Special thanks to Livi for the translation. Without her my story would be nearly unenjoyable.
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Author's Note: This is the begining of a lesbian story at all, but this chapter is based on hetero sex. If you've got problem with any of them, this isn't a story to you.
To the others, I hope, you will enjoy it.
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A cacophony woke me up from my dream. As it usually happened I had no idea where I was. Where I was, who I was, how did I get here and when? However, the picture became clear in my mind after a few seconds. I was lying on my bed, my blanket was creased, covering me from my waist to my shoulder. And one of my legs was hanging down from under it with my big toe nearly touching the ground. I didn't remember to last night... Though this was not true. I remembered even if vaguely, but I didn't want to. But this was not important now. What could be this maddening noise?
I got out from my bed with difficulty and pulled the curtain away from the window to take a look outside. I stumbled back for a moment as the sunshine shone at my face. It wasn't strong or hurting anyway, though it disturbed me. Especially at times like this, in the morning of a school-day. I hate spring.
When my glance got use to the sunshine I looked down on the street to finally get to know the source of that cacophony. A big track parked in front of the flat with different kinds of people around it. Most of them were roustabouts dressed in dirty uniforms, carrying huge boxes and furniture through the widened door. I saw an armchair and also a drawer that was carried by two or three men. When the drawer slipped out of one of them's hands exactly onto his foot, a great blasphemy and shouting started. This might had woken me, however I honestly was glad that this had happened, because knowing myself I knew that without this I could had sleep until I had to rush to avoid being late from University.
But I wasn't thinking about this now. I was rather interested in the movers. Not as if any of them were a handsome guy. Most of them were pot-gutted, scruffy and moustached, and the ones who weren't like this were weedy and big-nosed. Even if I would get money for being around them I could not bear it for long. But then, however I realized that there was a bright spot amongst them. The handsome man was shining there in the middle of the street of Budapest and was explaining vehemently something to the workers who were loitering around him and nodding heavily.
He could be the new resident. However, whether new or old I didn't care. I'm not antisocial but I merely knew more than one or two tenants in the whole prefab. If someone grinned at me on the street or in the stairway I smiled back at them and answered politely to the question that "how I've been doing" and pretending some occupation I rush away. And I was doing all this with the lack of knowledge that who I'd been talking to. I couldn't even answer if someone would point a pistol to my head. However this man grabbed my attention... which didn't mean of course that I wouldn't look at him blankly that who the hell could he was in a few days.
Wide shoulders, good-looking face which always had a little smile on it even when it showed that he couldn't make himself understood with the movers. He seemed to be a determined person. To be one who knows what he wants and what to do to gain it. And of course he does it. This type has always made a great impression on me. However, I could easily realize that he wasn't amongst those with who I could imagine myself rolling about in that bed, which I had just woken up from. Even if he was a peculiarity of men, he was too old for me.
I silently laughed at this. Though, the object of my attention wasn't that careless (or thought to be careless) youth as I was, but as they say: age only does good to men. I know girls who don't even treat men under the age of thirty as real men. Till then they should be considered as little boys. If it would depend on them, the age thirty would take the place of the age eighteen. However, nowadays it is pretty rare to find a man who hadn't had any sexual experience under the age of sixteen... Never mind! What is important that the pearl of males here was really that ageless man who his fellows thought they were. Despite of this it showed that he wasn't that careless man anymore. I estimated him at about the age of fourty, which wouldn't mean any kind of problem, but to these men at this age belonged someone who...
I couldn't even think it through when a woman that wore a springtime dress appeared from behind the track. She wasn't paying any attention to the roustabouts around her and their whistling, she stepped beside the man, leaned to him and kissed him gently.
Well, yes, the woman. Man like this are rarely single, and I would never risk of ruining their marriage just to feel an experienced dick between my legs. Whatever are the gossips about me, I'm not like that.
So I didn't pay any attention to them. It would be useless anyway. I dressed up quickly and ate my breakfast fast, gathered my stuff that I needed for today. But my thoughts were still around the morning. Not because of the shouting and the thump of the boxes and furniture, or the loud and open blasphemy that were still hearable.
Where would this couple move in? I could think about the occupants that lived in the prefab but to do this I really should knew at least something about them. And I didn't even have any idea about how many flat were included.
The question was answered when I heard the not unexpected blasphemy again, but not from under. I heard it from really near, to be exact from the direction of my front door.
"What the hell?" I thought when I stepped to my door. I wasn't mistaken. There really were roustabouts in dirty uniforms, spanning through the corridor, carrying huge boxes and furniture to the flat that was next to mine. After a few seconds the handsome man appeared and smiled at me kindly and then disappeared from my sight as he walked into his new home. And now the workers were whistling to me as well.
So I got new neighbours. Not that I had any problem with my old ones. I didn't even know that they existed. Or rather that they weren't there, because I didn't see them moving out not now or the past days. I vaguely remembered that there was an old woman who had tried to take me under her wings, me the poor little girl alone in the big city. She had always asked me how I had been, how the school had been. She had also given me cookies and even offered to cook to me if I needed. She was a kind old woman but I didn't pay too much attention to her. I didn't even know when she stopped asking me or giving me cookies, etc. I hope she's doing well.
But this didn't matter now. From now on this couple would live next door. And not only the two of them would, as I realized that the woman was coming towards their new flat with two children. She guided one of them by holding his hand and the smaller one was sitting on her arm. Their flat would be noisy, that was for sure, but I didn't really care about that. I'm used to the sounds of downtown. The movers wouldn't even disturb me either if they hadn't been working right under my flat.
After a few more praiseful whistles (as much as a whistle can be praiseful that comes from the roustabout that stares you shamelessly) I decided to ignore them. I rather adjusted the clothes that I was wearing and made sure that I had everything with me that I would need and stepped out of my place.
I always had to step out of the way of the movers that were carrying the big sized boxes upwards and the man and his wife rushed by me a few times also when I finally made it to the ground floor. I thought that I had already seen everything and nothing would surprise me now. In my heart I had already prepared myself for the noisy traffic and for enduring my boring lessons, hoping that I would have the chance to admire a few good-looking guys or pretty girls while I was on my way. But it had already started without any effort for it and with a profound surprise.
I stepped to the big gate and gathered my strength to not be mad about the whistles and maybe the obscene comments that waited for me outside by those workers. But when I finally opened the gate I found myself facing with something entirely different.
A pretty girl smiled at me from the other side of the gate. She had an oval face but still a bit round, skin that was like marble, and long black hair that she tied back, but she still had some curl that hung freely, and she had sparkling brown eyes. For a moment I had no idea who she could be. My mind was racing about whether I had seen this girl before but I was sure that if I had, I would remember to her. Then I glanced at the box she was holding in her hands and the picture became clear. She was with the new ones. From one point I was so happy that a beautiful girl like she would live next door, but it wouldn't be me if I hadn't started to think about the situation. Who could this girl be? Because it was sure that she was with the new tenants, she wouldn't carry that cardboard box if she wasn't. She wasn't a worker that was even more obvious. She was too young and too gorgeous for that. (Not if the measure was this.) The problem was solved by life itself, as the moment was broken by the husband that rushed by us and said something to the girl. However, I didn't think that this moment was too long to an outside-viewer, or neither to her. And I didn't understand exactly what the man said, because I was too deep in my thoughts and into her face. But I heard the answer clearly.
"I'm coming, Dad!" the girl answered as she glanced after the man, then she finally gave me a quick smile and passed by to continue her way.
So she was his daughter. I whistled admirably, but only silently, as I didn't want to act like the roustabouts that were all around us. Not if the whistle was addressed to the beauty of the girl... or to be exact it was, but I didn't mean that. At first I addressed it to her father for being this fresh and youthful and also having this heartbreaker daughter. "How old could she be?" I glanced after her. The slender figure rushed up on the stairs and I watched it with rejoice. Her butt was swaying under the tight jeans that was turned up at her naked shins. Her relatively short and thin figure made you think she was a teenager. But her body... it was like a body of a model's. This was highlighted wonderfully by the turned up jeans and by the little denim jacket she wore.
I was staring her until she disappeared at the flight of stairs. This whole thing took about five seconds, but it seemed pleasantly long to me. This gave me the start that I could enjoy the view and it also wasn't obvious to anybody my standing at the gate, because I already stepped out of it. The whistles of the roustabouts were still with me as I made my way towards the University. The latter one excited me the less, because all my thoughts were filled about the girl rushing upwards on the stairs, the girlish smile, the swaying hips and the round butt.
Maybe spring was not that bad as I thought.
*
The day was long and tiring. It was like I spent a thousand years at that desk, listening to older and even older professors explaining abstract and more abstract ideas. Not if I wasn't interested, basically I'm into the topic, and abstract ideas like this were what really grabbed my attention, but now I wasn't fascinated by them. Only by those sparkling eyes. I couldn't think of anything else for some reason. And this way all the lessons became agony.
Sometimes I felt bad that that an interesting lesson was over in only a fast one and a half hour, but now even this felt like a torture that seemed to last for an eternity. Not to mention that I had a three hour long seminar today, which in my current mood seemed to be a punishment even if I had a fifteen minutes long break at halftime. To all this contributed to my sometimes masochistic perfectionism. I like to think about it as I rather go to a one and a half an hour (or sometimes three hours) long boring seminar. During those hours I couldn't be doing anything but paying attention with all my effort. I rather did this than figuring out at home from my books the curriculum, when I could do more exciting things than this. But this meat that I felt the constant urge to write every single data down that I think would be useful. You can imagine what a torture it was when I couldn't think of anything else but that pretty face, and I couldn't keep up with the presenter. I lost my attention in every ten minutes and I could only hope that I would understand soon what the presentation was about.
I glanced at my watch in every minute, making myself madder. Only fifteen minutes went by. Only twenty minutes. Only half an hour. How much time was still left from the three hours? I would hit my head into the desk in agony by choice.
