Only Facials in the Building

Author's Note: This is another story within my ongoing series of story categories that I don't usually write in. In case you missed it, this one is in the 'Fetish' category. The fetish in this story involves semen. So, if that totally grosses you out, you should move on to one of my other stories or wait for my next one. In either event, this story is a little bit silly, so don't take it too seriously.

"First try!" I clapped my hands together at my success in managing to get my car into the parallel parking space along the street on my first attempt. I pulled my phone out of my purse and once again debated sending my friend Emily a text to let her know I was dropping by since I was in the neighborhood and was already practically in front of her building. She'd be happy to see me.

I strolled up the sidewalk to her building and was greeted with a smile from the doorman as I entered the lobby.

"Good morning, Miss Thompson." His deep voice rumbled in a way that didn't match his weathered face and slight frame. He sat his pen down and pushed his crossword puzzle aside and smiled.

"Good morning, Frank," I said, returning his smile.

"Beautiful morning, isn't it? Not too hot yet. They say it should be in the low 80s today."

"Yes, I'm looking forward to that," I said, fanning myself as I thought back to the recent heat wave.

"Haven't seen you around in a while. How've you been? Everything ok?"

"Everything's fine. Just been busy with work. I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd surprise Emily." I nodded toward the elevators. "Is she in, do you think?"

Frank appeared to check his mental log. "Oh, Ms. Anderson? Haven't seen her leave this morning, so I'd wager she's home. Though she had a gentleman caller about twenty minutes ago." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "He said it was a delivery, but I didn't see him carrying anything aside from a small plastic bag."

I laughed. "Probably just a slice of toast. Emily has the weirdest eating habits."

"Must be nice to have everything brought to your door these days," Frank said, returning to his crossword. "You go on up. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."

"Thanks, Frank," I said and headed for the elevator. The car traveled up to the 8th floor where the doors opened onto a quiet hallway. I stepped out onto the soft carpet and turned left and followed it to Emily's door. A sliver of light at the edge of her door caught my eye, and as I approached, I realized her door was dead-bolted open. Even as safe as the building might be, that wasn't like her. As I stepped up to the door, I lifted my hand to knock but was stopped cold by a sound from within Emily's apartment--the muffled but unmistakable sound of a man's groan. And not a groan of pain or exertion, it was definitely the sound of pleasure.

As far as I knew, Emily wasn't dating anyone, so of course my curiosity spiked. I leaned in closer to the door and strained my ears against the silence that followed. As the moments passed, my mind raced with all sorts of crazy thoughts and I started to wonder if I should leave. After all, I hadn't even told her I was coming by. But as my hand hovered in the air while I debated between knocking and leaving, I found myself considering less scandalous explanations.

Maybe she was watching something with the volume turned up. Or maybe she was on a video call.

Another sound drifted through the crack in the door, softer this time, followed by voices too low for me to make out. I leaned forward, straining to hear until the absurdity the situation hit me: here I was, a grown woman, standing in a hallway eavesdropping like a voyeuristic teenager.

I straightened my shoulders and decided to knock.

"The door's open, come in!" Emily's voice called from within the apartment.

I nudged the door open and poked my head in. My suspicion proved correct... at least the source of it. A man was standing on the far side of the apartment in Emily's breakfast nook while she sat stirring food in a bowl. He was tall with neatly cut but tousled dark hair and a solid build. My eyes drifted over his broad shoulders and continued down his arms to his hands which were joined at the crotch of his dark slacks as his fingers fumbled to refasten them. He turned slightly away from me as he did so.

"Valerie!" Emily shouted across the room, her green eyes wide. "What are you doing here?" Although she'd just told me to come in, her just-seen-a-ghost expression suggested she was expecting someone else.

I remained in the doorway, my hand still against the door, taking in the scene. Emily looked slightly disheveled with her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun. She was wearing a silky robe that was dangling off one shoulder revealing the strap of a gown or camisole underneath. Her cheeks were turning pink and there was a small white spot at the corner of her mouth that looked like milk.

"Oh... uhh... I'm so sorry. I was just passing by and thought I'd drop in. I should've texted first." I spoke quickly, feeling an overwhelming need to justify my presence despite her open door. "I'm sorry for interrupting. I can leave if..."

Emily recovered quickly and her wide-eyed look of surprise morphed into a warm smile. "Oh, don't be silly. You're not interrupting." She turned and glanced at the man. "He was just dropping off breakfast."

I nodded slowly. "Oh, ok." The only meal I saw was a single bowl of what looked like oatmeal on her table.

"Come in, come in," Emily insisted, waving me inside. "Don't just stand there in the doorway."

I stepped fully into the apartment and let the door close behind me, the deadbolt thumping against the doorframe.

For a moment, no one spoke. The awkwardness ratcheted up like a thermometer sitting in a pot of boiling water. I'd clearly caught them in the middle of... something. The man shifted from one leg to the other and wouldn't look me in the eye. Emily pulled her robe back up onto her shoulder.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "I'm really sorry for barging in," I said. "I should've texted."

Emily waved her hand dismissively. "Don't be silly. You know you're always welcome."

"Right," I nodded, trying to relax my own voice to match her casual tone. "Sorry to interrupt your breakfast."

"You're not interrupting. We were just finishing up." As she spoke, she casually wiped away the milk at the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah, I was just leaving," the man said, finally meeting my gaze for a brief moment as he shuffled across the apartment.

He looked a little overdressed for Grubhub or Uber Eats in his slacks and white button-up. Emily's 'breakfast' also seemed a little sparse given that it was just a single bowl of oatmeal. No containers of additional oatmeal. No evidence of any other food. No receipt. No plastic bag.

I stepped aside as he approached. "Nice meeting you," he mumbled as he passed by, adjusting his collar as he went.

As soon as he was out the door, I turned back to Emily. She was stirring her oatmeal with the focus of a doctor performing surgery.

"Soooo....," I said as I crossed the apartment toward her, "breakfast delivery?"

Emily kept her eyes on the bowl. "Yeah... I've been using a new service. They prepare the food fresh in your kitchen. Farm to table, all-natural ingredients." She stuffed a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth.

She was so full of shit. "Uh... huh," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "So, this service sends professionally dressed men to your apartment to cook for you?"

Emily swallowed and scooped up more oatmeal but paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth. "Well, they're not all professionally dressed. That's just... Mark. He comes from his other job." She took another bite, avoiding my gaze.

"Mark, the breakfast chef, who also works in business casual," I said, now failing to keep the skepticism out of my voice. "And he cooks just one bowl of oatmeal?"

"I already ate the rest," Emily said quickly. "He made eggs and toast too. I was just finishing up the oatmeal when you arrived."

I glanced around the immaculate kitchen. No dirty pans on the stove. No plates in the sink. No spilled food on the counter. Apparently, the cooking service must've also come with a magic fairy clean-up team.

I couldn't resist continuing to dig into her. "So, this 'Mark' comes to your apartment, cooks breakfast in your kitchen, completely cleans up everything, and then stays to watch you eat?"

Emily's forehead creased in a flash of irritation. "He was just checking that everything was to my satisfaction before he left." She dropped her spoon into the bowl which made a loud clang as the handle fell against the edge of the ceramic rim. Turning, she finally met my eyes directly. "What's with all the questions, Valerie? It's just breakfast."

She was pissed. She always called me 'Vally'.

I pinched my lips and hoped she couldn't see me smiling and lifted my hands to signal that I was giving up my interrogation. "Sorry, I was just curious about this service. It sounds interesting."

Emily's shoulders relaxed. "It's pretty great, actually." She returned to her oatmeal. After another bite, she asked, "Aren't you supposed to be at work? What brings you out this way? Shopping? Or were you just missing my charming company?"

"A bit of both. I took a half-day for a doctor's appointment, but he canceled last minute. I figured I'd indulge in a little retail therapy at that boutique around the corner." I went to sit across from her at the table. "Sorry again. Next time, I'll be sure to schedule my surprise visit after the breakfast rush," I said as I watched her stir her oatmeal further. "Any other cute home delivery services I should be aware of before I pop by unannounced? Personal fitness trainers?" I raised my eyebrows in mock hopefulness.

Emily scooped up a mouthful of oatmeal while smiling and shaking her head. "No, the fitness trainer was yesterday. Sorry." We both broke into laughter and chatted about current events: the latest drama in my office, the new gym she'd joined that she was convinced was a front for some kind of cult, and the barista who always drew hearts on her coffee cup but looked to be barely 18.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Emily said. "I got a new blend of essential oils that I really want you to try. It's lavender, ylang-ylang, sandalwood, and a touch of... oh what was it?" She touched her spoon to her cheek and turned her eyes to the ceiling, struggling to recall. "Hmm... it'll come to me." There was an odd inflection to her voice when she said the word 'come,' but I ignored it as she kept speaking. "The blend is supposed to stimulate all your senses, especially touch. It heightens your... umm... pleasures." We both giggled like middle school girls sharing a secret in the back of the classroom.

My eyes drifted down to a small puddle of white liquid glistening on the table next to her bowl. At first glance, it looked like spilled milk from her oatmeal. But as I studied it more carefully, I noticed it didn't quite have the look of milk. It was thicker and the light hit it strangely. In some spots, the light reflected off of it, and in other spots, it had a slightly translucent quality that milk didn't have. It also had an odd consistency that made it pool and maintain its shape rather than flatten completely and spread freely. It almost looked like--

"--And then she had the nerve to ask me to finish the reports after all that!" Emily concluded, shaking her head in disbelief at whatever office story she'd been recounting.

"That's wild," I said automatically, realizing I'd missed whatever she'd been saying while focused on the mysterious substance on the table. "I don't understand some people."

Emily nodded and took another bite of her oatmeal. As she looked down at her bowl, her eyes fixed on the puddle of white liquid and then quickly looked away. There was a flash of what looked like embarrassment on her face. "So, anyway," she continued, speaking slightly louder than necessary, "tell me about that guy you were seeing. Are you still seeing him?"

I began describing my short-lived romance with a guy I'd met at a housewarming. As I spoke, I couldn't help but notice how Emily angled herself slightly toward the spilled substance as if she was trying to block my view of it. She moved her free hand to rest on the table, fingers splayed, in a position that partially blocked the small puddle from my line of sight.

"Sounds like you dodged a bullet there," Emily said when I finished my dating update. She took a final bite of her oatmeal, scraping the bowl clean and then licking the spoon and her lips. "I had a similar experience last month with that guy from my yoga class. Total disaster. Good for my physical health, but bad for my mental health."

She laughed and launched into her own dating story, faltering for a second when my eyes fell back on the puddle. She became slightly more animated as if trying to recapture my attention. The slight hitch in her narrative was subtle, but it was enough to make it clear that whatever the substance was, it wasn't milk from her oatmeal and it wasn't something she wanted to address.

"Oh, speaking of healthy choices," Emily said, suddenly steering the conversation in a new direction, "I've been trying this amazing new nutritional program." She sat upright and launched into what I expected would be one of her wellness-enthusiast monologues.

She was always so excited about detailing her latest health discovery or her ever-changing dietary obsessions. Last year alone, she'd cycled through keto, paleo, and something called 'ancestral eating.' She was always on the hunt for the latest thing. And it didn't matter whether it was about food or anything else. Nothing about her was conventional. She was the perfect addition to my life which was often a little too conventional and devoid of risk-taking. She was the person I regularly turned to when I wanted to take a chance on something. I knew she'd encourage me to take it. 'You only live once.' She regularly challenged every fabric of my beliefs and encouraged me to look beyond my somewhat limited view of the world. Her open-mindedness was infectious.

"It's all about proteins and trace minerals," Emily continued. I nodded along, making appropriate noises of interest while my mind remained fixated on that small white puddle. "The results have been fantastic!" she said leaning forward but carefully keeping her elbows clear of the spill. "My energy levels are through the roof, my skin is glowing, and I've never felt more... ahem... vital."

The way she hesitated before saying 'vital' caught my attention. "Vital, you say?" I said, forcing myself to focus on her words rather than the substance that now seemed to fill my field of vision despite its small size. "What exactly are you eating on this program?"

As Emily gave a detailed explanation of her nutritional regimen, I found myself cataloging every milk alternative she'd tried over the years. There was almond milk, oat milk, coconut milk, rice milk, hemp milk...

I chuckled as my inner voice began to sound like Bubba from Forrest Gump.

"What is it?" Emily asked with a half-smile.

"Oh, no, sorry, it's nothing. I just remembered something from work. Please go on. You were saying the protein is sourced from a collective?"

Emily returned to her narrative while my mind returned to the puddled milky substance. For all I knew, it was probably just some expensive cashew-soybean milk hybrid that costs fifteen dollars an ounce.

As Emily kept speaking, her eyes followed mine to the spill. She became noticeably more uncomfortable with each glance until she casually reached for a napkin from the holder in the center of the table. Still speaking, she nonchalantly dabbed at a non-existent spot near her mouth, then let the napkin drop onto the table--directly over the mysterious white substance. "The research behind the raw proteins is fascinating," she continued without missing a beat, subtly pressing the napkin down to absorb the spill. She smoothly slid the now-damp napkin into her empty oatmeal bowl, effectively removing all evidence of the suspicious substance. The movement was so fluid, so natural, that if I hadn't been paying close attention, I might have missed it entirely.

"Raw proteins, huh?" I echoed while trying to maintain a neutral expression.

Emily nodded enthusiastically, visibly relieved now that the table was clean, and continued explaining the science. "I know it all sounds a little weird, but I swear I've never felt better. My whole body really responds to it."

The nutritional mumbo jumbo had gone over my head, and I had no idea what she was talking about but smiled and said, "Well, you definitely look great. Whatever you're doing seems to be working."

"Thank you! I'd be happy to connect you with my nutritionist if you're interested. He's really transformed how I think about food. In fact--"

A sharp knock at the door cut her off and startled me. She turned toward the sound with a look of recognition and concern as her eyes darted to me then back to the door.

"Oh," she said, sliding her chair back and catching her robe as it began to slide off her shoulder again. "That must be my... uhh... supplement delivery." She smoothed down her robe and tightened the belt around her waist before crossing the apartment to the door. "Coming!" she shouted, her voice a slightly higher register than she'd just been using with me. She paused at the mirror near the door and quickly ran her fingers through her hair and looked herself over.

Who pretties themselves up for a delivery man?

I shifted my position to get a view of the door so that I'd be able to satisfy my nosiness. Emily took a quick look through the peephole and then swung the door open. A man was standing and leaning against the door frame. With his lean build, low-cut beard, chiseled facial features, and immaculately combed hair, he looked like a movie actor who was trying too hard to play the role of 'handsome man #2.' He looked nothing like a delivery man. More than that, he had no bag, no package, no delivery container of any kind. He was dressed in business casual like the last 'delivery man.'

She playfully poked him in the chest. "You're awfully late, mister. What's your excuse this time?" Emily teased. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming." Her casual tone made it clear that this wasn't their first meeting.

"I'm so sorry," he stammered. "There was traffic, and then no parking--"

"Oh, hush." Emily shook her head and then stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. He took a step into the apartment, but his confident smile fell as he noticed me and he froze in front of the doorway.

"Oh... um... hi there," he mumbled as he rubbed his forearm. He'd almost instantly transformed, his earlier bravado evaporating. His eyes darted between Emily and me as if unsure how to proceed.

"Don't just stand there, silly," Emily laughed. "Come in," she said, walking away from the door.

The man hesitated. "I didn't realize you had company," he said softly. "Maybe I should come back another time?"

Emily put on an expression of fake exasperation. "Don't be shy. Get in here. This is my friend, Valerie. We were just catching up. Vally, this is..." She hesitated just long enough for me to notice. "He's delivering some dietary supplements I ordered."

I smiled and offered a small wave. "Nice to meet you."

He returned the smile but didn't offer his name. His posture relaxed slightly, and he stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him. Emily led him further into the apartment. Despite the ease in his steps, his eyes kept darting nervously in my direction.

"You have everything I ordered?" Emily asked.

"Oh, uhh, yes....," he stammered. "I have everything you requested." He patted his pocket as if to confirm something was there. "But, are you sure? Maybe we should reschedule... delivery since you have--"

Emily dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "Nonsense. It shouldn't take long. You can set them up back here." She nodded toward the hallway leading toward her bedroom.

The man's eyes widened slightly, darting once more in my direction. A faint flush of pink crept up his neck and into his cheeks. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose." His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. He was clearly uncomfortable with the visit.

Why wouldn't she just let the man leave?

She turned to me, her expression casual. "He's just dropping off those supplements I was talking about. We'll be right back."

My eyebrows lifted almost up across my forehead and into my hair. "Uhh... ok..." I responded.

Emily stuck out her tongue in mock teasing. "Oh, get your mind out of the gutter." She stopped and doubled back and picked up her TV remote and tossed it to me. I fumbled the catch but managed to hold onto it. "Here, watch some TV. We'll be right back."

"Sure, no problem. Take your time," I said.

Emily nodded and led the man toward her bedroom. He followed her with hesitant steps, seemingly still disturbed by my presence. Her bedroom door clicked shut, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment.

I might've been convinced that the man's visit was totally innocent but for the embarrassed glance he gave me as Emily led him down the hallway. I got up from the table and flopped onto her couch. I clicked on the TV, went to the guide, and wandered through the channels. She was one of the few people my age that still had cable.

Cooking show. News. Nature documentary. Nothing seemed particularly interesting... at least nothing as interesting as what I assumed was taking place behind Emily's closed door. A soft, sensual chuckle carried through the apartment as I settled on the movie 'Inception.' The sound sent a strange tingle down my spine. I turned up the TV volume slightly to give them privacy. As I stared at the screen, a cityscape lifted into the air and folded back over onto itself. I tried to focus on Leonardo DiCaprio's character as he explained the process of creating dream worlds to the newest member of his team, but my ears remained stubbornly tuned to the hallway leading to Emily's bedroom.

Another sound broke through, a soft moan from Emily. It was followed by words from the man, too low for me to make out.

My palms grew damp against the remote, and I realized I was holding it in a death grip. I forced my fingers to relax and sat the remote next to me but then immediately picked it back up, needing something to distract myself since the movie wasn't doing it.

A rhythmic sound began, subtle at first, then more distinct.

Were they...? No. Couldn't be. Not with me right out here in the living room.

I cranked up the volume on the TV another notch as secondhand embarrassment washed over me at the implication of the sound. Another giggle from Emily drifted through the walls, making me squirm.

Maybe they were just having a very enthusiastic high-five session? Or maybe they were trying out a new clapping game?

Either way, it didn't matter. It was none of my business. Still, I envied Emily's openness to indulge in sexual pleasure. The last guy I'd dated had insisted on boring, conventional, conservative missionary-position sex. And he wouldn't kiss me at all if I blew him. And he didn't like me to see him cumming. I only let the relationship go on for as long as I did because he was a good kisser and was usually fun to be around. But it eventually became unbearable. I couldn't handle plain, vanilla sex over and over. There were times I wanted to scream at him to just bend me over, pull my head back by the hair, and take me.

Despite the increased volume on the TV, the sexual noises from Emily's bedroom cut through with perfect clarity. The rhythmic sounds increased in tempo, growing more insistent. I could hear the man's breathing now too, heavy and strained. Emily made a muffled noise that sounded like encouragement. Was she on her hands and knees in her bed with him fucking her doggystyle? Was her face down with her ass in the air? A distinct mental image formed in my head, and I bit my lip, surprised at the heat spreading through my body. This was my friend. I shouldn't be listening... shouldn't be visualizing... shouldn't be responding. Yet, here I was, my skin prickly hot, nipples hard, crossing and uncrossing my legs.

The slapping noises reached a frantic pace then stopped abruptly. There was a moment of silence followed by a low, rumbling groan from the man. There was a light cough from Emily followed by her hushed voice and then a giggle.

"Well, that was certainly... something," I whispered to myself. I desperately snapped my attention back to the TV and tried to focus on the Leo's team preparing for their mission. My face felt hot, my breathing shallow. I tucked my hair behind my ear with trembling fingers then smoothed it back again, unable to keep still.

The silence from Emily's bedroom stretched on, feeling like an eternity, but then I heard a few low murmurs and then the clicking sound of the doorknob being opened. I forced my body to relax and tried to look like I was completely absorbed in the movie and hadn't be listening to them fucking. I kept my eyes on the screen as the sound of footsteps carried down the hallway, but in my peripheral vision, I saw the man pass by the couch. His appearance was noticeably different from when he'd arrived--hair disheveled, shirt partially untucked in the back. His face was damp despite the apartment's cool temperature.

"Thanks for the drop-off," Emily's voice called from down the hallway.

"Right, of course," he replied. "I'll... umm... see you next week then."

He lifted his eyes to me, and his face turned a deep crimson. "It was nice to meet you." He offered a shy wave and then turned to the door, fumbling with the handle in his haste before getting the door open and slipping out.

Two men. Two men avoiding eye contact. Two men avoiding eye contact after having been wrapped up with Emily in very suggestive behavior.

Before I could ponder further, the sound of running water caught my attention. A few moments later, Emily strolled out like nothing was going on while carrying a fluffy white towel in one hand and using her other to rub something into her cheeks and around her chin. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail that hadn't existed before, and her robe was tied more securely around her waist.

"Sorry it took so long," she chirped, flopping down on the couch beside me. "After dropping off the supplements, he helped me with a quick... consultation... on a paint scheme for my bedroom."

I couldn't stop myself from countering her explanation. "What was that noise?"

"Oh... and help hanging a picture."

I was 98.7% sure she was lying. She hadn't mentioned anything about paint schemes when he showed up. And I would've been surprised that her building allowed her to paint any of the apartment walls. And then there was the 'picture.' I debated whether to ask about it because I was almost certain the 'hammering' I'd heard was that guy hammering her body.

Emily tucked her legs under herself. "Oh, I love this movie."

I shifted uncomfortably, the couch's leather suddenly feeling too warm against my thighs. As she began chattering away, my mind remained unsettled. What exactly was she up to? I watched her animated gestures as she spoke, but I could hardly hear her. My ears were still hearing the male groaning in her apartment when I first arrived and the sensual sounds from her bedroom a short time ago. My mind replayed the hasty, flustered exits of two men from her apartment.

I wasn't an idiot... not a complete idiot. She had been doing something.

But as I opened my mouth to pry into it, I hesitated. Even though she was generally open about her sexual exploits, she'd chosen to keep whatever was going on a secret. As her friend, I needed to respect that.

She waved her hand in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts. She let out a melodic laugh as my eyes refocused. "You look like you're solving world hunger over there. What's on your mind?"

I smiled and shook my head. "Well... maybe not world hunger. I was just thinking about what to grab for lunch later."

Emily raised an eyebrow, apparently not buying my explanation, but didn't push. "If you're open to suggestions, I know this great little taco place around the corner. Their carnitas are to die for."

"Are we talking real tacos or Taco Bell tacos?"

Emily laughed again and described the menu. As she was explaining the contents of the spicy red salsa, we were interrupted by a series of hard raps on the door. Emily's eyes shot to the door.

My eyebrows rose involuntarily. "Another... delivery?"

"Excuse me for just a sec," Emily said as she got to her feet. I leaned back into the couch cushions, stretching my back and neck in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her visitor.

Emily paused at the mirror as she had done before the last visitor and looked herself over. She smoothed her hair and then pulled open the door, but her visitor was out of view. "Finally!" Emily said. "I didn't think you'd ever... come." There was a playfulness in her tone but also a slight hint of irritation.

I couldn't hear the muffled reply, but it was man's voice. Again.

Emily responded, but she dropped her voice too low for me to make out. The man responded again. I titled my head toward the voices, trying to connect the dots, but the details remained just out of reach beyond the door frame and the thick apartment walls.

"Right here?" the man asked, loudly enough for me to hear.

Emily turned her head in my direction, a huge smile on her face, and then turned back to the doorway and shushed the man. He said something else and Emily nodded. She turned back to me again. "I'll be back in a moment," she called out.

"Sure, take your time," I said. What else could I say?

Emily smiled and stepped out and shut the door behind her--almost shut. The deadbolt was still keeping it slightly ajar. I stared at the back of it, blank and bare like my mind. What was she doing? I knew I should respect her privacy, but this was becoming too much.

I waited a full minute, counting the seconds in my head. As carefully and quietly as I could, I rose from the couch and tiptoed across the room like a cartoon villain up to no good. With my heart pounding, I paused at the door, my face inches from the peephole, and tried to talk myself out of looking. If Emily wanted to share what was going on, she'd tell me. Still, if my visit was such an intrusion, the decent thing to do would've been to ask me to come back another time.

I leaned forward and pressed my face to the peephole. A hallway. The door across the hallway. The faint hallway lighting.

I stepped back from the door and only debated with myself for the briefest moment before grabbing the door handle. As slowly as I could manage, I eased the door open just wide enough for me to look through while holding my breath. If I hadn't been holding my breath, the sight before me would've taken my breath away.

Emily was on her knees in the dimly lit hallway, her long blonde ponytail gently swaying back and forth with the movements of her head. A man in a suit was standing in front of her with his pants pushed down and leaning against the wall with his face turned to the ceiling. He had one hand on Emily's head, gently guiding it. I couldn't see from my angle exactly what Emily was doing, but it didn't take a brain surgeon to know that she was blowing him.

My entire body was frozen in place, leaving me struggling for words. But what would I say even if I could speak? As horrified as I was, it made perfect sense with everything else that had been going on in Emily's apartment this morning. I knew she was a bit of a strange woman and had gotten stranger recently. But it was clear that she was more than strange--she was an absolute sex fiend.

"Keep it together," I silently said to myself. But when I moved to reenter the apartment, my body wouldn't budge. My feet were rooted to the floor. I didn't have a voyeuristic bone in my body, but I couldn't stop watching my friend suck cock in a semi-public hallway.

Emily's smooth movements suggested this wasn't her first encounter with this man. He staggered for a moment, and Emily temporarily fell back on her heels. She giggled and went back to work on him. The man's stagger had slightly shifted their position, and I could now clearly see her mouth gliding back and forth along his shaft. Her hands gripped his thighs for balance as she took him deep into her mouth. The wet sounds from her mouth carried clearly through the crack in the door, each slick noise sending a spark through my body. The man's breathing grew heavier and more ragged as Emily increased her pace. His hand on her head grabbed the ponytail and became more forceful as he moved her head and began to thrust into her mouth.

"That's it," he said, his voice barely audible. "Just like that."

Emily hummed in response. His hips jerked forward, probably in response to the vibration she caused with her mouth.

It was all almost too much for me to bear. The groans from the man. The quiet moans of enthusiasm from Emily. The strained muscles in his neck. What was she thinking? What would possess her to give a blowjob right in the middle of the hallway where anyone going in or out of an apartment on this floor would see? And what about her earlier activities?

At this point, I had no doubt she'd been fucking the guy who came to 'hang the painting.' And she'd been doing something similar with the guy in her apartment when I first showed up. But why? I liked sex as much as the next woman, but she'd had three guys in an hour. I was hesitant to call her a slut or a whore, but this was crazy.

Emily pulled back slightly and licked him along his glistening shaft before swirling her tongue around the tip and then taking him back into her mouth. The wet, rhythmic sound of her blowjob grew louder as she increased her pace and the saliva built up around her mouth. A deep groan rumbled in his throat, and his hips began moving more deliberately as he fucked her mouth. He pressed the hand not gripping her hair against the wall behind him as if to balance himself.

"I'm close," he warned, his voice strained.

Emily pulled back, her hand replacing her mouth as she looked up at him. The two of them exchanged words that I couldn't make out. She grinned and then leaned back slightly, tilting her face upward while continuing to stroke him. A few seconds later, the man's body tensed, his jaw clenching as he tried to remain quiet. Emily's hand was a blur. Thick white streaks suddenly leapt from the tip of his cock and painted her face. Her forehead. The bridge of her nose. Her lips. Her mouth. Her chin. Her cheeks. It was everywhere.

Instead of looking disgusted or even surprised, she looked deeply satisfied as she milked the last drops from him onto the floor between them. She whispered something that made him laugh breathlessly.

I stumbled backward, suddenly aware of how wrong this was. As gently as I'd opened the door, I gently let it close on the deadbolt. I scurried back to the couch with my heart thundering like a drum solo. My face was burning hot, and my breathing was shallow. I shifted my sitting position multiple times trying to look like I hadn't been watching Emily suck cock in the hallway. I puckered my lips and let out a quick puff of air while pulling out my phone and pretending to be totally engrossed in it.

Emily swept the door open and sauntered in as if nothing had been going on. She was rubbing something into her skin--the same motion I'd seen after the previous visitor left. This time, I knew exactly what she was rubbing in, and the knowledge of it made my stomach roll over.

"Sorry about the interruption. Just one of my neighbors."

I nodded but couldn't form any words. The scent of a cum seemed to radiate off of her, but it was probably just my imagination.

"Are you feeling alright, Vally You're looking a little... ill." There was genuine concern in Emily's voice.

"Yeah--uhh, I'm fine. Just a little hungry. Blood sugar's probably low" I said, speaking quickly.

Emily patted my knee. "Sweetie, you need to take better care of yourself."

"Maybe you could teach me some of your self-care techniques." I almost clasped my hand over my mouth in surprise at what I'd said. The words had slipped out in a mix of fascination and irritation about whatever Emily had been up to all morning. I was sick of being kept in the dark. But despite my slip, I stared her down, waiting for a response.

Emily let loose with a melodic laugh that instantly washed away the tension. "Yes, I have some things I can show you. But first, coffee. Let's go to that place on the corner. They have those almond croissants you love. Just give me few minutes to change." She got to her feet and strolled to her bedroom. She returned ten minutes later looking completely transformed in a yellow sundress with her hair styled in loose waves and a touch of flawlessly applied makeup. Gone was the disheveled woman in a silk robe who'd been rubbing semen into her face.

Emily finally took the deadbolt off as we left. She locked the door and double-checked it with a tug--a habit I'd always attributed to her cautious nature but now wondered if it had more to do with protecting her privacy.

When we reached the building lobby, the security desk sat empty. Frank must've been on break. We continued on and walked past the mail area and a row of mailboxes toward the exit. Our path took us past the package room, a small office with a counter window where larger deliveries were stored. The window counter also functioned as the door into the room. The lights were on inside, and as we approached, a man with tousled dark brown hair who looked about five years younger than us looked up from his phone. His face brightened when he saw Emily.

"Hey, Emily," he called through the open window. "Frank's on break, we can go in and--" His words caught in his throat when he spotted me.

Emily stopped and turned toward him with a broad smile. "The package, you mean? It's ready for me?"

The man's eyes drifted to me and then back to her. "Yes... the package. I have it in here." He spoke slowly, clearly trying to catch up to whatever lie Emily was forming. There was a familiarity between them that went beyond normal building staff interaction.

"What time do you think Frank will be back?" Emily asked.

"Probably soon. He's been gone awhile," the man responded.

"Maybe I should... inspect that package before I leave. Just to make sure it's what I ordered."

The man's eyebrows shot up and he glanced at me then back at Emily. "Right now?"

"Yeah, it shouldn't take long, right?" She turned to me. "Sorry, Vally. Can you give me just a minute. They're holding a package for me that I've been waiting for. I just want to check it out to see whether I need to send it back."

I had my doubts about the truth of what she was saying, but her expression remained perfectly innocent. "No problem," I replied. "I'll wait here."

She smiled and turned back to the window counter. The man opened the door to allow Emily to slip through and then shut it along with the top half containing the window and counter.

I stood alone in the hallway wondering why they needed to shut the door in order for Emily to inspect a 'package.' But I already knew the answer. I tried not to think about what was surely happening inside the small room, but the memory of what I'd already witnessed came rushing through my mind.

A minute passed. Then two. How long did it take to open a box and look through the contents?

A muffled thump came from inside the package room, like something heavy being placed on a counter--or someone being pushed against it.

I scratched the side of my neck and strolled down to the security desk, trying to put some distance between myself and the temptation that was building within me to go check on what was happening inside the package room. I drummed my palms on the security desk and glanced down at Frank's crossword puzzle. Picking it up, I looked over the clues for the spaces he hadn't filled in. But try as I might, my curiosity gnawed at me. I told myself that I'd give it another two minutes and then knock on the door, 'just to check on them.' But 15 seconds later, I was already walking back up the hallway to the door.

I approached the package room door with my heart spinning. The small rectangular window was positioned at eye level. Its glass was slightly smudged from countless fingers but was plenty clear enough. I hesitated for a second, my conscience screaming that this was yet another violation of Emily's privacy. Whatever was happening inside wasn't meant for my eyes, hence the closed door. But the pull of curiosity was stronger than my sense of propriety. I leaned forward, positioning my face next to the glass and cupping my hands around my eyes to block out the glare. My suspicions were correct.

Emily was bent over the counter, her sundress hiked up around her waist, exposing her pale bare ass to the package room attendant who stood behind her. She wasn't wearing underwear, and that made me wonder whether she'd left the apartment without any. The younger man had his pants pushed down to mid-thigh, his hands gripping Emily's hips as he thrust into her with steady but gentle strokes. The counter where Emily was bent over was cluttered with delivery slips and a scanner which she gripped with one hand to steady herself against the attendant's thrusts. Her face was turned to the side, resting on her other forearm. Her expression was pure bliss with her eyes half-closed, lips parted, and cheeks flushed.

Heat rushed to my face, spread down my neck, and swam across my chest in a wave of secondhand embarrassment. What was wrong with her? Was this how she spent her days now? Entertaining any guy who came over from his office for a late-morning fuck-and-suck?

Through the door, I could hear the muffled sounds of Emily's soft moans and the slap of the package attendant's thighs against her ass cheeks. His deep grunts of exertion also carried through to my ears. I didn't think their sounds were loud enough to carry down the hallway, but pressed against the door as I was, they were as clear to me as if I was in the room.

The attendant slid one hand up Emily's back and gathered a handful of her hair in his fist and gently pulled it, making her raise up from the counter and arch her back into a steep curve. She pushed back against him, her mouth opening in a gasp of heightened pleasure. The man increased his pace, thrusting into Emily more forcefully, deepening the sound of their smacking skin. Emily's brow furrowed as their tempo increased and her hand drifted between her legs and touched herself.

My breathing became shallower as I continued to watch even though I was appalled at my voyeurism. This was a private moment that I shouldn't be watching, but I couldn't move away from the window. There was something almost hypnotic about the way they moved that kept me anchored in place. The sight of them was igniting a fire in my core and spreading heat across my body in undeniable arousal.

The man's thrusts became shorter and quicker, his cheeks puffing out with labored breathing. The muscles in his forearms tensed as he gripped Emily's hips tighter. Emily's eyes were closed, and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. She was still gripping the scanner with one hand as if holding on for dear life.

"Unngghhh... oh yeah... I'm gonna--fuck!" He gave Emily one last strong thrust that rocked her forward and then pulled out.

Emily smoothly twirled around like an ice skater and dropped to her knees in one fluid motion, her sundress falling back into place around her thighs. Having already witnessed her episode in the hallway, I already knew where she'd want it. And even though I'd already seen it, I was still shocked by it. She looked up at him with eager anticipation as he rapidly stroked himself in front of her. He took a step closer, and with a restrained groan, began to ejaculate onto her upturned face, sending thick white ropes streaking across her face. Just as in the hallway, Emily didn't flinch or pull away. Instead, she brought her face closer, making sure to catch every drop on her skin. She was really and truly savoring the moment. There wasn't an ounce of disgust or resignation or even the phony enthusiasm of someone faking enjoyment.

When the attendant finished, he shuffled two steps around her and reached for a small box of tissues on the counter and offered them to Emily. She shook her head, drawing a smile from the man. I continued to look on as she began to massage the fluid into her skin with her fingertips, just as she'd done upstairs. She moved her fingers across her face methodically, ensuring every drop was absorbed into her skin.

My stomach lurched and I frowned. The sight was enough to finally propel me away from the door. But even as I stared at the blank hallway wall, my eyes replayed the image of Emily kneeling and rubbing cum over her face like moisturizer.

What was wrong with her? What was truly wrong with her? Cum upstairs, cum downstairs. Cum on her face, cum in her hair. Once again, I was hesitant to mentally refer to her as a 'cum slut' or something equally derogatory, but it fit. She was a cum-crazed whore. But what did it say about me given that I'd watched her take two facials now in less than an hour?

There was a rustle of movement inside the room and quiet conversation. I moved further away from the door and retrieved my phone, pretending that I'd been looking at it the whole time. Emily emerged from the package room looking content with her head held high and shoulders back. Her sundress hung perfectly around her knees without a wrinkle to suggest it had been bunched around her waist just moments ago. Her hair was slightly mussed, but in a way that looked intentional rather than the result of a man's grip.

"Sorry that took so long," Emily said with the casual tone of someone who'd just come back from picking up dry cleaning. "I needed to go through the whole box to see what actually came."

I knew what actually came--it was making her skin glow. "No problem at all," I said, trying to sound unconcerned. "Did everything check out ok?"

Emily brushed her fingertips along her cheek. "Oh... umm... yes. Everything was fine. I'll get it later. Coffee time." She stepped forward and linked her arm through mine and led me out onto the bustling sidewalk.

My legs felt strangely disconnected from my body and carried me down the street on auto-pilot while my mind raced. I was walking next to a woman who had just been bent over a package counter getting fucked and then ejaculated onto by the package attendant like it was as normal as picking up the mail.

"So, what kind of latté are you thinking?" Emily asked. "I'm feeling adventurous. Maybe I'll try that new lavender honey one they've been advertising.

I nodded silently, still processing what I'd seen in the package room. "Yeah, sounds good," I mumbled.

Emily nudged me playfully. "Earth to Vally! You ok? You seem a million miles away."

I forced a smile. "Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. Just thinking about work stuff."

As we continued walking, I wrestled with my conflicting emotions. I was still shocked by everything I'd seen, disgusted even. But part of me was a little envious of this uninhibited approach to life. Emily had just had several men over the course of the morning, two of them in public. And now she was walking down the street with cum drying on her face. I didn't even like wearing white t-shirts in public for fear that people could see my bra through it.

The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans enveloped us as Emily and I stepped into the coffee shop. I scanned the menu and prepared to place my order, but Emily spoke first.

"Two medium lavender honeys please. Sugar, no cream in both." She flashed me a strange smile. "Trust me, Vally. I've got this amazing new creamer back at my place you have to try."

I was wary. The last thing I wanted was to try a weird thing she'd recently stumbled onto like dirt-infused housefly spit. "I don't know... you know how particular I am about my coffee."

"Live a little! When have I ever steered you wrong?" Her eyes sparkled with a playful challenge.

"Fine," I grumbled. "But if this new creamer ruins my coffee, you owe me big time."

Emily squealed and hugged me. "You won't regret it!"

After we grabbed our cups, we left and began our return to her building. As we walked, Emily's phone chimed. She glanced at it and quickly tapped a reply text. I wanted to ask who it was, but she didn't say, so I didn't pry. Instead, I asked about the creamer. She'd probably discovered it on Tiktok.

"Tell me more about your new magical creamer. What makes it so special?"

Emily's eyes gleamed. "Oh, you have no idea. It's going to open up a whole new world of flavor for you."

When we got off the elevator on Emily's floor and walked down the hallway, I spotted a man leaning against the wall near her door. His crisp baby blue shirt contrasted with his striking red hair. Emily's pace quickened as we approached and she ended up a few steps ahead of me. The man glanced briefly at me then focused his eyes on Emily. She said something quietly to him which made his eyes flick to me again. I immediately thought of the other guys that had been in and out of her apartment already.

Emily turned back to me and said, "Vally, this is John. Local handyman. He's here to fix my shower head. John, this is my good friend Valerie. You can call her Vally."

"Hi... uhh, Vally," he said, stepping around Emily and extending his hand.

"Good to meet you," I said, taking his hand and feeling myself melt at his firm grip and piercing gray eyes. His gaze held mine for a moment, making heat flood into my cheeks.

I could certainly use a handyman like this.

Emily pushed her door open and gestured us inside. "I've been having an issue with the shower pressure," she explained.

"Yeah... I think I can take care of that," John said.

"Here, I'll take these," Emily said, taking my coffee cup from me and putting it on her breakfast nook table along with hers. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable?"

"Sure," I nodded. Yay, back to the couch. I moved over to it, scooping up the TV remote as I sat.

Emily led John down the hallway, and I heard the shower turn on. I turned on the TV and scrolled through the viewing options, finally settling on a cooking show where the host was discussing gourmet desserts. Despite my best efforts to focus on chocolate-covered strawberries, my mind drifted down the hallway. Something unsettling stuck in my brain, and it wasn't just the fact that Emily's handyman seemed a little overdressed for someone who made minor apartment repairs. There was something else--John didn't have a single tool with him.

Moments passed and I strained my ears, trying to pick up something between the monologue from the chef on TV and the sound of the running shower. And then I heard it--low voices and Emily's laugh. And the sounds were most definitely coming from Emily's bedroom, not the bathroom.

Why did she even bother putting on a front? If she wanted to fuck every guy in the city, why should I care? But I did care. I cared so much that I picked up the TV remote, and instead of thumbing the button to turn up the volume, I tapped the button to lower the volume two notches.

What were they doing now? Was he touching her? Was she on her knees sucking him off? Did he have her bent over the side of her bed? Was her dress still on?

I swallowed hard and tried to put the thoughts out of my head, but I could already feel the draw. Something was pulling me toward the hallway, and I only resisted for the briefest moment before I gave in. Wiping my damp palms on my blouse, I rose from the couch and crept down the hallway, praying that the floor wouldn't creak.

Her door was fully closed. It wasn't deadbolted open. There was no window in the door. I should've turned and walked back to the couch and went back to learning about different varieties of chocolate and how they paired with fruit. Instead, I placed my ear against the door.

"Oh, yes, right there," Emily moaned, her voice breathy. Beneath her moans was the sound of a squeaking bed.

The mystery was solved. John wasn't here to fix her shower head. He was here to fuck her. But I already knew that. And now that my curiosity was satisfied, I should've returned to the couch. But the sick voyeur within me reached out and placed my hand on the door knob. The metal felt like ice against my palm. I only debated with myself for about one second before twisting it as slowly as I could manage. When it reached its limit, I gently eased the door ajar. Even though I saw what I had expected to find, it didn't keep my jaw from falling open.

Emily was lying on her back on her bed with her legs raised high in the air and resting on John's broad shoulders. He stood at the edge of the bed, his pants around his ankles and his blue shirt fully unbuttoned to reveal a muscled chest dusted with reddish hair. His hands gripped Emily's thighs as he thrust into her with solid strokes that rocked her body. Her sundress was nowhere in sight. Her breasts, capped with rose pink nipples, wobbled on her chest as John fucked her. Her eyes were closed and soft gasps and moans escaped from her open mouth.

As I continued to watch, two white objects on the nightstand next to the bed caught my eye--our cups from the coffee shop. I hadn't noticed Emily take them with her. The last I'd seen, she'd put them on the table. But I'd been distracted by John's presence at the time.

What were the cups even doing in here?

"Harder," Emily commanded while reaching down to rub herself while John continued to pump into her. He complied and increased his pace, the tails of his shirt flapping in the air with the sway of his hips. Emily gripped the sheets with her free hand, and her body tensed. "Keep going... oh fuck..." She tightened her jaw and began screaming through her clenched teeth, sounding like a wild animal. A flush of pink spread across her face, neck, and upper chest.

"So beautiful," John whispered as he fucked her through her orgasm. When her breathing gradually began to subside, he leaned forward against her legs and drove into her with another level of strength. The clap of their colliding skin sounded like splitting wood. The bed howled beneath them as John kept going. "Fuck yeah..." he grunted and then pulled out of Emily with a wet, sucking sound.

As he withdrew, Emily sat up and reached toward the nightstand and grabbed the coffee cups. John's face looked pained as he held himself and tried to hold back. She rolled toward him and positioned the cups and her face level with his cock. As soon as she was in position, it looked like a dam broke and a geyser of cum sprayed from John's tip. He aimed himself at the cup in Emily's left hand, sending white liquid into the dark beverage. A spurt splashed across Emily's face, making her giggle as he continued stroking himself and shifted his cock to aim at the cup in her other hand. He sent a shot into the coffee and then turned again and milked the rest of his cum onto Emily's grinning face. When he finished, he ran the head of his still-hard cock across her cheek and lips, depositing the final traces and rubbing the rest of it across her skin.

I eased the door closed and turned, my hand covering my open mouth. Stumbling backward and nearly tripping over my own feet, I hurried back to the couch. Only when I got there did I dare remove my hand. "What the actual fuck?"

I didn't have long to ponder what I'd just seen. There was a sound of movement in the hallway and then a quiet shuffling of feet. The shower turned off, and then John called out. "I think that should do it."

"Oh, that's great! Thank you so much for that!" Emily said from the breakfast nook as if she'd been in there for the past several minutes.

John came back down the hallway, tucking in his shirt. "Just give me a call if it starts acting up again." He turned to me and stared with a gaze that simultaneously made me feel visible and transparent. There wasn't an ounce of the nervous energy shared by the previous guys who'd visited Emily. There was nothing but cool self-assurance. "Nice to meet you, Vally." He smiled and exited, leaving me with my hand hanging in the air in a weak wave.

"Coffee's getting cold," Emily called over her shoulder. "I already added that creamer I told you about."

My stomach felt nauseous as she turned, carrying both cups toward the living room. Steam was still rising from them and both now had a medium brown hue. She extended one of the cups toward me. My hand froze in the air halfway to accepting it, knowing what it contained. I forced myself to take the cup.

Emily sat beside me on the couch, settling into the cushions with a small, satisfied sigh. I looked on in horror as she took a sip of her coffee, closing her eyes as she swallowed. "Perfect...," she said. She stared ahead, her eyes looking hazy for a moment, before turning back to me. "Try it while it's still warm."

I held the cup out away from my body as if it might explode. It was hot against my skin but was nothing compared to the heat of embarrassment and self-consciousness bubbling inside me. "I..." My voice faltered as I struggled to find words. What could I say? 'No thanks. I was spying on you having sex in your bedroom and saw your friend cum in the cups.'

Emily watched me, her green eyes glinting with anticipation. "It's just coffee. And the creamer is good for you and tastes good too. It's also high in protein, vitamins, and minerals. And believe it or not, it's also good for the skin." She took another long sip.

I glanced from the cup to Emily's face, noting how her skins did actually seem to glow almost from within. Was it possible that what she was saying was actually true? Or was it just the power of suggestion?

My thoughts tumbled over one another in a chaotic stream. I'd never tasted semen before. Even though I considered myself somewhat sexually liberal, I tended to avoid it altogether. Whenever a guy had tried to finish in my mouth or on my face, I'd redirected him elsewhere: my breasts, my hands, the bed, the floor--the side of a bookbag. Sorry, Beverly.

Yet, despite that, here I sat, contemplating willingly drinking coffee laced with a stranger's cum.

Emily tapped the side of my cup with her fingertips. "Bottoms up."

I took a deep breath, and before I could talk myself out of it, I raised my trembling hand and lifted the cup to my lips. I took a small sip and swallowed, waiting for disgust to come. The familiar bitterness of coffee came first, followed by something else. Salty. Sweet. It lingered in the back of my throat. "Hmm." I found myself taking another sip, larger this time, analyzing the flavor more carefully. There was no denying that the 'special creamer' actually complimented the coffee in a way I never would've expected.

Emily, who had been watching me intently over the rim of her cup said, "Well?"

"It's... not what I expected," I admitted, still trying to process my reaction to it. "It's actually kind of... nice?"

A broad smile spread across Emily's face. "I told you." She reached over and squeezed my knee. "Most people have so many hangups and preconceptions about tastes and textures and everything else. But there's nothing wrong with healthy, natural living. There are so many beneficial things right outside your window that you would never know are good for your body and taste good too." She raised her cup in a small toast.

I took another sip, still marveling at my own willingness to continue drinking. There was something about crossing this line that felt strangely liberating. If I could do this, what other assumptions about myself might be worth challenging?

"Vally, if you really like the coffee, this new program I'm on will totally blow your mind." A sly smile spread across her face and she cast her eyes to the side. "It's a little... unconventional. But your skin will thank you, your food will never taste as good, and you'll feel more alive than you've felt in years."

I raised my eyebrows and tried to look surprised and interested. "Really? What is it?"

Emily, still grinning, bit her lower lip. "Give me a second. I need to text someone."