Chapter 1

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, .

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A young musician meets his neighbor and learns he'll be working with her in a chamber orchestra. Their apartments share an old heating vent that becomes a conduit for sharing some interesting moments.

Decent, affordable apartments in our fair city are incredibly hard to come by, especially for people in my income bracket, i.e., dirt poor. You take what you can get and feel thankful for it. I didn't even bother looking in the more upscale areas of town like around the park where even the doormen look down their noses at you like they're attached at the hip to the upper crust of society.

What I finally settled on was an old building near lower downtown that left a lot to be desired in the esthetics department but at least it wasn't slummy. When I signed the one-year lease, it was for a slightly larger apartment on the second floor and I was actually in the process of moving in when the building super saw me carrying in my cello case. He got this 'Oh crap!' look on his face and asked, "You planning on playing that thing a lot?"

I've dealt with this kind of attitude before and I wasn't about to let him intimidate me. "Uh, no, this is actually a cache of weapons that I'm hiding for some terrorist friends of mine. Of COURSE I'm planning to play it a lot! Don't you think it'd be a criminal waste of eleven thousand dollars to leave it sitting in the corner to accumulate dust?"

He didn't appreciate my sarcasm. "Hey, ain't no need to get your shorts all twisted up! I'm just saying there's folks next door to you that work nights and sleep during the day. I don't wanna be getting any complaints from them about you sawin' away on that thing at all hours and keepin' 'em awake."

"Well see, that's the thing about musical instruments; you need to play them from time to time to be any good at it. What do you suggest, that I practice out on the sidewalk with a tin cup beside me for people to toss coins into?"

He raised his hands palm out and shrugged his shoulders. "Look, I don't give a tinker's dam when or where you play it as long as I don't get complaints. Maybe you didn't read the fine print about it bein' a violation of your lease if you make too much noise. That's grounds for eviction, you know."

"Jeez, man, I haven't even finished moving in and already you're threatening to kick me out! Give me a break, will ya?"

He crossed his arms, grunted something unintelligible and looked at the cello case for a few seconds, then came up with an idea. "Look here, I got another apartment at the top of the stairs that ain't next door to nobody. Why don't you come up and take a look at it and see if it'll work for you. I can give you a break on the rent if you take it. In fact, I'll tell you what, if you'll clean it up and paint the walls, I'll give you the first month free and I'll supply the paint."

The building was a converted four-story brownstone so the apartment had to be in the attic and I wasn't too thrilled about the idea but it was obvious he wasn't going to be at all forgiving about any noise complaints and I sure as hell didn't want to get off to a bad start with my new neighbors. Anyhow, it wouldn't hurt to at least take a look to see if it was worth considering. I shrugged and said, "Well, I guess I can look at it as long as it isn't already occupied by mice and cockroaches."

"There ain't no mice or cockroaches in this building, not unless you're bringing them with you. Wait here while I go get the key."

I was right that it was a converted attic with dormer windows and drop-down ceilings. The layout wasn't all that bad but he was sure right about it needing a good cleaning and painting. It had one bedroom, a small living room, a bath with a shower but no tub and a kitchenette sporting a half-size fridge and an antique three-burner stove. I'm guessing maybe six hundred square feet total; cozy to say the least. I couldn't imagine a family being very comfortable in it but it'd work for a single guy like me.

I decided to take it but I remembered his offer of a break on the rent and decided to haggle with him a bit. I sniffed the air and said, "Smells kinda musty, like there's mold in the walls or something."

"There ain't no mold. It's just been closed up for a while. Open the windows for a few hours and it'll be just fine. I can let you have it for a hundred less than the other place."

"Oh, I don't know. That's a lot of stairs to climb."

"Shouldn't be a problem for a young, healthy man like you. Look, I'll make it a hundred and fifty less and that's my last offer."

I stood in the middle of the room and looked around critically like I wasn't too excited about the idea. As he groused his disdain and turned to head back downstairs, I said, "I'll take it. Do I get to pick out the colors?"

"Any color you want as long as it's white or beige 'cause that's what I've got in the store room. You want rainbow colors, you gotta buy your own paint! I'll go make up a new lease."

By the time I finished moving my meager belongings up several flights of stairs, I felt like I'd run a marathon and I was feeling fortunate that I didn't own a couch. My last trip down the steps was to reward myself with a six-pack of Heineken from the corner store and a small pizza from the shop next to it. I ate the whole pizza, drank two beers, showered, opened all the windows and crashed on my unmade bed to sleep the sleep of the nearly dead.

The next morning, there was a five-gallon bucket of beige paint, brushes, rollers and a drop cloth outside my door. After a hearty breakfast of Oreos and instant coffee, the rest of the day was spent scouring the bathroom with bleach, scrubbing the floors and the appliances, then slapping two coats of interior latex on the walls. While they were drying, I drove to Walmart for linens, curtains, pots and pans, a few new kitchen utensils and a week's worth of groceries. It all put a big dent in my checking account but I didn't mind so much since I wouldn't have to pay rent for another month. At the end of the day, I was exhausted but I felt like I had a home.

I'd taken a week of vacation to move and get situated so I didn't have to be back to work at the restaurant for four more days. That was going leave me some much needed time to get ready for my audition for the chamber orchestra ramping up for it's next season. The audition was in two weeks and I was going to need all the prep I could work in because if the previous year was anything to go by, I expected the competition to be stiff. At that audition, I got edged out by a Korean wunderkind but the music director encouraged me to try again this year so I felt like my chances were good if I could come up with a credible performance.

That evening, I tuned my cello before diving into 'Songs and Poems for Solo Cello' by Phillip Glass. I planned to do one of those as well as something from the Bach cello suites. If that didn't impress her with my range, nothing would. As I was setting the tension on my bow, it occurred to me it might be smart to try some proactive neighborliness by checking in with whoever might be living in the apartment below me to work out the best times for me to practice. I dropped down one flight and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" asked a female voice through the door.

"Uh, I'm your new neighbor who just moved in upstairs. I was going to practice on my cello and I just wanted to ask you to let me know if it got too loud."

She opened her door just a crack and said, "It's not going to bother me but thanks for asking." I only saw enough of her face to see that she was oriental. If she lived alone, I guess I couldn't blame her for not opening the door to a stranger.

"OK, then. Well, I guess I'll go ahead and get started."

I worked hard for an hour and a half and felt like I was sounding good. But it was the strangest thing; at the end of each piece, I heard something like tapping or popping coming from somewhere in the room. It would go on for a few seconds and then stop. Then I wouldn't hear it again until I played another piece or movement.

I got up and walked all around the apartment looking for the source, listening with my ear against the walls, everything, but I couldn't locate where the sound might be coming from. The next time I heard it, I laid my cello down and followed the sound and found a heating vent behind the bureau. That had to be it.

I moved the bureau, set my chair next to it and ripped off one of the Glass pieces. Sure enough, when I stopped, the noise came out of the vent. I finally figured out it was somebody clapping. I had a fan!

I leaned down and spoke right into the vent, "Thanks, whoever you are. I appreciate your appreciation."

In response, I heard female laughter but that was all, she didn't say anything. It made my day.

After I thought about it, it just about had to be the lady in the apartment right below me. At least I was hoping that duct didn't communicate with every other apartment in the building. I made a mental note to check with the super to make sure. If it did, I figured I could take the cover off and stuff the vent with an old pillow or something.

I spent the rest of my vacation time putting the finishing touches on my new living space and practicing the Bach and Glass pieces. I guess the noise wasn't bugging the lady below me because the super never said anything about any complaints. I didn't get any more applause from my fan either so I guess she got tired of listening to the same pieces over and over.

When I got around to asking the super about the vent, he said it was left over from the days when the whole building was heated with a furnace in the basement. Now all the apartments had electric baseboard heaters and their own thermostats. They never bothered to close off the vent between my apartment and the one below because they hadn't planned to rent it out after they refurbished the other ones because it was so small and better suited for storage. They never got around to doing that either so it just sat idle.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Heterosexual /