3. Two Steps
Two Steps
Nadja lay facedown on the old, sagging mattress, her cheek pressed into the yellowed pillowcase.
The air in Karl’s bedroom was warm and stuffy.
The sour smell of sweat, stale smoke, and an old man’s body hung heavy in the room, making it hard for her to breathe.
With every hard thrust, she was driven deeper into the mattress.
Karl was taking her from behind. The weight of his bony body pressed heavily against her naked, sweat-slick back.
For the second day in a row, she had crossed a line she had never meant to cross.
Layer by layer, her respectable facade had peeled away.
Nadja no longer tensed the way she had the first time he touched her.
Her body had grown more sensitive, responding much faster, as though it had remembered far too quickly this rough, filthy pleasure she had tried to convince herself was disgusting.
Karl’s hard cock drove deep into her. He wasn’t attractive, wasn’t immaculately clean, didn’t smell like a well-groomed man the way Markus did. But this old man knew exactly how to make her lose her mind.
“Mrs. Keller’s pussy is so damn tight…” Karl’s panting breath hit the back of her neck, damp and reeking of tobacco. “How is that useless husband of yours supposed to satisfy you, hm? His cock’s way too small to reach where you really need it, isn’t it?”
Every filthy word hissed through his smoke-yellowed teeth. As he spoke, he gripped her hips even harder and thrust so deep that she felt the impact low in her belly.
“Faster, you pig… I have to get back!”
She struggled to force the words out, her face burning with shame. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, and she pressed her face deeper into the pillow as her thighs involuntarily spread wider beneath his rough hands.
Suddenly, the screen of her phone lit up on the nightstand. The harsh vibration cut through the thick, heated air.
Nadja flinched.
“Wait.” Her voice broke.
Karl stopped, visibly irritated by the interruption. His old hands remained firmly clamped around her hips, but he quit thrusting.
Nadja twisted her upper body and strained forward. With a trembling arm, she reached for the phone. The movement was difficult because Karl was still buried deep inside her and her entire body had gone soft from his hard thrusts.
Her fingers touched the screen. Two messages jumped out at her.
“I’m back.” “Where are you?”
Nadja’s eyes widened instantly. Ice flooded her veins. She hurriedly swiped down the screen.
“I’m coming home earlier than planned today, sweetheart. I’m already in a taxi from the station to the apartment. I’ll be home in about fifteen minutes. I brought you something nice.” “I love you.”
The messages were already fifteen minutes old.
Markus was back. Markus was right next door in their apartment. And she was lying here naked on the disgusting old neighbor’s bed while Karl was still buried deep inside her.
Nadja’s throat closed up. The lust in her head gave way to pure panic. But her lower body kept throbbing, her wet sex clenching greedily around him.
“Markus is back,” she whispered hoarsely.
Karl froze. For one brief moment, absolute silence settled over the room.
“I have to go.” Nadja spoke quickly and planted her elbows into the mattress to push herself up.
But Karl didn’t pull out. His ten fingers only dug deeper into her soft flesh, holding her mercilessly in place.
“I’m gonna come,” he murmured roughly. “Just a little longer.”
“Are you insane?” Nadja hissed in panic, looking back over her shoulder at him. “He can hear us!”
Karl bent forward, bringing his thin, nicotine-stinking lips close to her ear.
“Then be quiet, Mrs. Keller,” he whispered filthily. “Your husband is listening.”
The words made Nadja freeze. Her sex immediately clenched mercilessly around the hard shaft inside her.
The wall between the two apartments was paper-thin. Their apartment was directly next door.
Nadja gritted her teeth.
Karl started thrusting again. Slowly, but relentlessly. His rattling breath brushed the back of her neck as though he were waiting for her reaction.
Nadja knew she could simply shove him away. She could jump up, grab her clothes, and run home. But Markus was so close, separated from her by only a single wall.
And the urgent lust deep in her belly began devouring her again.
Her hands clawed into the tangled sheet. Her mouth stayed tightly shut, her eyes squeezed closed. For a moment she didn’t move.
Then she pushed her hips back the tiniest bit—barely noticeable, but an unmistakable answer to Karl’s thrust.
Karl immediately sped up again. His strokes came shorter, faster, even though he no longer let their bodies slap together as loudly as before.
Nadja had to keep her mouth closed. She swallowed every moan with effort. The faint creak of the mattress, Karl’s rough breathing, the frantic pounding of her own heart in her chest—everything suddenly sounded deafeningly loud.
She should have felt nothing but panic. But there was more than panic.
The thought that Markus was right on the other side, without the slightest idea that she was being fucked like this, drove Nadja’s arousal to an entirely new level.
Karl felt it. A filthy, satisfied groan escaped his throat.
“… I’m gonna come…” “… so good…” “… your pussy… so fucking good…”
His voice filled the room, hoarse and obscene. Nadja wanted to turn around, wanted to cover his mouth, beg him to be quiet.
But she didn’t dare.
Only choked, whimpering sounds escaped her throat now. Her legs spread even wider as if on their own, taking the old man’s hard, frantic thrusts without resistance.
Karl slammed deep into her three more times, forced a rough growl from his chest, and came deep inside her.
At the same moment, Nadja’s entire body arched tight. She bit hard into the pillowcase to smother her scream as her muscles convulsed through a massive climax.
Karl collapsed to the side, breathing heavily. His wrinkled face twisted into a grimace of satisfaction.
Nadja lay completely still.
She didn’t immediately jump up and scream at him. Not because she forgave him, but because the intense aftershocks of her orgasm were still running up her spine.
For a fraction of an insane, sick second, a thought flashed through her mind: she wanted to savor the filthy feeling a little longer. She wanted him to press his face between her thighs. Wanted to feel one more wave of pleasure before the illusion shattered.
But Markus was home. That name dragged her mercilessly back into reality.
She hurriedly grabbed the tissues from the nightstand and wiped herself with frantic, clumsy movements, as though she could somehow erase everything Karl had just left inside her.
With trembling hands, she reached for her clothes.
She quickly pulled on the thin camisole, which clung tightly to her damp breasts.
Then she tugged the soft silk sleep shorts over her hips and threw on the dark cardigan.
Nadja pinned up her tousled hair as best she could, rubbed roughly at her neck, and smelled her own skin to check whether the stale smoke was still clinging to her.
She forced her heartbeat to slow.
Karl lay sprawled on the bed, watching her through dull eyes. His mouth twisted into a mocking grin.
“Go, Mrs. Keller. Don’t keep your husband waiting too long.”
Nadja didn’t answer. She only shot him a hateful look, turned, and walked straight to the door.
Very quietly, she pressed down the handle. She opened the door a crack and peered outside. The musty hallway was empty. The stairwell lay in the peaceful silence of a quiet Sunday morning.
She slipped out and carefully pulled Karl’s door shut without a sound.
It was only two steps from Karl’s apartment to her own, but today the distance felt endless. With every step, it felt as though Karl’s semen were leaking out of her, wet against her thighs.
She pressed down the handle of her own apartment door. For one brief moment, she hesitated. Then the door opened.
The familiar, gentle scent of lavender flowed toward her and immediately wrapped around her. Everything inside was so flawlessly neat and clean that it almost felt cold.
Her gaze fell on the sofa in the middle of the living room.
Markus was asleep there.
His white shirt was wrinkled, the top buttons undone, the collar crooked from the long trip. On the immaculate glass table lay a bouquet of dark red roses and a long red velvet box.
Nadja exhaled silently. Her husband was asleep. He hadn’t noticed anything. She still had enough time to slip into the bathroom and shower.
But almost in the same breath, remorse seized her. Her husband was lying there completely exhausted, having brought her flowers and a gift, while at the exact same time she had been moaning with pleasure beneath the old neighbor directly behind that wall.
And what disgusted her most about herself was that her very first thought had been:
Thank God he’s asleep.
She breathed quietly and crept on tiptoe past the living room toward the bathroom. She wanted to turn the water scalding hot, scrub the soap hard over her skin, erase every last trace, and become the pure, clean wife again before Markus opened his eyes.
But as she passed the sofa, she stopped dead.
Markus was anything but peaceful in his sleep.
His face was twisted in pain. Cold sweat stood on his forehead.
His breathing was shallow and frantic. One hand had clenched convulsively around the edge of the cushion, as though he were trying to hold on at the edge of an abyss. His dry lips moved constantly.
“No… no…”
He murmured it in panic in his sleep. Nadja’s heart tightened painfully.
She knelt beside the sofa, gently placed one hand on his upper arm, and shook him lightly.
“Markus?”
He remained trapped in his nightmare. She shook him harder.
“What’s wrong? Markus, wake up!”
Markus’s eyes flew open.
For a few endless seconds, his gaze was unfocused and filled with naked horror. He stared at her as though he were seeing a ghost.
Her blood turned to ice. Fear closed around her throat.
Had he heard everything? Could he smell the old man’s sweat? Were the traces of her betrayal still visibly clinging to her?
Suddenly Markus jerked upright. He practically lunged forward and pulled her into his arms.
The embrace was so crushing that Nadja could barely breathe. He buried his face against her neck and clung to her like a drowning man who had managed to grab a piece of driftwood at the last possible second.
Nadja’s breath caught, her entire body rigid with shock.
It took an agonizingly long time before her trembling hands rose and hesitantly wrapped around her husband’s back. Slowly, she began stroking him and held him tight.
His face was pressed firmly against her neck.
Could he smell the stale cigarette smoke? Could he still detect Karl’s sweat on her skin? Could he tell that her body was trembling with pure guilt?
She didn’t know. But she knew she couldn’t possibly push him away in that moment.