My second story plays around a couple of similar themes to the first one, plus the power of infatuation. It has some fetish content so please be warned. It's a slow burn so you will need to be patient.
Whilst the characters are fictional, some of the events are based on fact. The Apartment really does exist as does its ability to transmit noise...
As usual everyone is well over the age of 18.
*****
My name is Caroline.
I'm 52 and I work as a designer. What I'm going to tell you about happened last year, starting in the spring. I can't say I'm particularly proud of myself, but this is what happened.
So you can get an idea, I'll describe myself. I am about 5ft 4 inches with smallish boobs, 34B to be exact. My bum is generous but still firm and I keep in shape so my stomach is trim for my age, just a few saggy bits. I have green eyes and dark hair which was at the time just below my shoulders.
Age has been quite kind to my face. Whilst I was never classically beautiful, I've made the best of my gifts. My lips are full and my cheek bones reasonably high. I suppose my nose is a bit big, I inherited that from my father, my mother always said..
***
When my marriage failed I was pretty short of money. I didn't really expect to be but I was.
Even though my son was no longer a dependent, as he lived in France, making enough money to have a reasonable standard of living initially proved to be a challenge.
I resolved this by selling the family home and moving closer to my clients. That cut travel cost and time. However years of living in the country meant that property prices back in a city were steep, so down sizing was necessary.
Eventually I found an apartment in an old warehouse conversion and disposed of half of my furniture and belongings so I could move in.
What had attracted me about the apartment was the wood floors and the high ceilings. There was also a flood of daylight from the big north facing windows. The kitchen and the bathroom had both recently been re-fitted, so all I had to do was convert the third bedroom into a studio for work.
The first couple of weeks in a new place are always revealing. Moving back into an apartment had put me living much closer to other human beings than I was used to.
What I immediately noticed, was how the sounds of others resonated through some parts of the old building. The stairwells echoed with the sounds of banging doors and footsteps on the stone floors.
Some of this noise I found reassuring, but some was less than ideal, the bathrooms and master bedrooms were all on top of each other. Whilst I barely noticed it during the day time, at night, when the thrum of the city died off, the sounds of a shower running or a toilet flushing directly over my head took some getting used to.
I moved in during a cold snap in January, and barely saw any of my new neighbours for the first few weeks. They were mostly professionals who left early and returned late.
There was a small cafe and also a Tapas bar at the end of the street. Coming back from the shops, I got in the habit of calling into the cafe to pick up a coffee, and when my brother came over to see me, we ate in the Tapas bar. The quality of both places was surprisingly good, and the staff friendly. I felt comfortable in both too, which was really important at the time, as I was, for the first time in ages, on my own.
I wasn't lonely though as I was incredibly busy with my work. I'd done some initial designs on some beachwear and accessories for one of the high street retailers before Christmas, and was now up against some tight deadlines pretty much every two weeks until the end of April.
My work routine saw me start at 8am. I would take a break at Noon and either go shopping or for a walk. When I got home I'd make lunch, and would return to my work until 6pm. I've always been very disciplined about not working late into the night or at weekends, unless meeting a deadline.
The nights started to draw out, and as the evenings got lighter I spent more time out and about. I joined the local theatre club, and a gym.
The only enduring problem with the apartment was the noise. Familiarity with the building had helped a little. I now knew what most of the creaks and groans were, but there were people in the apartment above mine whose intimate life I was sharing rather more of than I wanted to.
Knowing what was happening in their bathroom was bad enough, but of late I'd been subjected to noises from their bedroom that even ear plugs did not temper. The floor creaked to the rhythm of their love making and the moans and groans and occasional shout as a woman climaxed was very wearing...
Doing something about this wasn't easy. Firstly I didn't know who the occupants were, and secondly I didn't know how I was going to tell them that their sex life was playing live in the apartment below...
I decided that I was going to have to either confront them or find a way to get to know them and then tell them. Neither was an an attractive proposition. I mulled over how I could get to meet them without knocking on their door.
And then, by chance, fate played a hand, and changed everything.
One rainy April Friday I'd just got back from my walk. It was lunchtime. I'd got wet in the rain and was glad to get into the hallway. As I went to close the door, a young woman with long auburn hair pushed her way in, saying "Thank God!!". She was only in a tee shirt and jeggngs, and was soaked.
"So sorry," she said, "I forgot my key when I went to the waste bins and got locked out."
"How awful, how long have you been out there?" I replied.
"Oh probably 10 minutes. Got pretty wet in that time. Just need to work out how to get back in to our apartment now..."
"Don't you have a spare key with someone?" I felt sorry for her in her soggy and bedraggled state.
"`My boyfriend has the only other key and he won't be home till tonight, he had to go to London."
"Oh dear, that's a pity. Which apartment are you in? Can you get in through a window?"
"No such luck. We are in number 16, the three bed on the top floor, where are you?"
"Oh I'm on the second floor in number 12, I must be beneath you, I've only recently moved in."
"Yes I thought I hadn't seen you before.."
"I'm Caroline."
"And I'm Heather - nice to meet you," and rather incongruously, we shook hands.
"Look Heather you can't stand here all day, you'll catch a cold. Why don't you come up and have a cup of tea and get dry, and then we can work out what you can do to get you back in to your apartment?"
"That would be amazing...thank you so much. I really need to dry off."
We made our way upstairs and I opened up. I showed Heather in to the living area which was warm and cosy as usual.
"Let me get you a towel," I offered and disappeared off to the bathroom.
When I returned Heather had already stripped her tee shirt and jeggings off and was just pulling down her maroon bikini style panties.
She turned round as they hit the floor, and I handed her the towel.
In the few moments she was naked in front of me, my eyes drunk in her slender body. She had a small pair of breasts with small dark nipples that were swollen with the cold. Her delicate neck and shoulders were sprinkled with pale freckles. Her face was a perfect oval with high cheek bones and Cupid's bow lips. She was beautiful, in all that soggy state she was truly beautiful.
