What My Neighbor Ordered Me to Do That Afternoon

That afternoon I was coming back from the grocery store, just like any other Thursday. I got into the elevator loaded down with bags and, when I looked down, I saw it: three drops of blood on the aluminum floor, still shining. I froze, staring at them, with a strange knot in my stomach.

My imagination went wild. I thought of an injured neighbor, a fight, some accident I hadn’t heard. The elevator rose slowly while I kept following the line of drops with my eyes, unable to look away.

When the doors opened on my floor, the trail continued across the landing to the apartment opposite mine. That was where Renata lived, a woman quite a bit older than me, alone for as long as I could remember. I stopped in front of her door with the bags weighing down my hands, hesitating over whether to knock.

I didn’t dare. I went into my place, left the groceries on the counter, and poured myself a glass of water that I never got around to drinking. I couldn’t stop thinking about those drops disappearing under her door. What if something had happened to her? What if she was alone and needed help?

Ten minutes later I was back on the landing, ringing her doorbell.

She took a while to open up. When she did, she only peered out through the crack.

—Hi, Renata. Sorry to bother you —I said, noticing my voice catching—. I saw some drops of blood leading to your door and I got worried. Is everything all right?

She opened it a little more and I glanced down before I could stop myself. Her jeans had a dark stain, unmistakable, at the crotch. I felt an absurd wave of relief and, at the same time, a shame that burned up my neck.

—It’s nothing, neighbor —she said, with a calm that didn’t fit the situation—. It’s what happens to us women every month. When I’m feeling better I’ll come out and clean it up.

—Don’t worry about that. If you want, I’ll do it, I’ll get the mop and…

—Leave it, please. I’d feel awkward if you cleaned it up.

—It doesn’t bother me at all —I insisted—. You’re in no condition to be bending down.

She looked at me a moment longer than she should have. Something in her eyes changed, a spark I couldn’t interpret then.

—All right —she gave in—. But come in and use mine. I don’t want you to get your own dirty with this.

***

I followed her inside. The apartment smelled of tobacco and something floral, heavy. She pointed to a cabinet next to the kitchen and disappeared down the hall.

—I’m going to change meanwhile —she said from the bedroom door—. I’m soaked.

I cleaned the landing and the bit of kitchen where it had dripped, wrung out the mop, and went back in. I found her seated in the armchair, in a light dress, lighting a cigarette. The flame lit up her fingers for a second before the first slow drag slipped from her lips.

I stood there frozen. I don’t know if she noticed, but seeing a woman smoke had always been what turned me on most, a fetish I had never confessed to anyone. The movement of her lips, the smoke curling toward the ceiling, all of it hit me at once.

—How kind of you —she said, taking a drag—. Sit down for a moment, go on.

I sat down across from her. When she crossed her legs, her dress rode up enough to show the edge of her underwear. I looked away, but it was already too late: the arousal was building and I was afraid it would show.

—My periods are very heavy —she remarked as if nothing were happening, letting ash fall into an ashtray—. And I’m irregular, I never know when it’s going to start.

She spoke about it with a naturalness that left me off balance. My gaze kept jumping from her mouth to the cigarette, from the cigarette to her legs. I swallowed.

—Sorry —she said suddenly, frowning—. Would you mind coming with me to the bathroom? I think it’s started again and I don’t want to make a mess everywhere.

—Of course —I replied, getting up too fast.

I took her by the waist to help her. We walked slowly, but even so a couple of drops fell onto the hallway floor. I left her leaning on the sink and went back for the mop.

***

I knelt in front of the drops with the cloth in my hand, and then something happened that I still can’t explain. Knowing she was inside the bathroom, out of my sight, I brought a finger to one of those drops. I touched it. It was warm. I lifted it first to my nose and then, without thinking, to my mouth.

My heart was pounding in my chest. Something woke up inside me, a current that went straight down to my crotch and hardened me against the fabric of my pants. I picked up another drop, and another, bringing them to my lips like a secret I had never known I was keeping.

—Adrián, can you come here for a second? —her voice came from the bathroom.

I straightened up abruptly, my face burning. I went to the half-open door.

—I’m really embarrassed to ask you —she said—, but could you bring me a tampon from my bag? I’ve run out here.

I searched through her bag until I found one. As I walked back, I was thinking about how I’d hand it to her without making the situation even more awkward than it already was.

—Come in, I don’t mind —she said from inside—. Give it to me.

I pushed the door open. She was sitting on the toilet, looking at me with a serenity that made my skin crawl. When I bent down to hand her the tampon, her hand rose toward my face.

—You’ve got some on you, let me clean you —she murmured, brushing my lip—. Did you like it?

I didn’t know what to answer. I stood speechless while she moistened her fingers with saliva and ran them over my mouth, slowly, cleaning away the remains I had taken in the hallway. Shame paralyzed me, but I didn’t pull away.

—Do you want a little more? —she asked, tilting her head.

I stayed silent. Then she slid her fingers between her legs, smeared them, and brought them to my lips.

—This one’s hotter. Here.

She put them in my mouth and, without really understanding what was happening to me, I sucked them. A jolt ran through me.

—That’s it —she whispered—. I’ve got much more for you.

She said it with such calm authority that my legs obeyed before my head did. I knelt on the bathroom floor in front of her, my mouth slightly open.

—Does it taste good? —she asked.

—Yes —I admitted in a whisper—. Very much.

—I always dreamed of finding a man who would share this with me —she said, and for the first time her voice trembled with something like desire—. Come closer.

***

I obeyed without questioning anything. I pressed my face between her thighs and looked up at her from below, completely surrendered. Her hand settled on the back of my neck, firm, setting the rhythm, deciding for me every centimeter.

—Do you like what you see? —she asked.

I didn’t answer. There was no need. The pressure of her hand on my head was an order, not a question, and I only knew how to obey it. When she pulled me all the way in, I opened my mouth because it was the only thing I could do.

—Drink it —she said—. Don’t let it go to waste.

I did. It was thick, with an intense metallic taste that I mixed with my own saliva so it would last. Renata held my head with one hand and lit another cigarette with the other, looking down at me with a smile that said it all: she was in charge there.

—When you’re finished, I want you to clean me well —she ordered.

She pulled me away gently and got to her feet. She looked me over from head to toe, judging just how far I would go.

—Take off my clothes. I don’t want to get them any dirtier.

From where I was on the floor I carefully removed her dress, my hands clumsy with pure excitement. When she stood naked in front of me, she pointed at the tiles.

—Lie down. It’s the only way you’ll clean me the way I want.

I lay back. She put one leg on either side of my body and bent her knees until she was suspended over my face. She lowered herself slowly, rubbing against my mouth, and I licked up everything I could while feeling her move above me.

—Please —I panted—, I can’t breathe.

—I know —she said, without moving—. Open your mouth wide.

She lifted just enough to let me catch my breath. From below I could see she owned everything, smoking calmly, letting the smoke fall over my face while I stayed beneath her, obedient.

—Seeing you like this drives me crazy —she murmured—. It’s hard to find someone who enjoys it as much as I do.

She sat up for a moment and I feared it was over. It wasn’t.

—Did you think we were done? —she laughed softly—. I just went to get another cigarette.

She turned to me, now facing me, so I could watch her while she smoked. The taste in my mouth and the smoke descending from her lips were, together, everything my body had always wanted without daring to name it.

—Open —she said, the cigarette between her fingers.

She let ash fall onto my tongue and then a thin thread of saliva. The humiliation burned my cheeks and yet I had never been harder. She noticed.

—Look at you —she said, pleased—. You’d do anything I asked.

And it was true.

—For now you’ve had enough —she concluded at last, putting out the cigarette—. Clean me well and we’re done.

I ran my tongue over her thighs and everything she offered me, licking until she was clean. When I thought I was finished, she checked with a piece of paper to make sure.

—Incredible —she said—. You did everything. Get up and come with me.

***

I followed her into the living room. She sat down, lit one last cigarette, and watched me catch my breath, still on my knees at her feet.

—Come back when it starts again —she said, as if setting an appointment—. Now put the tampon in me. I’m not wasting a single drop that isn’t for you.

I nodded. Since that Thursday, every time the elevator smells warm and metallic, I know exactly which door I have to knock on.