The Man in 3B

by Alexis Shore

  At least the dramas of yesterday had given her cause for distraction.

  But now it was upon her. Downstairs in a mail box with her name on it, a letter that could change her life. And not necessarily for the better. Rachael curled up in to a ball and decided never to get out of bed again.

  So her alarm clock began shouting at her incessantly. She’d been awake for hours now, and this sudden eruption of noise just seemed sarcastic. With a heavy heart, and an even heavier hand, she slapped it silent.

  Eight minutes later it kicked up a fuss again, and Rachael tossed the covers aside and got out of bed in a pique of anger. That clock would soon shut up if she had a hammer.

  The shower was so warm, it just made her want to curl up again, but she resisted. There was so much water streaming down her cheeks, Rachael wasn’t sure how much of it was tears.

  The past few days had been a heady cocktail of emotions, hormones and bad decisions. It began to bubble away in her stomach, and with a painful wretch, Rachael threw up.

  Leaning against the wet wall in pain, she watched the vomit swirling away down the drain, grimacing as the shower beat down on her naked, goose-pimpled skin.

  Morning sickness or stress?

  She opened her mouth and let the shower rinse away the bitter after-taste of bile. When she uncapped the shower gel, and the wafting scent of lemons began to fill her nostrils, she began to feel a little better.

  Until she remembered her mother’s story of how the smell from freshly cut lemons were the perfect antidote when she was first pregnant with Rachael.

  Not good.

  She tried to wash away the thought with shampoo and a long rinse, but to no real avail.

  Her heavy legs moved her slowly back into the bedroom, where she sat on the bed and spent twice as long drying her hair than was necessary, simply staring into space trying to keep her mind blank.

  Each and every item of clothing she picked out was black. Not subtle. So she slipped off the blouse and replaced it with a pink one instead. It strained against her tits. They weren’t getting bigger were they?

  Maybe she had put the blouse on too hot a wash. It had been known. She was sure the pink satin never accentuated her nipples quite so much. No, this one wouldn’t do either. Back to the trusty ivory one instead. At least that didn’t make it look like her boobs were trying to burst out of it.

  Rachael couldn’t face breakfast.

  So the only thing left to do was head out of her door and down to the mailbox. Her heels clacked down the staircase, and across the tiles to the bank of little doors. She nearly took a swerve to the right to head out of the door, but the urge to know was even greater than the urge to run away.

  With quivering fingers, she pawed open the door and saw …

  Nothing.

  No mail.

  She swore under her breath and examined the surrounding mailboxes, trying to glean some clue as to their contents. Had the mail man been? It was normally here when she left.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.

  There was no way she could get through a whole day at the office. Her mind was as manic as the wind whipping at her hair. Her feet were taking her inextricably to work, but all she really wanted to do was go to the doctor’s surgery and bang down the door until she got her results. Another day of waiting would be torture.

  It didn’t help that Monday mornings at work were always as slow as death. There was never anything to do after the weekend, and internet access was restricted, so all she could do was furtively use her smartphone to distract herself.

  It was a bad idea to search for ‘morning sickness’ and ‘when do boobs get bigger when pregnant’. Both entries said these things started at about six weeks. It had been six weeks since the night with Harry.

  Rachael wheeled her chair in closer to her desk, hoping the cubicle walls would hide her, then held a breast in each hand, massaging them through her blouse and bra, trying to gauge whether or not they had grown. It was possible she was imagining a minor swelling, but she couldn’t be sure, and her brain wouldn’t let her dismiss it as paranoia.

  “Miss McMahon?”

  Rachael’s hands snapped away from her tits and she stared at her screen with embarrassment.

  “Yes,” she croaked.

  “Miss Rachael McMahon?”

  She slowly turned to see a tall, uniformed police officer standing behind her, his hat tucked under his arm.

  “That’s me,” she smiled nervously.

  “Is there somewhere quiet we could have a chat?” he asked. He was quite dishy actually, but she always did have a thing for tall men in uniforms. If only he’d been in 3B the other night.

  But he was more interested in yesterday’s events. And Rachael wasn’t sure her erotic memories would be of concern to him right now. Or maybe they would. Maybe he loved being flirted with whilst interviewing witnesses.

  If nothing else it wasted ninety minutes of her day, and when she got back to her desk, she had enough work to keep her going until lunchtime. And it’s not like she really saw anything anyway.

  Not wanting lunch, Rachael sat in the canteen and nibbled on a few dry biscuits. The murmur of conversations about the room never piqued her interest, and never dragged her from her thoughts. She wouldn’t actually miss this place if she had to leave.

  She would miss the flat though.

  The single room would make it impossible to keep in the longer term. She’d miss being able to pop across to see Sheena for a cuppa. She’d miss their daily chats. She’d miss Sheena.

  Rachael sighed, then bit down forlornly into the final remnant of her cracker.

  Ordinarily a visit from the police would have been enough to excite her for the day, but nothing was more important than getting her results. She toyed with the idea of phoning the doctor, but decided against it because she didn’t want to get the news at her desk.

  Whatever reaction she would have would lead to inevitable questioning from nosey colleagues, be it a yelp of joy or loud sobbing whilst curled up in the corner.

  A little smile teased her lips. She was being melodramatic, and she knew it. But it would be impossible not to have a reaction to the news, so waiting until she got home was the best idea.

  The growing pile of files in her Inbox meant the afternoon passed much more quickly than she expected. It was actually constructive to refocus her stress onto stupid paperwork, and by the time she wrapped her coat around her waist, it almost felt like a normal day.

  Almost.

  The wind lashed at her face with a cold sting as she struggled through the gusts. So when she stepped into the lobby, the immediate calm and warmth was quite startling. It was good to be home.

  She just wanted to head up the stairs, run a bath and fall asleep. But she knew she had to check the mail first. As she opened the little door, she didn’t know how to feel. Reaching in, she pulled out a non-descript brown envelope.

  Nineteen

  How the fuck did that happen?

  Neve had only popped in to Mike’s for a few minutes, and now here she was, sitting on the sofa, laughing like an idiot. As far as Peter could tell, Mike had just ended things with Neve.

  The irony was what was making her giggle. That it had been Mike who had finished it. If it had been up to Neve, she would have left months ago, but she always did as her master instructed.

  It was a little annoying that Peter could no longer play that game with her, but he took some solace in the idea that she would be here much more often, and that he could devise even more delicious games to play.

  Though it would be so much easier if they had a more conventional relationship, and he could enjoy it all without the constant baggage of how she wanted things to be.

  Maybe now that Mike was out of her life, she might need this sub/dom thing much less frequently, and it could even evolve into the kind of dynamic Peter deep down really wanted.

  But for now, as she sat on the couch giggling, Peter loved watching her shake with laughter.
It was an incredible turn on, and she so rarely did it. He particularly loved the way her tits moved beneath her blouse, as well as the flustered mottling of her skin. She almost looked like she was in the throes of an orgasm.

  Peter knelt down and began to slowly unfasten the buttons. Her laughing quietened a little as she looked at him, and then stopped completely as he bowed his mouth to her naked nipple and swirled his tongue all over it. But just as he sucked it softly between his lips, there was a loud thumping at the front door.

  “Ignore it,” she whispered, pulling his head back to her breasts.

  With a feather-like touch, he began to nip gently at her with his teeth, loving the tiny sigh of delight this produced.

  Another insistent round of rapping on the door, and Peter got to his feet with a heavy heart. When he looked through the peephole, he saw nothing, as if it was blocked or being covered.

  He opened up, tentatively.

  It was Mike.

  “I wanna talk to Neve,” his neighbour barked.

  “She’s not here.” Peter would much rather be making love to her than watching an argument.

  “Yes, she is,” Mike stepped in, so Peter let him by, hoping he would soon be gone and they could get back to their fun.

  When Peter returned to the lounge, he had to bite his tongue to stop from laughing. Neve was making no attempt to disguise the fact she was doing up her blouse.

  “Piss off,” even that sounded poetic with her soft Irish lilt.

  “I think you should come back to mine.”

  “What?” Neve shook her head softly.

  “Mike,” Peter put a firm hand on Mike’s shoulder. “I think you should leave.”

  “I’ll leave when she knows I’m sorry.”

  Neve sighed, and almost whispered in frustration, “Just fuck off out of my life.”

  “It’s not over. I was wrong.” Mike was getting a little animated now. “You don’t have to get back at me with this git.”

  “Mike,” Neve stepped forward with some forcefulness. “You’re a prick. I’ve been fucking Peter for months.”

  “Don’t say that,” Mike swallowed.

  “It’s true,” Peter said quietly.

  “You’re just trying to hurt me.”

  “Look.” Neve span around and pulled her skirt up, sticking her beautiful ass out. “See those spank marks? You didn’t do that, HE did.”

  “It’s just a rash.” Mike said, and Peter swallowed back a guffaw. He often wondered how Mike hadn’t noticed his hand prints on her buttocks.

  “Time for you to leave Mike,” Peter was nearly choking from holding back the laughter now. No matter what she said, he was in denial. It was like he couldn’t see her underwear hanging up to dry, or the cuff marks on her wrists.

  “He’s my master.” She stepped to Peter and put her arm around his waist. “He fucks me any way he wants. And I love it. I. Fucking. Love it.”

  Peter could feel his prick swelling with every word that came out of her mouth. Especially when she added, “He makes me fuck you when I’ve been naughty. As punishment.”

  Mike’s head dropped and he trotted out to the door, slamming it behind him. They followed him up the hallway as he went, Neve’s hand cupping at Peter’s ass as they moved. The moment the lock clicked shut, Peter pushed her against the wall and pressed his mouth to hers furiously.

  As their tongues danced together, their breathing short and husky, his hands snaked up under her blouse and grabbed her pert little tits, feeling her rock hard nipples pressing into his hot palms. He loved the little hiss she made whenever he pinched at those swollen buds, and then the way she kissed him even more passionately as he rolled them from side to side.

  Her hand was already on his cock, rubbing him wantonly through his jeans, and he twitched his prick, letting her know he wanted her touch to be even closer. She took the hint, and thrust her hand into his trousers, grabbing at his balls and rolling them in her fingers.

  Sinking his teeth into the flesh of her neck, he felt her fingers curling around the meat of his cock, and he began to rock his hips, fucking her tight fist slowly as she writhed beneath his mouth.

  This was so much better than leaving her cuffed to the radiator.

  And he knew it was making her just as wet as that did.

  He slipped his hand down between them, delving beneath her skirt to find her panties. The heat from her pussy was fantastic, and he quickly hitched the underwear to one side and dipped his fingers into her folds. She certainly was just as wet.

  And she could never deny it.

  Peter sank to his knees and held her by the hips, loving the way she looked down her body at him with such lust. He rucked up her skirt, revealing her thighs and then those panties, then hooked his finger into them, slipping them hurriedly down her legs. She stepped out of them and stood with her feet apart, then she reached down and spread her pussy lips open with the fingers of both hands.

  When the fat flesh of his tongue touched her clit, she seethed with delight, swearing to God. Such blasphemy for an Irish catholic girl. She tasted wonderful, and rolled around on the tip of his tongue, moaning her approval loudly.

  Peter’s hand slipped up her tummy, beneath her blouse, reaching up for those tits as he licked and lapped at her button. He could do this all day. He loved using his tongue on her, but this was something else. Simple, uncomplicated sex born out of passion and desire, not out of gamesmanship and power play. And she was loving it as much as he was.

  Just then there was another round of thumping on the door. But neither of them stopped. Neve continued to writhe against Peter’s insistent tongue, no matter how loud the thumping became.

  But when Mike called out, something did change.

  Neve pushed Peter away, leaving him on his back as she straddled his lap. Peter had never seen such lust on her face as she tore open his jeans and pulled out his cock, immediately sliding herself down it with a loud, contented sigh. She was so fucking wet, and red hot against the solid flesh of his prick.

  As she started to ride him to the soundtrack of Mike calling through the door, he reached up and tore open her blouse, sending buttons flying around the hallway. She rode him harder, pushing down on his chest for balance, thrusting her hips with an urgency that made his balls swell.

  And there was no way Mike couldn’t hear how turned on she was. Her moans were loud and her swearing loquacious. Her hips moved with such desire, her pussy sliding over his cock, so wet and tight. It was all getting too much.

  His abdomen tightened and he felt his prick growing huge inside her. With some control he could stop himself, but he didn’t want to. So with a loud grunt he let go, spunking thick streams of his cream deep into her, swearing and declaring his love in one breathless exhalation.

  She slowed down, but didn’t stop moving, working herself up and down his prick, letting him feel his come inside her as she caught her own breath now. Finally, she collapsed forward on to his chest, letting his cock fall free with a shiver. He felt her weight on him, and confessed softly to the sexual frenzy of the night before in 3B.

  Neve seemed to like the story, seemed to enjoy the details as she revelled in the afterglow of an equally great fuck. He squeezed her ass cheek in one hand. Mike was gone.