Paradiizee
06-30-2013, 12:17 PM
“Hey, Lenz,” I called to her the next time we crossed paths in the parking lot, “when you do your laundry, could you finish what you start? There are other people in the building, who also need to use the machines.”
“Give me a break, Marlow,” she poked back. “You know you love checking out my undies when you take out my load to make room for your own. Just enjoy it.”
I lived upstairs, she lived down, in the former side-by-side two-family home now carved up into five units, with the common laundry room being in the basement. Lenz was without a doubt easier on the eyes than the retired librarian whose apartment she had rented several months before. We had quickly developed a bantering rapport after she moved in. But for the presence of her stuck-up boyfriend Ross, I would have asked her out, that’s for certain. Jerk that he was, Lenz did not appear to notice, and I was not prepared to make a fool of myself by attempting to horn my way into another guy’s territory. So I contented myself with an evolving friendship – and I don’t mean with Ross.
“So Lenz,” I scolded a week or so later, “when you put out your garbage, could you put it IN the can, with the lid on? We don’t want rats.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, that must have been Ross. I’ll TALK to him, ok?”
I decided it was better not to mention that HE was the garbage I was referring to.
I had been headed to the basement with a load of laundry. Though on her way out to her car, and seeing a laundry basket in my arms, she hadn’t seen fit to apologize for there being – surprise, surprise – two loads of her laundry in the machines, one each in the washer and the dryer. It figured. The wet load of her darks I piled on top of the drier, the dry but still-warm load of whites I put onto the changing table, before loading mine into the washer. Then – what the hell, I had already been accused of it anyway - I pawed my way through the heap of warm towels to see what else I might find. A bra – hmmm... 34C – exactly what I would have guessed. And what’s this – something written on the seat of a pair of panties - “So Spank Me!” it said. Oh, really? I smiled - then tucked them into my pocket.
The next morning, timing things perfectly, I managed to be heading off to work at the same time she was. Beaming brightly, I hailed her, “Lenz – these somehow managed to get mixed up with my stuff.” Her face turned beet-red as I handed them to her, stretched wide so the writing was clearly visible. It was the first time she had ever failed to respond with a comeback. Nice.
December was soon upon us in a big way. An overnight storm dumped eight inches of snow by Friday morning. Getting up early, I shoveled away the pile of snow plowed up behind my car, and then did the same for Lenz’s car parked next to mine, before making a nice path to each driver’s side door. A neighborly gesture – why shouldn’t I? Getting home late that evening, though, I arrived to find Lenz’s car parked in my assigned space, while Ross’s occupied hers. I had to dig my car into one of the “visitor” spaces. Though greatly annoyed at that moment, afterwards I was merely relishing my next chance to jab at my downstairs neighbor. I had needed some new material.
Knowing she usually ran out to do errands on a Saturday morning, I listened closely for her front door to open and close so that I could “accidentally” run into her in the parking lot. Ross’s car had disappeared sometime during the night, so that the coast would be clear. I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity, having figured out exactly how to work – oh so nonchalantly – the suggestion of a spanking into a friendly upbraiding about the pilfering of my parking space. I waited... and waited. Maybe she wasn’t going out this morning after all. Or perhaps she had left early with Ross on some excursion. Oh well, I’d have to save my well-rehearsed reproach for another time.
Then there it was – the sound of her door. Quickly I threw on my coat, after which I impatiently counted out five seconds, so that the coincidence would not seem too improbable. Only then did I hurry down the stairs, by now afraid that my delay would prove to be too long. She was still fumbling with her car keys, though, when I sauntered up. Oh so casually I launched into my reprimand, but stopped when she turned to face me. There were tears in her eyes; one rolled down her cheek. Surely I hadn’t said anything THAT awful – had I?
“Ross – he...he...” she blubbered. “We broke up.”
She looked so forlorn, standing there, that I couldn’t help but pull her into my arms. How long she sobbed against my shoulder, I don’t know. I had no idea what to say – had he dumped her, or had he done something that made her dump him? – so all I did was pat her back and mumble, “There, there...it’ll be ok.”
At last she pulled away, rubbing her tear-stained face. ‘Thanks, Marlow... I really needed that.” Now it was my turn to have nothing to say in reply.
We stood in awkward silence for another long minute or so. At last she said, “Well, Marlow – I got stuff to do. Thanks again. I mean it.”
I held the door as she climbed into her car. I finally managed to spit something out. “Um... Lenz – if you, uh, need some company tonight... you can stop by upstairs. I can....um... make dinner or something. And maybe a movie.”
She looked back at me. “Marlow, that’s really sweet of you. I might just do that.”
Was it a date, or not? I had said just to ‘stop by,’ so I couldn’t then turn around and ask if she was actually coming, now could I? One thing was for certain, I’d better have dinner ready, just in case. That afternoon I threw together some meat sauce for pasta, and a salad. If the wine bottles placed in the recycling bin were any indication, Lenz liked her cabernet. After buying a few bottles, just to “have on hand,” I wondered whether that preference had been hers – or Ross’s? So I made another trip back to the liquor store for some white wine, a six-pack of beer, and some brandy.
What time was ‘dinner’ for Lenz? 6 o’clock? 7 o’clock” Later? I finished everything early, put on some music... and waited.
It was almost 8:30 when I heard a timid knock on my door.
“Hey Marlow, “she said when I opened the door. “I hope you were serious when you said to stop by. I mean... I hope I’m not intruding. I brought this...” She held up a 1500 ml bottle of cabernet.
“Get your butt in here, Lenz. Of course I meant it.”
We sipped wine and talked while I cooked the pasta. I learned more about her, and told more about myself, than I had in the four previous months. Through dinner, then while we lingered at the table afterwards, the conversation flowed on. It was inevitable that that the dastardly Ross figured prominently as a topic – but at least it was good to know that it WAS ‘dastardly’ Ross. It turns out she had known what a jerk he was for some time; sheer inertia (as well as Ross’s insistence) had kept things going. The knowledge that a relationship is a poor match apparently doesn’t make its ending any less traumatic.
We were well into our second bottle of wine – after having a chuckle over the “Big Ass” label I had carefully selected – when the conversation finally hit a lull.
“A movie, Lenz?” I asked.
“Sure, Marlowe,” was her reply.
“Comedy, romance or action?”
“A comedy. Most definitely a comedy.”
As we relocated into the living room, I crossed my fingers that she was a Python fan before popping “Monty Python and the Hoy Grail” into the DVD player.
“Oh, I LOVE this movie, Marlow,” was the music to my ears as we settled onto the couch.
Whilst King Arthur and the knights made their way through the English countryside, my arm made its way around Lenz, to no objection whatsoever. It turned out that she knew the dialogue as well as I did, so that one or the other of us, if not both, was chiming in on every key line. Shortly before Sir Lancelot arrived at Castle Anthrax to rescue Sir Galahad, Lenz and I had made serious headway into our third bottle of wine. And so it came to pass that, after I doubled Dingo’s lines of “Naughty, naughty, Zoot,” and “you must tie her down on the bed and spank her,” Lenz joined the chorus of young nuns shouting “And spank ME! A spanking! A spanking!”
At that, I turned to look at her. “Oh REALLY, Lenz?” Now I knew that she had to be more than a little inebriated – but then again, so was I, so that nothing was going to stop what happened next.
Inebriated or not, she knew what I was thinking. “It’s just what THEY said... in the movie,” she insisted, though not very convincingly.
“Oh, no,” I parried, “It’s not just ‘naughty Zoot’ – it’s also ‘naughty Lenz.’ Remember that party with the loud music until 3 am a couple weeks ago... and you didn’t even invite ME. AND the laundry, AND the parking space....”
“But...but...” she stammered.
“Oh, we’re going to get to the ‘butt’ all right,” I said, pulling her over my lap with surprisingly little resistance.
“You WOULDN’T,” she objected, but I immediately proved her wrong by bringing my hand down with a solid *whump* on the seat of her pants.
“Marlow!” came her squeal, which I in turn answered with a couple more whacks to her delightful backside. It was clear from the start that she was enjoying herself as much as I was – each spank produced a provocative wiggle, which in turn yielded another spank.
Emboldened by her response, I decided to take things to the next level, never doubting it was the thing to do. She had showed up ‘dressed down’ in a loose-fitting sweat suit; While she still looked sexy, even wearing that, I figured she’d look even more sexy in this position without the pants. She protested, yet hardly resisted, as I made quick work of tugging her sweat pants down to mid-thigh. This pair of panties announced “Naughty Girl!” I chuckled.
“Marlow! You have some nerve!”
“Yes I do, Lenz, I most certainly do,” I agreed, before returning to the task at hand.
I began peppering her panty-clad rear-end with a syncopated staccato pattern of sharp slaps. The provocative wiggles evolved to more urgent writhing as the intensity of the spanking rose. An occasional harder slap would evoke from Lenz a little yelp.
“Yes, Lenz, you ARE a naughty girl, but you’re fortunate in having me to help you mend your ways.” I punctuated this comment with an especially hard whack.
“eeeYOW! Geesh, Marlow, that HURT.”
“That’s GOOD, my dear – it was MEANT to.” And to make my point I gave her another just like it. She yelped again. My sodden brain now told me it was time for the final act. Holding her tightly around the waist with one arm, I tugged at her panties with my other hand..
“Marloooooowwwww!” she squealed, but by the time she finished the wail, her deliciously-pink derriere was peeking up at me in all its bare-assed glory.
“Nice. Very nice,” I murmured appreciatively
“Oooooooo... I’m gonna get you for this, Marlow” she said through clenched teeth.
“You’ve already got me, my dear Lenz – perhaps more of me than you can take.”
The next few minutes were a delightful blur – my hand kept landing, Lenz kept yelping, her bottom kept bouncing. Pure heaven.
And then... my fuzzy mind suddenly concerned about going too far... I stopped.
Lenz’s round bottom was by now a much rosier color. Unable to stop myself, I started caressing it.
“Ooo... Marlow... so you think you can make up for.... mmmmm....ooooo... mmmmmmm...”
The wriggling hips on my lap now changed their message once again, inviting my hand to do some exploring... an invitation I wasn’t about to refuse.
Ok, I know I could go into great detail about the further events of that evening, but to show respect for something very special, I won’t. Let’s just say that the rest of the night was as hot as Lenz’s bottom had already become. Oh, yes – and King Arthur & Co. had to conclude their quest without any help from Lenz and me.
Off My Official Blog (http://www.savannanicoleofficial.com/2013/06/upstairsdownstairs.html)
“Give me a break, Marlow,” she poked back. “You know you love checking out my undies when you take out my load to make room for your own. Just enjoy it.”
I lived upstairs, she lived down, in the former side-by-side two-family home now carved up into five units, with the common laundry room being in the basement. Lenz was without a doubt easier on the eyes than the retired librarian whose apartment she had rented several months before. We had quickly developed a bantering rapport after she moved in. But for the presence of her stuck-up boyfriend Ross, I would have asked her out, that’s for certain. Jerk that he was, Lenz did not appear to notice, and I was not prepared to make a fool of myself by attempting to horn my way into another guy’s territory. So I contented myself with an evolving friendship – and I don’t mean with Ross.
“So Lenz,” I scolded a week or so later, “when you put out your garbage, could you put it IN the can, with the lid on? We don’t want rats.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, that must have been Ross. I’ll TALK to him, ok?”
I decided it was better not to mention that HE was the garbage I was referring to.
I had been headed to the basement with a load of laundry. Though on her way out to her car, and seeing a laundry basket in my arms, she hadn’t seen fit to apologize for there being – surprise, surprise – two loads of her laundry in the machines, one each in the washer and the dryer. It figured. The wet load of her darks I piled on top of the drier, the dry but still-warm load of whites I put onto the changing table, before loading mine into the washer. Then – what the hell, I had already been accused of it anyway - I pawed my way through the heap of warm towels to see what else I might find. A bra – hmmm... 34C – exactly what I would have guessed. And what’s this – something written on the seat of a pair of panties - “So Spank Me!” it said. Oh, really? I smiled - then tucked them into my pocket.
The next morning, timing things perfectly, I managed to be heading off to work at the same time she was. Beaming brightly, I hailed her, “Lenz – these somehow managed to get mixed up with my stuff.” Her face turned beet-red as I handed them to her, stretched wide so the writing was clearly visible. It was the first time she had ever failed to respond with a comeback. Nice.
December was soon upon us in a big way. An overnight storm dumped eight inches of snow by Friday morning. Getting up early, I shoveled away the pile of snow plowed up behind my car, and then did the same for Lenz’s car parked next to mine, before making a nice path to each driver’s side door. A neighborly gesture – why shouldn’t I? Getting home late that evening, though, I arrived to find Lenz’s car parked in my assigned space, while Ross’s occupied hers. I had to dig my car into one of the “visitor” spaces. Though greatly annoyed at that moment, afterwards I was merely relishing my next chance to jab at my downstairs neighbor. I had needed some new material.
Knowing she usually ran out to do errands on a Saturday morning, I listened closely for her front door to open and close so that I could “accidentally” run into her in the parking lot. Ross’s car had disappeared sometime during the night, so that the coast would be clear. I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity, having figured out exactly how to work – oh so nonchalantly – the suggestion of a spanking into a friendly upbraiding about the pilfering of my parking space. I waited... and waited. Maybe she wasn’t going out this morning after all. Or perhaps she had left early with Ross on some excursion. Oh well, I’d have to save my well-rehearsed reproach for another time.
Then there it was – the sound of her door. Quickly I threw on my coat, after which I impatiently counted out five seconds, so that the coincidence would not seem too improbable. Only then did I hurry down the stairs, by now afraid that my delay would prove to be too long. She was still fumbling with her car keys, though, when I sauntered up. Oh so casually I launched into my reprimand, but stopped when she turned to face me. There were tears in her eyes; one rolled down her cheek. Surely I hadn’t said anything THAT awful – had I?
“Ross – he...he...” she blubbered. “We broke up.”
She looked so forlorn, standing there, that I couldn’t help but pull her into my arms. How long she sobbed against my shoulder, I don’t know. I had no idea what to say – had he dumped her, or had he done something that made her dump him? – so all I did was pat her back and mumble, “There, there...it’ll be ok.”
At last she pulled away, rubbing her tear-stained face. ‘Thanks, Marlow... I really needed that.” Now it was my turn to have nothing to say in reply.
We stood in awkward silence for another long minute or so. At last she said, “Well, Marlow – I got stuff to do. Thanks again. I mean it.”
I held the door as she climbed into her car. I finally managed to spit something out. “Um... Lenz – if you, uh, need some company tonight... you can stop by upstairs. I can....um... make dinner or something. And maybe a movie.”
She looked back at me. “Marlow, that’s really sweet of you. I might just do that.”
Was it a date, or not? I had said just to ‘stop by,’ so I couldn’t then turn around and ask if she was actually coming, now could I? One thing was for certain, I’d better have dinner ready, just in case. That afternoon I threw together some meat sauce for pasta, and a salad. If the wine bottles placed in the recycling bin were any indication, Lenz liked her cabernet. After buying a few bottles, just to “have on hand,” I wondered whether that preference had been hers – or Ross’s? So I made another trip back to the liquor store for some white wine, a six-pack of beer, and some brandy.
What time was ‘dinner’ for Lenz? 6 o’clock? 7 o’clock” Later? I finished everything early, put on some music... and waited.
It was almost 8:30 when I heard a timid knock on my door.
“Hey Marlow, “she said when I opened the door. “I hope you were serious when you said to stop by. I mean... I hope I’m not intruding. I brought this...” She held up a 1500 ml bottle of cabernet.
“Get your butt in here, Lenz. Of course I meant it.”
We sipped wine and talked while I cooked the pasta. I learned more about her, and told more about myself, than I had in the four previous months. Through dinner, then while we lingered at the table afterwards, the conversation flowed on. It was inevitable that that the dastardly Ross figured prominently as a topic – but at least it was good to know that it WAS ‘dastardly’ Ross. It turns out she had known what a jerk he was for some time; sheer inertia (as well as Ross’s insistence) had kept things going. The knowledge that a relationship is a poor match apparently doesn’t make its ending any less traumatic.
We were well into our second bottle of wine – after having a chuckle over the “Big Ass” label I had carefully selected – when the conversation finally hit a lull.
“A movie, Lenz?” I asked.
“Sure, Marlowe,” was her reply.
“Comedy, romance or action?”
“A comedy. Most definitely a comedy.”
As we relocated into the living room, I crossed my fingers that she was a Python fan before popping “Monty Python and the Hoy Grail” into the DVD player.
“Oh, I LOVE this movie, Marlow,” was the music to my ears as we settled onto the couch.
Whilst King Arthur and the knights made their way through the English countryside, my arm made its way around Lenz, to no objection whatsoever. It turned out that she knew the dialogue as well as I did, so that one or the other of us, if not both, was chiming in on every key line. Shortly before Sir Lancelot arrived at Castle Anthrax to rescue Sir Galahad, Lenz and I had made serious headway into our third bottle of wine. And so it came to pass that, after I doubled Dingo’s lines of “Naughty, naughty, Zoot,” and “you must tie her down on the bed and spank her,” Lenz joined the chorus of young nuns shouting “And spank ME! A spanking! A spanking!”
At that, I turned to look at her. “Oh REALLY, Lenz?” Now I knew that she had to be more than a little inebriated – but then again, so was I, so that nothing was going to stop what happened next.
Inebriated or not, she knew what I was thinking. “It’s just what THEY said... in the movie,” she insisted, though not very convincingly.
“Oh, no,” I parried, “It’s not just ‘naughty Zoot’ – it’s also ‘naughty Lenz.’ Remember that party with the loud music until 3 am a couple weeks ago... and you didn’t even invite ME. AND the laundry, AND the parking space....”
“But...but...” she stammered.
“Oh, we’re going to get to the ‘butt’ all right,” I said, pulling her over my lap with surprisingly little resistance.
“You WOULDN’T,” she objected, but I immediately proved her wrong by bringing my hand down with a solid *whump* on the seat of her pants.
“Marlow!” came her squeal, which I in turn answered with a couple more whacks to her delightful backside. It was clear from the start that she was enjoying herself as much as I was – each spank produced a provocative wiggle, which in turn yielded another spank.
Emboldened by her response, I decided to take things to the next level, never doubting it was the thing to do. She had showed up ‘dressed down’ in a loose-fitting sweat suit; While she still looked sexy, even wearing that, I figured she’d look even more sexy in this position without the pants. She protested, yet hardly resisted, as I made quick work of tugging her sweat pants down to mid-thigh. This pair of panties announced “Naughty Girl!” I chuckled.
“Marlow! You have some nerve!”
“Yes I do, Lenz, I most certainly do,” I agreed, before returning to the task at hand.
I began peppering her panty-clad rear-end with a syncopated staccato pattern of sharp slaps. The provocative wiggles evolved to more urgent writhing as the intensity of the spanking rose. An occasional harder slap would evoke from Lenz a little yelp.
“Yes, Lenz, you ARE a naughty girl, but you’re fortunate in having me to help you mend your ways.” I punctuated this comment with an especially hard whack.
“eeeYOW! Geesh, Marlow, that HURT.”
“That’s GOOD, my dear – it was MEANT to.” And to make my point I gave her another just like it. She yelped again. My sodden brain now told me it was time for the final act. Holding her tightly around the waist with one arm, I tugged at her panties with my other hand..
“Marloooooowwwww!” she squealed, but by the time she finished the wail, her deliciously-pink derriere was peeking up at me in all its bare-assed glory.
“Nice. Very nice,” I murmured appreciatively
“Oooooooo... I’m gonna get you for this, Marlow” she said through clenched teeth.
“You’ve already got me, my dear Lenz – perhaps more of me than you can take.”
The next few minutes were a delightful blur – my hand kept landing, Lenz kept yelping, her bottom kept bouncing. Pure heaven.
And then... my fuzzy mind suddenly concerned about going too far... I stopped.
Lenz’s round bottom was by now a much rosier color. Unable to stop myself, I started caressing it.
“Ooo... Marlow... so you think you can make up for.... mmmmm....ooooo... mmmmmmm...”
The wriggling hips on my lap now changed their message once again, inviting my hand to do some exploring... an invitation I wasn’t about to refuse.
Ok, I know I could go into great detail about the further events of that evening, but to show respect for something very special, I won’t. Let’s just say that the rest of the night was as hot as Lenz’s bottom had already become. Oh, yes – and King Arthur & Co. had to conclude their quest without any help from Lenz and me.
Off My Official Blog (http://www.savannanicoleofficial.com/2013/06/upstairsdownstairs.html)