Imagination Running Wild

I’ve recently moved into a new flat in a rather nice building in Liverpool City Centre. I’ve not really met any of my neighbours properly apart from the odd “hello” in the hall and on the stairways.

But last night, I was waiting in the hall by the front door to the building for my mum to help me take a chest of drawers to my partner’s house, and I clearly heard people in the ground floor flat having sex.

It wasn’t a ‘screaming the building down’ number, and anyone walking through the hall wouldn’t have noticed it. It was just the fact that I happened to be waiting around in the hall, coupled with the fact that it’s a quiet building in a quiet area where sound carries, that I heard them. I wasn’t pressing my ear to the door or anything like that! But I’ve been around long enough to recognise the female orgasmic sound that’s somewhere between a quiet moan and a sharp exhale of breath. At first I thought it was just my imagination (there’s a part of every non-asexual man’s imagination that is always on sex), until I heard a quiet male ‘aaah’ that could only be a male orgasm.

I then heard the sound of a kettle being boiled, which made me smile to myself. How quintessentially British – “Have sex, make tea!” My mother arrived during the tea making and I was distracted by the act of lugging a large IKEA chest of drawers out of the front door and negotiating it into the back of the car. Whilst I was doing this, a man emerged from the ground floor flat, said goodbye to the unseen lady inside and left.

Now, there is no reason for me to be thinking anything about my neighbours’ sex lives. I’m pretty sure they’ve heard my sexploits already in my new flat (which were probably a lot louder). But in the car, my imagination ran away from me. This had all happened between 6.15pm and 6.45pm which, to me, is a strange time to be having sex. I mean, that’s around dinner-time – sex is generally an after-dinner activity isn’t it? Sure, I’ve succumbed to the thrill of ‘just got in from work’ sex, but generally we both stick around afterwards. My imagination theorised that this woman in the ground floor flat was either having an early evening booty call, or was a higher end call girl.

Then of course, my imagination revealed something to me I hadn’t noticed until now. Remember I said that my only encounters with my neighbours had been either in the halls or on the stairs? The only people I’d actually seen coming in to the building were women who obviously lived here, and the only people I’d seen leaving the building were men who, on reflection, I have no idea whether they live here or not. Now obviously this doesn’t mean a damn thing, but by the end of the night my imagination had convinced me that I was actually living in a building where the only other occupiers were high-end call girls.

This is, of course, all completely ridiculous; the product of an over-active imagination with nothing better to do on a car journey. There are loads of reasons why a couple would be having early-evening sex before the man left – all of which are none of my business.

Might be worth having a peek on to see if I can find any reference to my building though!

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