A few months ago, I moved into a new apartment. New for me, that is. There were other residents already there and slowly I met them all except one. I was told that she was rather reclusive, lived alone and was not very talkative; but seemed to have a good job in the City [of London, that is.] That means she must work in the financial sector or import-export or shipping or airlines. I also work in the City as actuary with a well-known insurance group, and so hoped we would meet before long.
Actually, it was a few weeks before I first saw this neighbour as she left the building to walk [dash] down to the nearby railway station. She was [is] blonde; and looked nice in her summery business outfit of pleated lightweight skirt and long blouse, with cream high-heels. I saw her only from behind, but she moved well as she walked briskly down our footpath to the station. Her shoulders were steady as she carried the obvious weight of her case; and her hips swivelled very attractively with each stride. I determined to meet her as soon as possible; as a nice neighbourly gesture, of course. Actually, her moving figure attracted me from that moment.
By coincidence, later in the day as she returned home, I saw her coming out of the footpath and dashed myself down to the next floor, where her apartment was located. We met a she came to the top of the stairs and I spoke,
"Hello, I'm Leo. I moved into number 24. It's good to meet the neighbours, do you agree?"
"Hello, I'm Saskia, at number 16" she replied confidently and held out her hand for a shake, "when did you move in?" she continued.
I told her the date and then lied a little, "I've been meeting all the neighbours [not strictly true] so are you free to come round for little drink and a bite to eat?" I noticed that her blonde hair fell down to her waist, although I couldn't see her waist because of the long blouse. Her face was slim but not haggard, and her breasts held out the blouse in an alluring way although well-hidden.
"Well, this evening is busy. I'm writing a report for work tomorrow. But tomorrow is Friday, and that would be nice," she looked me straight in the eyes.
"Great. Can you come round about 7-o'clock?" I asked, already thinking of the reception I should give her. And so it was fixed.
++++++
Next evening, I prepared two bottles of white wine; sweetish Sauternes and drier Pinot Grigio, hoping to meet her preference. Also, some tacos-chips and a range of dips. She rang my doorbell at 6.58, so it seemed she was into punctuality. I like that; it fits my style also.
Saskia was dressed casually in dark blue loose denim trousers and a paler blue tight-fitting top down to a cuff waist. This outfit showed her figure clearly and I liked it immediately. Her breasts were not big but seemed firm and pointed, and her waist looked to be 10 inches or more less than her hips. She looked wonderful and I told her, "You look lovely. Thanks for coming."
She smiled and followed me to my sitting area, and sat at one end of the sofa. I sat at the other, where the low table was set out with glasses and plates. I got out the bottles from the fridge and she pointed at the Sauternes; so I poured two glasses.
"Saskia? That's a continental name, isn't it? Please tell me something about yourself," I prompted her.
"My family was Dutch. Mum and dad came to London in the late 1970s. They ran some flower shops around the city. I was born in 1985 and I work with Emirates airline in Docklands. I'm an accountant really!" and she giggled as if that information was comical in some way, or paradoxical. Already, I'd worked out that she was in her early thirties and probably earned a good salary.
"And where do your parents live now?" I enquired and was shocked by her reaction. Her eyes filled with tears and she sobbed so strongly that her shoulders hunched briefly.
"They both passed away last year. Just a few months ago. I'm sorry; haven't got over it yet. They were lovely people and gave me the best they could."
I held out a hand with a tissue to comfort her and she took it and also held the hand as I apologised, "I'm sorry, too. Didn't know. Relax now, have a drink and tell me about your work."
For the next few minutes, she told me about her university and then her professional training and now her job at Emirates. But there was no mention of a boyfriend, certainly not a marriage. I decided to probe a little.
"You're here alone, yes? No brothers or sisters; no boyfriend?" I realised this was probably too pointed but she seemed willing to speak about herself. Her reaction shocked me again: more tears and shaking of shoulders.
"No. No one else. And no man has wanted me," she managed a weak smile as if to make fun of herself.
I got bold, "Saskia, you're a lovely person and a very pretty woman. What's wrong with the men you meet?" and I laughed as if the idea was ridiculous.
Her face dropped again and she put her face in her hands as the sobbing returned. I knelt down in front of her and put my hands on her shoulders , attempting to comfort her somehow.
