Two years, two long years. That's a year and a half longer than I planned on staying in this shit hole apartment, but thank God above, I'm finally out of here!
It's been a long, rough road the past couple years, but I persevered and it's paying off. This dump was pretty lousy at times, but overall, I was safe here and it was a means to an end.
So here I am, packing up the last of my clothes and little trinkets into the last box as I wait for Christina, the property manager, to come by and do a final inspection so I can get my deposit back. Christina has always been fair with me whenever any issue would arise, but beyond that, she's always been rather indifferent towards me. I suppose she's probably jaded from dealing with so many deadbeat tenants in this hell hole. Besides, what was I expecting? To become close pals with her?
No, that wasn't going to happen. She's probably around mid to late forties in age, maybe fifty, who knows? There's always been something about her though, some weird little bit about her that always tugged at my curiosity.
Maybe it was her build, tiny and petite, all of five feet, two inches tall and very thin, but she always wore some snug fitting slacks that hugged the curve of her ass and made it really pop, even if it was a bit skinny. I still liked it. Her ever present button down blouse that stayed untucked would sometimes cling just a bit, enough to remind me that she may be tiny, but she had a nice little rack on her.
Well, the last things are in the box, tape in hand, and the knock on the door reminds me of the business at hand.
"Hi Christina, thanks you for getting here on such short notice, I really appreciate it."
"Don't mention it, I was just one building over so it's convenient."
As poker faced as ever, she walks in and stands in the living room, looking around at the walls and carpet, checking for damage, so I turn to finish taping up my last box.
"So you're leaving us, huh? Where to?" she asks me.
"Northside of town, closer to work, much shorter commute for me, closer to my parents too, so it should work out well for me, I hope."
I put the tape down an see that she's walked into the bathroom and wasn't even listening to me respond. I'm not surprised.
I walk over to the bathroom door and ask if she sees any issues.
"No, nothing yet", she says, as if she's expecting or hoping to find something so she can keep my deposit. She opens the shower door to the tub then leans in, and her shirt slides up a bit to show off her pants at the waist and just a touch of skin above her hip. Her ass looks so shapely when she's bent over like that.
My mind ran to a vision of me walking up behind her right then and just grabbing her hips and pulling her to me and grinding my cock all over her ass. Geez, what the hell am I doing? I'm giving myself an erection right in front of her.
"Looks ok in here. I'm gonna go take a look in the kitchen."
I step out of her way and let her pass, hoping she doesn't see the bulge in my pants and am about to follow her until I think I'd better wait a second and let my dick go limp before I follow.
She walks into the kitchen and I just sort of stand there by the bathroom door, still enchanted with the thought of grinding against her, even with those snug fitting slacks on. I don't think I've ever been really attracted to Christina before, so I'm at a bit of a loss to explain why I suddenly have this urge.
She has never given me more than the time of day, and even that was when I needed something fixed or had a complaint about a loud neighbor. Her blond hair is pretty enough, if not bland, and her face definitely shows her age but has a particular something to it, one of those "if you knew what I was when I was twentysomething" sort of looks like she was a real wild child back a couple decades ago.
So why am I suddenly flush with the thought of groping her?
Now my thoughts are going even further than just rubbing my cock on her through our pants. Now I'm daydreaming about her naked ass bent over in front of me, pants around her ankles, imagining she's so tight that I'm really working to stuff my cock in her pussy.
I imagine her bent over, leaning on the tub, bare ass showing me her pussy, just calling me to her, glistening wet lips inviting me in.
Oh, fuck! I'm raging hard now and she's twenty feet away in the kitchen! My God, what am I thinking?
Then I answer myself - I'm thinking there's only two of us here, nobody else is around, and this is the last day she'll ever see me.
This is the only time in my entire life I will be in this exact situation with this particular woman ever again. I will only have a lost opportunity to look back on when she walks away.
Why is my heart racing so fast?
I'm standing here in my empty apartment, with a curiously attractive older woman in the other room, and nobody else will ever know what really happens in here after we walk out of this place. In the adult magazine fiction column of my mind, the possibilities are infinite.
I'm trembling like a leaf in a tornado just at the thought of making a move, but son of a bitch, I've almost convinced myself I've got to do something. But what? What happens if she freaks out? This isn't a porn magazine, it's real life. She might go ballistic and call the cops or something.
Calm the fuck down, you idiot. Breathe. I really don't think she'd call the cops, and even if she did, for what? Grabbing her ass? No, she's more likely to slap the shit out of me, and I can handle that.
No guts, no glory.
I'm still raging hard after all these thoughts, so I call to Christina.
"Christina? I think I found something, can you come take a look at this?"
