I Went Down to My Neighbor’s Apartment While Her Husband Was Sleeping

I walked down the stairs barefoot, shoes in hand, at a quarter to ten in the morning. The building was wrapped in that thick Monday silence: a distant door slam, the tired hum of the old elevator, nothing else. The key to her apartment was still warm in my pocket from the night before, the same one I’d used to lock up when I left.

I opened the door without knocking. I walked in like someone who already knew the lay of the land, stepping carefully on the parquet that creaked at the joints. The living room was exactly as we’d left it, with a dense smell of a long night and spilled orujo.

Gerardo was snoring in the bedroom with the door half open. I could hear him from the hall, like a jammed diesel engine, and beside the bed I could make out the empty bottle rolled onto the rug. He hadn’t moved in hours.

Remedios was in the kitchen. The ajar door gave me the whole scene: with her back to me, making coffee with the Italian coffee maker, wrapped in a wine-colored satin robe hanging open from her shoulders. Underneath, nothing.

—Adrián… —she said without turning all the way around, as if she’d heard me come in before she saw me—. I thought you wouldn’t come down today.

I closed the kitchen door carefully and threw the bolt. I came up behind her and moved her curly hair off the back of her neck, still mussed from the sleep she hadn’t slept.

—I told you I’d come down —I murmured against her nape—. And here I am.

I took the cup from her hands and set it on the counter. I opened the robe all the way and let it fall to the floor. She stood naked under the cold fluorescent light, legs a little apart, her breathing already broken before I even touched her.

I turned her toward me and kissed her hard, holding her by the jaw. She tasted of fresh coffee and something older, the shame she’d been dragging around since the night before. She moaned into my mouth, her hands trembling on my chest, not pulling away.

—He’s next door —she whispered when I let go of her lips—. If he wakes up…

—He’s not going to wake up —I said—. And if he does, let him look.

I pinned her against the cold granite of the counter. I parted her thighs with my knee and slid two fingers inside her without warning. She was soaking, still swollen from the night before, and she let out a whimper she had to swallow halfway down.

I curved my fingers upward, looking for that spot that made her arch, while with my other hand I pinched one nipple until a muffled “ah” escaped her. She came almost immediately, fast and wet, her legs going weak, clutching the counter so she wouldn’t collapse to the floor.

—Adrián… —she panted, still shaking—. Shit.

I turned her again, this time with her back to me, and bent her torso over the granite. I pulled down my pants, lined myself up with her entrance, and pushed all the way in at once. She let out a long moan she had to smother with the back of her hand.

I fucked her slowly but deeply, each thrust making the coffee maker rattle on the dead burner. The wet slap was clear in the silent kitchen, and down the hall Gerardo kept snoring, oblivious to everything.

—Tell me what you are —I whispered in her ear.

—Yours —she answered, her voice broken—. I’m yours, Adrián. Don’t stop.

She came again, clenching around me, and the hot spray ran down the inside of her thighs to the tile. I let her catch her breath for a moment, her forehead pressed to the granite.

***

I didn’t want to finish there. I lifted her in my arms without pulling out, my cock still buried in her, and she hooked her legs around my waist and clung to my neck.

—No… not the living room… he’s there… —she protested in a thread of a voice.

I didn’t answer her. I walked down the short hall, sinking deeper into her with every step, and I felt her arch against me, biting her lip so she wouldn’t cry out. When we reached the living room, Gerardo had moved to the big sofa, lying on his side with his mouth open and one hand hanging over the edge. The television flickered silently, a bluish light washing over his hangover face.

He wouldn’t have noticed an earthquake.

I set her down on the floor slowly, in front of the sofa where her husband was sleeping, and turned her with her back to me. I bent her torso forward until she was almost on all fours, her hands planted on the backrest, a foot from Gerardo’s head.

—Look at him —I told her in her ear—. Hold it in without screaming… or we wake him up.

She was crying softly, fresh tears falling onto the sofa fabric, but she kept pushing her ass back toward me, searching for me.

—I still hurt from last night —she murmured—. But do it. I’m yours.

I pulled out my cock, shining, and pressed it to her tightest opening. The ring clenched when it felt the tip and I pushed in slowly, centimeter by centimeter, while she dug her nails into the velvet backrest. When I was halfway in she let out a long moan and disguised it as a cough.

Gerardo shifted for a second, grunted something unintelligible, and kept snoring. I kept pushing until I was fully inside, and she trembled all over, her cunt dripping without me even touching it.

—Move for me —I ordered her—. In front of him.

She obeyed, crying and wanting it at the same time, her hips rocking back and forth on me, the forbidden pleasure mixing with the pain until it drove her into another orgasm. I sped up, the deep thrusts making the sofa creak, and Gerardo’s body barely shifted with each удар without waking.

I came inside her, hot and long, and heard her stifle her moan against the backrest. I pulled out slowly and gave her a soft slap.

—Stay like that for a while —I said—. And get ready, because I’m coming back this afternoon.

***

I came back in the afternoon, as promised, and took her by the hand to the bedroom. The room smelled of cheap cologne, orujo, and sheets that were changed less often than they should have been. Gerardo had passed out again on the sofa, in front of some shopping channel nobody was watching.

—Not here —she whimpered at the door—. This is our bed.

I locked it without answering. I laid her on her back in the exact center of the mattress, right where he slept every night, and spread her legs. I undressed slowly, letting my clothes fall beside the bedside table where there was a dirty glass and a blister pack of blood-pressure pills.

—If he comes in, he’ll kill us —she whispered, looking up at me with glassy eyes.

—Let him come in —I said, covering her with my body—. Let him see me make you come in his own bed. Like he never knew how to do himself.

I thrust in all at once, all the way. Her cunt opened easily, already used to me, but it still clenched hot and wet. She covered her mouth with her hand so she wouldn’t scream while I started moving, almost fully out on each pullback, all the way in on every thrust, making the old box spring creak against the wall.

I squeezed her breasts with both hands, the flesh overflowing between my fingers, and bit her neck, leaving a mark she’d have to hide the next day.

—Tell me this bed is mine now —I asked her.

—It’s yours —she answered frantically, crying with pleasure—. It’s yours, Adrián. Break me here.

She came first, clenching around me, her nails dug into my back. I turned her onto her side, one leg over my shoulder, and kept fucking her from the side while, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the wedding photo on the nightstand: her young, smiling, Gerardo beside her.

—When he goes to bed tonight —I whispered— he’s going to sleep on the puddle we’re making. And he won’t notice.

—Let him sleep in your load —she panted—. Don’t stop.

I put her face down, ass up, her face buried in her husband’s pillow, and entered her again from behind. The ring was giving way better than the night before. I fucked her hard, the thrusts banging the headboard against the wall, until I emptied myself inside her, overflowing, soaking the floral sheets.

—Don’t change them —I told her, giving her one last smack—. Tomorrow I’m coming down again.

***

That very early morning I couldn’t stay upstairs. It was two-thirty when I went back down, key in hand. The building was half asleep: a light on in an upper-floor apartment, a cat yowling in the inner courtyard, the murmur of a car on the main street.

Remedios hadn’t been able to sleep. She was waiting for me in the living room, still with the satin robe hanging uselessly from her shoulders, and she opened the sliding balcony door with trembling hands before I even asked. Gerardo was snoring inside, in the bedroom, with the door ajar.

—We shouldn’t —she whispered—. The neighbors… if someone looks through the window…

—Let them look —I said, and pushed her gently toward the railing.

The cold January air made her skin prickle and her nipples harden at once. Down below, the courtyard was dark, but the lights from some apartments showed just enough: clotheslines with laundry hanging, pots of wilted geraniums, a rusty bicycle propped in a corner.

I bent her against the cold iron, her breasts flattened against the metal, her ass pushed back toward me. I pulled her robe up her back and parted her legs with mine. I pulled down my pants and entered her slowly, all the way in, while she bit her forearm so she wouldn’t cry out.

—Please —she panted—. The woman on the third floor smokes at this hour. They could see us.

—Let them see me fuck you on your own balcony while your husband snores inside —I answered in her ear, thrusting slow and deep—. By tomorrow the whole building will know.

The railing creaked slightly with each movement, the cold metal mixing with the heat of her body. She trembled, her legs weak, her nails dug into the iron, and she came without me touching her, her whole body shaking against the railing.

Up above, in the apartment overhead, a faint light came on. Someone opened a window, maybe to air the place out, maybe to smoke.

—They’re going to catch us —she sobbed, going rigid—. Stop, please.

But her body was pushing back, wanting me deeper. I didn’t stop. I fucked her harder, my hands on her hips pulling her toward me, until she came again, violently, splashing the balcony floor and my shoes.

I came inside her at the last moment, holding her against the iron so she wouldn’t collapse. Above us, the window slammed shut. I didn’t know if anyone had seen anything or if they’d just been bothered by the noise.

I pulled out slowly and gave her a smack that echoed through the night.

—Go back inside —I said, pulling up my pants—. Sleep with the door open. Tomorrow I’m coming down for more.

She nodded weakly, sobbing softly, and staggered back into the living room. I closed the sliding door from outside and went up to my place. The balcony was left empty, but the floor glistened wet under the moonlight, and I knew that the next day someone would see it from below and wonder what had happened there.