The Caregiver of My Neighbor Was Waiting for Me on Thursdays

I’m going to tell it exactly as it happened, without embellishment, because I still can hardly believe it. You all know I have a habit not everyone understands: I like to be seen. Not in any old way, but by pretending not to notice, as if I didn’t realize I was showing more than I should. Some people prefer subtlety. I don’t care. It turns me on, it amuses me, and almost always it works out.

The thing is, my neighbor, an elderly lady who hardly ever leaves the house, is looked after by a South American woman. Yolanda, her name is. She must be a little over fifty. She’s short, with dark skin, a round face, and that calm air women have when they’ve worked all their lives. She’s well padded, with good hips and a nice chest, everything nicely proportioned. She dresses without pretension, her hair always pulled back into a bun that comes loose by midmorning.

She’s not bad at all for her age. She has an energy that many thirty-year-olds don’t. And I’d already noticed that whenever we ran into each other on the landing, she smiled at me a little too much. A slow smile that hung in the air. Sometimes, depending on what I was wearing, I’d see her eyes drop over my arms and my chest with a calm that was anything but innocent.

I knew that on Thursday mornings she went out to hang the laundry on the service terrace, the one overlooking the inner courtyard, right opposite mine. And it turned out that Thursday I had the day off. I’d asked for the day and Friday too, to make myself a long weekend. When I heard her terrace door and the sound of the clothespins, the idea came to me.

I’m going to give her something to look at. It’s sure to make her mouth water.

I put on a pair of big headphones, the kind that cover your whole ear. They look more believable if you’re pretending to be absent-minded. I grabbed my phone, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto my terrace with nothing on. Just skin, the morning sun, and the certainty that she was three meters away, on the other side of the courtyard.

***

As soon as I opened the door, I caught out of the corner of my eye Yolanda turning her head to see who was coming out. I pretended to be absorbed in the screen. I took two steps toward the drying rack, where I had a couple of T-shirts hanging, and planted myself in front of her as if by accident. She didn’t move. She didn’t keep hanging the laundry. She just stood there looking, a towel half-hung between her hands.

I took one headphone off and greeted her casually.

—Good morning, Yolanda.

—Good morning, young Master Mateo —she replied, without looking away—. Aren’t you a bit cool this morning?

She said it slowly, almost teasingly, while her eyes slid down again. I picked up a clothespin off the floor with all the leisure in the world. Let her look. Let her enjoy herself.

—It’s warm this morning —I said—. But if it bothers you, I’ll go back inside.

—Not at all! How could it bother me? I’ve seen plenty of men in my life, my love. I’m not scared by that little.

—I’m glad, then.

—Beauty never bothers anyone —she added, and bit her lip without trying to hide it—. If only all the ones I’ve seen were as well looked after as you.

I kept gathering things with studied calm. I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed, and that only turned me on more. The boldness of that woman was a strange, delicious thing I hadn’t expected. The more she looked at me, the more I felt the blood rushing up, and the more she noticed the effect she had on me, the more she smiled.

—This is such a pain to put away —I commented, stretching the moment out—. Then I have to fold everything and put it in the drawers. Sometimes I think about just stuffing it all in a ball.

—Hahaha, what a lazybones —she laughed, and her laugh sounded warm and genuine—. Want me to help you fold it, young Master?

The idea of having her close sent a shiver down my back. But I had to make sure, avoid any misunderstandings.

—Go on then. Wait, I’ll put something on, I’m a bit indecent.

—Don’t you dare! —she said at once—. That’s the only thing that makes me cross the courtyard.

I laughed, told her all right, and went inside. As I walked away, I felt her eyes fixed on my back, and I didn’t even mind turning my head and catching her. She didn’t so much as flinch. That brazenness of hers was a gift I meant to make use of.

***

I left the clothes piled on the living room table. I hadn’t even had time to sort them when the doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole and there was Yolanda, smoothing down her apron. I opened the door without covering myself, standing in front of her as if it were the most normal thing in the world. She greeted me, lowered her eyes, smiled, and raised them back to my face.

—Come in, come in —I said, stepping aside.

She came in brushing my hip as she passed, a touch that was no accident. She said nothing. Neither did I.

We started folding the clothes while chatting about nonsense: the heat, the neighbor, the price of fruit. She kept alternating her gaze between my eyes and the rest, with no order and no shame. I was still hard, and I could feel how her brazen manner kept me that way.

—Yolanda —I said, half laughing—, I’m right here.

—Oh, I know —she answered calmly—. But your little thing down there is drawing attention to itself.

—My little thing?

—Hahaha, you know what I mean. You can’t go around like that, walking naked in front of a woman, and expect her not to look.

—You’re right. My fault.

—Well, if you don’t want me to look, cover it up —she challenged me, amused.

I took a sock from the pile and stretched it over myself, as if I were going to cover up with that. I was so hot I no longer knew what I was doing, I just wanted to keep hearing her talk.

—Hahaha, that won’t do, no you can’t —she said through laughter—. It’s too much for a sock.

We finished folding and I thanked her. She looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

—You’re a bit rude. I came in and you didn’t offer me anything.

I turned toward her. We were only a few centimeters apart. She lowered her gaze again.

—What do you want me to offer you, Yolanda?

She smiled, looked me in the eyes, then down again.

—I already know.

***

She grabbed me with one hand and, without saying another word, gently led me by the hand to the sofa. Her hand was small and hot. She pushed me in the chest and I fell back onto the cushions. She knelt between my legs with a ease that left no room for doubt: she had done this many times before.

She spat, grabbed me, and started jerking me off with an artistry that left me speechless. She spat again, slowly, until her hand slid with a wet sound that filled the silence of the living room. Nothing else could be heard: not the TV, not the courtyard, only her hand going up and down and her breathing. She looked at me while she did it, and smiled every time I let out a sigh.

She leaned in and gave me two long licks, from bottom to top, biting her lip between one and the other.

—Mmm, so good, my love —she murmured—. I’ve been hungry since I saw it come out onto the terrace.

—Well, here it is.

—How am I supposed to behave myself today…

She kept using her tongue while her hand held the base. She licked me like someone eating a melting ice cream, not leaving a single centimeter untouched. She squeezed from below and let go at the top, over and over, with a rhythm I’d never felt before. It was as if she knew exactly which buttons to press.

Then she took me into her mouth, slowly, very slowly. Her hand stopped squeezing and began to follow the movement of her lips, which came lower and lower each time. I closed my eyes for a second. When I opened them, she was still going down, showing not the slightest sign of discomfort, looking straight up at me from below. It didn’t seem to cost her anything.

She pulled away for a moment to catch her breath and tapped her cheek a couple of times, moaning softly.

—So many years of practice, my love.

—Jesus, you’re so good at that.

—Many years married —she winked at me—. You learn.

***

She dove back down, this time all the way to the base. She went back and forth, deeper and deeper, until her nose brushed my belly. I felt the urge to push, to take control myself, but I forced myself to stay still. She was in charge, and she knew what she was doing. Her tongue worked without rest, and I could feel that I wasn’t going to last much longer.

—Yolanda, if you keep this up I’m going to fill your mouth —I warned her, my voice breaking.

She ignored me completely. On the contrary, she sped up, held me with both hands, and started sucking the tip while moaning. That vibrating moan of hers was the last straw.

—I’m coming… Yolanda, I’m coming.

She didn’t pull away. She looked me in the eyes, rested one hand on my thigh, and kept her mouth closed around me while I emptied myself. She didn’t even flinch. She swallowed, kept sucking slowly, as if she wanted to make sure nothing was left. I slumped back into the sofa, panting, staring at the ceiling.

This woman is on another level.

What was strange came afterward. Usually I go soft right away, but she kept going, with a wise slowness, without greed, licking the tip whenever a drop came up. And I didn’t go soft. I don’t know how she did it, but she understood perfectly that after cumming a man needs calm, not haste. She was very well trained.

—If you keep going, I’m not going to go down —I told her.

—Ayyy, what a shame —she replied, grinning from ear to ear.

***

She kept at it, keeping me firm with her mouth while one of her hands slipped under her own skirt. She closed her eyes to focus on her own pleasure, and her rhythm kept building as she felt that I wasn’t giving in. She moaned with her mouth full, pulled away for a moment to breathe, and went right back on the attack. Seeing her so surrendered, seeking her own pleasure while giving me mine, got me worked up all over again.

—So good, so good —she repeated between licks—. Mmm…

She licked me all over again, slowly, while rubbing herself harder. I felt her getting close to her limit, and me, incredibly, getting close to mine for the second time. The sound of her mouth, her moans growing louder and louder, her hand squeezing the base: it was impossible to resist.

—Yolanda, I’m going again.

—Yes, give it all to me, my love. I’ve earned it.

When I came, she came with me. She pulled back for a second to moan, long and drawn out, trembling all over, and then found me again with her mouth so she wouldn’t miss the end. She rubbed herself and moaned at the same time, and she didn’t let go of me until she’d cleaned me out completely, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

***

Afterward she kept going a little longer, slowly, until at last I felt myself going soft. There was nothing left to give, and my body was asking for a truce. She straightened up, fixed her undone bun, and smiled at me as if none of it had the slightest importance.

She went to the bathroom to freshen her face. When she came back, she already had her apron on properly and the same calm air as always, the one of a lady crossing the landing with her shopping.

—Rest well, young Master —she said goodbye from the doorway.

—Same to you, Yolanda.

I stayed on the sofa for a good while, digesting what had just happened. I’d come twice in a row, something that hadn’t happened to me since I was eighteen, since the first fucks of my life. And it had all started because of one of my little games, of going out onto the terrace pretending to be absent-minded.

Now, every Thursday morning, when I hear the clothespins on the drying rack on the other side of the courtyard, it’s hard for me to focus on anything else. I know she knows that I know. And we both know that sooner or later the doorbell will ring again.