After the van stopped in front of the apartment building, a small, solitary figure carefully stepped out. The driver of the van for an after-school program watched the girl climb the steps, the reddish brown ponytail swinging until she reached the front door and went inside. Once his charge was safely inside the building, the driver left to deliver the remainder of his charges.
The elevator doors lid open, depositing Margot on her floor. The six year-old reached into the collar of her blouse, her fingers scrabbling over her porcelain skin until they found the lanyard. Pulling it out, she inserted the key on the end into the door and shuffled into the apartment. With a heavy sigh, she stood alone; always alone.
She didn't blame her mother, who had to work long hours to support them both. But the silence of the empty place seemed to roar in her ears. At school and in the after-school activity center, she had plenty of friends. But their absence now made being alone all the worse. There was the television to make noise, but Margot needed human interaction and she felt terribly isolated; her warm, cozy home with her loving mother was like a prison cell, deep in isolation.
Studying the still open door, Margot decided not to close it. Every time she did, it seemed to echo with a heavy thud of a dungeon door in a scary old castle. She dragged a chair from the kitchen and placed it inside the doorway. Sitting there, she hoped some of the neighbors would see her and stop to chat.
As he stepped off the elevator, Brian Daugherty noticed the door to the apartment next door was open. Sitting in a chair was the little girl who lived there, Margot. She was a cute little thing and Brian had entertained a few fantasies about her but in real life, he only maintained a relationship of greetings and short conversations with her and her mother.
Margot's legs dangled from the chair, stopping short of the floor by a few inches. The skirt she wore ended at the knee but as she sat, it hiked up to show a bit of her thigh. Her lower calves were encased in white socks and she wore shiny red shoes that buckled with a strap across the top. She was so little schoolgirl sweet-looking that she often gave Brian an instant hard-on. But sitting as she was with the door open was unusual and his concern about something wrong overrode his lust.
"Hi Margo, are you okay?" he asked.
"Uh huh," she answered.
She fidgeted in the chair and Brian pondered what the issue might be.
"So why are you sitting there like that?"
"I'm not supposed to leave the apartment and nobody is supposed to come in when Mommy's not here. But I'm lonely. Could you stay here with me?"
"You mean out here in the hall?'
Now Brian's lust was overriding his concern.
"Why don't you come over to my apartment? It's right next door, so you're not that far away. And that way you have an adult looking after you."
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Changes last made on: Monday, April 04, 2016