Chapter 6

Naturally, before the janitor came, Annette slipped a dress over her beautiful body. She was a little on edge - both from having sat on the windowsill without panties, and from remembering how she had once walked around in her underwear in front of this same immigrant.

Why did I even invite him? Annette wondered. In many ways she had called him up just to see on his face that he had taken her earlier appearance in underwear in stride, and that today he hadn’t noticed she was bare underneath the dress when she stood up for him. She needed to calm herself down.

She was waiting for the intercom to buzz, but instead heard the doorbell ring.

“You’re here already?” she asked in surprise as she opened the door. “Was the door unlocked?”

“I’m the janitor, sweetheart, I clean your building. I’ve got keys.”

“Oh, right ... come in.”

And Omar came in. Into the holy of holies, into the home of an angel, into the home of the woman he’d called a bitch and a whore in his mind hundreds of times, the woman he had climaxed to over and over in his fantasies. Omar wanted to look around, to see how she lived, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sway of his hostess’s hips.

A hooker’s walk, he concluded with satisfaction. Annette had no idea she had let a wolf in sheep’s clothing into her home. And who would suspect anything of this pitiful creature called Omar? The thought that he might be capable of sexual interest in a woman seemed ridiculous.

“Have a seat on the couch,” Annette said - and immediately regretted it. The janitor wore a blue work overall that was far from clean.

I’ll scrub everything afterward, the cleanliness-obsessed beauty thought uneasily.

“Would you like coffee or tea?” she asked. “Um ... coffee or tea?”

The yogini had to repeat the question, because the old man stayed silent, just staring stupidly at her.

The dress didn’t just hug her full breasts, it pressed them in. The flesh straining to break free bulged insanely, tantalizingly, at the neckline. It felt as if just another millimeter and the edge of her nipples’ areolas would show. Her deliberately modest, buttoned-up appearance clashed with her natural sexuality, the raw, physical allure of a magnificent female.

Omar felt as if he were sitting in his basement, masturbating to a fantasy. Everything he saw seemed like a mirage conjured by his aroused brain. He even clenched his empty hand around air and was startled to find no penis there. That shock brought him back to himself. He looked up at Annette’s face, which was now tinged with worry.

“What did you ask, daughter? Sorry, I was just thinking what a blessing it is to meet such kindness. I was starting to think no one in this country could be kind to me anymore.”

Annette was deeply moved by his “sincere” words. She didn’t even notice that the old man’s eyes were glued to her chest the whole time he was speaking.

Maybe he’s just shy about looking me in the eye, she thought. Looking at the timid little immigrant, it was an easy assumption to make.