on me. At first, I thought it was because it was all so new to me, the sex, the orgasms and all that, but after a while, I think it became more than that. I can't tell when it happened, but I think I started liking you more and more with each time we met. After a while, I couldn't stop wondering about you, what you were doing when you weren't with me.

That's what makes this so hard for me. I've never really had to say goodbye to someone I really wanted to be with before. That's why I made that mould of your cock. I wanted something to remember you by. Something physical, something that I could keep with me. Of course I don't think of you as just your cock, but that's one of the first things I found out about you, and I guess it's something that makes the most sense to me.

Please don't angry with me, ok? I've written this much and suddenly realised I hadn't asked for your forgiveness yet. I guess you would have every reason to be angry with me, but I think you won't. You're just not that kind of guy.

In fact, you're the nicest kind of guy, and the best thing to have happened to me when you did. I wish I didn't have to (there was a blurry splotch on the page where it looked like water had dripped on it) write this to say goodbye, but I couldn't stand the thought of telling you goodbye. I just couldn't. I wasn't sure I wouldn't grab hold of you and refuse to let go if I did.

I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but I didn't know how else to do this. I do know I'm gonna miss you. I'll miss knowing you are nearby. I'll miss you being able to come over. And come. Again and again. I hope you find someone who appreciates you for the wonderful man you are. In the meantime, I've included a photograph to keep you company, that I'm sure you will find very familiar."

I picked up the photo and looked at it -- it was a picture of her bare beaver, fleshy lips pouting and open, her vagina gaping with the large dildo embedded deep inside it. It looked just as I remembered it, wet and slippery, gooey with her liquid. I recognised the dildo immediately -- it was the one she had modelled after my own penis. The picture made me smile in spite of my sadness.

It surprised me that I was feeling this way. I'd never thought that I would feel sad about what I had known would happen eventually. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that at some point in our "relationship", I had begun to really care about my neighbour's daughter. And whether I admitted it or not, I missed her when she didn't call me over. Even when I was busy with work, there were sudden moments when I would stop and wonder what she was doing, but because I didn't know her name or number, I had had to let it go.

Dammit. I'm getting soft in my old age. I folded that letter and put it back in the envelope, and tucked it into the drawer where I kept all of my best memories.

I think it took me a month or two to finally admit how much I missed and wanted her... I'd buried myself even more in my work, and every time I thought about her, I forced myself to do something else to distract myself.

When I saw the notice of sale on the door to the apartment where she lived, I knew two things right away: 1) I wasn't over her, and 2) I couldn't bear to see anyone else live there. Not in the same apartment where she used to live. So I put some of my savings to good use. I wasn't fabulously wealthy, but I was doing alright... and because I was only paying for myself, I was able to put away enough to afford a second apartment.

I restored it to the way I remembered it, from the bedclothes to the curtains and furniture. And I made sure only I had access to it. Even though I got into a few other relationships in the two years after she left, I only ever invited the women to my own apartment, not to hers. None of them worked out, of course... they just didn't feel right. And the last one hit the nail on the head when she called it quits. She said "It's as if you're keeping distant from me. There's a part of you I can't reach, and I don't know why..."

I knew why, of course. I was still carrying a torch for the neighbour's daughter. The apartment I went over to, every now and then, that was almost an exact replica of her old place, was proof of that. I never admitted that to anyone, of course. Only to myself. When the memories came crowding back, I would sneak over to the apartment opposite, lie in her bed and look out her window, at the stars. The same stars I hoped she was looking at.

Two years is a long time, though. And although I didn't feel ready to give up on the memories of her, I woke up one day convinced that I had to change something. So, I put my old apartment up for sale. No, not HER apartment, mine. The one I used to sneak out of, to go to her. I didn't feel I was ready yet to let that go, so I thought selling mine would be a start. Then, I hoped, I would finally be able to think about selling hers and moving out of this damned place. Too many memories here. Happy memories, yes, but they were now all in the past, and I'm just an old guy who had lost his marbles over a young woman whose very first instinct was to protect herself (and me) from the kind of pain I was in now.

I didn't get a lot of people coming over to take a look. Just a couple of agents who wanted to earn their commissions by "helping" me sell the place, and a weird little fella who offered such a ridiculously low price it would have been the same if I'd given it away for free. OK, I'm not above doing charity, but I didn't appreciate the attitude of the guy anyway, so I said no.

Then, one day, as I was in the opposite apartment, I heard the doorbell at my apartment. I looked out the peephole and saw a woman standing outside my door. Her back was towards me, so I couldn't see her face, but from her dressing and hair, I thought she was likely a professional. OK, maybe I'll get a serious offer after all.

"Yes?" I opened the door and called out to her. She turned abruptly, her shoulder length hair fanning out, then falling back down gracefully onto her bare shoulders. She was wearing a black spaghetti strap top with a short skirt that went down just to the middle of her thighs.

She smiled broadly. "Mister..?" she said, and then I recognised her. It was my neighbour's daughter!

"Hey... hey!" I said in surprise. She looked different. Or maybe I remembered her wrong. Whatever. She was here. In front of me. What... what do I do next?

"Can I come in?" she said, slipping off her heels in anticipation.

"Uh... sure!" I said, moving the side and holding the door open, before remembering that I was welcoming her into what was essentially a shrine to her memory. Oh shit. Too late now. She'll think I'm some creepy old weirdo. But what else could I do? Shut the door in her face?

She walked in, casting her eyes about left and right. "Wow!" she said. "This is all so familiar."

"I... uh... would you like to sit down? I'll get you a drink," I started off thinking to try to explain it all, then realized it would sound creepy no matter what I said... and decided to deflect to playing a host.

"Sure!" she said, moving to the sofa and sitting down. "This is nice!"

I caught a flash of white between her thighs and couldn't tell if it was her flesh or her panties, then forced myself to look up into her eyes instead.

"It... umm... I guess I'm a little surprised..." I began.

"I was in town and thought I'd drop by. I saw that your place was on sale so I wondered if you were still here," she smiled, leaving her legs slightly apart. Was she daring me to look up her skirt? Man, I gotta stop doing this creepy old perv routine.

"Oh yeah. I, uh... I thought, it was time for a change of scenery, you know? Been here long enough."

"Really?" she grinned. "So what are you doing in here? Do you own this place too?"

"Uh. Yeah. I do," I murmured. "I, uh, bought this place some time back."

She suddenly leaned forward, her blouse opening enough for me to see the luscious slopes of her breasts. "So... you did this place up?"

"Umm. Yeah." This was getting embarrassing, a lot like getting caught masturbating to her naked pictures.

"Wow," she said softly, and looked around a bit more. "It... looks just like I remembered it. Right down to the decor."

"I... uh... hey, you know, I need to get some wine. You wanna look around?" My only thought now was to escape. I just could not bear to see fear in those beautiful eyes... but I knew she must be afraid of this old kook who set up her old place to look just the way it did when she was there.

"You take a look at the place while I go to the corner store to get some wine and other stuff..." I mumbled and then quickly left the apartment. Yeah, it wasn't smooth at all, but for the first time in my life, I panicked and wanted out of there. I walked slowly to the store, bought some bread, cheese and wine, then headed back, all the while mulling over the surprise of seeing her again.

OK, I'll admit, I was stupid... of course I should have stayed and chatted with her some more, spent more time with her. After more than two years of pining for her, what the hell was I doing bolting at the first sight of her? What if she took that as a sign that I didn't want to see her again?