Roused from the couch by an insistent knock on her apartment door, Lisa Manoban prepared to dismiss whichever friend or former lover had decided to drop by unannounced. Instead, she fell into stunned silence at the sight of her next-door neighbor Jennie — the beautiful, relatively older woman for whom she'd been carrying a particularly lusty torch for the past thirteen months — anxiously shuffling her feet on the welcome mat, elegantly dressed and openly distraught. Her vivid brown eyes lit up at the sight of Lisa, which made Lisa's heart sing. She opened her mouth to offer Jennie an effusively friendly hello, barely thinking to wonder why someone she'd rarely spoken with except to trade casual pleasantries in the laundry room or at the mailbox would knock on her door this late on Saturday afternoon.
8
Before Lisa could attempt a charming greeting, Jennie broke the ice with an awkward wave. "Hi." She cleared her throat, so overtly nervous that Lisa's stomach churned in empathy. "I'm not sure if you remember me, but—"
"Jennie. Of course, I remember you." Opening the door wider, Lisa leaned against its blessedly sturdy frame and attempted a carefree smile. "How's it going?"
"Hi," Jennie repeated, somewhat unnecessarily. "And, well, it's..." She took a deep breath and dodged the subject. "You're Lisa, right?"
"That's me." Lisa folded her arms across her breasts, wishing she'd worn a bra to the door. If she'd known who was on the other side, she would've stopped to throw one on. "What can I do for you?"
"Well..." Jennie grew redder with every second of uneasy silence she allowed to stretch out between them. After an unbearably long hesitation, she muttered, cheeks aflame, "You know what? This suddenly feels like a really terrible idea. I think I should..." She moved a half pace to the right, clearly flirting with the urge to flee toward the safety of her own apartment. "Sorry to bother you."
"Jennie." Lisa stepped into the hallway to catch her neighbor by the wrist. "What's going on? Did you need something?"
Jennie jolted at the contact, so Lisa let her go and allowed her gaze to drift to Jennie's luxuriously thick and shiny hair, which fell just above her narrow shoulders and boasted a smattering of gloriously silver strands woven throughout the natural dark brunette. Flustered by the thought of how often she'd masturbated herself to sleep with Jennie in the starring role of one of her go-to mature, older-lover fantasies, Lisa struggled not to reveal how attracted she was. It had always seemed painfully obvious that Jennie considered her a bit of a kid. Probably even a wild child, given that they shared the wall of Lisa's busy bedroom and its revolving door of sexually liberated — and frequently vocal — women of every age, shape, and color.
Of course, Jennie looked at her and saw her as a child. How could she know what Lisa really wanted? Who she really was? Lisa didn't share those hopes and dreams with just anyone. Not even the women who graced her bed.
Jennie managed a tense smile. "To be perfectly frank, I came over to ask you for a completely batshit, wholly inappropriate favor...a request that would have almost certainly resulted in you slamming the door in my face. Which I would've totally understood, actually. I'm not sure why I ever thought...But I wasn't sure what else to do, so—"
"So ask me the favor." More intrigued than intimidated after that rambling disclaimer, Lisa beckoned for Jennie to follow her into the apartment. "How about you come inside and sit down first? Maybe it'll be easier that way."
Jennie scoffed and shook her head, yet drifted closer. "I'm not so sure about that."
