My wife and I check out a new apartment. The landlord is older, rich, tall and handsome. They flirt and he touches her during the viewing as though I don't even exist. Afterward, she begs me to call him and ask if she can have another look at the place, alone this time. It hurts but I do it. Later, with more than a hint of cruelty, she tells me what happened up there.
“I saw your picture at the bus stop!” Her white teeth shine in a full, enchanted smile. She gazes at the tall man in front of her.
Barry. The real estate agent showing us this overpriced condo is a bit of a local celebrity for the ubiquitous ads at bus stops and corner store windows. There’s a dashing streak of grey in his slicked-back hair. He’s around fifty but strikingly handsome, tanned, smiley, confident. He’s got everything I don’t, especially money, judging by his clothes and perfect teeth.
He opens the door wide to let us, or rather, her, inside. He doesn’t seem to be aware of my presence.
“Hey, Barry!” I say stupidly. “I see your picture, like, everywhere!”
He gives me a dismissive, “Yeah,” without even looking at me. His eyes are on her, or rather, all over her. She smiles at him, drinking in his gaze, standing erect to give her tits some emphasis. He openly stares at him. She wiggles flirtatiously as though she’s already getting wet.
She bounces past him into the modern kitchen. He whirls around. Even from behind, I can feel his eyes on her body. She subtly wiggles her ass then turns to him and puts both hands on the counter, squeezing her round C’s together oh so lusciously.
“Please don’t do that,” I think, too scared to say anything.