Francesca smiled as she opened the door. "Yes?"
"Hello. I've come to fix the washing machine," said the tall and handsome man.
Francesca smiled, adjusting her small square eyeglasses. "Of course! It's right here in the bathroom." Francesca was slim, small-chested and wide-hipped brunette with a ponytail, wearing jeans and a red-white-striped sweater.
The man smiled, followed Francesca to the bathroom. "So what seems to be the problem?"
"All of a sudden, it just won't get on," Francesca said.
"Okay. We've seen that pretty often with this new model," the repairman said. "Let me take a look at it."
"Right." Francesca gave the repairman an absent-minded smile and went back to the living room, leaping on the couch. She took a small sip of cola from a bottle on the table in the middle of the living room.
The doorbell rang.
Francesca got up and ran to the door. She smiled as she opened it. "Yes?"
"Here's the pizza you ordered!" said another tall and handsome man.
"Cool!" Francesca said.
"Uh, right, that'd be 6 and 50," the man said.
Francesca smiled, paid for the pizza, and walked back to the living room. She turned the television to evening news. She planted her legs on the table and began eating the pizza right out of the box.
A hour passed. The boredom of the world news was only eclipsed by the boredom of the local news. Such is life, Francesca thought.
"I'm done!" the repairman said. "It was fairly easy – this model has this new and improved switch that tends to break easily. I had to replace a few other parts that have these childhood diseases."
"Oh. Will that cost extra?" Francesca asked.
"Heck, no," the repairman said. "It's all in the warranty. Uh – I need to hurry to the next stop before we close the shop. Goodbye!"
"Bye!" Francesca said and waved a bit.
The door slammed shut.
Another hour watching TV – Francesca didn't even notice the sunset. The art history documentary was cancelled due to sports. Cross-country skiing, of all things. In late spring Monday afternoon and continuing through the whole damn prime time. God damn it.
Francesca yawned and was almost ready to take a nap on the couch.
Same boring stuff everywhere. Fuck. Why? Why???
Francesca could hear fair bumping coming from behind the wall. She turned the TV volume way down.
Loud unintelligible moans. Ceased bumping.
Why isn't Marc here?
Francesca raised her legs on the sofa and curled up in a foetal position. She closed her eyes.
The bumping resumed. It was louder.
Why am I wishing Marc was here? I didn't even tell him I'd love to know him better. Yet, he's so nice at work... I've only been here for a month, but still, he's so nice...
"Oh God," came Loud moans from the other side of the wall. The bumping continued.
Francesca curled up tighter and buried her face between her legs. She almost wanted to quit listening, but the moans excited her. She blushed to herself as she reflected on that for a passing moment.
Fuck. Come hell or high water, tomorrow, I'll ask Marc out myself, Francesca thought. If I survive until morning. Okay, that's silly. Francesca grinned to herself for that corny thought.
"Oh God... Oh God! Oh! Oh!" The bumping still continued.
Marc's nice. He's funny. And damn, Francesca thought, I really want him to bang me.
"Oh God... Oh yeah! Mmmmmm! Oh yeah, don't stop... OH YEAH!"
The bumping had finally stopped.
Francesca curled up tighter and turned the TV off, almost crying to herself.
What was that neighbour's name again? Michelle? She's been bumping that wall every weekend... Maybe I should ask her for advice, Francesca thought.
Minutes went by. Then, the bumping continued again.
She's popular with guys, Francesca thought. Would she help me? Or would she laugh at a shy gal who last had sex in the weekend the school ended, ten years ago? Damn, I barely know her...
Doorbell.
Who could it be at seven o'clock in the evening? Francesca felt puzzled.
Francesca quickly got up and went to the door. She couldn't believe the surveillance camera image.
Marc????
Francesca opened the door, trying her best not to look too sad or blushing. "Hi, Marc!"
"Hi, Francesca," the skinny, blonde young man with a baseball cap, hoodie, jeans and a backpack said. "I wanted to call you, but I remembered that you still hadn't got the work cellphone and I knew you got rid of your personal cellphone... sometimes I wish I didn't have one either. Um... The boss has got some work for us. And I'm sorry to bother you so late, but Abdul says this is pretty critical."
"C-come in," Francesca said and gestured Marc to come in.
"Abdul's going to meet the bigwigs in Tokyo in about... 6 hours, maybe. When he plugged his laptop to the wall in hotel a couple of hours ago, it somehow caught fire."
"What the heck?" Francesca said. "Uh, wrong voltage?"
"No, it probably had something to do with the laptop's batteries. His hard drive is hosed. We've been in a bit of a panic for the last few hours. He has a new laptop, we have the links set up so he can get to our servers, and I have the program ready, but you need to get him some fresh demo data, since he had the only copy. You said you had some program to generate the exact data that the boss wanted? I couldn't find it."
"It's in my private code branch," Francesca said. "I'll just log in and run it again. It's a five minute job at most."
"Cool. Um, nice place you have." Marc looked around the living room. "Oh wow, I just noticed, you live next door to Michelle." Marc said.
"You know her?" Francesca asked.
"Yeah, she's a friend of mine. I've met her a couple of times in his home," Marc said.
A pregnant pause. He's not saying what for, Francesca thought. That statement can be interpreted in many ways.
Francesca had almost forgotten the near-constant bumping sound.
"Ohhhh Yeah!" came a loud scream from the other side of the wall. "Oh yeah!"
Marc blushed and laid his gaze down. "Um... eh... you know... I can explain..."
"Marc?" Francesca said and blushed hard, trying to look at Marc in the eyes, but failed; she stared at her feet, bowed a bit and crossed her arms behind her back. "Um, the demo data will build itself automatically, so... would you... like to make love with me tonight?" She trailing away toward whisper, and struggled to make the last sentence loud enough for Marc to hear.
"What?" Marc asked. "W-why do you ask?"
"You're such a nice guy!" Francesca blurted out loudly, her fists clenched in front of her, finally mustering courage to look Marc in the eyes. "And so smart! What can I say – that turns me on! I just want to make love with you." Her heart raced and she felt her whole face was going red.
"Um..." Marc said. "That's very nice of you. You're a nice smart gal." He gave Francesca a nice big smile. "Of course I want to make love to you, if you really want it, Francesca."
"I want to be your friend, Marc! A good friend!" Francesca said. "I want you to be more than just a work buddy. I really want to."
Marc smiled. "That's nice for you to say. I really want to know you better, too. You're always full of interesting things at work, I can barely begin to guess how interesting you're off duty..."
Francesca blushed again, hard. "But a-anyway, I want you to fuck me now, because I've been getting so horny from listening to Michelle entertaining her guests all weekend. Come on, Marc..."
The two headed to Francesca's bedroom. Marc took a pack of condoms from his bag; Francesca grudgingly noted two out of five had been used, and hoped Marc would use the remaining three with her.
Francesca sat by her computer in the bedroom, logged on, and then logged on to the company server. She started the automatic demo data build process she had developed the previous week, and while she waited, she took off her shirt.
"God." Francesca said and giggled.