I Went Down to My Neighbor’s Flat While Her Husband Slept

I went down the stairs barefoot, shoes in hand, at quarter to ten in the morning. The building had that thick Monday silence: a distant slammed door, the tired hum of the old elevator, nothing else. Her apartment key was still warm in my pocket from the night before, the same one I had 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 softly over the parquet that creaked at the joints. The living room was exactly as we had left it, with a heavy smell of long night and spilled orujo.

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

Remedios was in the kitchen. The ajar door gave me the whole scene: her back turned, making coffee with the moka pot, wrapped in a wine-colored satin robe hanging open off her shoulders. Nothing underneath.

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

I closed the kitchen door carefully and slid the bolt. I came up behind her and pushed her curly hair away from 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 out of her hands and set it on the counter. I opened her robe all the way and let it fall to the floor. She stood naked under the cold fluorescent light, her legs a little apart, her breathing already ragged 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 had been carrying since the night before. She moaned against my mouth, her hands trembling on my chest, not pulling away.

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

—He won’t wake up —I said—. And if he does, let him watch.

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

I curled my fingers upward, searching for that spot that made her arch, while with my other hand I pinched a nipple until a muffled little “ah” escaped her. She came right away, fast and wet, her legs going weak, clutching the counter so she wouldn’t fall to the floor.

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

I turned her again, this time with her back to me, and bent her torso over the granite. I pulled my pants down, lined her up, and shoved in all at once. She gave a long moan she muffled by covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

I fucked her slowly but deeply, each thrust making the coffee pot rattle on the turned-off burner. The wet slap sounded clearly in the silent kitchen, and at the end of 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, tightening around me, and the hot stream ran down the insides 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 into my arms without pulling out, with my cock still buried inside her, and she clung to my neck with her legs around my waist.

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

I didn’t answer. I walked down the short hallway, sinking deeper into her with every step, and felt her arch against me, biting her lip to keep from crying 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 his hangover face.

He wouldn’t have noticed an earthquake.

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

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

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

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

I pulled out my cock, shining wet, and pressed it to her tightest opening. The ring tightened at 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, growled something unintelligible, and kept snoring. I kept pushing until I was all the way in, and she trembled all over, her cunt dripping without me even touching it.

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

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

I came inside her, hot and long, and heard her smother the moan against the sofa back. 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 led 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 a shopping channel nobody was watching.

—Not here —she moaned at the doorway—. 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 nightstand, 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 it himself.

I drove in with one thrust, all the way. Her pussy opened easily, already used to me, but still tight, hot, and wet. She covered her mouth with her hand so she wouldn’t scream while I started moving, each pull almost all the way out, each push all the way in, making the old box spring creak against the wall.

I squeezed her breasts with both hands, the flesh spilling 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.

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

She came first, clenching around me, her nails buried in my back. I turned her onto her side, one leg over my shoulder, and kept fucking her from the side while I caught sight of the wedding photo on the nightstand: her young, smiling, Gerardo beside her.

—When he lies down tonight —I whispered— he’s going to sleep on the puddle we’re leaving. And he won’t even know.

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

I put her face down, ass in the air, her face buried in her husband’s pillow, and took her from behind again. The ring gave better now than it had the night before. I fucked her hard, the thrusts banging the headboard against the wall, until I emptied myself inside her, overflowing, staining the flowered sheets.

—Don’t change them —I told her, giving her one last slap—. I’ll come down again tomorrow.

***

That same night I couldn’t stay upstairs. It was two thirty when I went back down, key in hand. The building was half asleep: one light on in a high apartment, a cat yowling in the interior 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 off her shoulders, and opened the balcony sliding 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 raised gooseflesh on her skin and hardened her nipples at once. Down below, the courtyard was dark, but the lights from some of the apartments showed just enough: laundry lines with clothes hanging, pots of wilted geraniums, a rusty bicycle leaning in a corner.

I bent her against the cold iron, her breasts pressed flat to the metal, her ass pushed out toward me. I hiked her robe up her back and spread her legs with mine. I pulled down my pants and entered her slowly, all the way, while she bit her forearm to keep from screaming.

—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—. Tomorrow the whole building will know.

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

Up above, in the apartment over us, a dim light came on. Someone opened a window, maybe to air out the room, maybe to smoke.

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

But her body was pushing back, looking for me deeper inside. I didn’t stop. I fucked her harder, my hands on her hips pulling her into 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. Upstairs, the window slammed shut. I didn’t know whether someone had seen anything or whether the noise had simply annoyed them.

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

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

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