I wiped the counter clean for the fourth time; making sure to eliminate any crumbs or marks that might have evaded my first three passes. I sighed and looked at the clock - again. Only two minutes had gone by since my last glance. I looked at my watch and, of course, it said the same thing as the kitchen clock. Quarter of one. Aurelie would be arriving in fifteen minutes, and she was never late.
I had always been fairly mellow about the passing of time. But at age fifty-five I had suddenly developed a rather odd fixation on time, at least when it came to my monthly arrangement with my new found friend. The closer our meeting time came each month, the slower time seemed to creep by. I glanced at the clock one more time, even though I tried not to, and then headed into the living room to sit by the window - and wait.
**************************
I suppose a little background is appropriate in order for the reader to get a sense of how my mini-obsession had come to be. My name is Robert and I'm a widower of five years. I'm a recently retired New York City school teacher and I now reside in the West Village. My beloved aunt had also passed away the year after my wife, and she had generously willed me her wonderful brick town house in a very tony area of the Village. The move from Queens had been an adjustment for me, but one I had accepted gladly. I had found it difficult to continue to live in the small house my wife and I had shared for the last fifteen years of marriage and the move to Manhattan had eased the pain significantly.
Yet, though the townhouse was in good order, the taxes were a strain for me and the building itself was much too large for my own modest means. So I took out a substantial home equity loan (underwritten by the quality of the property rather than my good name) and proceeded with some relatively major renovations to the three story structure: dividing the first and second floors into two efficiency apartments on each floor and renovating and retaining the third floor for my own use. By collecting rents on four studio apartments I was able to pay my monthly loan installment, as well as cover the substantial burden of New York City taxes. While I had gone into this venture with some trepidation, the overall result had been more than satisfactory. My renters covered my notes and I lived comfortably and in relative peace and quiet, ensconced in my sunny, high-ceilinged, and very private third floor unit.
I'd found early on that, if I charged a reasonable rent and was careful in choosing my tenants, I would be able to select from the cream of the crop of the many graduate students and young single professionals who swarmed into the West Village looking for reasonably priced accommodations -- of which there were few. My units were always filled with reliable young people who respected my privacy, as I respected theirs.
My front tenant on the first floor had given notice in late July and I had advertised on Craig's List and received my usual flurry of inquiries. I whittled the applicant pool down to four and invited them to visit the apartment and sit down for a short interview. It was during that weekend in mid August of last year that I met Aurelie.
***************************
I opened the window to the fresh May air and sat by the front window gazing down at the dappled sunlight through the locust trees. Somehow sitting by the window eased the passage of time as I awaited a knock on my door. Aurelie's gentle knock never failed to give me goose bumps.
I had had some reservations at first about the arrangement Aurelie and I had agreed to. But, as the months had drifted by, I had come to look forward to the first Sunday of each month as a highlight of my sometimes lonely world. While I still filled my time with occasional substitute teaching, playing chess in the park and doing some tutoring, the pace and rhythm of my life was now marked by my monthly afternoon meetings with Aurelie. While I still dated on occasion, she had added a sensual dimension to my life that I had not dreamed possible, even during my twenty-four years of marriage.
I had wondered initially whether she found me attractive or not, but it became clear over time that she had a penchant for older and more experienced men. At 55 I was still in relatively good shape and had a full head of hair, though the jet black coloring from the Italian side of my heritage was now streaked with gray. Diet and exercise had kept my slender six foot frame looking much as it had in my younger days, and a strong jawbone and dark eyes had always been a hit with the ladies. So while I had acquired the patina of age, I liked to think it was more along the lines of a small batch bourbon aging in oak.
I glanced at my watch for the umpteenth time and was finally rewarded with good news; Aurelie would be arriving any minute. I hunkered down on my perch and filled my lungs with the fresh spring air.
*****************************
Aurelie had been the second of the four potential renters I talked to that August weekend. She had knocked on my door at the appropriate time and I was immediately struck by her presence as she sauntered into my apartment. It was certainly her looks and demeanor that I noticed first. But as soon as she opened her mouth I also heard her lovely melodic voice and the sweet seductive sway and lilt of her French accent.
She was a third year undergraduate student studying English at NYU. She had attended two years of university in Aix-en-Provence before transferring to the States to continue her studies. While I tended to prefer graduate students as tenants, I had had a couple undergraduates over the past few years whose reliability and maturity had surpassed most of their peers. Aurelie, as I soon found out, would certainly fit into that category.
She was a lovely girl and had a simple, yet sophisticated, air about her that proved to be consistent and real. Her slender and statuesque figure had a certain feline gracefulness that I grew to love and cherish. She was of medium height with smooth pale alabaster skin and dark blond hair. Her beauty seemed to emanate from the combination and simplicity of her delicate features, as opposed to any single remarkable characteristic. Her dark brown eyes, square shoulders, slender hips and long legs were not particularly distinguished on their own (but still very nice); yet her overall aura seemed to be greater than the sum of her individual parts. There was a magical, captivating quality about her that I found alluring, sexy, and amazingly attractive. And, certainly, her youthful exuberance was a major factor in my attraction to her as well.
She also had the most amazing walk. Somehow the confluence of the sway of her hips, the tight twitching of her little bubble butt, and the confidence and grace with which she moved, combined to make her walk a mesmerizing event. It was sexual poetry in motion.
I had had very little female companionship since my wife's passing, and what few women I had seen tended to be older dowagers and divorcees whom I seemed to have little in common with. Aurelie's youthful splendor awoke a new energy in me that I hadn't even known existed. Her presence in my life was much as the sweet May breeze that now blew through my third floor window as I smiled inwardly and awaited her arrival.
