Chapter Text
One Monday morning
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to live next door to a sex maniac?” Penelope hummed to the clerk at the homing association. She only wanted to lodge a complaint against her terrible neighbour, and it took up way more time than she had anticipated. She had other important things to do, like to write her romance novel, which had proven impossible because she could hear her neighbour having it on with a new woman almost every day. She was lucky she did not have to face him in her building. He lived around the corner, but their balconies were next to each other and sound travelled to her office, keeping her from her work.
Penelope could see the other clerks behind the counter paying attention to her every word instead of working on their huge workload. Behind her, she could feel other customers shuffling closer, trying to hear everything she had to say. Those privacy lines on the floor did nothing for her, so she lowered her voice.
“Well, miss, that is a very serious charge. Can you substantiate it?” the clerk asked, her eyes perking up because she would not mind living next door to a sex maniac. If she did, maybe he would notice her and have his wicked way with her. If she were honest, she would not mind at all. But the woman standing in front of her had the most scrunched up nose ever since she had taken her checklist to check the seriousness of her claim.
Penelope rolled her eyes, while she racked her brain for anything that may come to mind to get her sex maniac neighbour evicted, so she could write in peace.
“Well, our balconies are next to each other and I can hear him sing love songs to his conquests and I can also hear very — spirited other activities,” Penelope murmured, her cheeks pinked, as she remembered some of the groaning and grunting. Especially since the clerk turned all heart eyes on her, she obviously would not mind being sung to at every hour of every day or joining in some fiery activities.
Penelope cleared her throat, hoping she might get the clerk’s attention back, and the clerk fired off another question from the checklist, “Does he use objectionable language at you?”
“No, he does not.” Tick.
“Has he threatened you?” the clerk looked at her with a warning in her eye, thread careful now.
“No…” Penelope sighed, this was not going well. How would she be able to get her neighbour to stop his breezy routines? It was impossible to write when he was constantly having a go with another woman.
“Has he made immoral overtures to you?” the clerk asked, ticking her checklist with every answer Penelope gave.
Penelope shrugged, “Well—, no, not to me—“ she answered. She would be so lucky, she wanted somebody special, who only had eyes for her, not her balcony neighbour who preached to a different choir. Someone who would see the real her, not the secret identity she was hiding behind. She was a romance novelist, but she used a pseudonym.
“Are you bothered by this?” the clerk asked again, hoping she could get to the bottom of this before her lunch break started.
“Yes,” Penelope answered, then shook her head, when she understood the question, “I mean no, what do you mean bothered?”
“You claim your neighbour is carrying on with all these other women. Does this bother you?” The clerk had heard many complaints in her life about neighbours, but never had she heard this one. Usually, it was a complaint about noise, shouting, loud music or not taking care of the rubbish at the right disposal date.
Penelope sighed exasperatedly, how could she convince this woman she could not write a single sentence when he was always entering her thoughts, when he was entertaining another woman again? “I don’t care what he does, I just want him to stop interfering with my work with his flirtations.”
Suddenly, Penelope had another idea, instead of filing a complaint against her neighbour, she could maybe find another flat, so she would no longer have to hear him. “Or perhaps, I can move to another flat—?” Penelope uttered, hopefully.
“Sorry miss, we have hundreds of applications which take precedence over yours,” the clerk replied, squashing Penelope’s hope for a swift solution.
“But there must be some way to solve this.” Penelope was flummoxed she was unable to solve her problem, not by getting rid of him nor by moving to another place.
“Well, if some emergency arose,—. If you were to become pregnant, for example, you’d jump right to the top of our list,” the clerk offered with a shrug.
“Miss Conrad, being single, I’m not quite ready for that kind of emergency,” Penelope grinned, and Miss Conrad joined her.
“Okay, miss, I will make sure we send one of our inspectors to his place to have a chat with him.” The clerk put a post-it on the checklist and put it in the tray, while she checked the clock, giving Penelope a silent sign that this conversation was over.
“Oh, thank you very much, I would appreciate that,” Penelope shared a warm smile at the clerk, hoping it would help to get the inspector over to his place post-haste. She had a deadline and would very much like to get some writing done.
When Penelope sat down at her laptop again that afternoon, the door to the balcony slightly ajar, so she could hear the sounds of the birds and the city below, she groaned when she heard her neighbour entertaining again.
She heard the first chords on his piano, and soon after his voice followed,
“It was a rainy night,
When she came into sight,
Standing by the road,
No umbrella, no coat,
So I pulled up alongside,
And I offered her a ride,
She accepted with a smile.
Penelope chuckled, her neighbour usually played that song when he wanted to discourage the lady in question. Because the song ended with him leaving the woman with a thank you note, but nothing else, not even his name.
“Will I see you tonight?” a woman asked with a seductive voice, and Penelope rolled her eyes. She wondered what he would do this time. She bet he would let the lady down gently, before she heard, “Oh, I’m sorry Yvette, I have to work. I have to write songs for my new album.”
Penelope did love his voice, it was all sultry and warm. She bet he could say the naughtiest things with that velvety voice of his. Her ears picked up when the woman gave it another try, “But you’ll have to go out and eat dinner, n’est-ce pas?”
Penelope could almost hear the woman wrapping herself around her neighbour. Cling on much? She felt sorry for her kind, when she heard another woman desperately trying to get to stay with her neighbour, but if Penelope had learned anything from her eavesdropping, her neighbour was a one time, one woman kind of guy.
“Oh, I’ll throw something together here,” her neighbour answered, non-committally.
She could almost hear him shrug, desperate to get the woman out of the flat. He probably had another appointment with his next flavour of the day, Penelope surmised.
“But, maybe I can come over and cook something for you, oui?” Yvette said, and Penelope was curious what her neighbour would do.
“But you can’t cook,” he replied without so much as a thought and Penelope chuckled, that was a terrible burn, and she almost felt sorry for Yvette.
When she heard the door slam, Penelope knew she had a few hours to write. Yvette had left the building and would not return, of that she was sure. Penelope sighed, while flexing her fingers. Now, where was she?