In the apartments where I live, the turnover of residents is quite high. Just when I think I've got to recognise everyone and can chat with them all, someone leaves. Consequently, a new face is no cause for surprise, nor an unknown removals delivery van, nor a new set of boxes and packaging in the recycle area. I've been here over 5 years and am the old-timer.
Things changed when I saw a new resident in the crowded lift [elevator in USA] some weeks ago. She was a mature woman, I guessed around 35 and simply really attractive. I noticed she wore no rings and was dressed in a simple yet stylish business outfit, with knee-length fitted skirt, a fitted jacket, and moderate heels. My first thoughts were, "Good looking woman; not some kid trying to look older but also not mutton-dressed-up-as-lamb." Her eyes were cast down or, at least, not making contact with anyone else. But then as the lift set off, she looked up into my eyes at the back of the crowd, just for a second, and the corners of her mouth began a smile. Then it was over. She looked away at the floor-indicator, at the notices at the camera.
To my surprise and pleasure, she got out at my floor and walked across the foyer in the same direction as myself.
I had to speak, didn't I, "You've just moved in here?"
She replied and looked straight into my eyes with a smiling face, "Yes, just yesterday. I'm in 903." I recalled to myself that 903 had been vacant for some months.
I told her, "Next door to me at 904, but round the corner. I'm David but call me Davy" and I held out my hand which she shook.
"Hello Davy, I'm Josephine but call me Jo. I may knock on your door for help and advice sometime. Is that OK?" Her smile was more than just a mouth shape; her eyes lit up also and she crinkled the bridge of her nose. She looked even more attractive.
We met in the lift again the next evening; it seemed we got home from work at the same time each day. We had a little gossip about the apartments, the management company and its services, and the availability of grocery and food in the area. I decided to get to know her a little better, so invited her round for a coffee or something stronger later in the evening.
"Thank you. That would be nice," she responded, "about 8.30, is that OK for you? I've got some work to do first." And so it was fixed.
A little after 8.30, Jo rang my doorbell and we spent an hour or so chatting over life and work, and drinking a glass of white wine with white grapes and little cubes of cheese.. "Much more sensible than coffee at this time of night," she joked, "not sure about the cheese." Her smile and humour was captivating. She was dressed in stretch-fit jogging-bottoms, a close-fitting sweater that showed off her breasts a little, and trainers.
It turned out she is a Tutor-Trainer at the City College Of Nursing, having spent 10 years as a nursing officer in more than one famous hospital. She'd specialised in accident and trauma surgical nursing. I judged that she probably knew a great deal about human anatomy and physiology. And I was sort-of right about her age: she would be 34 in a few more weeks. She told me that she played tennis and badminton as part of her keep-fit regime; at the college fitness centre.
I told her about myself: age 38, engineer; spent many years in the nuclear energy industry which now seemed to be winding down. For professional reasons, I spend some part of each year in Africa, Asia, South America.
It appeared that we were both single for one reason or another. In my case because of a number of failed relationships; in hers due to a divorce 2 years previously. We smiled at each other and had a quick cuddle at the end of the short evening; no kiss; just a touching of heads. I thought, "Nice woman, clever too" and I resolved to spend a little more time with her if she would agree to it. Actually, I was aroused at the thought of her figure, her smile and her anatomical knowledge. That night, visions of her recurred in my dreams and when awake. She was beginning to take over parts of my erotic imagination.
The following evening was dark and wet, as November can be in Britain. I got home after dark and went straight to my bedroom, switched on the light and proceeded to undress. For all these months, apartment 903 had been dark and empty, and I had got out of the habits of privacy. I got down to my T-shirt and briefs before realising that the bedroom at number 903 was fully lit, and was immediately opposite to mine but maybe 20 feet apart. I saw a figure standing looking out, looking into my room, looking at me; watching me. Of course, it was Jo.
