My Neighbor Taught Me What It Means to Obey

For weeks my life had revolved around the ring of my phone. Every time it buzzed, my whole body went on alert, because it was almost always her. Renata lived right below me, on the fourth floor, and since that first afternoon when she asked me for a favor that was anything but innocent, I had stopped belonging to myself.

That morning the phone buzzed again on the table. I looked at it for a second, as if I could resist. I couldn’t.

—It’s me —she said, in that calm voice that never needed to be raised to give an order—. I have to go out in a little while. Come down first; I want to see you on your knees before I leave.

—I’ll be right there —I answered.

I’m always right there.

I went down the stairs two at a time, with that mixture of shame and urgency I already knew by heart. When she opened the door, I found her dressed only from the waist up in a white shirt left half open. From the waist down she wore only stockings and high black leather boots with slender heels that rose above her knees. The hallway light traced the edge of her jaw and the curve of her smile.

—Come in and close the door —she said—. And lie down on the floor, the way you know how.

I obeyed without thinking. I stretched out on the cold wooden floor of the living room while she came closer with deliberate calm and placed one boot on either side of my head. From below, she looked huge, master of every inch of that space and every breath of mine.

—I like the way you look at me —she said—. As if nothing else existed in the world.

—Nothing else does —I replied, and it was true.

***

Renata crouched down over me, just enough for me to feel the heat of her body without touching it. She had been teaching me for days how to wait, not to rush ahead, not to take anything she hadn’t offered first. It was the hardest part of all that: desire slammed into my chest like a caged animal, and she knew it.

—Open your mouth —she ordered—. And don’t close it until I tell you to.

I did as she asked. She watched me for a moment, satisfied, and then stood up to light a cigarette. The smoke drifted slowly toward the ceiling while she walked barefoot back and forth across the living room, letting ashes fall wherever she pleased.

—Do you know what I like most about you? —she asked without looking at me—. That you understand things without my having to explain them twice.

She came back to my side and knelt astride my waist. With two fingers she took hold of the skin of my sex, already hard, and parted it to create a small hollow. I understood what she meant to do a moment before she did it: she let the warm ash fall right there, in the center of my arousal.

The heat made me jerk involuntarily.

—Still —she said, in a sweetness that was almost worse than shouting—. You didn’t ask permission to move.

—Sorry —I muttered through clenched teeth.

—I should hope not.

***

She took another drag from the cigarette and repeated the gesture. This time the ember was hotter, and when the ash fell onto my skin and she closed her fingers around me, the burn was more intense. I endured it. I clenched my jaw, fixed my gaze on her eyes, and held on without making a single sound.

Something changed in her expression. A silent approval, a shadow of respect that was worth more than any caress.

—Very good —she said slowly—. You held back. I like you much more when you learn to take it for me.

—It’s been a pleasure —I answered, and discovered I meant it.

Renata brought the cigarette to her lips once more, inhaled deeply, and let the smoke drift over my body like a warm mist. Then she lowered her head and, without touching me with her hands, let a thread of saliva slide down onto my burned skin and soothe the sting. That small relief, offered by her, seemed to me the most intimate gesture in the world.

—Can you imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t done that? —she said, finally stubbing out the butt in an ashtray beside her—. If I had wanted to leave you a real mark.

—You would have branded me —I answered.

—Exactly. —She smiled—. And one day I will. I want you to carry something of mine on your body. Something that says you belong to me. Would you let me?

—I would —I said without hesitation.

—I know. That’s why I like you.

***

She stood up and, with calculated slowness, took off her shirt until she was completely naked except for the boots. There was no hurry in any of her movements. She walked through the living room, showing herself off, aware of each one of my thoughts, while she lit another cigarette and let ashes fall to the floor in her wake.

I was still stretched out there, feeling desire consume me without allowing me to do anything about it. That was exactly how she wanted to have me: lit up and obedient, waiting.

—You know something I can’t stand? —she said suddenly.

—Tell me.

—My house floor being dirty.

I lowered my gaze to the little gray flecks of ash she herself was sprinkling across the wood. For a second I thought of offering to get the broom, but something in her tone stopped me. I knew her well enough to understand that wasn’t what she expected from me.

—Can’t you think of another way to clean it? —she asked, tilting her head.

I understood. I got down on all fours on the cold floor and, holding back my shame, began gathering the ash she scattered with my tongue. Renata walked slowly in front of me, dropping more ash on purpose, forcing me to follow her around the whole living room as if there were no other way for me to move.

—That’s more like it —she said, satisfied—. I’d have been disappointed if you’d gone looking for the broom. You don’t clean like everyone else anymore.

***

When I was at her boots again, the nearness of her naked body set me on fire all over again. She noticed, of course. She always noticed. She dropped the butt of the last cigarette to the floor, spat on it a couple of times, and looked at me, waiting.

—Finish with that —she ordered—. And then come to the bathroom. I want to show you something.

I caught the extinguished, damp butt with my lips, picked up the last remains from the floor, and straightened up to follow her. I walked behind her down the hallway, still halfway between embarrassment and total surrender.

I found her standing in the bathroom, one boot propped on the edge of the bathtub and her body arched in a pose that seemed designed to drive me mad.

—Come closer —she said—. And show me how much you’ve learned.

I knelt in front of her, feeling the cold tiles on my knees and the intense scent of her arousal flooding my head. She had been teasing me all afternoon, and now at last she was offering me what I had been waiting for so long.

—Don’t rush —she whispered, burying her fingers in my hair—. Do it slowly. I want to remember how you look at me while you do it.

I obeyed. I brought my mouth to her sex and pleased her with my tongue, slowly, feeling her breathing quicken above me. Her fingers held my head, setting the pace, reminding me every second who was in charge there. When a moan finally escaped her lips, I knew I had done well.

—More —she ordered in a thin voice—. Don’t stop until I tell you to.

I didn’t stop. I gave myself over to the task with the single ambition of pulling another sound from her, another shiver, another sign that she was pleased with me. Her pleasure had become, without my even realizing when, the measure of my own pleasure.

***

When she finished, she pulled back, breathing hard, and looked down at me, still braced against the bathtub. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, but her voice came out as steady as ever.

—You did very well —she said—. Better than last time.

—Thank you —I replied, and was surprised by how much those two words of hers meant to me.

Renata composed herself calmly, lowered her boot from the edge of the tub, and motioned for me to follow her back to the living room. She sank onto the sofa, crossed her booted legs, and lit another cigarette, watching me with that expression of owner and accomplice she wore so well.

—Now get dressed and go back to your place —she said—. But don’t switch off your phone.

—I never do —I admitted.

—I know. —She smiled, blowing smoke toward the ceiling—. Maybe later, before I go to bed, I’ll call you again. I have the feeling the night is going to be a long one.

I dressed slowly, under her gaze, and walked to the door knowing I would come back down as soon as that bell rang. I knew it with a certainty that didn’t frighten me, but instead gave me a strange peace. Before I left, she stopped me with one last sentence, spoken almost in a murmur.

—This has only just begun, you know? —she said—. I still have a lot to teach you.

I closed the door behind me and climbed the stairs one by one, my heart pounding in my chest and the certainty that, from now on, my time and my desire belonged entirely to the woman on the fourth floor.