One-Bedroom Apartments

April 4, 2009

This story was originally written for the Eka's Portal Writer's Group for April of 2009. It contains mild sexual themes, F/M soft vore and references to digestion and elimination. It is my first vore short story, so please be sure to offer your comments.

By TBD

It was her snaggletoothed smile, he had decided.

Sure, the first thing that he noticed about her had been her fun highlighted hair. Every month he saw her it was at that length he loved; long enough to be feminine and short enough to suggest a spiky playfulness.

And the first time that he had had impure thoughts about her was when he had noticed how her polyester dress pants perfectly suited the bottom curves of her slender body. High-waisted pants, denying even the most adept of gawkers a look at her backside, but tight enough to make even the straight-laced wish they could see underneath.

And their friendly acquaintanceship had begun because of her charming personality. She always remembered what they had talked about the month before, and asked how golf lessons were going and if the new restaurant was any good. She made him feel like the other 29 days of the month she had simply sat around, waiting for him to come with his rent check.

There were many things that drew Stephen to Angela, but it was the snaggletoothed smile that kept her in his thoughts and in the periphery of his sexual fantasy between the 5^th of one month and the 5^th of the next. That smile (and, come to think of it, that hawk nose) that would be a turn-off were it on a girl at the end of a bar, somehow drew him to Angela, the youngest of the women who worked at his apartment's leasing office. How young was she anyways? Late-twenties? How can you know someone for two years, wonder about them so much, and yet know so little about them?

For Angela, it was the blazers.

What did this man do that he was so well dressed on the 5^th of every month, even if it fell on a Saturday? As a truly well dressed man, Stephen was a complete and total outlier from the other apartment tenants. Every month, amidst the parade of grey hooded sweatshirts and the pastel colored polos of recent college graduates, there was Stephen, one of the last few men on Earth who could wear a coat and tie and still exude some semblance of personal fashion. A corduroy jacket in the winter, a linen jacket in the spring, class and mystery all year round.

It was that mystery that drew Angela to Stephen. Most men who leased one-bedroom apartments were wrecks. But his personalized checks, gentlemanly dress, and vaguely academic beard suggested that he had his life in order. She had long wondered about the twenty-six year old (unlike Stephen, she had the luxury of being able to check his lease to find his birth date) and what he did with his life other than pay his rent on time every month. Every so often when she was around the complex, she would take a peak at his window and wonder if his one-bedroom apartment was ever as lonely as hers.

In many ways, Stephen's curiosities about Angela's life outside of the 5^th of the month were the opposite. In an office full of traditional Southern women, each married, each with children and each more of a nosy gossip than the last, Angela was very much an outlier in his eyes. She was fun and vibrant and he envisioned her as having a busy, secret nightlife; one that saw parties and clubs and men much more exciting than he.

And so the two met twenty-three times on the 5ths of twenty-three months, both of them caught up in the mystery of the other, both of them enjoying the pleasantries they exchanged, she secretly admiring his cohesion and he haunted by that snaggletoothed smile. Yet still, through twenty-three meetings he had yet to give in to his wild fantasy of asking her to meet him on another day (say a 6^th or a 7^th?) and she began to suspect that maybe his one-bedroom apartment did not and never would need her. Maybe he had someone else? Maybe he was secure in being alone. Maybe she didn't deserve him.

While it wouldn't be until the twenty-fifth meeting that the dynamic of their acquaintanceship would be changed, that meeting would only be made possible by two unexpected twists from their twenty-fourth meeting; the first being that it came on the 14^th of the month and the second being that Stephen announced to her boss, a big-haired woman name Sue Ann, that he would not be renewing his lease when it expired at the beginning of the next month.

“That's too bad that you're leaving.” Angela exaggerated a little bit of a pout in her voice as Stephen stopped by her desk on his way out of the office, simply as a means of getting a word in with his shameless crush.

“Yeah, I've really enjoyed it here.” He said, scratching the back of his neck as he spoke. Angela looked to see if she could see the label on the inside of his jacket as he stretched, but she couldn't make out a designer name. “It's just time for me to go back up North, I think.” It was now or never, they both knew. In two weeks, he'd be gone. One of them was going to need to go for it.

“Oh.” Angela started to lay the trap, “I didn't even know that you were from up North.”

“Yeah, I kind of knew that I'd only be here for a little bit when I moved here.” Stephen said idly.

“I guess there's a lot we don't know about each other…” Angela began to spring the trap. It was all the invitation Stephen needed.

“I know!” he said, his voice too excited with agreement, “I mean, you see someone once a month and you think you know them but…”

“But there's life that happens on days other than the 5^th.” Angela tried to be as witty and sage as she could in her completion of his sentence.

“Like today, for instance!” Stephen nervously continued. They were getting close; it was just a matter of taking that leap.

“Like today.” She said plainly. She was going to force him to make the move.

“Or like tomorrow.” He shrugged, trying his best to be cool. “Does life happen for you tomorrow night?” He asked after a pregnant pause. That brought out the smile he wanted to see, and for the first time, the flirtation between the two had become formal.

“What time tomorrow night?”

“I was thinking around 8. Drinks and a movie at my place.” It was the most suave he had ever been in asking a woman on a date, but he had to be very careful to pretend like it was nothing and that he wasn't at all impressed with himself. He pulled it off pretty well, all things considered. At least well enough that when he left the leasing office Angela gave a schoolgirl's titter for the first time in years.

She was twenty-eight, by the way.

Stephen did wear a blazer and tie to work the next day, like he almost always did, but by the time that Angela arrived to his apartment he had changed into something more appropriate for the evening. As much as Angela had admired his fashion and dress in the past, seeing Stephen in his own environment (as opposed to the sterilized atmosphere of the leasing office) without the covering of a jacket immediately set a feeling of intimacy for her. This was the behind the scenes tour. She was finally getting to know this curious person in her life.

“Hey there.” Stephen greeted her at the door with an awkward shoulder-only hug. He acknowledged it was a cumbersome move, but it wasn't as overly familiar as a full body hug and was less creepy than a wink. “Come in.” He said, turning out of the way so that she could enter and survey his apartment's main room. He prepared himself to face the silent judgment of a woman.

From a material level, his apartment certainly passed. Unlike most bachelor apartments, the walls had been painted, the lamps matched the furniture, and the couch (a suede couch, no less) was cheeto-stain free. Almost instantly, one of Angela's two major questions about Stephen had been answered; yes, his life truly was as put together as it seemed from the outside. Meanwhile, the absence of any pictures anywhere on his desk or walls and a dog-eared TV guide on the coffee table began to suggest the answer to her other question…

Was it wrong for Stephen to take a peek at her ass while she made her initial survey of his apartment? He certainly didn't think so. There are pants that women wear that conceal the figure to the point where it's not even worth a man's time to speculate as to what's underneath. Then there are pants that leave little to the imagination. These khakis, like the dress slacks of hers that he had noticed before, were of that rare breed that not only left plenty to the imagination, but were cut so perfectly for her body that they demanded that one imagine it. Stephen and Angela both grinned and the evening began with each finding plenty of reason to be optimistic.

“So what's up?” Angela asked as the two now found themselves grinning at each other, standing clumsily next to the couch. “What's up?” she wondered. Was that really the best she could bring to this?

“Well,” Stephen sat on the couch, welcoming Angela to do the same with a gentle hand on the small of her back, “see, it's hard since the entire point of this is getting to know each other better, I didn't know what type of a girl you are.”

“Movie and drinks sounded fine to me.” Angela said, with a purr and a playful hand on the front of his colorful button down shirt. Was it strange that they had both chosen a button-down shirt and khaki colored pants to wear tonight? It had to be a good sign, right?

“Yes, but are we comedy and beer?” Stephen asked, raising his left hand and weighing the options “Are we wine and a chick flick? A western and whiskey?” He desperately looked for a third hand to avoid his hand gestures becoming awkward. He was wholly unsuccessful.

“How about you get us something to drink and we'll decide?” Angela smirked. The date started, then, with two glasses of pinot grigio and soft music while the two tried to decide what type of movie people they were. It turns out that they must have decided they were not movie people at all, because wine and music became imported beer and funny anecdotes from work and college, which became more wine and talking about families. All evening the two moved closer, until they had their legs intertangled and shared Maker's Mark and vague stories about past sexual escapades.

“I thought I was going to die!” Angela exclaimed as she finished the embarrassing story of her college homecoming weekend, her voice now substantially louder and her inhibitions substantially lower than when the night had begun. Stephen chuckled, putting a hand to his face, feeling heat coming off of it. He certainly hoped he hadn't turned red from the combination of alcohol and being in the presence of a total hottie. He had.

“Oh God, that's…” he began to react to the story, looking off at a clock. Ten thirty. They'd been at this for two and a half hours. This date could have been its own movie, he thought. He'd certainly pay $8.50 to see it again. “That's…” he continued trying to come up with an end to the sentence as he turned back to Angela, who had twisted herself so that she was leaning in, facing him. One look at her steely grey eyes and he knew that the end of his sentence was irrelevant. Stephen closed his eyes and went ninety. Angela leaned in another eight, before softly exhaling. Stephen trembled, feeling her breath on his lips, and parted his mouth as Angela brought them together for the long-awaited kiss.

Wearing her librarian style eyeglasses rather than her usual contact lenses and toting a thermos of black coffee rather than the usual bottle of water, the secret of what Angela got up to last night would not remain a secret for long. It went unmentioned, but no one needed to be told that she'd had a long night of drinking and, by the looks of it, a pretty good roll in the hay. And based on the number of text messages her phone received that day, there seemed to be a pretty healthy chance that it would happen again tonight. The gossipy women she worked certainly noticed these things, but only spoke about it with each other through raised eyebrows and suggestive smiles. No need to ask Angela for the details. After all, she had never been a part of the office social circle. She seemed to have her own life.

At Stephen's work that day, no one would have guessed that last night had been a long night of drinking and romancing. He was more productive, more on his game than ever, an extra spring in his step now that he had been given a new clue in the mystery that was Angela. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and yes, Stephen, that cute girl in the leasing office with the highlighted hair and hawk nose does have a fun streak; and now you're a part of it. The adrenaline rush was so great that not only did he finish all of his work for the day, he did so while managing to send a dozen or more texts, arranging for another date that night. He secretly hoped that someone would ask him what his Friday night plans were, now that he finally had plans to brag about. Even though no one did, he could imagine how impressed they would be if they had.

This is not to say that Angela was not equally ecstatic about the budding relationship; her excitement was just more tempered. If she truly had snared the dream guy, could she bear to lose him in just a few short weeks? Was she being exploited? Stephen certainly seemed a decent sort, but what if he had decided that since he was moving he would use his charm to get the youngest member of the apartment staff drunk and horny? What if the long, romantic flirtation was all imagined? She was still excited and satisfied, and spending last night in a one-bedroom apartment that was identical to hers but without the loneliness was all she had hoped for, but while Stephen felt like he was solving the mystery of Angela, Angela felt like she was only finding new riddles. She took home paperwork from the office and went back to her apartment early, fueling the speculation of her co-workers. She didn't mind it, though. In an instant, her trepidation about this evening had faded. She knew how to solve the mystery. She knew how to make the stranger familiar and make the Man Who Had It All Together her own before he left for good.

The two decided on an earlier meeting time, 6:30, for their twenty-sixth and final meeting. Stephen was still wearing his blazer from work. Angela still had on the brown polyester slacks. The plan, according to the text message arrangement they had made earlier in the day, was dinner and then the movie that they had never gotten to the night before. They both knew quite well, though, that the movie would not really happen.

“Hello again.” Angela said, flashing that imperfect smile of hers as Stephen opened the door. He was so taken by the smile, now finally his, that he didn't even notice that she was still wearing those pants that had first triggered lustful thoughts so many months ago. The two met with a kiss. The kiss was quick, but passionate in the way that was the hallmark of a blossoming romance. “I missed you today.” Angela whispered as their lips parted. Stephen smirked.

“So do you have any preference in where we go tonight?” Stephen asked, moving away from the doorway and back in to his apartment as he gathered his jacket and his car keys.

“Uhh,” Angela paused, slipping her feminine hands into her back pockets “To be honest I hadn't given it much thought.”

“Well how about sushi, then?” Stephen suggested. That seemed classy and refined, didn't it?

“Yeah, sure.” Angela didn't really pay that much attention to the suggestion, just okaying it blindly as she now dug in to her purse, a small trendy handbag slung over the shoulder of her chestnut colored top. It wasn't that she didn't care about the date; she just already knew that it was going to be drastically different from what Stephen expected. She pulled out a folded sheet of paper from her purse and presented it to him.

“Here,” she said, passing him the paper and a ballpoint pen. Stephen looked at the sheet. It was a maintenance request form for the apartment complex. “I noticed that your bathroom was backing up a little bit when I was here last night.” Angela said looking away sheepishly. There was probably no bigger date turn-off than mentioning anything that takes place in the bathroom. “You should request for someone to come look at it before you leave, so you don't get charged for it when you move out.”

“Oh, thanks.” Stephen said. He noticed that Angela had looked away as she said this. Was this her passive way of voicing displeasure over his leaving? Did she want him to stay? Could he? “I, uh, didn't even realize it.”

“Well, it's not a big problem now,” Angela said, the brief break in eye contact gone, now back to her usually engaging self, “but you want to be proactive about things like that.” It came across as flirtatious, but Stephen couldn't put his finger on why. It might have had something to do with the implied lecture about responsibility, making them seem like an old couple rather than two lonely twenty-somethings who decided to go at it last night. He filed out the form, signed it and smiled.

“I'll take that in on Monday.” Angela stuck the form back in her purse.

“Thanks.” Stephen said as he moved close to her, put his hands on the pockets of her pants and the two once again engaged in a kiss, this time more intense and more serious than their greeting kiss. This was the “I've been thinking about you all day” kiss. This was the “I thought this would never come and now it has and I never want it go” kiss. This was the “I don't want to wake up if this is a dream kiss.”

Angela stood up on her tiptoes to move her mouth around on his more firmly, with more authority. She first flicked his tongue with hers, then pressed it down against the bottom of his mouth, forcing it into place, overpowering it into submission. Stephen's eyes actually opened at this, surprised by the command of her kiss, but he most certainly did not protest. He shuffled his feet, pushing her back up against the front door. She raised her leg up around his waist, aligning his most sensitive parts with hers as he subtly thrusted against her.

Angela had him. The Man Who Had It All Together was in her clutches. She grabbed a firm hold on the neck of his shirt, and pulled her mouth back a bit, before playfully biting at his lip with her crooked teeth. Stephen moaned, pulled away, and then leaned back in to continue the kiss. Angela opened wide and aligned her mouth so that his bearded jaw was the first thing to enter. Her upper lip reached up to his lips, continuing the semblance of a kiss, but something much different was happening as her maw continued to expand, impossibly wide, her lower lip working its way down his neck, her upper lip working its way up to the bridge of his nose.

Stephen tried to speak, but at first was silent because he didn't know if he should protest the bizarre kiss or praise the most passionate gesture anyone had ever shown him. The next time he would try to speak he would find that it was too late, and that he could not open his mouth without choking on her saliva. His intended shriek would come out as little more than a gurgle as his head passed into Angela's throat and she sucked down his neck and widened her mouth to force in his broad shoulders.

Stephen tried to place his hands on her shoulders and force his way free, but the disorientation of having his head fully inside another human's body made any sort of a coordinated effort impossible. He merely flailed as she tore his jacket from his waving arms and forced his body further inside of her. Stephen continued to panic, but found that once she had worked her way up to his shoulders that struggling was simply too difficult and would not earn him his freedom. He would have to think of a clever plan. As clever as Stephen could be, however, with no oxygen coming to his brain that plan would never come. He would be effectively sedated by her smothering esophagus and he would drift in and out of consciousness as the rest of his body disappeared down Angela's gullet to settle in a massive bulge in her stomach. He would only awaken again for a moment later when the digestion process began, making his true final moments ones of confusion and white-hot burning agony. His last true memories, though, would be of sharing that tremendous kiss.

Angela plopped down at the foot of the door, exhausted from her domination of her date. Standing back up again would prove quite a task, but once she did, she was able to waddle around quite well and helped herself to a glass of the wine they had opened the night before. She sat herself down on the couch the two had shared the night before. They had finally gotten close to each other last night. They were closer tonight. They would be closer again tomorrow. She would not relinquish the man she'd speculated about for two years. She would not allow him to escape from her clutches and move out into the rest of the world And now she would never feel completely lonely when she went back to her one-bedroom apartment.

She looked at the unnecessary maintenance request form she had gotten him to sign. Sure, his bathroom hadn't been backed up, but it was best to be proactive about these kinds of things. Next week the maintenance crew would come in and find the bathroom absolutely filthy, clogged with the impossible deposit of her waste that Stephen would soon become, and they would dutifully clean it up. All that would be left of the mystery that was Stephen would be what remained inside of her. She sighed contentedly and lounged on the suede couch, waiting for digestion to begin. It really was a nice apartment, she thought as she looked around.

The high-waisted polyester pants finally dropped to Angela's ankles, just as Stephen had fantasized on a monthly basis for the last two years. Her ankles now seemed impossibly thin and frail in relation to her gorged state, as they quaked imperceptibly as she squatted and touched her porcelain skin to the porcelain bowl. Angela leaned back, allowing her stomach to extend, and spread her legs at the knees. Casually, she permitted the dainty fingers of her right hand to reach beneath the bulging mass to explore her clitoris. She stroked herself softly as the pressure built up and she began to evacuate her bowels of Stephen's remains.

Angela's moans mixed the physical discomfort of passing such a large movement with unique and complete sexual fulfillment. The perfect stranger was now completely known, completely close, and completely consumed. As her passions intensified and her fingers explored deeper, she bit her lower lip, showing that haunting, captivating, snaggletoothed smile.