AT HER PLACE

With a mischievous smile she opens the door and guides me to the inside of the apartment building. The stairway is dark and silent, she moves unsure over her ridiculously high heels, touching the walls looking for the light switch. It's obvious she has drunk more than she should have, something that has played in my favour. As soon as I saw her bending over the bar to order a round of shots, sinking her bulky breasts carelessly over the dirty polypropylene surface, I knew I was in for an easy prey.

The stairway light comes on with a timid flickering. She glances at me, as if checking I am still here, and starts towards the steps. I follow her calmly, hands in my pockets, watching her stumble from one side to another. Her little black purse hangs unsteadily from her shoulder and drums over her hip hugged by the tight, short-skirt dress. I wait a few seconds before staring the climb to admire her long legs from below. A woman who dresses like that and goes out drinking, flirting with any man, can not be a decent person. She is crying out for what is going to happen to her tonight.

She stops at the third and last floor, turns around and waits by the door with a devouring gaze towards me. I get close and curve up my lips in that half smile that women find so irresistible. I slip my hand over her waist and approach until I can smell the cheap booze on her breath. “Is it now when we have to be silent?”

She shakes her head while smiling faintly with that naughty gesture that has been her calling card tonight. “No”, she says. “There is always someone fucking in this building. Tonight is my turn”.

Perfect. I would not have to care about her screaming then.

Next thing she pulls me close, kisses me with passion, opening her mouth widely and filling me with her slobber, her filthy tongue looking for my entrails. Then she starts looking in her purse for the keys. It takes her three attempts to get the lock but finally she makes it and opens the door. I glance at the landing for the last time before stepping inside the dim hall; there is just one other apartment, opposite, a cold door lifeless as a tomb.

Inside I hear her getting rid of her shoes and purse. She hasn't turned on the lights, in the darkness I can see her outline turning around, hands at her back reaching for the dress' zip, eyes gazing at me while moving backwards towards the bedroom. I follow her to the room and find her in her underwear. The dim lighting emphasising the curves of her body, the smooth promise of her skin, the perfect shape of her stomach topped by graceful breasts that scream to be released from their lace prison. It is a real shame her hair is quite short, barely covering her ears. Normally I would have dismissed her just for that, but she is perfect in everything else. An opportunity I could not let escape.

I get close to her and with a quick and violent gesture she turns me around and pushes me onto the bed. Bending over me, rubbing my face with her scented chest, she reaches out to light a small lamp. Then she can clearly see the desire in my face. A desire that is not what she thinks, but it is desire nonetheless.

“Wait here”, she says. “I'll be back soon”.

Slowly she turns and walks away, letting me watch carefully her round and firm buttocks. She disappears in the bathroom, I guess. Women. They always need to look in the mirror before doing anything. I get up from the bed and look around the room while the excitement grows in me. Everything is in a perfect setting: the bed, the pillows, the bedside table with the alarm clock and a book -some stupid romance novel. A hanger with some clothes carefully placed on it, a chest of drawers with some decorative items geometrically arranged. It is remarkable to meet a woman so clean and tidy, not like the other ones. I imagine with increasing arousal my hands around her pretty neck, her body shacking over the sheets, the look in her eyes, mixed terror, despair, rage... life. I picture in my mind the glint in her eyes when its light goes out, a little spark extinguished deep in her soul. What would be my trophy tonight? I like to take a long lock of hair, but hers is too short for that. A shoe maybe? Too common. The bedroom is too cool and impersonal. There has to be something more intimate, and I'm not talking about something as tasteless as underwear, that amateur fetish. I come by the built-in closet while watching over the open bedroom door. A feeble light creeps from under the bathroom door. I open the closet, curious, and a little light bulb turns on automatically inside. She must have something worthy, something unique...

I find something I wasn't expecting.

Behind the dresses and blouses I see a few images. I move aside the hanging clothes and carefully inspect the polaroid pictures stuck to the back of the closet. They are all of young men, ordinary guys unaware of the camera while walking the street or chatting in a cafe. Together with the photos are what look like patches of dry skin. I examine the skins with a grimace, not willing to know where they come from. There is one for each picture but the last one.

The last one is a photo of me.