Here is a story, Welcome to Westlake, about Dimeji Adeniran who just started staying in westlake. He met two older ladies and his life took an unexpected turn. Welcome to Westlake!
Welcome To Westlake
The Westlake Tenant Association’s monthly meeting had ended a half hour earlier but Dimeji Adeniran had stayed behind to assist with the cleanup. It was the least he could do, felt the twenty-three-year-old accountant especially since the gathering took place in Shola Oniru’s apartment, who had gone to such lengths to make him feel welcome in the few weeks since moving in. Together with her late husband, Mike, the fifty four year old entrepreneur had been original tenants when the thirty-family building first opened back in the mid-fifties, and had set itself up as a one-woman welcome committee for new arrivals in recent years.
She would explain how the building was built, introduce tenants to some of their neighbors, and even conduct neighborhood walking tours, pointing out how she has done the best places to shop and which stores to avoid.
“Well, the kitchen is all done,” said Tiwatope Wellington, another neighbor left to help, as she walked back into the living room.
Tiwa, six years younger than Shola, lived in one of the smaller corner apartments just down the entrance hall. Never married, she had moved about ten years ago into the Greenwood and had become the best friend of the older widow. Five three with free flowing, red hair in the shoulder length and a still bodacious body, Tiwa owned a small boutique uptown lingerie. She was also a renowned flirt, as Dimeji had discovered.
“I’m just about done here too,” Dimeji said as he put into a trash bag the last of the plastic cups and paper plates.
“Staying and helping was good for you,” Tiwa said as she tossed the smaller bag in her hand into the larger one Dimeji carried.
“That seemed to be the right thing to do,” Dimeji said as he tied the bag. “In fact, I was surprised that more people didn’t offer it. After all, Shola didn’t have to let them use her apartment while the community room was being painted.” “It’s hard enough to get most of them just to come to the meeting,” Tiwa said, “much less get them to stay after it. Actually, I was really surprised that you did. I mean, it’s Saturday night, don’t you have a date or something?”
“Let me take this to the garbage dump,” Dimeji said, answering her question as he lifted the container.
Oh It’s On!
When Tiwa opened the door, bending aside to let him through, the short haired, bearded man could almost feel her eyes on him as he did. Dimeji was not sure if the forty eight year-old was serious about flirting or just playing with him, and to be honest, he was a little scared to find out. While he was not a virgin, his contact with women was limited to those similar to his own age. He didn’t really know how to deal with one almost as old as his mother.
As he walked down the hall to where the garbage dump was, he recalled how fortunate he was to have now occupied the second story apartment. True, it was only three small rooms, originally the maid’s quarters of a larger apartment that was subdivided later on, but it was a huge improvement over the friend’s couch that he had crashed into. Additionally, there were only two train stops from his office, while his friend’s place was an hour and a half long bus ride on two different lines.
After dropping the trash bag off, he headed back to Shola’s apartment, catching a glimpse of her entering it as he turned the corner.
She took it upon herself, after the meeting, to walk back to the rooms below of Ms. Abu, another tenant. The septuagenarian, with white hair, had recently started using a cane to get around and was still a little shaky on her feet. Dimeji had come to expect such support in the short time he had known her from his newly found mate.
“Is anything else I can do?” he asked Shola, as he went back to the living room and looked around to see if he’d overlooked any garbage.
“No, I think we are good here,” she said with a smile, looking for confirmation from Tiwa.
“Good as gold,” agreed Tiwa, who just got up.
He could not help but compare the two when the women stood side by side. They were in many ways physical opposites, in addition to the age difference. Shola was slender and tall, standing over Tiwa for almost five inches. She was actually even taller than him by two inches. The younger was slightly stubborn, but in the right place with all her curves, while the short brunette was almost androgynous with only a pair of short breasts reflecting her sex.
They also appeared to be in contrast to their personalities. In the short period of time that he knew them, he found Tiwa extremely outgoing, nearly to the point of aggressively being so, while Shola was much more reserved. But this should not be said to mean that she was a pushover at all; when a circumstance required itm he saw her show a strong force of will.
“I suppose I will get on,” he said with a smile, “Well, if you don’t need me then.
Tiwa smiled, a sexy glint in her expression, “Oh, so you’ve got a hot date waiting”, Tiwa laughed,in her expression she had a fascinating glint.
“No, a comfortable chair and a good book,” he replied, knowing how lame that sounded, even though he said it.
Both ladies exchanged a quiet glance instead of making a comment. They were long enough friends for everybody to know what the other thought without a word. Tiwa gave an almost imperceptible node to her older friend, and Shola turned to Dimeji.
“I’m going to have just a glass of Chardonnay and relax a bit, you know, both of us,” Shola said. “You really are welcome to join us if you have no plans.”
Shola’s offer was just as unexpected as it was welcome, because he was not expecting yet another Saturday night alone. But he thought that, even as much as he was willing to take the invitation, it was just a pro-forma, just another way of making him feel welcome.
“I won’t intrude,” he eventually said, not really saying “yes or” no.” Shola said,” Good company makes good taste of the wine even better.”
He didn’t know anything about wine but he really needed the company. Looking in the direction of Tiwa, he gladly accepted the invitation of Shola without any objection.
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“I hope you like it,” Shola said, as she poured into his glass a generous portion of it before doing the same to herself. “This is an unconventional vintage, but I always enjoyed it.” He replied “I’m sure it’s great,” he said as Shola picked up the glass from the table and sat down.
Tiwa asked, flashing a smile at him. “What are we drinking to?”
Shola suggested, “How about new friends?”
“Works for me,” Tiwa replied, lifting her glass a little more, repeating the toast and drinking almost a quarter of her content quickly.
Shola followed suit, but turned back to him with a smaller portion.
“New friends,” he repeated, taking first a little sip, and then a bigger sample.
Shola asked him once he lowered his glass. “So, what do you think?” he asked.
“It’s really good, “I don’t really think I tasted anything like this.” he said, not expecting to do so, at least on the basis of past experience.
“Oh, well I’m happy,” Shola said when she leaned back against her couch, and she took another sip from her own.”
They started talking about the meeting that had just concluded and again Shola expressed her frustration that she had only got a few votes in her proposal to ban naked sunbathing on the building. He did not even realize that it was a problem before the meeting, but obviously in recent months, there had been a trio of young women sharing an apartment in the top floor. The general consensus among the others was that while the roof could be viewed as a public site and that, for what it’s worth, public nudity was illegal, did anyone really want to do so?
“I wonder how many of those people who voted against the plan find any excuse for working up there?” she asked.
“That’s between their wives and mothers,” said Tiwa. “I think you are doing too much of it, Shola, and people can start thinking you’re a bit of a prude if you continue doing so.”
“I’m not a prude, and you know,” Shola insisted. “I don’t have any problem with the privacy of anybody, but I’d hate to get that sort of reputation for the building.”
He tried to remember, while listening, if there were names to say who exactly used the roof and particularly if he knew any of them. Unfortunately, he couldn’t recall that any were used or even discussed at the meeting.
“You know, I considered going up there myself a few times when the weather was really good,” Tiwa offered. “So, I don’t see this as a big trouble.” Shola didn’t answer, but let the matter finally go.
Dimeji had the opposite reaction, however, because he suddenly found it impossible not to try to imagine Tiwa as described on the roof. In fact, he was so absorbed in his visualization that he didn’t notice that Shola not only changed the subject, she had also asked a question.
“What?” he finally said, realizing that a question had finally been asked.
She repeated, when she refilled his glass, which he had not even realized had drained, and then topped both his own and Tiwa’s. “I wondered how you adapted to the life of the city.” “I guess it’s an adjustment after growing up in a small town,” He replied from the other end of the sofa. “In some ways, yes, in others, not that much.” “I guess. “And again, over the last few weeks I spent so much time at work that I could not really explore.”
“Now,” said Tiwa from her chair to the other side of a table coffee, “you’re going to have to find the time. It’s so much that the town has to give, and I’m sure you’ve hear the old saying about the job of all kinds and no playing.” “At this very moment, he thinks the job should be done in the first place, and I should be in agreement with him. Because I recall you spent so many hours at your store, when it opened for the first time, you might just have moved into.”
“You’ll be reaping those benefits now,” said Shola.
“But it was my business, and anything in it I put.” Tiwa disagreed.
“You’re getting the value now,” said Shola. “He’s just beginning, his time is coming!” Tiwa seemed to have something else to say, but she stopped when Shola changed the subject again.
“What do you think of your neighbors now that you have seen more?” She asked.
“Alright, I just got to talk to some of them,” he responded, “and they seem like nice people. I’m sure I’m going to make some friends when I get to know them better.”
“Oh, from what I’d seen, I’d say that Mr. Lawal was definitely keen to know you better.” Tiwa commented, “”
“Alabi Lawal, five eight, dark hair late 40s. He seemed quite interested in you.” she continued
“Oh yeah, the photographer,” He said, the gentleman in question only having given his first name when he’d introduced himself. “He seemed like a really friendly guy. When I mentioned that I was interested in photography too, he invited me to come down to his studio and take a look at his portfolio.”
“His portfolio … yeah, right,” Tiwa grinned. “I’m betting that wasn’t all he wanted you to take a look at.” A perplexed look flashed across Dimeji’s face, one that just as abruptly changed to concern as understanding dawned.
“Wait a second, I like girls,” he just as quickly stated.
“Did you tell him that?” she asked with a smile.
“Oh, don’t mind Tiwa,” Shola laughed. “Mr. Lawal is a very nice man; I’m sure his invitation didn’t mean anything more than what he said it did. He’s very proud of his work and likes to show it off. In fact, I’ve seen it myself.”
Despite Shola’s assurance, he found himself going back over his conversation with the older man, and on reflection, was dismayed to realize that they’d spent just as much time discussing his personal life, including the fact that he didn’t have a girlfriend, as they did on photography. He sincerely hoped that he hadn’t given the photographer any suggestion that he preferred anything other than a woman in his bed, however rare a circumstance that usually was.
“I also saw you trying to strike up a conversation with Christina,” Tiwa pointed out.
This time, Dimeji didn’t need any help with putting a face to the name, or more specifically, the body. The 5’6″ blonde looked like she could be a model, although he’d heard someone say that she worked as a secretary down at a local radio station. He’d only gotten to talk to her for a few minutes before the meeting started, and afterwards she had left as soon as it was done.
“Yeah, she seemed like a really nice girl,” he said, confirming Tiwa’s observation, not realizing that he’d used almost those same words to describe Mr. Lawal.
Tiwa replied with a sort of half chuckle, leading Dimeji to wonder what she knew about the curvaceous blonde that he didn’t.
“Let me guess, she likes girls too,” he commented.
“No dear, Christina definitely likes men,” Shola answered before Tiwa could. “I just don’t think she’s the right sort of girl for you.”
“Why not?” he inquired, a variety of not very pleasant reasons suddenly popping into his head, most of them things he’d only read about.
“Well, why don’t we just say she’s rather high-maintenance, and leave it at that,” Shola replied.
Before he could consider what high-maintenance meant, Tiwa proved all too willing to give her definition.
“What Shola is too nice to say,” Tiwa said, proving that she wasn’t, “is that Christina is the type who’d let you spend your entire salary on her, but still send you home with not so much as a hand job.”
“Tiwa, that’s a terrible thing to say,” Shola snapped.
“Maybe, but that doesn’t make it any less true,” she added. “Dimeji here would do better with Alabi. From what I’ve heard from involved parties, he at least gives head on a first date.”
The unbidden image of their neighbor performing such an act filled Dimeji’s head for a moment, just long enough to cause him to pale.
“Tiwa, I think you’re embarrassing our guest,” Shola suggested, having observed the color fade from his face.
“I’m just telling it like it is,” Tiwa said, taking another sip of wine. “After all, he’s a healthy young man, who I’m sure, would rather spend his Saturday nights doing something far more interesting than listening to the two of us. I’m just trying to help steer him in the right direction.”
Although he was somehow to say so, Dimeji had to admit he certainly could use some assistance in that area. While he hadn’t gone through college celibate, his success with the girls there hadn’t been anything to write home about either. Still, compared to his current dry spell, those days now seemed drab. He really didn’t spend as many hours at work as he professed, but saying so was less humiliating than confessing that he hadn’t had a date in over four months. Since moving to the city, none of the women he’d met through work or at social gatherings seemed all that interested in a mid-level accountant.
“Would anyone like more wine?” Shola asked.
“Do you really have to ask?” Tiwa laughed, holding up her empty glass.
Shola then looked to Dimeji, who, while he still had a little bit left in his glass, indicated that he would like more as well. Like he’d noted before, he didn’t know much about wine, but he was certainly enjoying both the taste and the slight buzz it was giving him.
Picking up the bottle, which had already been half empty when the first drinks had been poured, Shola carried it into the kitchen to get a new one from the refrigerator. No sooner had she exited when Tiwa leapt from her chair and dropped down onto the couch, leaving not half as much space between her and Dimeji as Shola had maintained.
She didn’t have time to do much more as Shola returned only a few minutes later, a replacement bottle of wine in one hand, and a small plastic prescription bottle in the other. She placed the wine bottle on the table and then held up the other.
“It looks like Mrs. Abu left her medication on the kitchen counter when she went to get some water,” Shola said. “The label says she needs to take it four times a day so I’d better run it down to her.”
“No problem,” Tiwa replied as she reached out for the open wine bottle and quickly filled both her and Dimeji’s glasses. “We, and the wine, will still be here when you get back.”
“I shouldn’t be long,” Shola said, directing her comment more to Dimeji than Tiwa.
The outer door had barely closed behind her when Tiwa snuggled even closer to him, pressing the side of her breasts against his arm.
“Now it’s just you and me, kid,” she grinned.
“I’m sure Shola will be right back,” Dimeji replied, pulling slightly away from her as he picked up his glass and took a drink from it.
“Not if I know Mrs. Abu,” Tiwa countered, taking another sip of her own. “That old lady can talk up a storm given the chance, and Shola is too kind hearted to cut her short.”
“Yeah, she is a really nice person,” he agreed. “I can’t believe how friendly she’s been since I moved in.”
“You know, I can be really friendly too,” she said as she again brushed the side of her breast against his arm. “That is, if you want me to be.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond, yet at the same time, he was reluctant to again pull away again. Instead he looked at the redhead with a sort of deer in the headlights expression on his face.
“Oh, don’t give me that innocent look,” Tiwa laughed softly, “not after the way you’ve been staring at my boobs all evening.”
Dimeji didn’t need a mirror to know his face had just turned bright red. He had indeed been looking at the older woman’s breasts, but it wasn’t totally his fault. Shola had worn a conservative blue dress to the meeting whereas Tiwa had opted for a short length skirt and a low-cut red top that drew attention to her sizable assets. It also didn’t help matters that her blouse was just tight enough to highlight her nipples as they pressed against the thin material.
“I’m sorry,” he stammered, adding that maybe he should just go.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she smiled. “If I didn’t want men to look at my breasts, I wouldn’t wear outfits that put them on display. So, there’s no reason for you to feel embarrassed.”
“Okay,” the young man said, not knowing what else to say.
“Do you think I have nice breasts, Dimeji?” Tiwa asked.
The question stunned him, not having been one he’d ever had a woman ask. In fact, it took more than thirty seconds before he managed to reply that she did.
“I’m very proud of my breasts,” she added as she placed a hand on the underside of each and lifted them slightly, “and they are really soft. Would you like to feel them?”
If the first question had stunned him, the second left him totally speechless. More so when it became apparent that Tiwa really didn’t need an answer, taking hold of his hand, she lifted it to her closest breast, pressing his palm against the abundant flesh of the first one, then the other.
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