The narrow hallway in the old town building reeks of damp stone and garlic from dinner. My heels click soft on warped wooden planks. They creak under my weight, echoing too loud. Light slits under Alizée’s door, golden strip flickering. Heart thumps. I knock, barely a tap. Door cracks open. Her eyes, hazel and hungry, lock on mine. ‘Shh,’ she whispers, fingers grabbing my wrist. Pulls me in fast. Door clicks shut. Her breath hot on my neck. ‘Neighbors hear everything. That old bitch next door? Always listening.’ Her apartment tiny, walls thin as paper. Couch sags. Mirror in corner gleams wicked. She smirks, pushes me against door. ‘Ready to play, Emilie? No backing out.’ I nod, pulse racing. Risk hits: one moan, whole building knows. She leans close. Lips brush ear. ‘Strip. Now.’
Her saliva drips into my mouth first. Warm, slick. I swallow, throat tight. Fingers hook my panties under skirt. Slide down. Cool air hits wet pussy. Floor groans as I step out. She stuffs lace in my mouth. Taste my own musk, salty. Gagged, I unbutton blouse. Bra drops. Tits bounce free, nipples stiff. Mirror shows it all: flushed cheeks, heaving chest. She circles. Fingers tremble on my skin. ‘Spread legs. Hands behind head.’ Planks creak under shifting feet. Her hands roam. Pinch armpits, knead tits. ‘These nipples betray you. Hard as rocks.’ I whimper muffled. She pinches harder. Pain sparks heat. ‘Quiet. Or Mrs. Delaguigne knocks again.’ Pussy throbs, juices trickle thighs. She spits orders. ‘Touch them. Wet fingers first.’ Suck my own digits, drool heavy. Circle nipples slow. They swell, ache. Mirror mocks: slut fingering tits naked. Her hands under arms now, sweat-slick. Hips buck involuntary. Floor protests with cracks. She grinds against my ass. ‘You’re dripping. Filthy girl.’ Fingers dive between legs. Part lips. Tongue my cream. ‘Sweet cunt honey.’ I buck, gag bites lips. Clit pulses. She circles it feather-light. Legs shake. Parquet squeals. ‘Fuck me quiet,’ I think. But no words. Just her whisper: ‘Cum for nurse. But silent.’ Waves build. Tits throb from my rubs. Her finger teases asshole. Pushes in slick. I clench, muffled cry. Orgasm rips silent, pussy gushes. Knees buckle. She holds me, grinning.
The Contact
Light fades under door as we pant. She wipes me quick. ‘Dress. Go.’ Heart hammers like drum. Slip on clothes hasty. Fabric rasps skin. Peek out hall. Empty. Creep to stairs. Planks betray every step, pop-pop. Footsteps above? Freeze. Old lady descends, Mrs. Delaguigne maybe. Eyes narrow. ‘Evening, dear.’ Smile fake. ‘Quiet night?’ Nod, cheeks burn. Squeeze past, her perfume chokes. Down flights, pulse deafens. Street air hits cool. Car keys shake in hand. Drive off, pussy still slick on seat. Secret burns hot. Neighbors sleep clueless. But thrill lingers. Alizée’s touch ghosts skin. Tomorrow? Her turn. Riskier still.