(Not Quite) An Autobiography

Thursday again (1)

The last two days had been intense at work. Henry had worked late again today and he went back home wanting to murder someone. Luckily, his criminal record would remain spotless as no one was around when he entered the lobby of his building.

He opened his mailbox, anticipating it being either empty or full of prospectus that he would trash without even reading. And he was right. There were a lot of colorful ads indeed, but that wasn't all. On top, there was a blank piece of paper, folded in two.

Last time something like that happened, a few months ago, it was one of his neighbors complaining that he was making too much noise under the shower, and that his water pressure should be reduced. Henry had been tempted to confront the asshole directly, just to let him know how hard he could go fuck himself. He had also considered posting the letter with a salty answer in the lobby, for all to see that he was not to be annoyed with such non sense. In the end, he had just done nothing and things were left at that.

So Henry was already boiling from the inside, insulting his neighbor for pissing him off again with such petty things. He took everything out of the mailbox, put the ads under his arm, and unfolded the paper, frowning, jaw clenched. It was a neighbor all right, just not the one he had thought of. The message was very short:

My place. Tonight. 9 PM
Steph.

Anger left Henry immediately but his heart rate remained very high. When his brain started to function again, he was already in his apartment, Percival jumping around him, the ads still under his arm.

*

When she opened the door, Henry's greeting died on his lips. She was only wearing a black lace babydoll and a thong of matching colour that was visible under the seethrough fabric. Stephanie invited him in, clearly enjoying his reaction, and led the way. Henry watched her walk away on tip-toe, her long thin legs making the nightie wave just under her small round ass. He followed her, hoping to see her bedroom this time. But she sat on her couch and snatched her laptop from the coffee table.

"I'm sorry, I really need to finish something up."

Henry stood there, taken aback, unsure of how to react. Part of him wanted to throw the laptop away, rip the delicate fabric open and fuck her right there. But instead, he just sat next to her, very politely, and stared at her tempting skin, very stupidly.

"There is coffee if you want some." she said.

So, like a trained dog, he got up, and poured himself a cup, finishing the pot. What the fuck was he doing? Henry, sipping an otherwise very decent coffee, was very confused.

Pride finally found its way back to Henry's resolve. He was about to finish his cup and go home, angry and frustrated, when Stephanie got up and came to him. She took the cup away from him and grabbed one of his hands.

"Come now. I'm done."

At last, she led him to her bedroom.