Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)

Introduction: This is a story of a desperate woman who tries to pay back man who saved her. Read and Enjoy...

It was a hot and muggy Atlanta summer day as I slowly walked to the second floor of my apartment complex. The morning had gone well; five sales calls and two of those turned out to be winners. My commission check would be a big one next month.

It was a relatively new apartment complex-a lot of singles and parties-and I was glad I had decided to splurge and rent the two-bedroom model. I rationalized at the time that the second bedroom would be my office and vaguely I thought I might get a tax write-off also. The small gym and large pool made meeting other singles easy.

In my first four months at the apartment it was relatively easy to get dates. All the single women wanted to test out the new tenant. However, from my view, none of the women seemed to be keepers, so I kept my options open and continued to party hard.

I kept in shape at the gym and worked hard in my sales territory, which paid off both in money and attracted the attention of the regional sales manager who spotted my sales volume.

Life was good and uncomplicated.

My head was down as I daydreamed about spending my well earned money when I heard someone knocking on a door. At first I thought it was my apartment, but it was Carol's door, which was two apartments down from mine.

A woman stood in front of Carol's door and knocked again. She was about five-foot seven-inches tall with dirty blond hair. She wore a somewhat heavy skirt and coat over a blouse that must have been warm in the summer heat. A small, black rolling suitcase was next to her.

I walked up and said, "Hi."

She jumped and turned towards me; I had surprised her.

"Hey, I'm sorry I startled you. Are you looking for Carol?"

She looked at me before answering. I could see her face clearly now. Along with the dirty blond hair she had blue eyes, high cheek bones and a pixy nose. Those attractive body parts were marred by the sweat on her face, hair in disarray that needed washing, and a body frame that suggested too skinny. She was obviously exhausted.

She had a low, sexy-sounding voice as she answered, "I'm a friend of Carol's and came for the weekend to visit her, but she isn't home even though I told her when I would get here."

I replied, "I'm a friend of Carol's and live two doors down. Carol's mom had a heart attack two days ago and Carol rushed home to Chicago to be with her. I guess she forgot to call you."

"Oh shit," she whispered.

Selling is my occupation and reading people comes with the job. I looked at this woman's face and saw disappointment turning into despair with a tinge of panic. I thought, "She's seconds away from tears or worse."

Impulsively I blurted, "I'm Phil Stockton. Why don't you come to my place and have a cold drink?"

She stared at my face, but it was obvious she hadn't heard me. Panic was now winning over despair.

I grabbed her arm and suitcase and pulled her towards my apartment. She didn't resist.

I sat her in a kitchen chair, turned down the thermostat to seventy, and filled a glass with ice and water. She took the glass and drained it. I refilled it and sat across from her.

"It's none of my business, but my guess is that you need a friend right now."

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She stared at the table top and nodded her head. The first tears ran down her face.

"Hey, my name is Phil; what's yours?"

"Holly," she whispered.

"Well Holly, things can't be that bad."

She lifted her head and looked at me. The tears had highlighted her blue eyes. She blushed and stammered, "I've spent the last two days on five different buses. The only possessions I have are in my suitcase and I used the rest of my money to pay for the taxi to get here, and I look and feel like shit."

I quickly said with a smile, "Holly, don't hold back. Just really tell me about your serious problems."

I saw her first, brief smile, but then she lowered her face and stared again at the table.

"Holly, look at me."

She raised her head and stared at me.

"This is not the time to make decisions or even talk about them. I have a sofa bed in my office. You're going to take the longest, hottest shower of your life and then take a nap. I'll get you some towels and a robe and there is a clean toothbrush and shampoo in the guest bathroom. By the time you get out of the shower, I'll be gone making some sales calls. I'll wake you when I get back and we'll have dinner here. Then with a glass of wine or two along with the food, you're going back to bed and sleep until morning. Then we'll talk about your minor problems."

"I can't..."

Planning your weekend reading? Ensure you're on 05s.org for uninterrupted enjoyment. The next chapter is just a click away, exclusively available on our site. Happy reading! "Holly, you will. Now stand up and follow me."

Like a little kid she stood up and followed me. I pointed out the office bedroom, the bathroom, and showed her the towels and robe.

"Take your shower. When you're through, your bed will be open and made. I'm taking the phone off the hook and the front door will be locked. I'll wake you at dinner time." Without a word she walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

I quickly opened the bed. The sheets were clean and I took two pillows and a light blanket from the closet and placed them on the bed.

As I took her suitcase from the kitchen to the office, I heard the shower water start. I left the apartment and double locked the door.

Holly must have been a lucky charm for me-three more sales calls and one more winner. This day had been the best sales day in my career.

After the third sales call I went to my local bar and sipped some beers waiting for the time to pass and wondering about my current situation. She was obviously in a tough spot with an unknown background. She wasn't skinny by choice; it was that she hadn't been eating much. I wondered if she was tough enough to rebound from whatever or whoever had slammed her.

Eventually, I left the bar and went to the grocery store. Two huge steaks, baking potatoes, sour cream, butter, and the ingredients for a salad seemed to be the right combination.

I quietly let myself into my apartment. In the kitchen I turned on the oven and popped in the baking potatoes.

The door to the office was half open. I went to it and looked inside. Holly was sleeping with her back to the door. The sheet had fallen to below her waist; it was obvious she was sleeping nude.