He was dressed in
blue jeans and a torn T-shirt, and had no shoes.
"Yes, I am," she replied.
"Here, let me help."
He came forward, and started lifting one of the boxes. Suzanne
hesitated, then smiled.
"Thank you, that's very kind. But it's a long haul. I'm on the third
floor."
"That's okay," said the young man. "I'm used to stairs. We live on the
fifth floor."
"In this building?"
He laughed. "Oh, no, nothing as nice as this. We're way up on Forest,
the other side of Third. Hey, what's your name? Mine's Donald."
"I'm Suzanne," she replied.
In silence they climbed up to the apartment and deposited their loads
on the floor of the living room. Donald stared around, then stood back,
looking at Suzanne with appreciative eyes.
"This sure is nice," he said enviously. "I wish we had a nice place
like this."
"You live with your folks?" asked Suzanne.
"Uh-huh. My mother and my older brother Ted. Say, I clean apartments
real cheap. You want me to help you up here?"
Suzanne laughed. "Well, let me think about it, okay? Maybe when I get
settled I'll have some chores you can help with. What do you charge?"
He laughed. "Oh, not much. Maybe a dollar or so. I also run errands,
like to the store. I only charge fifty cents to go to the store."
"Oh." Suzanne realized she would be needing some milk, coffee and
sugar. "Donald, how about picking up some things for me now while I
finish unpacking?"
"Okay. I won't charge you this time. Sort of a bonus for a new
customer."
They both laughed, and Suzanne stared at him. He was really such an
appealing boy, with a fresh, innocent quality to his face. And he
seemed courteous and respectful, with no hint of the roughness that she
imagined would characterize a boy growing up in this neighborhood.
She made out a list, gave him a five-dollar bill, and he ran down the
stairs, whistling. Suzanne walked to the balcony of her apartment and
stared down at his figure, running quickly up Hancock Street and
disappearing from view. She turned back inside, humming to herself.
Only a half-hour in her new home, and already she'd met someone from
the neighborhood, someone that she knew would provide valuable research
for her social studies. Yes, she would certainly have to become better
acquainted with Donald and his family. They could be her first case
history.
With a sigh, she flopped into a chair and surveyed her new apartment.
She felt she was going to be very happy here. For the first time in her
life, she would have a place that was entirely her own. For a split
second, she wished Sam were there with her, and the sign on the door
read "Mr. and Mrs." instead of merely "Suzanne Delacorte." She made a
mental note to write to Sam that evening and tell him of her move.
To be continued...
This story was taken from one these sites, check them out to find more sex stories:
| Title | Info | |
|---|---|---|
| This author has not added any books yet | ||
