It’s 2 a.m. The hallway light buzzes faintly. Everyone’s asleep. Doors line the corridor like silent guards. I step out for a smoke, barefoot in my thin robe. Heart skips. There she is—my neighbor, Claire, from 3B. Tall, sharp eyes, robe loose. We nod. She smiles wicked. ‘Melanie? Game?’ Her whisper scratches my skin.
She pulls a paper from her pocket. ‘Read this to him. Laundry room. Now.’ Door at end, always creaky. Man inside, folding clothes late. Risky. Neighbors could wake. Steps echo soft. I clutch phone, recorder on. Her eyes lock: ‘Slave time till dawn. Obey.’ Frisson hits. Pussy twitches. I nod, slip away.
The Contact
Hallway cold on bare feet. Parquet groans under toes. Light slits under doors. Someone coughs? Freeze. Breath held. Pass 2C, 2D. Laundry door ajar, hum of dryer. Push in. He’s there—mid-40s, jeans low, blue eyes. Alone. Sits on bench. I sit close. Smile shaky. ‘Hi.’ He glances up.
Read first line loud: ‘In a game with my friend, I’m her slave. She’s out there.’ Point back. Hallway dark. He smirks. ‘Read orders?’ Irony drips. Yes. Voice cracks. ‘When clear, stand before you, back turned. Hands under skirt… lower my panties to thighs.’ Heat floods face. Pussy lips swell. Sigh escapes.
‘Lift skirt. Look at ass, between legs. Yours as long as she wants.’ Gasp. Wetness drips. ‘Please, sir, lower my panties. Inspect my shaved pussy close?’ He grins wide. ‘Melanie? Real?’ Lie my name. ‘Yes, sir. Crave it.’ ‘Tree? No, here. Quiet. Pull ’em down yourself.’ Heart hammers. Glance door. Voices? No.
The Indiscretion
Stand. To corner washer. Quiet. Skirt up slow. Panties slide down—silk whispers thighs. Bunch ankles. Step out. Hold them. Back to bench. Hairbrush from bag. Brush slow, casual. Back arched slight. Air cool on bare ass, pussy.
His hands. Warm, rough. Stroke cheeks. Spread. Skirt up high. Gasp muffled. Fingers trace crack. ‘Pretty wet cunt.’ Voice low, growl. Legs part. Wider. ‘Spread.’ Do it. Cooler air hits folds. Clit throbs. ‘Dripping slut.’ Finger dips, tastes. Moan bites lip. Dryer rumbles cover. Footsteps hall? Freeze. Nothing.
He kneels close. Nose near. Sniff. ‘Sweet hole.’ Tongue laps once. Buck. ‘Quiet, slave.’ Fingers part lips. Stare deep. ‘Tight pink.’ Ass cheeks pulled. Pucker exposed. Shame burns. Juice runs thigh. Want more. Phone buzz—her call? No. Time drags. Bliss.
‘Number?’ Scribbles back paper. ‘Antoine. Repeat anytime.’ Panties balled, stuff pocket. Skirt down. Smile weak. ‘Thank you, sir.’ Slip out. Hallway empty. Parquet creaks soft. Door mine looms. Key rattles—too loud? Heart pounds chest. Slip in. Lock clicks. Lean wall. Pussy aches, soaked. Secret safe. Neighbors sleep on.