Turn Down Your Music, Please

*****

Apologies for any poor Spanish. Suggestions to improve it will be accepted.

*****

All the baseball games that summer were a struggle to watch because of the music in the apartment below.

As I had done all that summer, I stomped my foot on the floor, but my pounding never worked. The person below would not turn off the music. It lasted for hours. About the time the of the last pitch, they may shut it off. By then though, I was too frustrated to care. I had gone through all of the phases of anger: From throwing the remote control, to grief at my state of affairs. And dismissal set in. I just slumped in my recliner. I had missed out on relaxation.

That afternoon though, I had enough. I slipped on my flip-flops and I headed downstairs. I knocked on the apartment's door forcefully. The volume dropped, and there was a shuffling and muffled talk beyond the door. Finally, I heard the deadbolt click and the handle turned.

A whoosh of heat flooded out of the door and it wasn't all due to the summer. It was her.

"'Allo," the woman said gently. "Como esta usted, señor? Uh, how you do, sir?" She switched to English, having mistakenly begun in her native language.

She was lovely. Thick, black hair falling into her shoulders. Smooth skin. Eyes were dark as marble. Her smile wide. She patted her forehead with the back of her hand.

She wore an off-the-shoulder blouse, short-sleeved with ruffles. The Mexican peasant blouse was white and trimmed in green and red.

But all the summer of pent-up anger fizzled away, like steam disappearing above a pot of boiling water. I tried to be forceful. "I hear your music. It's pretty loud."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Our musicia. I apologize," she said meekly through her thick accent. "I, we, bailamos, estamos practicando, practice dance. Me and my partner."

A tall man glided into view. He leaned against the doorframe confidently and his other hand snaked around her waist as if protecting her. He pulled her tight in a squeeze. She elbowed him playfully in his gut. They started jibber-jabbering in their language briefly, flirting. Then she turned back to me.

"We turn down music for you," she said.

The man was confounded. "We cannot, we must practice. We will not win if we quit now." Then he wheeled her around. He broke away from English and spun into Spanish. I understood nothing they said, except, through their eyes, I understood they were quarreling with each other.

She look back to me sheepishly. "We... Uh, do you like to watch us?"

"Watch you two dance?" She surprised me. I didn't care about dancing but because of her.

I saw the base of her light-brown neck and chest glistening with a sheen of perspiration.

"I guess so, sure. Got nothing else to do, the ball game's over now."

The man reached beyond the woman, her scrunched between us, and shook my hand quickly, firmly. "I am Ricardo." He rolled the Rs. "And she is Catalina."

She curtsied and then took my arm to lead me inside the apartment. The place had a lingering scent of perspiration and coffee.

The center of the room was cleared out. The furniture—a couch, a coffee table, a lamp, and that damned sound system—was pushed against the walls. They had scuffed black the hardwood floor from their hours of dancing.

Ricardo grabbed Catalina's hand and confidently spun her. Her long skirt rose in a flurry, showing toned legs. Then he pulled her body tight to his. Her skirt fell limp, as did her hair. Her eyes met his, they were one. They began to float across the floor, hand-in-hand, eyes locked, backs arched, necks lengthened, both dramatic in their movements.

I sat on the couch to watch them twirl and dance. It was nice to watch. Mainly it was her though. Unexpectedly, there was a knock at the door. The pair paused momentarily in mid-move, and she shouted out, "Door opened!"

A man in slacks and a button-up shirt walked in with a large smile on his face.

"Hola, como estas?" he said in a poor Spanish accent.

"Listo para vernos bailar," Catalina said, before Ricardo whirled her across the floor. Her skirt rose up high, revealing her legs again.

This newcomer took a seat next to me and put his hand out. "Mark. Who are you?"

"Shawn."

"How did you find out about this?"

"I live one floor up. Their music is so loud I came to complain and I ended up watching."

"Too loud, eh?" He huffed with a laugh. "What else have you heard from up there?"

"Just the music. Something else happening that I haven't heard?"

"Oh. The music is the least of it, man."

Catalina nabbed his attention immediately, as she urged him over to her with her finger.

"Mark, mi amor! Dance with me," she said with her bottom lip pushed forward, like a girl worried about not getting the candy she wants.

"Oh yeah, Catalina!" He jumped up and did the worst gyration to the middle of the hardwood floor.

She lured him away from the couch easily, and his eyes never left hers. The Flamenco dance that I assumed she and Ricardo were practicing was done. She began to grind her backside into Mark. She bent over, tucking her hair behind her ear, so she could watch the man's face, and raised her skirt over her knees and higher up her toned thighs. Any higher and she would be showing panties.

"Lovely, yeah, amigo?" Ricardo plopped down on the worn-out couch, making the springs squeaky.

"Her? Oh yes, very," I said, startled by his sudden appearance. "Are you two still practicing? This guy a part of your dance routine?"

"No, no, Shawn." He smiled broadly. "El viene a joderla."

"To what? I don't speak Spanish."

"Fuck her he likes."

I was confused and my contorted face conveyed my thoughts to Ricardo.

"You too, joderla Catalina?"

"Do what? I don't understand Spanish."

"Fuck her, fuck, you, her, now, here." Ricardo waved his hands, attempting to make it plain and taking down any language barriers.

"Me? I came down to tell you to turn down the music. Nothing else, nothing. I didn't mean to do anything to her."

As I said it, Catalina moaned hysterically. Mark was leaning over her. He had pulled up her dress and slid her red panties into her butt. Then he smacked her ass.

"Mark, no pares, no pares!" she squealed joyfully.

"Nice, eh?" Ricardo said nudging me as he watched.

Before I could answer, there was another knock at the door.

"Come in," Ricardo called toward the door.

Inside walked another lovely woman. Tall and dark-skinned with a full figure. Her wife-beater tank top was stretched tightly across her breasts and her shorts barely contained her thick thighs.

"Anna, chica," he said. "Good to see you here. Ready to dance?" He jumped off the couch, making it squeak.

"Vamos a bailar," she said in an American accent.

Ricardo and Ana started their own bump and grind dance while laughing and enjoying it. Soon, they were glistening with sweat but still shaking it on the dance floor.

I remained on the worn sofa, watching the four bodies. I felt awkward. My cheeks reddened from a mixture of that awkwardness and the increasing temperature in the room. Heat was escaping off my scalp and shorts became pipes to release pent-up heat. Was it time to leave or to stay?

My temperature rose to a new height when Ana got rid of her shirt. She flung it across the room. Her large breasts were bouncing and wiggling as her bra barely had the strength to hold them.

"Look 'ere, Catalina," Ricardo shouted over the music and pointed to the top hanging on the lampstand. "She beat you."

Catalina wagged her finger. "She not beat me." She reached deep under her skirt and out came those red panties, stained dark with sweat or more. She was about to fling them, like Ana, but caught my eye before it left her fingers. With Mark still gyrating, she walked to me. She stared hungrily like a wolf, standing in front me. Her breasts were in front of my eyes. She slid the panties over my head and adjusted them so the wetted crotch was against my nose.

The scent was a mix of wet towels forgotten on the floor and a deep desire. A lovely smell.

I drew in a deep breath and when I opened my eyes, I saw her smile. She bent over, took the bottom hem of her dress, and pulled it up, like it was a flower petal. Catalina had a narrow bush of thick black hair covering her pussy.

My jaw dropped. My heart sped up, and I felt the pulse in my neck beat deadly fast.

"You like me?"

"I, uh ... amazing ... Catalina." I coughed out the words because she had sucked the wind out of me from three feet away.

"Bailar conmigo?" she said.

I stood up, the couch springs barking, and she took my hand.

"I see you are very happy, pleased, by coming to me." She reached down to rub her hand against my hardness. Her touch charmed me and I would have gone anywhere at that moment. And she asked me to.

"Quítate los pantalones, Shawn, pants off."

Ricardo, Mark and Ana turn to look at me. They, no doubt, wondered if I would really do it.

I waited too long for Ana.

"My top is off, Shawn. Catalina's panties are on your head. Do it."

"I want to see all, no pants, no underwear, no calzoncillos." A wicked grin formed over her mouth. She knew she had me in her clutches.

"Come on, Shawn, show us," Ana said again.

"I will take my pants off for you, Catalina," Mark interrupted.

"Me too," Ricardo chimed in, already unbecoming his belt.

"I have seen all before. I want to see new cock," she replied without looking at either of the willing guys.

I was still frozen but a knock on the door saved me. There was chit-chat on the other side of the door. I questioned how more people could come to Catalina's and Ricardo's apartment.

Catalina's eyes unlocked from my waist. "Time to start," she called out and headed to the door. I pulled her panties off my head and jammed them in my front pocket. I noticed Ana was not in sight.

"Hallo! Come in, come in," she said. She guided in four couples. I scanned the room counting the people. Eight new folks, four women and four men, Mark and Ricado, Ana and Catalina. I saw that Ana returned with her tank on again and Ricardo's belt was buckled.

Soon the place was abuzz with the thirteen people, including me, in the small apartment. We were in the largest room and were bumping shoulders and more. I guess the Catalina's and Ricardo's Flamenco practice was over. They could never practice here.

"Ready everyone?" Ricardo shouted above the din. "It is time."

A few of the girls clapped and giggled in their excitement. The crowd moved to the wall, several sat on the couch and even on the couch's back. The springs had already screamed and were struggling with the weight.

Catalina stood before the people. "Welcome, thank you to come. Tonight will be fun. We have a guest. My ... my ... Mi vecino." She glanced at Ricardo for help.

"Our neighbor from upstairs."

"Ah, neighbor, yes. He join us. You all will enjoy him." She gleamed at me. "Stand, wave."

I stepped forward from the corner and gave a half-cocked wave with a pursed smile. I was completely perplexed. I had witnessed a lot already.

"He come here because music was high. He complained but me and Ricardo lo capturó!" She mimicked herself walking toward me with claws. "Tonight we show him what we do and nuestro prisionero de guerra."

Ricardo interpreted. "He's our prisoner of war." He grinned and then continued, "We lost the studio, so thank you for traveling this many blocks uptown. We were too rowdy for the studio." The group laughed wildly, giving high-fives and patting each other's thighs. "This may be our new play place, unless we find something else. For now, we meet here. But"—he raised his finger—"we must persuade Shawn."

The group grinned at me. A few of them made their eyebrows dance with sinister knowledge. "We can do that," Ana said, and other girls and guys agreed.

Then Catalina took the lead again.

"Who goes first?"

"We will," a middle-aged woman said, waving her hand above her head. "We've been practicing a lot." She grabbed the man with her and dragged him from the couch. "You'll all like this."

Catalina took a seat in the center of the squeaky couch, next to Ana, and she leaned against Ricardo who was sitting on the back of the couch behind her.

The group watched the pair move closely together. It was not Flamenco. It was no dance I could label. When finished with a bow, they received applause. Catalina, Ricardo, and the others gave kind critiques. Once Catalina stood to demonstrate some movements, and all I could think of was her panties. She had none on and most of the dancers didn't even know.

And on went the couples dancing. I was there for nearly three hours from the time I had first come down to simply complain about the music. During those hours, I noticed when Catalina sat on the couch to observe, her hand often was on Ana's thigh. It would run across Ana nonchalantly as she watched.

The last pair—a twenty-something couple, she with large breasts that moved attractively—bowed and received their critique. Then Catalina stood.

"Good, everyone. I see practice and growing skill in your dance and in your love-making," she said.

Love-making? I thought. A strange description.

"Now, to the kitchen for drinks!" she said. She raised her hands and cheered.

The couch emptied. It squeaked loudly, even over the excitement of the group of happy-go-lucky amateur dancers. Wine bottles popped. Beer caps clattered on the floor and counters. Glasses and bottles clanked before being chugged or sipped.

Ana brought me a bottle of beer and raised her glass.

"Cheers." She smiled. "This is a good place to have found so accidentally. The music bothered you that much?"

"It was loud. I could have danced to it, if I danced. I had no idea what was going on down here or who it was."

"No idea, huh. That's the 'accidentially' part?" She smirked. "You were quite surprised when you came down."

"To say the least. All I heard was the music through the floor. And now, well, I've seen so much. The four of you dancing and then this—what is it, a dance class?"

"We all dance, yes. And more." The edges of her lips curled upward. "You'll see."

"I've seen way more than I expected. I saw Catalina's you-know-what and she wanted to see me."

She had a hard time to stop from giggling.

"And you. You had your tank top off already tonight."

Finally she shrieked in laughter, rocking back and forth, in her fit of hysterics. She composed herself. "That's nothing. I want to be with you first. But I may have to fight off Catalina." Her eyes darted sideways. "She has her claws in you already. You're hers."

"Me? I can't dance."

"You can. Come with me."

"Where to?"

She took my hand and led me away from the group.

"Ana," Catalina sang her name. "I am first with him. You took the last one."

Ana dropped my hand immediately and huffed.

"Another time, tonight or later." Ana whispered her warm breath into me ear.

"You had what last?" I asked, astounded.

"You and me later," she said and stepped away drinking the last drops from her wine glass.

"Now, my neighbor, Mr. Shawn," Catalina said. "I want to show you around. First to my bedroom."

With all that I had seen, I tried to get a semblance of their relationship, especially as she was about to lead me into her bedroom. To me, bedrooms are not rooms to show off. I try to avoid other's bedrooms altogether.

"Yours and Ricardo's bedroom?"

"It is mine, as you are now mine."

"Is he your boyfriend, husband?"

"I love all these men and women. These is close friends as I hope you to be."

I nodded, shrugged my shoulders and followed her.

The room was fit with a massive king-size bed with an extravagant mirror headboard and a mirror on the ceiling. It was too over-the-top to be in a simple small apartment with its main piece of furniture being a squeaky couch.

Then she suddenly confirmed what she planned to do.

"This is our true dance floor," she told me, leaning against the bed and patting the thick comforter. "Now to learn your dance skill." She slid her hands down my chest to my pants. She was smiling when her hands found my hardening cock. I saw the deep darkness between her lovely breasts.

She undid the button and slowly pulled down the zipper. Having peeled me open, she knelt down. The exotic woman glanced up for a second as if getting my permission to proceed, and, seeing no objection, focused on the dick she had wanted to see.

My mind told me to object. It warned, "What if Ricardo found out? What would he say, or do to me? I don't want to live in the same apartment building as a man who would be that angry with me." But my body would not speak.

She drizzled a bit of sticky saliva onto the head of my fully erect dick and smeared it around with her tongue. She gently kissed the tip. Them her mouth opened achingly slowly, leaving me waiting for her to wrap her lips around me.

Her lips enclosed me and I felt her tongue rub against the underside of my dick. Soon she was deep-throating me and bobbing quickly. When I could open my eyes, I noticed her breasts like pears hanging from the tree.

My mind overtook my body. "Catalina, please, don't. I can't... "

She stopped abruptly. She looked up, her lips plump and her chin glistening with drool. "You don't like my job?"

"It's not that, it's Ricardo. What if he... "

"Do not worry about Ricardo." I heard the rolling R. I turned and he stood in the doorway with his hands crossed over his chest. "Forget Ricardo, he will never find out." He spoke exaggeratedly and walked in.

Catalina stood in front of me. I remained against the bed, in shock.

"Ricardo, I didn't know, I just... I came to ask you to turn down the music, not all this. You believe me, right?" My words fumbled from my mouth and left as much drool on my chin as Catalina had on hers.

He stepped behind Catalina and flung up her skirt so it was on her head. Her ass was bare.

"You like her sucking?" he asked me. "She does good. She can do better, right, Catalina?" He smacked her butt hard Her flesh jiggled.

I didn't responded, still fearing a violent fallout might erupt.

"I do better," she said to me, "better with cock in my ass too."

I gulped. Ricardo had his dick out and was rubbing it up and down her ass. He found her rosebud and urged himself in. She winced but soon relaxed and exhaled in pleasure. When he started to rock back and forth, she went back to me. She worked harder than before. She sucked much better with a man fucking her ass. She sucked my shaft and rubbed her tongue over my head.

In no time, I felt the deep surge of pleasure form and rise inside of me. I tried to suppress it, to calm my body. But she was too good.

"Catalina, I'm going to..." I cringed in pleasure. My thighs tightened. My butt tensed up. I grabbed the blanket on the bed.

"Fuck her face and cum in her mouth. She like it like that," Ricardo ordered.

So, I grabbed her black hair and pulled it back and forth, gagging her with the depth. She gurgled deep in her throat. Her eyes rolled up as she felt the pressure of two men. Suddenly, I exploded in her mouth. She swallowed it all, her tongue slurping in the remnants out of the corners of her mouth. Then she licked the last bit of ooze from my head.

I collapsed against the bed, but Ricardo and Catalina fucked hard and fast. Her cheeks were red and her forehead beaded with sweat and Richard's face and neck were tensed as he rammed her hard from behind. Catalina braced herself against the bed, her hands around me gripped the bed sheet. I saw her breasts flailing and swinging wildly. Her hair had covered her face, some sticking against her hot cheeks. Then she shrieked as they both climaxed. They screamed and grunted. They both eased themselves out of their state of erotic fury.r"