My name is Abbey. This is a story about the day I moved to the big city. I had grown up in a small town, and had worked a job and fucked my boy friend after high school. After two years of working at the local Wal-Mart I got tired of it, and bored with my boyfriend.
I got an art school in New York to accept me. All of my friends told me I could draw really well, and I had decided I wanted to be some kind of graphic artist for a big company in the city. I had saved up some money from my job at Wal-Mart and my daddy gave me the rest. So I got a couple of my cousins to pack up their truck with my few belongings and move me up to the city.
I had rented myself a studio apartment in an old brownstone building. It was really expensive, and I knew that I could only afford it for a few months without finding a job. But I figured I could always get a job stripping in one of the many clubs in the city, so I wasn’t really too worried about money.
When my two cousins and their boyfriends dropped me off at the brownstone building where I was going to live we couldn’t find the building manager. There had been some kind of a mix-up and I didn’t have the key to the front door, only to my apartment door, and that was inside the front door. I was supposed to meet the manager here, but she never showed up. Maybe I got it wrong, sometimes I get a little mixed up. People call it the ditzy blonde syndrome – but hey blondes have more fun.
After about a two-hour wait my cousins had to split. I told them it was all right, and that I would just sit on the steps outside the building with all of my stuff they had off loaded from their truck. We said our good-byes and they left. I sat down and waited for the manager to come and let me inside. After I waited for another hour and no one came, I was just hoping anyone would show up. I tried rousing someone from inside the building, but none of the tenants seemed to be at home that Saturday afternoon.
At long last this guy showed up. He had been out for a jog, and was wearing shorts, a sleeveless shirt and expensive running shoes. He had long hair and a beard and was sweating profusely from his run. He looked kind of nineteen sixties to me, but I knew this was the city and there were lots of strange looking people.
He came up the steps of the apartment building and saw me sitting in front of the door. He liked me right away. I always know when a guy likes me right away, I can just tell.
I guess I should tell you what I look like. My daddy calls me “The Small Fry”. I am barely five feet tall. I weigh eighty-eight pounds. Like I already said, my hair is blonde. It’s kind of curly and I keep it past my shoulders. I’ve got a pretty nice complexion, especially when I have a tan like I did during this story. I am a little bit of a ditz, but I am friendly to everyone, and make friends easily. Some people call me “The Little Bitch”, but really I’m not.
About half the guys really like me because I am small. The other half doesn’t like me because I have small titties. Back in high school I discovered that the guys who do like me have little pricks and need the comfort of my little twat to fuck. The guys who don’t like me have big dicks, and can fuck bigger girls who have bigger titties. Problem is I like a big old dick inside me once in a while, and so I never like the guys who like me. Weird, huh?
Well, this guy in the jogging get up definitely liked me. I was wearing short pants and a T-shirt covered my tiny chest. So, therefore, since he liked me, I knew he must have a four or five inch ding-dong. He was actually kind of a tall guy, but I had fucked lots of tall guys with short dicks.
I explained to him what my problem was, about being locked out, and not knowing when the manager was going to show up, and my cousins having to leave me.
“Come on in,” he told me opening the door for us.
“All of my stuff is out here on the street. I’m afraid someone will steal it,” I looked up at him with my saddest look hoping he would come through for me and help me carry some of my things into my new apartment.
“Let me give you a hand with that,” he said, not letting me down.
He ended up carrying all of the big boxes and the little furniture I had into my apartment. I carried a few small boxes and gladly waited for him to take hold of the rest. The key to my apartment door worked, and I got inside my one room, and began setting up my house.
It took us about two hours to get everything off the street and inside my room. I went about straightening everything up and positioning all to my satisfaction while I let him do the grunt work. Finally the last box was carried inside and I was all moved into my new home.
I found out that the guy’s name was Will. We shook hands and I rewarded him for his effort by giving him my biggest and cutest smile. He kind of leered at me, and I could see he was looking at my pants. Not a chance buddy, I thought.
“Just come on over any time you need anything. I just live across the hall,” he told me.
“I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other now that we’re neighbors,” I replied, hoping I could avoid him as much as possible. There was just something about him that was creepy. Not that he wasn’t cute, because in a way he was. Maybe it was just the limp little tool that I knew hung inside his pants. Only fat chicks, hookers and other losers for you, my pathetic friend I thought rather cruelly to myself. All right, you probably already guessed I could be a bitch sometimes, and that was one of those times.
The manager never showed up, and soon it was nighttime in the big city. I wanted to call up a couple of friends I had who lived up town, but my phone hadn’t been installed yet. I couldn’t leave the building because I still hadn’t gotten the building key to get back inside. It looked like my first night was going to be a real bummer.
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My name is Will. This is a story about the day that the cutest little “hottie” I ever laid eyes on moved into the apartment across the hall from me. It was a warm fall day in the city, and I had been out for my usual Saturday afternoon run. I returned to my apartment tired and feeling rather bored with a long Saturday afternoon and night to look forward to, and not much to do with myself to fill the time.
I am a Day Trader. That is how I earn my living. Actually I would much prefer to think of myself as a photographer, however I have yet to earn a significant sum on that endeavor. I use to work on Wall Street, and learned the tricks of the trade there. Now I stay at home in front of my computer and buy and sell stock on a daily basis, making enough money to support myself and fuel my hope for a future as a photographer.
Since I stay home all day looking at stock prices over my PC I don’t interact with people much, and here I am mainly referring to women. Staying at home all day and not working a real job does have its compensations. I can let my hair grow as long as I want, and my preference is for long hair. I don’t have to shave, and I hate to shave. I can look like a hippie and no one notices or cares. The downside is that I don’t ever get laid anymore. I never found myself very successful with the opposite sex before I started working at home, but after my retreat into Day Trading I can say that as of that time I had not gotten laid once, or even come remotely close.
When I saw this little girl sitting on my front step with all her furniture and worldly possessions strung out about the hot pavement in front of her, I was immediately attracted. I normally like women who are taller and have at least a large B sized chest. This girl did not fit that description. She was short. Only about five feet tall and I don’t suppose she weighed even a hundred pounds. She was cute though, very definitely cute. She told me her name was Abbey, and I liked that name. Somehow it fit her little pixie-like image.
She told me that she was supposed to meet the building manager and get the out door key from her. Her cousins had apparently hauled her belongings up from some small town in their truck and placed them on the sidewalk outside the front door. Then they had left her where I found her. She said she was moving to the city to go to art school.
She seemed to be a dumb blonde, but that still did not deter my attraction to her. I knew she was confused by what she told me. For one thing her furniture and boxes were blocking foot traffic along the sidewalk. I also wondered how she planned on paying the rent for very long in this building because it was expensive and she had not mentioned having a roommate, or a job. Something in the back of my mind told me she probably planned on working as a stripper. Thirdly, I knew the building manager, because she was my aunt, and she never came over on the weekends, so Abbey must have gotten confused about the time she was supposed to meet her here.
I knew Abbey wanted me to help her, and so like the gallant gentleman I am I offered her a hand. She ended up letting me carry all the heavy boxes, and all her furniture, while she carried in about three small boxes and watched me struggle with the rest. It took me about an hour and a half to get her moved inside. I didn’t mention to her that my aunt was the manger, or that I had spare keys to the front door that I could have loaned her. I thought I would just let her struggle with the problem for a while and was hoping that maybe she would seek me out for help again.
Abbey thanked me with her cutest smile, but I could tell she thought I was a nerd. She had probably been pretty well protected by her family, and been one of the beautiful people in her high school. So she was stuck up and fooled herself into thinking she was a nice person. I had seen the type before, but then who hasn’t. Still, not with standing that she was a little bitch, I would have loved to bang her.
I left Abbey adjusting her studio to her satisfaction and returned to my place across the hall to fix a bite of dinner and watch cable TV for the rest of Saturday night. I really did not expect much from Abbey, but held an outside hope because she was living just across the hall from me that over the long haul something might develop.
The long Saturday night was progressing just as boring as I thought it would until about eight o’clock there was a knock at my front door. I got up from my couch and a slow moving movie on the TV and went unenthusiastically to the door.
You can imagine my surprise when I opened the door and saw Abbey standing in front of me.
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I setup my studio apartment just the way I wanted it that afternoon after the weird guy from across the hall left. The studio was pretty small and so this didn’t take me too long. I thought maybe I would watch TV, but I found my cable had not been hooked up yet and all I got was local stations, no cable, and the stupid thing came in fuzzy and noisy.
I was also hungry because I had not eaten since breakfast with my cousins that morning. Hunger and boredom is a pretty bad combo, especially for me because I am really impatient and hyper, and all though I am little, I love to eat, with only my speedy metabolism burning off all the excess calories I consume. So that first evening on my own in my new apartment was shaping up as a major disaster.
Finally, I broke down and went across the hall to the longhaired weirdo’s place. What’s the worst he could be I thought? A rapist? Well, getting raped by Mr. Nineteen-Seventy would be more interesting than staying inside my room all night with nothing to do and he just might have some food for me.
“Hi! It’s me, Abbey!” I greeted him in one of my cutest voices when he opened the door.
“We meet again, Abbey,” he said, looking kind of surprised to see me.
“I was just thinking that since I don’t have a key to the outside door yet, and the manager never showed up to give me one… well maybe I could borrow your key for a little while so I could go out and get some groceries and stuff.”
“Well Abbey I’d love to help you out, but I’m planning on going out after awhile myself.”
“I guess that means you’ll be needing the key and everything then, huh?”
“Yes, I will. But if it’s groceries you need why don’t you come on inside and help yourself to some of mine. My ‘fridge is stocked full. I’m sure you’ll find something you like.”
He opened the door for me. I hesitated for a second. He was wearing baggy shorts and a torn old shirt. His hair hadn’t been combed properly, and he kind of looked disgusting. Again, I was probably thinking about how he looked at me. Oh he really liked me, I knew that much. And of course to me that meant only one thing – little prick.
Finally I shrugged and walked into his apartment. It was a lot bigger than mine and faced down the hill with a good view of the city. My view faced a couple of garbage bins. I was a little bit envious of him. So I took a deep breath and let him lead me back through his apartment.
