With eyes wide shut
I am 46 years old, short and curvy. Two marriages behind me, children grown. Bought my own apartment. And so, "Hello, personal life!" I bought the apartment two years ago. I don't really know any of the neighbors yet. But I say hello to everyone I see in the entrance. Lately, I've often been running into the neighbor from the fourth floor (I live on the third). A man around 38. A handsome man, light blond hair, a toned body, blue eyes... But he is visually impaired. Walks with a cane. It's so sad to see a man in the prime of his life and blind. I see him either in the entrance or on the bench by the porch. And always alone. So, one day
the last workday before vacation. I'm in a rush, all day either to work, then home, then back to work, then to the store (that was another day), my neighbor was on the bench by the entrance all day. The day was warm (summer) but by evening it started to rain. The rain caught me walking from the store, with bags. The neighbor was under the porch roof. I automatically say hello again. And I ask"Waiting for someone?"
"The social worker," answered the neighbor.
"Oh, but why outside?"
"Lost my keys. Waiting for a duplicate to be brought," the man replied.
"Let's at least go into the entrance," I suggested and opened the entrance door with the chip. The neighbor carefully turned and, tapping his cane on the sides and the floor, cautiously entered the entrance.
"Thank you."
We started going up, me slowly because of the heavy bags, the neighbor carefully feeling the steps with his cane, holding onto the railing. And here's my floor. I open the door with my key and realize he still has to stand by his own door. I start to feel awkward.
"And when will the social worker come?"
"I don't know, Nina Petrovna is still busy, so I'm waiting..."
"Maybe some tea? While you wait?" I invited the neighbor into my home.
"It's a bit awkward."
"Oh, what's awkward, come in. My name is Tatyana," I said and opened the door wider.
"Misha," answered the neighbor. And he slowly walked into the hallway.
"Careful, a little to the left and straight to the kitchen," I said.
"I have the same layout as you, I live above you, Tanya," Misha replied and walked more briskly to the kitchen. Feeling the chair with his cane, Misha sat down. I dragged in the bags, clicked the kettle button, and took out two mugs.
"What kind of tea? Black, green, hibiscus?" I asked, trying to ease the atmosphere.
"Black, no sugar. Thank you," Misha answered and shifted shyly on the chair.
"Will your husband mind a stranger?"
"Oh, no, I live alone. Don't worry," I parried.
"But judging by the sounds, you're rarely alone," Misha chuckled. (Yes, in bed I'm a loud lady). "Well, I'm a free woman," I said. "And eavesdropping isn't nice."
"Sorry, it just sort of happens..." Misha answered, embarrassed. We drank tea with cookies. The conversation was about nothing, a phone call interrupted the awkward chat. From the conversation, I understood that the same Nina Petrovna had arrived with the keys.
"Thanks for the tea and the company," Misha thanked and cautiously moved into the hallway. That's how we said goodbye. I saw Misha a few more times in the entrance and on the bench. Said hello and ran about my business. The vacation turned out ordinary. I stayed in the city, only small outings to friends' gardens, to cafes. And so, one evening after a cafe and a few shots, I came home, managed to undress and rinse off. Already anticipating sleep, I heard a knock at the door. Throwing a home tunic over my naked body, I went to open the door. Misha was standing on the threshold.
"Tanya, sorry it's late. I came by earlier, but you weren't home. Wanted to invite you over. It's my birthday today. Friends are either at the dacha or at the sea... So, I'm alone..." He felt awkward.
"Is there alcohol at your party?" I asked.
"Well, yes, everything as it should be, and cake."
"Well then, let's go," I said, closing my door. We went up to the 4th floor. I won't describe that period of time where we just chatted and drank wine (and so much unnecessary stuff besides the point). Misha knew my voice but didn't know what I looked like. He asked to see with his hands. Whether from the drinks or from curiosity, I agreed. After all, a handsome man was sitting in front of me. Yes, he can't see my flaws, and besides, I'm drunk. I approached the chair Misha was sitting in. He raised his hand and stroked my head, bent his head and inhaled the scent of my hair. Then slowly ran his fingers over my face. Forehead, eyes, nose, lips, chin, neck. Oh, what are you doing? A kiss on the neck is a forbidden move. I practically went limp in his hands. Then a kiss on the lips. Passionately and greedily, as if something might separate us at any moment. Misha's hand slipped under the tunic, pausing for a second, perhaps surprised by my nakedness under the tunic. And with more fervor, his hands began to "examine" me. His hands were strong and sensual. I trembled from the caresses and kisses. His open blue eyes didn't shine, but his face hinted at some elusive happiness. He sees nothing but darkness. But his hands can touch and feel a woman's body. Misha's pants in the crotch area had significantly increased. To hell with everything. I sat on the floor, on my knees, and pulled Misha's pants down, and there was his
"Now I know how you smell and what you taste like!" said Mikhail...
"And what am I like?" I asked in a hushed voice.
"Unforgettably sweet..."