What Happened When My Neighbor Came to Assemble My Bed

The moving truck arrived three hours late. Camila watched them haul down the last boxes in a rush, checking their watches every two minutes, and she knew she wasn’t going to argue with them. She had the contract in her hand and her head was empty after two days of planes, taxis, and badly slept nights. Let them leave everything wherever. She’d sort it out herself.

When the truck pulled away down the street, she stood in the middle of the living room. Boxes stacked up to waist height. Labels slapped on wrong: “kitchen” on the couch, “bedroom” by the door. She sighed. The scholarship had paid for her ticket from Maracaibo to this forgotten little town in Minnesota, and the university had promised the house would be ready. Ready was a generous word.

She went upstairs to the bedroom. The box spring and mattress were propped against the wall like two tombstones. She moved a couple of boxes, tilted them, and let them drop onto the wooden floor. Thud. Good enough. She went down for her suitcase, took out her pajamas, found a pillowcase and a sheet in some random box, and collapsed onto the bare mattress. The breeze came in through the open windows. It smelled of wet grass and something sweet she couldn’t identify.

Tomorrow I’ll take care of everything else.

***

She woke late, with a stiff neck and the sun already high. The phone said ten o’clock. She made herself coffee in a dusty mug and went out onto the back terrace with the kettle still hot. The house looked out over a long yard, fenced in by a low wire barrier, and on the other side of the wire a man was cutting the grass with a noisy machine.

He looked up just as she came out. He turned off the motor, took off his gloves, and motioned for her to come to the fence. Camila went down the wooden steps with her mug in hand.

He was older than her. Bald, with a thick beard split by a white stripe right in the center of his chin. A gray T-shirt clung to his chest with sweat. Thick arms, not gym muscles but the kind you got from moving things for years. A slight belly. Camila noticed all of that in the three steps it took her to cross the yard.

—Welcome —he said, offering her his hand over the wire—. I’m Daniel.

—Camila.

She gave him a firm shake. Too firm, maybe. She felt a tingle low in her belly and only then remembered she was still in her pajamas. A T-shirt cut off under her breasts, no bra because she still hadn’t found that box, and old shorts that shifted between her legs every time the wind blew.

—You’ve got an accent —Daniel said—. Where are you from?

—Venezuela.

As she said it, she saw his eyes move over her. No attempt to hide it. They went from her mouth to her neck, from her neck to the open neckline of the old T-shirt, and lingered a second too long on the nipples showing through the thin fabric. A gust of wind lifted the hem of her shorts against her thighs and Camila thought, with a sudden heat in her cheeks, that she had probably shown him everything.

Daniel shifted too, almost imperceptibly, and Camila saw the bulge beneath the waistband of his gardening pants. She held back a laugh.

—Look —he said, collecting himself—, you probably haven’t had time to organize anything. Why don’t you come over tonight? I’ll introduce you to my wife and the girls. Something informal, a welcome dinner.

—I’d love to.

She walked back to the house slowly, shoulders straight. When she reached the corner of the wall, she turned around. Daniel was still there, watching her with that full smile and the bulge still visible. She blew him a kiss in the air and went inside.

The neighborhood is promising.

***

Dinner was quiet. Daniel’s two daughters, teenagers, ate quickly and disappeared upstairs under the excuse of homework. His wife, Lorena, was a tall woman, wearing a gray shirt and linen pants that fit her perfectly. She worked at the hospital, spoke softly, and looked at Camila with that polite kindness women use to size each other up.

Daniel poured the wine. He told stories from work, something in systems, office computers, users calling in panic because their screen had frozen and it turned out they had just turned it off. Camila laughed a little louder than necessary. Lorena didn’t laugh at all.

By eleven, Lorena stood up.

—Tomorrow at noon I leave for Chicago. Three-day conference. I’m going to pack and get some sleep. Camila, it was lovely to meet you.

She gave her two dry kisses and left. Daniel and Camila stayed on the terrace with the dirty dishes between them.

—Want help carrying everything in? —she said.

—Only if you’re up for it. This kitchen is a disaster when there are people around.

They walked in silence to the kitchen, each carrying their own load. They stacked the plates in the sink. Daniel leaned against the counter and looked at her.

—Thanks for coming. It had been a long time since we’d had a dinner like that, no arguments, no tension.

—It did seem a little tense —Camila said softly.

—We’re in a strange phase. More like roommates than anything else.

There was a silence. Camila straightened up, lifted the two empty trays, and before heading back toward the living room, leaned slightly forward. She shifted her hips back just enough to brush against him. She felt Daniel’s breath catch against the back of her neck.

—Behave —she whispered, smiling—. Your wife’s upstairs.

—I wasn’t doing anything.

—Your face says otherwise.

They finished clearing the kitchen. At the door, Daniel wrote two phone numbers on a scrap of paper.

—Just in case you need anything. Lorena and me. The neighborhood is safe, but lock up anyway.

Camila hugged him. It was a short hug, too short for what she would have wanted and too long for what was proper. When they pulled apart, they both laughed without really knowing why.

She walked down the sidewalk to her house. Before closing the door, she turned around. Daniel was still standing on his step, hands in his pockets, making sure she got inside okay. She gave him a quick wave and went in.

***

Sunday dawned just as clear. Camila had breakfast on the terrace and saw Daniel and Lorena on theirs, seated in white chairs, she looking at her phone and he looking upward. At her.

Something came over Camila. Not courage, not exactly. She pressed a finger to her lips. Silence. Daniel gave the slightest nod, intrigued.

She stepped back, just enough to get out of Lorena’s sight and out of the street’s sight, but not his. Then she lifted her T-shirt over her head. She stood there topless, her breasts heavy in the sun, nipples hardening in the breeze. She stared at him. Daniel stood very still. One hand slipped under the table.

Camila took her time. She lifted one breast with both hands, brought it to her mouth, and ran her tongue over the nipple. Then the other. She held his gaze the entire time. Two full minutes. When she pulled her shirt back down, Daniel still hadn’t quite caught his breath.

—Good morning! —she shouted brightly, as if nothing had happened.

Lorena turned and returned the greeting with some confusion.

—Can I steal Daniel for a while this afternoon? —Camila asked—. I’ve got heavy things to move and a bed I don’t know how to put together.

—By me, he’s all yours —Lorena said, already thinking about her travel bag—. I’m leaving in an hour.

Daniel just nodded.

***

The doorbell rang at six. Camila was in the bedroom folding clothes when she heard his voice from the doorway.

—Hello?

—Come up, it’s open!

Daniel appeared in the frame with a duffel bag, white T-shirt, athletic shorts. He looked over the room: the mattress on the floor, the frame legs propped against the wall, the two nightstands still unassembled, the drawers still sitting on the bed.

—I have to work on your bed —he said slowly.

—Not that way.

—Are you sure?

—Well…

Camila laughed. She explained what she wanted: the mattress stayed where it was, without the frame, and he could take the legs and crossbars out to the garage. Daniel made several trips. Every time he came back into the bedroom, Camila had gotten a little further with the sheets, the pillows, the drawers. And every time she crossed paths with him, she looked at him without hiding it.

On one of those trips he stopped. He had come back in and found her organizing the drawer of the nightstand. The drawer was still sitting on the mattress. Inside, two vibrators, a cream, a black lingerie ball rolled into a wad.

—You have a collection —Daniel said, in a different voice.

Camila turned around, cheeks hot.

—None of your business.

—From where I’m standing, you shouldn’t need any of those. Isn’t there anyone in your life who can take care of that for you?

She looked at him for a long moment. Then she stood up. Walked over to him. Slipped her arms around his waist and he, by reflex, did the same. She lifted his face with a finger under his chin and kissed him.

It was a slow kiss. Then it was a less slow kiss. When they pulled apart, both of them were breathing differently.

—You asked me whether there was anyone who could replace the toys —Camila said—. I’m showing you who I want to try.

Daniel laughed under his breath, slid one hand under her ass, lifted her almost effortlessly, and dropped her onto the mattress. Camila let out a short laugh and scooted back. He yanked off his T-shirt. The shorts fell away on their own.

He grabbed both her legs, dragged her to the edge of the mattress, and buried his face between her thighs before she could even react. Camila was still wearing jean shorts. She felt his hot breath through the thick fabric. She fumbled with the button; he grabbed the waistband and pulled them down in one motion, underwear included.

When he buried his face again, there was no gentleness. He licked, sucked, nipped. Camila gripped the edge of the mattress with both hands. Daniel slid one finger in, then two, then three. He curled them forward and found an exact spot that made her arch. The first orgasm hit her almost before she saw it coming.

—Daniel —she managed to say.

He didn’t answer. He kept going. The second orgasm came right on the heels of the first. Camila writhed on the mattress, covered her mouth with the back of her hand because the windows were open and because it had been months, maybe a year, since anyone had done anything like that to her.

When he finally lifted his face, he smiled up at her. His beard was wet. He kissed his way up her belly. He found a nipple with his mouth; Camila had lifted her shirt during the oral sex almost without realizing it, and he bit it softly. Camila moaned.

—I need you inside me —she said.

Daniel kept climbing up. He kissed her on the mouth. She tasted herself on his lips and that turned her on even more. Then, without warning, he sat back on the mattress, opened his legs, and pulled her onto his lap to straddle him. He lifted her by the ass and let her sink down slowly.

They both held still for a moment. Forehead to forehead. Camila wrapped around him with arms and legs. She started moving in short circles, not breaking their faces apart. Daniel held her hips with both hands. He kissed her, bit her lower lip.

Her orgasm came again. And that was what finished him: Camila felt him trembling all over, heard the dull sound he made against her ear, and knew he had emptied himself inside her.

Daniel let himself fall back onto the pillows. Camila stayed on top, still with him inside. A few seconds passed. She looked at his face: eyes closed, breathing hard, that whole smile. She could feel he was still hard. Not as hard as before, but hard.

—You’re not going to let me sleep, are you? —Daniel murmured.

—Not yet.

She pushed herself up onto her knees. Started moving again, this time slow, up and down. Daniel jolted, let out a broken moan, tried to say something and couldn’t. Camila leaned forward and took one nipple into his mouth to shut him up.

Then she rode him hard. Dug her nails into his chest. Left three red lines along his sternum. Daniel grabbed her breasts with both hands, squeezed them, let them go. Camila rubbed against him with all her weight and felt his cock stroke that spot inside her that he’d already found before. She had two more orgasms. Maybe three. After a certain point, she stopped counting.

When she finally collapsed to the side, Daniel had scratched chest and a bloody mark near his shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed when that had happened.

—Good God —he said, chuckling softly, staring at the ceiling—. I have no idea how long it’s been since something like that happened to me.

—Me neither. But it wasn’t exactly what I expected when they told me about the neighborhood.

—I think we’re going to be very good neighbors.

Camila rested her head on his shoulder. She lazily ran a hand over his scratched chest, slowly tracing each line as if it were a map. She closed her eyes. Lorena wasn’t coming back until Wednesday, and tomorrow, after the first day of class, there were still two nightstands left to assemble.