I arrived at my business appointment at two in theafternoon, as scheduled. It was a hot summer day and I had to inspect an apartment complex for an insurance carrier. I waited for the manager in the ornate lobby of the property management company. 

Finally, just a few minutes after two, Alisa showed up. She was dressed in a stylish blue blazer, a satin white blouse and a beige just-above-the-knee-length skirt with a small slit in the side. Her dark hair was streaked with light brown and red highlights and she sported a firm hand-shake and a welcoming smile.

She asked that I give her a few minutes to set her stuff down. She had great looking legs. No panty hose. She sported stylish black six inch heels. Needless to say, I was impressed.

“Okay, what do we need to do?” she asked, extending her hand in my direction. We shook hands and I told her I had a few questions.

“She invited me to step into her office. She sat behind her desk while I took a seat in front of her desk. She answered my entire set of questions, one right after the other. I quickly ascertained she had either participated in a few property inspections or she was a veteran manager.

“How long have you been in the business?” I asked.

“Twelve years,” she replied, ‘but I have only been at this property a few months.”

“So where are you from?” I casually asked, trying to get a sense as to whether or not she was a local person or an implant.

“I am from Bosnia, but I’ve been here twelve years,” she replied. Her English was damn near perfect and I would not have suspected she was not from the US had I not of asked.

I told her I needed to see the pool areas, maintenance areas and a laundry room. She grabbed her keys and said, “Follow me.”

She navigated the narrow breezeways very quickly and I walked right behind her. We chatted as we walked.

“You have an interesting job” she remarked, opening up the door to the maintenance shop. I stepped in behind her.

“It’s a tight squeeze, be careful,” she warned.

I scanned the areas, which was an abandoned apartment. Doors and sinks and wall partitions and large buckets of paint and ceiling fans littered the room. She stepped over a large plastic bucket of paint and stumbled. As she fell forward, I instinctively reached out and grabbed at her, catching her by her blazer.

“Thanks,” she said, as she regained her balance. “Like I said, it’s a tight squeeze, so be careful.”

I stepped over the same bucket and into the hallway that lead to two additional storage rooms. She followed me as I peeked into each room. I turned, not realizing she was standing right behind me.

“I’m sorry,” I remarked after bumping into her. “I was just checking for fire hazards.”

She took a step back and stumbled a second time, this time, tripping over a sign holder that was sitting in the hallway. She fell face forward towards the floor, putting out her hands to brace against the impact. Her skirt slipped up high enough to reveal a good portion of her very cute ass, as she turned and landed on it. She pulled down on the hem of her skirt as she sat on the floor, looking up at me.

“Watch that first step,” she remarked, turning red, “It is a doozie!”

I extended my hand and helped her to her feet, asking if she was okay.

“Just a bit embarrassed,” she replied. “I don’t know why I am so clumsy today.”

The exit out of the apartment meant a trip back past the same hazards. I saw a hole cut in the wall, which lead to the garage area.

“Can we go this way?” I asked.

“Yes,” she responded, “but it is a tight fit.”

“Tight fits are fine with me,” I replied.

She took a step back and said, “You go first.”

I squeezed past her, raising my hands over my head, my butt brushing against her front in the process.

“Sorry,” I said, “it is a very tight fit.”

She either didn’t care or didn’t think my comment was worthy of a response because she said nothing. As we stepped out in to the bright sunlight, she asked, “What else?”

“Can I look at a vacant apartment?” I inquired.

“Sure,” she replied, “let me show you the model apartment.”

I followed her up three flights of stairs. Half way up she turned to make sure I was still behind her.

“The third floor provides the best view,” Alisa remarked as we climbed the stairs. “We have a first floor model, but I thought you’d like the view from the third floor a lot better.”

She opened the door to third floor apartment and held it open as I walked in behind her. She closed the door behind us. The cool apartment felt good.

The apartment was well decorated, like something out of Architectural Digest. I took a couple of quick photos and stepped out on to the patio, which overlooked one of the garden spot, heavily-vegetated pool areas.

“A great view, huh?” she asked standing next to me.

I had to agree.

“So what do you do when you’re not inspecting apartments?” she asked. I hadn’t expected the question.

“I like to play golf, tennis and be lazy,” I replied.

“Somehow I don’t see you as being a laid-back or lazy person,” Alisa responded.

The hot August wind blew at her hair and I could make out a small tattoo on her shoulder.

“Cute tat,” I remarked.

She looked down at it and smiled.

“I got drunk one night and woke up with it,” Alisa responded. “I thought about having it removed, but it costs too much and besides, it serves as a reminder for me of some good times and some not so good times.”

I noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding band.

“Divorced?” I asked.

“How did you know?” Alisa asked.

“Well, for starters,” I replied, “you don’t have on a wedding band. Second, you’re strikingly beautiful and I would find it hard to believe you made it to thirty without attracting the eye of a man or two…”

“Thirty five,” Alisa remarked, correcting my age guess.

“…And you dress to impress…” I finished off.

I could tell she appreciated the compliments by the smile that eased across her face.

“ ...And you’re married,” Alisa remarked, looking down at the gold band on my left hand.

“Yes, I am,” I replied. “But it is an strained marriage.”

“Strained? Alisa responded. “I don’t understand.”

“Well,” I said, leaning against the railing, looking out across the expanse of the property.

“It’s like this – we sleep together, we share a joint checking account, we eat together, sometimes, and she does the laundry and the cooking and I bring home a paycheck.”

“Kids?” she asked.

“One... going off to college next year,” I replied.

“I am still hoping,” Alisa responded, “but my clock is ticking.”

“Don’t worry,” I replied, “you’re still young, beautiful and charming.”

“Thanks,” she responded, “but sometimes I don’t feel like any of those things.”

I could sense a bit of sadness in her response.

Throwing caution to the wind, I said, “Well I wouldn’t kick you out of bed. You probably just need a little picker-upper every now and then.”

“More than you could imagine,” Alisa responded, flipping her long hair back over her shoulder. She made a quirky duck-like face and then bit down on her lower lip, before raising a single finger to her mouth and biting down on it. I could tell she was nervous.

‘Sometimes,” I remarked, still leaning on the patio railing and looking off into the distance, “Sometimes, all you need is a second chance, but you have to act on your instincts, and be willing to take a chance.”

I had no idea where the conversation was going.

“Do you want to see the bedroom?” she asked.

“Sure,” I responded. We stepped back into the coolness of the apartment. Her heels clicked on the hard wood floor of the living room as she walked towards the master bedroom.

“How tall are you?” I asked.

“Without the heels, about five foot three,” she replied.

“No way,” I replied. She stopped and looked at me.

“How tall are you?” she asked.

“Six foot four,” I replied.

She slipped out of her heels and stood barefoot in front of me as I stepped in front of her. We were mere inches from each other.

“Damn, you’re tall,” she remarked, looking up at me.

“And you’re short,” I replied, looking down at her.

She turned and sauntered barefoot into the bedroom. I stepped into the room behind her and stood still. A four posted bed, with lace wraps hanging from the trellises, took up a great deal of the room.

“Wow!” I replied. “I wish my bedroom looked this good.”

Alisa smiled and stepped over to the closet door and opened it. I stepped into the expansive closet and looked around. Alisa closed the closet door and turned off the light.

“Uh oh,” I remarked, “I think there’s an electrical issue.”

I felt Alisa’s hand on my side.

“No,” she replied. “I don’t think there is.”

I grabbed her arm and followed it up to her elbow as she stepped in closer to where I stood. Her other arm reached around my waist and in an instant, she was pressing her hot body against mine and then, in the stark darkness of the closet, we kissed.

I slipped my arms around her waist and squeezed her firm ass, pulling up on her skirt to feel her bare butt. Her hands squeezed my butt and then found their way to my crotch, where she rubbed at my erection through the fabric of my jeans.

I placed my hands on her face and tried to suck the life out of her, our tongues dancing wickedly in and out of each other’s mouth.

“We probably shouldn’t,” I said.

“I agree,” she breathlessly replied, between kisses. “We probably shouldn’t, but we probably will.”

I slipped her blazer off and it fell to the floor. My shirt followed, as she ran her long fingers over my chest and teased my nipples. She pulled her blouse over her head and reached behind her back to unfasten her brassiere. She took my hands and placed them on her 38-d cup breasts, her nipples hardening as I gently massaged them. I kissed the nape of her neck and she moaned softly. I took a deep breath and exhaled.

I unfastened my belt. Alisa pushed down on my jeans and I allowed them to fall past my knees. I kicked off my loafers and stepped from my jeans, my rock-hard steel rod pressing against the cotton fiber of my underwear. Within seconds, Alisa had me stripped naked. She knelt in front of me, holding on to my stiff cock.

“Can we use the bed?” I asked.

Without saying a word, Alisa opened the closet door and the afternoon sunlight beamed into the closet. She had one hell of a gorgeous body.

“Let me throw the deadbolt,” she said, stepping out of the closet and towards the living room.

I slid on the bed, on my back, my stiff cock arching upwards. A few second later, Alisa stepped into the bedroom, totally naked. Seeing me laying naked on the bed, she smiled.

She crawled on to the oversized bed and started kissing me on my neck, her hand slipping on to the shaft of my manhood. She worked her way past my chest to my abdomen. She positioned herself astraddle my torso, her ass pointed towards my face. She slipped her mouth on to my cock and I thought for sure I would explode. Somehow I managed to remain in control. She played with my ball sac and panted kisses all over my lower body and inner thighs as I worked her pussy.

I slipped my fingers into her pussy and gently rubbed the outer bands of her womanhood. She trembled as I dipped a finger into her bright pink pussy.

Several times, Alisa shook and shook and shook, as I alternated between the use of my finger and my tongue.

“Put it in me,” she begged.

I crawled out from under her and repositioned myself behind her, as she stayed on her knees, her ass pointing at me. My eight and half inch cock pressed against her ass, my hands around her boobs. She reached between her legs and guided my cock into her love box, rubbing it against her clit and then along the outer bands of her vagina. Finally, after a few seconds of foreplay, she pushed me into here glory hole. She was a tight fit at first, but as I pushed onward and upward, she loosened up. She rocked back and forth to meet my hip thrusts.

Suddenly, she tensed up and shook violently, yelling, “I am cumming!”

At about the same time, her pussy constricted and clamped down on my cock. I couldn’t hold back and jettisoned my first load of cum deep inside of her. My second spurt ended up running out of her pussy. I pulled out and shot my third spurt on to her back. She collapsed on to her forearms and then fell face forward on to the bed.

I rolled to the side and on to my back. Alisa turned and looked at me.

“It was a tight fit,” I remarked, “but you were right, we could made it work!”

We quickly got dressed and returned to the office. Alisa handed me her business card and remarked, “If there is ever a need for a follow up visit, just call or text me.”

I assured I would. This was, by far, the best property inspection I ever conducted!