The Apartment

By Trixie T

For Hope, having to deal with the sudden death of her father is hard enough, however the discovery of what he has left behind for her to deal with threatens to push her over the edge. Right or wrong aside, watching from the viewing room may be just what she needs to once again enjoy life and experience love unfathomable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WSIC EBooks Ltd.
• Release date: Dec 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781927526859

Trixie T

Trixie T is a young author just getting into her own, in more ways than one. Trixie has been WSIC EBooks Ltd. best selling author for six months running. Join her in her sexual odyssey and enjoy. Note from Trixie: Hello folks, I recently had a request from a dear friend of mine to help him fulfill his fantasy and if you know anything about me, it is that I am all about fulfilling fantasies. His fantasy intrigued me...write a book about my fantasies, my realities...I am really enjoying this new experience and I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as am enjoying the writing. To that end I thought it I would allow my readers to share their own fantasies and realities with me and who knows, maybe it will end up in one of my books. So come on, don't be shy. Send me your fantasies and realities at [e-mail] I look forward from hearing from all my fans.

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The Apartment

By: Trixie T

Published by WSIC EBooks Ltd.

Copyright December 18, 2014 by WSIC EBooks Ltd.

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

I should have known there was more to my father than what my mother had let on. For most of my life she had told me that the reason for her and my father’s divorce had to do with differences that they could not reconcile. Well dam it, if what I am looking at now is any indication of those differences it is no freaking wonder!

My parents divorced fifteen years ago. At the time I was ten and like most kids that age I questioned my mother relentlessly about it. Never satisfied with the answers she gave me I kept right on asking. I asked my dad the same questions whenever I got the chance to visit him, which needless to say, mother did not allow all too often and if what I am seeing now has anything to do with her reluctance towards my visits with Dad or their divorce I can’t say as I blame her anymore.

Mom passed away when I was twenty-two and then a month ago Dad up and kicked the bucket. Having no other family members this has left me adrift. His death was sudden and unexpected, however not nearly as much as the call that I got a few days after his funeral. I had no idea he owned the apartment complex. In fact, I was cleaning up his apartment, wondering what the heck I was going to do with everything when I got the call from his lawyer.

Initially, I thought the lawyer’s office was calling to tell me that Dad owed them money for that would have been on par for the way my life has been going for the last couple of years. The last thing I expected was to be told that Dad had a will and that they had been trying to contact me for a couple of days.

I never gave any thought to Dad needing a will for I didn’t think he owned a thing … How wrong I was. Yet hindsight being twenty-twenty, I’m not surprised that Dad kept it quiet. No doubt he started squirrelling money away from Mom and her lawyer and after she passed away, he probably kept right on doing so out of habit.

He was not filthy rich by any means, however when his lawyer told me that Dad had not only left me a tidy sum of money, but also the apartment complex, well to put it bluntly, I almost peed my pants.

Afterwards, I debated for a time as to what I should do with the apartment complex. I even went to a couple of realtors and talked with Dad’s lawyer as to the pros and cons of keeping the building.

It is not that large of an apartment building, only twelve apartments, however the monthly rental income and the money that Dad left me is more than enough to provide me with a comfortable lifestyle as long as nothing major that insurance does not cover happens to the building that is.

It took a few days of soul searching what I wanted for my future before finally deciding to keep and deal with all the problems associated with owing the apartment building. It took another two days and longer nights to come to the conclusion that what I needed was a change and that moving into my dad’s old apartment was just the change I needed; hence I am now trying to make apartment 1A my own instead of a reflection of Dad’s.

So for a couple of weeks I have been living here; a couple of weeks of slowly getting to know who my tenants are, a couple of weeks of slowly unpacking my own stuff, while as the same time getting rid of my dad’s stuff. A couple of weeks of poking around the apartment, and only now have I discovered my father’s dark secret and what I am starting to believe may have been the real reason for my parents divorcing.

As it is, the discovery was purely accidental. I had been getting frustrated at the lack of room in the apartment and being the master builder that I am… NOT, I had been wondering why the interior space didn’t seem to fit the exterior layout. Even more frustrating was that since moving in I have been in the other apartments and discovered that my apartment was smaller than the others. Yet it should not be for I was told that every apartment was a mirror image of the other.

Needless to say, this tucked away room that I just found hidden behind a false wall explains all my questions and opens the door to a whole lot more.

The discovery of secret room is a big enough surprise. Even more surprising is the bank of computers hooked up to boxes, with wires running to three televisions. All of them are on, all of them have been sucking up my power for the last couple of weeks and here I had been bitching with the electric company over what I thought was an excessive electric bill.

The kicker to all this, much to my despair is that all three of the televisions are showing me rooms that I recognize. There is no doubt that the three apartments are part of this complex. Which three I have yet to figure out as one television is showing a kitchen scene, while the other two are zeroed in on living rooms and as of yet, nobody has designed to make an appearance.

For far too long I stand there staring at what my mind refuses to acknowledge. This cannot be happening, and yet the proof that it is, is right there in front of me. I have barely acknowledged that fact when my eyes go the shelved lined walls. What I see there makes my heart skip a beat for every shelf is full of CDs. If those CD’s contain what I refuse to acknowledge and yet what I suspect then this has been going on for a very long time.

I know what must be on those CDs. I know the why of the televisions, the computers, and the cables. Yet my brain refuses to accept the only obvious conclusion so I stand there and keep denying the truth of what I am looking at.

I wish it all away… I close my eyes and deny what I am seeing. It can’t be real. I must be dreaming… Nope not happening for when I open my eyes nothing has changed.

I am stuck with it and even though I don’t want to admit the truth of it, the thought of being caught with the incriminating evidence of what exist in this room makes my knees tremble.

Gasping for breath and weak of knee I plop myself down on the leather sofa that sits squarely in the middle of the room facing those hellish televisions.

As I sit with my head between my knees all I can think of is what the fuck I am supposed to do with all of this. Deep down inside I know that those CDs contain stuff that could get me thrown in jail for years and believe me, I have no desire to make that my new home.

I shouldn’t be having to deal with this shit. I keep repeating, while at the same time wishing my father was alive again, just so I could kill him myself.

My head finally stops spinning enough that I am able to sit back with a little less fear of fainting or throwing up.

Still dumbfounded and stunned beyond belief and okay most likely still in denial, I look around the room considering my few options. What I see is so overwhelming that it threatens to put me back into full denial mode when movement on the left most television screen catches my eye.

I recognize Brenda, the woman renting apartment 2C. The sight of her on the television screen wipes away any chance of me convincing myself that what I am seeing is not what it seems to be… the question now becomes, How are you going to do to deal with it Hope?

A hard question with a simple solution and I deal with it the way I have learned to deal with most of my problems lately; I decide to ignore it.

Getting up off the sofa I thump my way into the kitchen and walk straight to the freezer. I dig around until I find a frozen dinner. Finding one and not caring which, I tear open the box and cut out the slab of plastic over the desert and then throw the frozen dinner into the Microwave. I set it on high and then make my way to my feeble excuse of a bar to pour myself a much needed drink.

That drink is gone and another is half done by the time the microwave beeps. I glare at it as if it is the microwave’s fault that my world has become undone. I consider whether I should throw the rest of my drink at it or whether it would be better for me to just down it…

In the end neither outcomes win for I care little about wasting good booze or for drinking on an empty stomach, so I put my drink on the table and retrieve my dinner. I carry the hot steaming container from the best invention ever produced and plop it down on the table.

Satisfied that I at least have my dinner in hand, I sit down, pick up fork and knife and settle down to do some real denying.

Denying does not help. The thought of what I have in the room just off my living room keeps coming back to haunt me. As much as I might want it to disappear it simply is not going to do that. Deal with it Hope, I mumble and then dig back into my feeble dinner.

Admitting to myself that I have to deal with it is actually a pretty big step for me as I have been denying a lot of things in my life lately. What can I say? I am twenty-five years old and not only do I have a commitment problem, but for the most part, I am an admitted introvert.

Decision made I wolf down my dinner, take up what remains of my drink and go back into the dreaded room to… to do… I have no freaking idea what to do! Oh sure, I could just start pulling wires however the thought of shorting out wires all over the apartment building gives me pause.

I am still standing there overwhelmed and considering the yanking option when the sight of a nearly naked body flashing across the television catches my attention.

Put some clothing on Brenda. No dam wonder Dad has your place hooked up. I don’t even want to know how often he watched you walk around your apartment with just those tiny panty and that sexy bra.

Seeing her in so little clothing makes me hate her more than I have come to hate her. Well maybe hate is not the right word, make that envy. I thought I looked good with my long chocolate brown hair, blue eyes, 38D breasts, 28 inch waist and 36 inch hips; however Brenda is the kind of woman that makes all women hate her. I have only had to deal with her a couple of time. Once just after I moved in when I went to each apartment to introduce myself to the tenants and then again when I picked up the monthly rent.

Each time we met, I envied the way she looked dressed and now that I am seeing her almost bare-assed naked that envy is gearing up a notch or two.

Dressed, it is Brenda’s long burgundy colored hair, beautiful face, charming smile and the hint of what she is hiding beneath her clothing that brings on that envy. However, near naked as I am seeing her right now brings that envy to whole new heights for I now know what the clothing was hiding.

Brenda’s breasts are definitely larger than mine; at least a 38 DD. She is also a little taller than my five foot eight and in the light of her near nakedness it is easy to see that her freakily long and sexy legs make up the most of that height.

She makes me sick. She must be thirty, give or take so she has no right to look so dam good. In fact, how does she even keep herself looking so dam trim and fit? She is probably one of those women that can eat whatever she wants and not put on an ounce.

I wish I was as confident as she appears to be as she walks around her apartment nearly butt naked; realizing that I am not makes it another thing to hate her for.

As much as I have come to lie to myself lately I can’t deny the truth that there is no way I would feel so comfortable walking around my apartment in just my panty and bra the way she is and in light of the cameras, well that is probably a good thing.

That has always been my problem. It has always been my lack of self-confidence and not my looks that has kept me from meeting men. I know I am good looking enough. I’ve seen the looks that men give me and yet the very thought of stopping to talk to one leaves me weak of knee and wanting to crawl into the first hidey hole I can find.

So even though I hate her I watch, wishing with every fibre of my soul that I was as confident as her. I watch with envy as she sashays around her living room, until she disappears off camera.

The hell with it. I don’t need this shit!

I click on the button on the bottom of the computer keyboard, hoping beyond hope that it will open the program that I can use to shut this insane thing down… pay dirt.

The hard drive whirls and up comes a program. However, the program is not even close to what I expected or even hoped to get for the computer screen is now split into twelve grids.

I would be the last one to call me a genius when it comes to computers, however it takes no amount of genuineness to know that each grid represents an apartment, which means that my dam apartment is also wired and just in case I was stupid enough to miss the obvious, on the right hand lower corner of each grid is the unit number.

Deciding that I may as well see how bad it really is I click on the grid for 2C. Doing so opens up another menu, this one split into twenty grids.

This is bad. Real fucking bad!

Dad must have installed a camera in every corner of every room in Brenda’s apartment and I have no doubt that if I were to explore further, I would find the rest of the apartments just like hers.

Taking a real close look at the windows that popped open, I acknowledge that I have hit the truth on the head as I can now watch every room in Brenda’s apartment from four different angles; case of point is the bathroom that Brenda is currently in, which is starting to get steamy from the shower she is obviously taking.

Steam, I discover is no problem for with a click of the mouse I am able to change to a different camera that gives me a bird’s eye view inside the shower stall, hence a much too clear view of Brenda.

Dam it Dad, you were a fucking pervert!

I all but thump down on the leather sofa in despair and down the rest of my drink that I had all but forgotten about.

If each apartment has the same number of cameras there is no way that I am going to be able to pull them without someone knowing, not that I could pull them myself anyway. That means hiring someone to do it and that alternative has JAIL written all over it.

The sight of Brenda’s firm ass as she turns around in the shower makes me scowl in disgust and brings my envy up another notch, for nobody, but nobody should be able to look that good. It is no dam wonder that Dad was watching her, hell I could probably make a fortune streaming her video over the Internet.

Disgusted at the whole video thing, I get up and go back into the living room for another drink and to further contemplate my next move. I could just turn off the computers, unhook all the wiring and destroy all the CDs. At least if they find the cameras I can plead ignorance and there will be no proof lying around on my end. I can blame it all on my dad and then…

A full on view of Brenda’s large, firm breasts catches my attention when I walk back into the room. The envious part of me puts the cause of the size and firmness on implants, while the more reasonable part of my brain argues against it. Whatever! And if that perfection is not enough to make me green with envy her large dark areolas with fat nipples are doing a pretty dam good job at it.

My eyes travel down her shapely body to a hairless crotch whereas I get an eyeful of large perturbing pussy lips.

Figures! Men must absolutely love fucking you. I thought I was good looking. NO, make that, I know I am good looking, however not only do you raise the bar, but you’re at the fucking top. Bitch! You may have the best body of any of us women in this apartment complex, but you are not the sexiest, so take that!

I know I am seething and that I am being unfair. I even know that I am blaming Brenda for a lot of the frustrations I am feeling towards my dad. Knowing does not matter, for at this point I need someone alive I can blame and as I can’t tear my eyes from the bitch that is making me feel so dam inadequate, well she will just have to do.

She is too freaking beautiful for her own good and the sight of her soaping up that perfect body entraps me. I have never had any inclination towards women, however I can appreciate and admire beauty in all its forms and Brenda’s form is certainly one to admire. In fact, I probably would admire it even more if the very sight of her didn’t cause the green-eyed monster of jealousy to rear its ugly head.

The truth of the matter is that the sight of Brenda lathering up her body is making her look much more alluring. When I shower, I get in, scrub, shave my legs if they need it and get out. Brenda on the other hand is taking her time, lathering up until the entire front of her body is covered in soap, including a goodly amount between her thighs…

Now what are you doing?

Even in the short time I have been watching her something has changed. She is no longer lathering up out of need….at least not out of any need to get clean. Oh no, she has gone far past lathering.

Now I begin to understand what my father’s obsession with these cameras might have been. Any man watching this would be pressed not to get a hard-on, probably even begin masturbating as far as that goes.

I am so shell-shocked by everything that I have discovered tonight that I can’t help but sit there and stare as Brenda finishes off her shower, which in the last few minutes has turned to something much, much more.

Please tell me that you didn’t share this with anyone Dad!

Of course he does not answer leaving me wondering how many CDs my father may have made of what I am seeing and if he was ever stupid enough to share them. How many times has he recorded Brenda throwing her head back so that the water spills down over her head, face and finally her body, slowly washing away the lather to reveal a body that would make even a goddess jealous?

As it is, the water washes the lather away teasingly. However it is not the sight of the lather disappearing that has me in a snit.