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Just a few more swipes of paint on this closet door and I’ll be done painting this apartment. Then I’ll clean up all the painting crap and get everything out of here, do some more cleaning and polishing, and this apartment is finally ready for rental. It had been just another apartment to prepare …just another tenant moving in soon.
There have been so many these past fifteen years, that I’ve kind of lost track who has lived here before and when. Who cares anyway …just as long as the checks keep coming into the main office every month …that’s all that matters – especially to the main office?
I’ve seen so many people come and go from this place, that most of their names and faces are just a blur to me now. And, I’ve attended a lot of funeral home calling hours to represent the main company, when one of the tenants passed away. I knew the rules well …keep our fifty well paying tenants happy, keep the place looking nice, don’t overspend to maintain the place, and of course …keep as many of the rent checks flowing into the main office every month as humanly possible. (Translated: Keep as many apartments rented at any given moment as possible – preferably, full occupancy.)
This apartment had been worse to prepare than normal. The previous tenants didn’t have a clue how to properly use their fireplace …and of course, they wouldn’t have thought to read the new tenant info letter when they moved in, or even bothered to ask me how to properly use it safely …before attempting to light it? The ceilings and walls had been smoked up. Also, older folks tend not to be as clean (probably because they can’t see very well anymore) as middle-aged tenants and always seem to touch every wall ten thousand times a day with their unwashed hands. Greasy, smoky walls need a lot of preparation before painting – otherwise, you’re just painting dirt, grease & smoke into the walls, and makes a big mess. And, this apartment hadn’t been completely remodeled in several years – so the kitchen appliances, countertops, lights, mirrors, sinks, carpeting, and vinyl flooring had to be entirely replaced …as well as completely repainted – two coats.
I was glad this major project was almost over, and I was a little more sore and stiff than usual. Ten years ago, I could jump from one completed apartment to another one, but now, I was stiff and sore for a week or two after a major remodel like this one. Hopefully, the next few weeks would be lighter work-wise, before I had to start another major project like this one?
Oh well …that water is now over this dam with this apartment. On Saturday morning the new tenant would sign the lease, write a check, and then start moving in, and we’ll have another widowed elderly woman living here who probably will expect me to jump every time she saw an ant on her dirty kitchen floor, or plugged up her toilet again. It didn’t matter to them that it may be eight in the evening, or if a water heater shut down at three in the morning. With this elderly widow …that will make at least forty widows living here?
This place has somehow over the years become a magnet for lonely widowed elderly women? Not that they socialize among themselves very much …other than bumping into each other in the hallways when getting their mail. Getting their mail was the highlight of their day, and waiting for the mailman was their favorite morning ritual …other than washing their clothes in the laundry rooms, or going out to their doctor appointments.
I guess misery does like company? Discussing their children, or their newest prescription was the extent of their conversations. God forbid if the Cable television went out. On those days, I knew that a lot more things would need fixing in their apartments – even if whatever they thought was broke, wasn’t. It’s amazing how many things fix themselves after a little conversation. Then, there were the few (thank god) old biddies that always seemed to have a problem (even when none existed) that required my immediate attention – especially around suppertime.
Every one of them knew my daily schedule pretty well, especially when I did my early morning rounds at each building. Most of them were standing in the hallways or laundry rooms with a question, or a task for me to do for them. I knew that a lot of what I did for them didn’t fall under my job description …but saying ‘no’ to them just didn’t seem to be in my vocabulary. Every evening I would bitch and gripe to my wife about my day, but the next day, I always seemed to give in to everyone’s personal requests. Sometimes, it was just easier for me to say ‘yes’. Five minutes to solve the problem, and fifteen minutes of hearing about their aches and pains or grandchildren.
The few older men that lived here were very popular with all the widows …but the older men seemed to avoid the older woman like they avoided driving at night, or getting the Flu. These few old guys who ‘somehow’ managed to outlive their spouses and live to a ripe old age, anadolu yakası escort somehow knew something us younger guys hadn’t learned yet. Most of them sat in their Lazy-Boy’s by their patio windows each day and stared out at the scenic grounds and country road that paralleled the property. Occasionally, they would straighten up and take note when a cute young girl would walk or jog by. Their favorite comment would be, ‘woman never dressed like that when I was young’. (Somehow their comments didn’t seem like a condemnation, but rather a statement.) Every spring when I trimmed the boughs on the trees, some of the old guys would ask for a particular bough to be trimmed – especially if it interfered with their view of the road. As they napped in their easy chairs by their patio windows, or watched TV, a passing deer or squirrel wouldn’t interest them as much as when a ‘cute young thing’ (as they referred to them) jogged by.
Now that I’ve had this prophetic epiphany of my golden years, it was time to butt out this cigarette and get busy finishing up this apartment. Hey …I might even sneak in a quick shower and get dressed for the evening before 5pm today?
Just then (wouldn’t you know it) my cell phone played the William Tell Overture for the twentieth time in the last seven hours. Instantly I thought, “Who wants what now?” When I looked at the caller ID it stated that it was Cindi, (my wife).
“Hi, Hun …how’s your day been going?”
“Another busy one. Fixed two toilets this morning, removed a bottle top from a jammed garbage disposer, reset a GFCI outlet in a bathroom that was tripped by a curling iron, heard another story about Verna’s grandkids, and Mr. Bennett in M-31 has a bad Gout flareup.”
“Sounds like you had an easy day today, Hun?”
“Compared to what?”
“Compared to some days you have.”
” I guess? I’m almost done painting and cleaning up J-34. I should get back to our apartment before five …if I don’t get another service call?”
“Great! We’re still going out to dinner at The Hooded Boar tonight…right?”
“Yup. Can’t wait for a Guinness, and the Bangers and Mash plate.”
“Me neither …love ya.”
“Love ya too, Hun. See ya, soon.”
Cindi was a great wife and was always there to lend me a helping hand when I was overwhelmed with work – when her work schedule allowed. She handled a lot of the minor issues that came up here with the older women, which freed me up to do the more important tasks …like making sure the furnaces worked properly and the underground heating pipes didn’t freeze in the winter, the grounds looked stately, the hallways and laundry rooms were clean, and everything in the tenants apartments worked properly, or was replaced when needed.
I knew that when I got back to the apartment Cindi would be showered and dressed in some cute outfit for dinner. Not only was she my wife, but she was also my best buddy and my partner in crime, and I loved her very much. It took two times to get it right, but this time I believe I found someone who was following the same game plan in life as me. Don’t live above your means, take pride in what you do, don’t try to be who you aren’t, and be thankful for what you’ve achieved. (And to think …it only took me almost fifty years to ‘have it all’.)
Cindi was still quite attractive for her almost fifty years, and I felt I was very lucky to have found her – in more ways than one. But, after several years of marriage, the daily sexual spark plug didn’t fire as hot, or as often, as it had during our first few years together. The old saying ‘watch out for the shy ones’ definitely applied to her in those first few years. (Or, it could be, that she was the first time I had been with a lady that was hot for me? Whatever it was, I knew then that one forty-something year old sexy hot lady definitely could beat out any two twenty year old ones.) I guess how I was feeling libido wise, (complacent and unchallenged) was normal for most men at some point, and at any age. But, I thought we were much closer as a couple than most of the couples we knew that were around our ages. What’s more, she was honest, and she could be trusted. What more could a simple guy like me want out of life, or in a wife? A fairly cute wife, who was ambitious, on the same page as me, willing to pitch in and help, still attracted to this graying, aging, sore at times man …and doesn’t run the credit cards up to the max. But still, I’d be lying if I didn’t mention that the occasional thought of ‘something new and different’ didn’t enter my thoughts, from time to time, during my many days alone in social and peer isolation in these lonely empty apartments, when getting them ready for rental.
Shit …the William Tell Overture started playing again. “Who could that be, and more importantly …what did they want?” A sour feeling suddenly punched at my gut. I was hoping that this didn’t wreak my Bangers and Mash ataşehir escort plans tonight – and especially a seven o’clock Guinness? A strange number that I didn’t recognize appeared on the caller ID. Reluctantly, I answered the phone call.
“Bob …Bob Summers?”
“Hello, Bob? This is Tiffany Clark …Mrs. Clark’s granddaughter?”
“Oh, yes …what can I do you …Miss Clark?”
“Bob, my grandmother asked me to purchase the window treatments for her new apartment and hang them for her. I was wondering if I could stop over and take some measurements this afternoon, and get some advice on how to properly attach the fixtures to the window casings?”
“What time this afternoon, Miss Clark?”
“In about a half hour?”
“That would be fine, Miss Clark. I’ll be here in your grandmother’s new apartment. I’m just finishing up with it right now.”
“Great! Thank you so much, Bob. See you soon …and please call me Tiffany.”
As I flipped my cell phone closed, I wondered about Mrs. Clark’s granddaughter, Tiffany. She seemed so pleasant, polite, and well spoken. She had class, but she sounded very young. I wondered what she would look like, and if she was the type of granddaughter who expected me to do everything for her grandmother, so she wouldn’t have too? (Most of the children and grandchildren of our elderly tenants here ‘somehow’ thought that this was a senior citizen home …rather than an apartment complex that was open to anyone who could afford to write the check for it every month, and pass a credit check. Most thought it was my job to wait on their ‘loved one’ – so they wouldn’t have to. My job actually was to maintain the property – inside & out …and not to cater to all the tenants personal requests.)
Oh, well …I probably had another hour of work here anyway, so her showing up in a half hour shouldn’t be a problem and shouldn’t interfere with my plans for this evening …if she showed up on time? I knew Cindi was looking forward to tonight, seeing that it was our anniversary. I had wanted to go somewhere more exotic and more expensive, but she knew I liked the Hood Boar, and the Bangers and Mash plate. I knew her decision was more to please me, than to please her. I didn’t deserve her, but I was thankful to have her.
I finished cleaning up all the painting supplies and tools and crammed everything into my house closet under the hallway stairs. Then I proceeded to wipe everything down with Scott’s Liquid Gold, and started to vacuum the carpeting. I was kind of proud with myself at how this old apartment has transformed into a nice clean modern unit in just three short weeks, and just about four thousand dollars spent in it (including my labor). I was also hoping this old lady would last at least several years here …before she moves out, goes in a nursing home …or dies?
The vacuum cleaner always sounded louder in empty apartments – the whirring sound seemed to echo off the walls. As I was finishing up vacuuming in the smaller bedroom, I swung the machine around quickly and I solidly bumped into something behind me. Confused, I turned around to see what was there as I firmly brushed across a woman’s chest. (And boy …was that ever a chest.) Probably a full thirty six D rack? Then I instantly noticed the beautiful golden cross around her neck. The length of the gold chain made the cross rest perfectly between the top of her magnificent cleavage. In the sexy shirt she was wearing, being fairly low cut, (and tight fitting) one received a fantastic view of her eye catching cleavage, with the beautiful golden cross delicately resting between her large breasts. As she slowly breathed in and out, the beautiful golden cross moved up down slightly between two superb nature’s pillows. Watching it rise and fall between those heavenly mounds was mesmerizing, and I felt like I was being hypnotized. The exposed front of her low cut shirt seemed to frame her irresistible breasts like a picture frame would frame a portrait – all the while, that beautiful golden cross moved slightly up and down. As I looked upwards, I then saw her face …a face that could stop a speeding bullet train dead in its tracks. She started to speak, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying so I immediately shut off the vacuum cleaner and ran to the corner of the room and turned down the boom box.
“Please excuse me, Bob …I was trying to get your attention without startling you …but you turned around too quick …I’m very sorry. I’m Mrs. Clark’s granddaughter …Tiffany.
This extraordinarily beautiful and elegant woman spoke so wonderfully innocent that I was instantly captivated with her choice of words and demeanor. She was somehow different than your run of the mill ‘forty-ish’ looking woman. She had class and she had dignity. Some women peaked ‘prime-wise’ at 18 or 20 and slowly descended down that not so glamorous slippery slope to Hagville – all the while, desperately trying everything ümraniye escort and anything to enhance their fading sex appeal …to no avail. Others, peaked in their late or early thirties, but some rare morsels, (but only a rare few) peak in their forties. This beautiful creature was of the latter genetics. She was dressed exactly like a true classy woman should – but then again, this statuesque Venus could put on rags and she would still look better than a million other women. (Then, as is the genetic predisposition of a man’s brain, I instantly thought about how wonderful she must look nude.) Her voice had sounded much younger on the cell phone – not that she sounded older by any means in person – but I was surprised at my prior mistaken perceptions, regarding her vintage.
She must have thought it queer that I didn’t respond to her and just stared at her. After a few seconds I composed myself somewhat and replied to her.
“Hi, Miss Clark. You startled me a bit. I’m not used to turning around in the empty apartments and seeing someone. I guess I spend too much of my time locked away in these apartments getting them ready …all by myself.”
She smiled and said, “I’m so sorry …I did knock several times, but you didn’t answer. I heard the cleaner running, so I came in. By the way …this place looks fantastic! Grandma Clark will be so happy living here.”
She continued to talk. (Obviously she liked to and somehow I didn’t mind.) I was captivated with her personality and the sound of her voice (and probably that large rack of hers too). All the while, whenever she wasn’t looking at me, I took quick looks at her exposed cleavage – and of course that beautiful golden cross between her heavenly twin peaks. As we slowly walked through the apartment, she commented positively on all the wonderful changes that had transpired since she had seen it last with her grandmother a month ago. (On that day, I wasn’t able to show Mrs. Clark the apartment personally, so she walked through it with the tenant’s who lived here at the time. Later on, her grandmother came to the office and committed to taking the apartment and signing a lease. She never mentioned anything about a granddaughter. Now, I wished I had made the time to personally show them the soon to be vacant apartment.)
All the time she spoke, that beautiful golden cross that was resting perfectly near the top of her magnificent cleavage seemed to completely occupy my schoolboy thoughts …and every time she turned toward me, I couldn’t help but look. It was if it was a magnet for my eyes, and I was forced to look at it. Somehow, I managed to answer her questions and explain certain features of the apartment to her, in some sort of coherent and intelligent fashion. All the while, she seemed engaged and attentive to my words and smiled genuinely at me, and never let on to the obvious fact I was staring at chest.
After awhile she said to me out of the blue, “I hope I don’t seem out of sorts today, Bob? I’ve had one of the worse days of my life.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“Oh, well …I knew it was going to happen, but I was startled when it did.”
Quizzically I asked, “I hope it wasn’t something terrible …Tiffany?”
She responded, “Just guy trouble …that’s all. Sorry to burden you with my troubles, you must have enough on your mind running this huge place, and taking care of all these older women?”
I wondered what kind of ‘guy trouble’ this gorgeous creature could ever have – even on a bad day? There must be an ungodly line of panting suitors waiting for their chance to be one of her lapdogs?
I sincerely said to her, “I find it very hard to believe that you could possibly have any guy troubles?”
“Thanks, Bob …but the latest jerk in my life …the jerk I’m engaged to …obviously doesn’t love me.”
I looked at her with a confused look as she started to sob. As she stood near me sobbing, I felt awkward and didn’t know what I should do in this situation. (I thought I had seen and heard most everything one could experience running a place like this, but this was a new situation for me. Something like this had never come up before during my lengthy employment here.) Not knowing what else to do and without completely thinking out my actions, I instinctively reached out and hugged this poor hurt creature. As she sobbed on my shoulder, I deeply smelled her perfume – Wind Song …if I’m not mistaken?
She sobbingly said, “Tonight we were supposed to go out to dinner, so I rushed home from work early, showered and dressed in this sexy outfit and then went over to his place.”
Then I looked at the skirt she was wearing and observed that it fit her absolutely perfect. It was black, very short and very form fitting. She also wore black heels. With the low cut cleavage showing top that framed her breasts, and the form fitting black skirt that hugged her perfect ass, and in the heels …she looked exquisite.
“I found him in bed with a young girl that he works with!”
Not knowing this woman and not knowing what to say to her, I continued to let her sob on my shoulder, as I now patted her hair and shoulder in a comforting way.
“I’m sure once you get over this hurt, you’ll realize just how beautiful you are, and how many guys would give anything just to date you.”
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