I knocked on the door around mid-morning and wondered what she would be like. To my surprise, an extremely well built and nice looking black guy in gray sweat pants answered the door. I could not help but stare at his smooth bare chest and thick neck.
It must have taken me a moment or two to recover, but finally introduced myself. I told him we lived upstairs and that I had come down to say hello. Then I asked if his wife was home. I was barely able to maintain eye contact, glancing down at his small waist. I could not help but imagine him on top of me.
I am sure he knew what I was thinking. He smiled broadly and told me that his wife was the one in the Army, already gone to work, and that he had not gotten a job yet. While he talked, I saw that he was taking inventory of me too.
I have red hair, light freckled skin, small breasts with large nipples, and kind of wide hips.
Suddenly I felt self-conscious. I wish I had dressed a little nicer. He continued to smile and I guess I was smiling back.
I told him that if he needed anything, just let me know.
He told me in his unpacking of crates he had not found the box with the kitchen appliances yet and he could really use a cup of coffee if I had some.
I told him that I would be happy to put a pot on and that it would be ready in fifteen minutes. He thanked me and said he would be up shortly.
When I got back into my apartment and closed the door, I had to lean against it to get my breath. God, I would like to have some of him.
I threw the coffee on and went to the bedroom to change. I put on one of my husband’s shirts, fastened a couple of the center buttons, then tied the two ends together at my bellybutton. I did not want to over do it, so I didn’t change my jeans. I knew that if I moved just right and bent slightly, he could get a view if he wanted.
Soon there was a knock at the door. I opened it and was disappointed to see that he had put a t-shirt on.
“Oh, you put a shirt on.” I said.
“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” He answered.
I pointed to the couch for him to have a seat and said, “Nonsense, it would have been alright. You looked comfortable and, well, natural.”
He sat and I went for the coffee.
I came back with two filled mugs in one hand, powdered creamer and sugar dispensers in the other. He had taken the shirt off and was sitting in the middle of the couch.
“That’s better.” I said. I leaned over and put everything on the coffee table in front of him. I took my time and gave him the opportunity to look at me. Although I did not look at him while I was bent over, I could sense him adjusting his position to see as much of my breasts as he could.
I felt flushed, but could not help it.
“Sugar?” I asked.