[4 years post-COVID]
I have lived in the same apartment for all 33 years of my life. By the time my parents died, I had a full-time job that paid enough money for me to pay the rent and cover necessary expenses, though not a lot more than that. I've seen various people come and go from the other units in the complex.
The people in the apartment directly next to mine on the left moved out a week ago. The new tenant appeared to be a single woman in her 60's.
I waited until noon the next day, then rang her doorbell. She pulled the door open to the limit of the chain and said nervously, "Hello?"
I used my most relaxing tone. "Hello. My name is Lou. I live next door to you, in unit 7."
I put my hand through the gap in the doorway, and we gently shook hands.
"Nice to meet you, dearie. I'm Tillie."
"Is there anything you need help with, Tillie?"
"Oh, no, dearie. The movers put everything in place."
"In the spirit of being neighborly, would you like me to cook you dinner at some point soon?"
"That's a nice offer, but I'd like to get to know you a bit better first."
"I could give you my phone number."
"All right."
We exchanged phone numbers, and Tillie said she liked to talk in the evenings. But not too late. So I began calling her at 6:00 in the evening every day, just to have a friendly chat.
She seemed to appreciate that, and over the course of the next six weeks, she gradually opened up to me. Her husband had been a low-level worker for a local company all his life before dying of old age a few days after his 71st birthday. She herself was 67, and had worked as a receptionist until she was essentially forced out and replaced by a younger, prettier one. She could afford this apartment and expenses, but not much more, on her Social Security and her husband's death benefits.
I told her that I'd known no other home than this, and that I, too, was just getting by. I enjoyed my life here as much as I could with my electronics to keep me busy.
"No girl in your life?"
"Nope. Last time I dated regularly was 6 years ago. She died of COVID, one of the first deaths in the country."
"Sorry to hear that, dearie."
"I'm over it now. Though I still miss her sometimes."
"So, about that dinner you mentioned... I'm ready for it. Tomorrow. I like simple things."
"6:00, then?"
"Sounds great, dearie."
At precisely 6:00 the next evening, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and welcomed Tillie inside.
"Smells good in here, Lou."
"Thanks, Tillie. I hope it tastes good as well."
I was glad to find that it did. Tillie happily consumed her hamburger patty, mashed potatoes, and side salad as we chatted. Before we knew it, our plates were empty.
"I hope you're not expecting me to tumble into bed with you now that you've fed me," Tillie said with a giggle.
The thought had never even crossed my mind. But now that she brought it up, Tillie was actually attractive. Slim build, small chest, just enough of a butt to grip, and lovely legs. Her round, smiling face was framed by her shoulder-length, pure white hair.
I wasn't much of a catch: short scruffy brown hair, a five o'clock shadow (I shave every morning because my beard grows in ugly patches), wiry without a lot of muscles, a slight paunch, and rail-thin chicken legs. And my cock wasn't anything special either. Six inches long and the ordinary thickness.
"I never do anything sexual on the first date," I told her. "But if you're interested, I could come over to your place tomorrow for dinner, and that would then be our second date."
Tillie let out a full-on laugh. "You're just teasing me, right? You can't possibly think I'm attractive."
I stood up, gestured for her to do the same, and then very pointedly ran my eyes over every inch of her.
"Tillie, you're prettier than any of the ladies my age I've dated. If you actually think I'm worthy of having sex with you, there is no way on Earth I would refuse you."
She paused for a long moment. Her eyes roamed my body. I could practically hear her judging what she saw.
