The Upstairs Neighbor  Part One
By Wanderer
Why you should get to know your neighbors.


This is adult material. Please do not read if you are under age 18 or laws in
your country forbid you to do so.

Copyright 2007 by Wanderer

The elevator door opened and I stepped in. That very attractive girl that I
had seen every once in a while in that same elevator was standing near the
back. I had seen her before when I had gotten on to go to work, and I would
just smile and nod to her, and she would smile and nod back, and by the time
we had finished that ritual we were on the ground floor and we went our
separate ways, me to my job and, I presume, she to hers.

Now I'm thirty years old, never been married, and I'm kind of shy. You
wouldn't believe that of an attorney, would you? I don't have trouble talking
to clients or speaking up in court before a judge and jury, because I'm in
charge in those situations. But for some strange reason I get tongue tied
around a woman, and especially a beautiful woman, maybe because we're meeting
on an equal footing and I'm not in charge. So I have trouble meeting women. I
don't go to singles bars because I can't think of anything to say after I say
hello. What do I say? What's your sign? Do you come here often? But I'm
beginning to think to myself if I don't get the guts to talk up I'm destined
to spend my later years of life alone, and I don't see that as a pleasant
prospect. I'm thinking I may make a fool of myself but nothing ventured,
nothing gained.

So I plotted my bold strategy for the next time I see that gorgeous upstairs
neighbor on the elevator. When I saw her I smiled and nodded, like I always
did, but this time I was bolder. I said, "How ya doin?"

She seemed startled by my bold approach, and that I had vocal cords. "Oh,
fine," she replied. "Off to work?"

"Yep, another day, another dollar." Pretty clever, huh? But it got a giggle
out of her.

"Oh, I'll bet you make more than a dollar," she said. "You couldn't live in
this apartment house unless you made at least two dollars."

Well, it was my turn to laugh. This may not have been the most expensive
apartment building in town but it was up there. "Yeah, I do OK, I guess," I
said. "I'm a divorce lawyer. As long as marriages keep breaking up I'm not too
worried about paying the rent."

By then we had reached the ground floor and we were exiting the elevator.
"Look," she says, "if you're a lawyer I've got a question for you. Why don't
you come by my apartment tonight and I'll cook up dinner and maybe you could
give me some advice."

"Oh, you want to get divorced?" I asked, hopefully.

"No, no," she giggled, "I'm not even married." Then she had second thoughts.
"Oh, I'm sorry, maybe you are.

"Nope, free as the breeze. I've lived in this apartment building two years and
I have yet to meet a neighbor. I'll bring the wine. Cabernet OK?"

"Lovely," she said.

"Yes, you are," I added, gallant lad that I am. When you're a lawyer you learn
to be glib. And here I was, maybe for the first time in my life applying some
of my courtroom style to my interaction with a female. Maybe it's not as hard
to talk to a strange woman as I thought it would be. I'm beginning to work up
a little confidence.

My comment made her blush a little. "Why thank you, kind sir, that starts my
day off just right. Apartment 1015, seven o'clock. That OK with you?"

"Great! See you then." For a guy who's used to seventy hour work weeks I spent
the rest of the day watching the minute hand of the clock moving oh so slowly.
I was out the door at five o'clock sharp. A stop at the wine store and the
flower shop and I was on my way home. So at seven o'clock I rang the doorbell
of apartment 1015. She opened the door.

I couldn't help it. It was an honest reaction. "Wow! You're gorgeous!" She
started blushing again.

"You make me blush," she said.

"Well, I didn't realize I had such a good looking neighbor," I said.
"Otherwise I would have said hello in the elevator a long time ago." When I
had seen her in the elevator before she had always been dressed business-like,
with maybe a pants suit, usually black, a buttoned up form fitting jacket so I
could see she had some pretty nice curves, and she appeared to be plenty full
bosomed, but for the short time we had in the elevator I really couldn't
appear to be staring at her, so it was pretty hard to draw any conclusions.
But now she was wearing a tight fitting dress with a V-neck front that showed
off a good deal of cleavage. My previous evaluation that she was pretty full
bosomed was a gross under evaluation. Her chest was magnificent. At first
glance one might say she was grossly overdeveloped, but then you could see
that her pectoral muscles were insanely well developed, with striations
running horizontally across her chest that I had never even seen on a man. So
the result was a pair of magnificently sized breasts that seemed perfectly in
place. No sag, and a pair of projectile nipples indenting the front of her
short dress. The only drawback I could see to her upper body was the puffiness
of her upper arms which she cleverly covered by wearing a long sleeved
cardigan sweater. My mother had had the same problem, but liposuction surgery
had slimmed her arms down very nicely so that my mother could now wear short
sleeves on her dresses and her arms appeared perfectly normal.

"You are a charmer," she said. "You must have one hell of a divorce practice.
The women must love you."

"I usually represent the men," I answered.

"Oh, you dirty dog," she giggled. "I should throw you out of here right now,
but let's pop that wine cork and have a sip first."

As she went about preparing the glasses and opening the wine I sat down on her
sofa where I could see her bustling about the kitchen and I took the
opportunity to give her the once-over. "Wow" was a very mild characterization.
In addition to her beautiful face and her very prominent bosom she had a great
pair of legs. As she moved the hem of the short skirt bounced up and down
giving enticing glimpses of what appeared to be very full thighs with rippling
muscles appearing and disappearing as she moved rapidly around the kitchen
gathering wine glasses and chips and dip to begin the evening's festivities.
And her calves - her calves, they were practically indescribable, they were
big and full and very hard looking. The whole package was causing me to get an
erection. Now I don't know why. Ordinarily women who have full bodies like
this one don't appeal to me. I kind of prefer the slim figured female. Heaven
knows, in my divorce practice I see many, many women with big full bodies,
mostly shapeless, frequently outweighing the husbands they're dumping. But
with my neighbor everything seemed in proportion. I'd estimate that she was
about five feet eight inches tall and she was wearing three inch heels
tonight, so that brought her up to five feet eleven inches, my height because
I'm a six footer. She was tall, her breasts were big, her legs were big, her
butt was big, but rounded and sexy, and I'm not even a butt man, but for some
strange reason this butt was looking pretty appealing to me. Now aside from
the big fat babes that come into divorce court I also see a goodly number of
very attractive women who have decided they can do better, and they always
come in beautifully dressed for the judge - unless it's a lady judge - but
this one topped them all. She had everything. She seemed to have a pleasing
personality, looks, a body - I was impressed. So was my penis.

"Do you realize I don't even know your name," I said.

"So we're even. I don't know yours either," she giggled.

"I'm Howard - Howard James," I said.

"Oh, a man with two first names," she laughed. "Do I call you Howard or
James?"

"Howard will do," I said. "And you?"

"I'm Stephanie," she replied. "My friends call me Steph."

"Can I be your friend?" I asked.

"Well, we've just met, but I'm going to take into account the number of times
I've seen you in the building elevator and consider you an old friend. Besides
which you're a cute guy, so yes, you can call me Steph," she giggled.

"OK, Steph, what's your story, Good looking girl like you, living here alone."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," she said. "Living here alone."

"Well, I'm available," I said.

She looked at me curiously for a moment or two, then she started giggling
again. "No, no, I'm not propositioning you. But let's save it for dinner. I
don't want to overcook the roast."

"So be it, mademoiselle. May I escort you to the dinner table?"

"You just sit there on the sofa and be comfortable. I want to check on the
roast," she replied.

Turns out my upstairs neighbor is a good cook. During dinner she tells me
about her problem. She had a roommate she shared the apartment rent with, but
the roommate had breast enhancement surgery and got Stephanie to pay the
roommate's share of the rent for the last four months and then was gone, just
like that, leaving Steph holding the bag. Steph wanted to know what she could
do about it.

"Yeah, that's one of those toughies." I said. "First, you've got to locate
her. Then you could serve her with papers and sue her in small claims court.
But she has to have assets to attach. She sounds like a flake. You may just
have to write it off to experience."

"What a bummer," Steph said. "It's taking a lot of my salary to live here."

"Well, ask your boss for a raise," I suggested. "What do you do for a living,
anyway?"

"Oh, I'm a personal trainer at Scott's Gym downtown," she said. "When I'm not
training other people I train myself,' she giggled.

"Looks like you're a good trainer, you've got a hell of a body," I say.

"You like?" she asked, and she did a little pose, puffing out her chest. I
liked, and my penis definitely liked. It was a good thing we were sitting at
the dinner table so my crotch wasn't on view. She must do a hell of a lot of
bench presses because the side view I'm getting of her expanding chest is
really turning me on. And to complicate matters she exhales, letting the air
out of her lungs and I think the show is over, but the first inhale was just a
trial run. Now she really takes an even deeper breath and I've never seen
anything like it. Buttons start popping off the bosom part of the dress she's
wearing and my erection is threatening to pop my pants zipper open. I've got
to say something clever because this display is for my edification. Is she
coming on to me? Most women just aren't this obviously forward with what
they've got when they first meet a guy. Does she like me? Now I'm wishing I
had more experience with women. I'm feeling tongue tied. I feel maybe honesty
is the best policy.

So I say, "I have never seen a female body as well developed as yours is. It
must have taken years of training. Thank you for showing it to me."

"Oh, I don't mind showing my body," Steph says. "People with good bodies don't
mind showing them. Why do you think God invented the bikini? Even some of the
top notch women body builders will pose their bodies naked for an art picture.
There's nothing more beautiful then the well crafted naked female form.
Artists have recognized that from the Middle Ages to now. It's women with
unattractive portions to their bodies that cover them up."

"Is that why you're wearing that long sleeved cardigan tonight?" I asked.
Well, maybe I shouldn't have said anything but I think maybe the wine got to
my brain a little bit.

"What do you mean?" Steph looked at me, quizzically.

Well, I could get out of that one easily enough. "My mother had the same
problem," I said. "When she would point at something the fat deposits on the
bottom of her upper arm wouldn't stop quivering for five minutes." Maybe I was
exaggerating a little but I thought that might make Stephanie feel better,
knowing that someone had a worse problem than she did. "But they have new
cosmetic surgery procedures that can work wonders. My mother had liposuction
on her upper arms and now she has no problem wearing short sleeve blouses and
dresses anyplace she goes. I can get you the name of her cosmetic surgeon if
you like," I added, giving Stephanie my most ingratiating smile.

"So you think I'm wearing this long sleeved cardigan sweater to cover up my
ugly fatty upper arms?" she asked.

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's probably in the genes. Like I said,
my mother had the same type of physical condition, as do lots of other women.
It's a little unusual, I think, to see it in someone as young as yourself,
but, from what I can see, if you have the liposuction procedure done on your
arms you're going to have an almost perfect body," I added, gallantly.

Stephanie got this little smile on her face, and she says, "Oh, Howard, I'm
wearing this cardigan sweater to protect the top of my pretty dress from any
juice splatters from the roast I cooked us for dinner, but you're right, if I
have liposuction on my upper arms to remove all that ugly fat it will probably
improve my appearance a hundred percent. Since I've finished cooking dinner
and you've been through it with your mother, if I take off my cardigan would
you mind giving me your opinion? I would certainly appreciate it."

"Not at all," I said. "It's become a relatively simple surgical procedure now,
and I'm sure you'd be thrilled with the results."

Stephanie took off her long sleeved sweater and I was stunned at what I saw.
Her arms hung loosely by her sides and the girth of the upper arms was
phenomenal. But, to my chagrin, there didn't appear to be much in the way of
fat deposits contributing to the girth. There seemed to be an awful lot of
muscle. Big muscle. Hard muscle. I think my face must have gotten pretty red.

"You see a lot of fat deposits here?" Stephanie inquired. And she tightened
her left arm which was closest to me, hanging straight down by her side, so
that I could see the enormous size and shape of her triceps muscle.

"Well...er...not exactly there," I mumbled.

"Oh, then maybe up here,"she said, and she turned more towards me as she sat
in her dining table chair so that I could see her flex her right biceps. Well,
I had never seen anything like it. Probably few other people had ever seen
anything like it. Maybe a few close friends. Maybe not even them. Maybe her
mom and dad. You don't go around showing muscles like that. It creates too
many problems. Too many questions. Are you a woman? Are you a man? Do you take
testosterone? Do you shave every day? What kind of steroids are you on? How
big is your dosage? Are you growing a penis? I was pretty confused, Why was
she showing me her arms? Why was she being so open with me?

"Why are you being so open with me?" I inquired.

"Well, because you're a lawyer. I've showed you this in confidentiality.
You're not going to go around gossiping about me. And sometimes I have
problems. Sometimes I need to talk about my problems. And sometimes I just
need to talk. I can see you're a good listener. And you're a good lawyer. I
know. I made inquiries about you today after I invited you for dinner. And
above all else, you're cute," she laughed. "Maybe you'll ask me out on a date.
Maybe I'll ask you out on a date. I'm not a shy violet, My muscles are too big
for me to be a shy violet. I'm forthright. I say what I think. If you hadn't
started talking to me in the building elevator I would have started talking to
you, sooner or later. You're too cute to ignore for long. I was planning it.
If you weren't receptive to my advances I would have beaten you up for
embarrassing me. I've got a mean streak," she giggled. "No, not really, but I
would have been very disappointed. I'm glad we're having this little talk. And
I've showed you my body, my muscles, because I don't want any surprises. It's
better you know that I'm strong - that I'm stronger than you - up front. We
can deal with it now. You can deal with it now. No sense in developing a
relationship and then three months down the road you pull that male ego crap
on me when you discover I've got twenty-four inch biceps, which is probably
twice the size of yours. That's why I'm showing you my muscles now. But then
I'm also showing you my fifty-four double D chest," she giggled. "Hey, momma
didn't raise a stupid daughter. If you're a normal egotistical male you may
not be thrilled that if you misbehave I just might put you over my knee and
spank you, but then you're probably going to be thrilled to know that after
you've been properly disciplined and I've dried your tears you're going to be
able to snuggle up to one great big firm fifty-four double D'er and suck to
your heart's content on a three-quarter inch nipple," she laughed.

I have to think that one over.

What does Howard decide? Find out in part two.