VANCE STREET by Mike Austin
nasstop@yahoo.com
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I.
Vance Street was a short 3 block glorified alley that was named after an arts patron in town. The street was lined with 5 story walk-ups huddled together as if shivering from Winter's assault. Most buildings had 4 apts per floor with a basement storage or open area for the tenants. The two cross streets, Park and Elm were barely wider than Vance and sent traffic on one way streets in opposite directions. This end of town was defined by its heritage as warehouse worker housing adjacent to the river. The warehouses had long ago been converted into lofts or performance venues, but the Vance Street apartment buildings, were left to lean against one another for support. The odd assembly of mansard roofs, faux balconies, shudder-framed windows or shallow awnings hovering over windows gave an old world charm that was now in a neglected state. The surfaces that had been painted once, were now in disrepair, paint chipped or rust taking up a prominence. The brick facades were chipped, mossy in places, spray painted, patched, sooty and in some places revealed the past traces of signage or graffiti. The narrow sidewalks were at least lit with adequate vertical street lamps to illuminate building entries and addresses. The single motif that prevailed were black painted doors with the brass street number centered on each door. It is to #14 Vance Street that you are welcomed, and is the address that Ivan Markilev is seeking as he wears his backpack and tugs his suitcase on rollers.
Ivan arrived back in town three days ago, fresh from his community college dance and drama school. At twenty and holding a freshly printed associate of arts degree, buoyed with praise heaped on him by his family, friends, college professors and more than a few paying male admirers, he was intent on making his way in the New Town Ballet and Jazz Company to which he'd been accepted. When he arrived in town for his audition two weeks earlier, he'd stayed at the City Y, a downtown spot that redefined rundown, but was cheap and more or less, clean. He started on Monday and these last three days, he'd been searching for an affordable apartment and found this one late Thursday and called the inquiry number to set up a walk-through. Knowing he had no need for his truck in the new town, he'd sold it and was using the sale funds to live on and would also use them to pay for the apt deposit and initial rent on apartment 14 L, and utility deposit on the 3rd floor rear-facing unit. Early Friday morning and eyeing the row of 20 bells A- T, he rang the bell beside C/D, the name Manager. An older guy opened the front door wearing a worn out tool-belt, in jeans and sleeveless sweatshirt. Ivan asked if he was Mr. Scott and the man replied, "You must be that Ivan guy I spoke to yesterday?" Mr. Scott stepped back, led Ivan to his apartment and a board of keys, tugged off the key marked #L and handed it to Ivan, then added "3rd floor in the rear; bring the keys back after you look." He closed the door and left Ivan in the hallway, looking around at his possible new digs, then Ivan thought, MY NEW DIGS and bounded upstairs to find #L; stepped in and was shocked by the bare floor, barren windows, open area with the only other room being the small bathroom. A kitchen counter stretched along one wall with a small fridge at one end, a small 2 burner stove next to it, then a double porcelain sink and countertop with two cabinets above and below. The open room was lit with a set of double wide full height windows that flooded the space with what light wasn't blocked by the building opposite the unit, which was across a small rear alley that separated the opposing structures. The small bathroom had an old style tub and a shower that was rigged from the wall, a freestanding sink and small toilet. The linoleum on the floor was chipped but overall, the unit looked clean as it could be. Ivan glared in the slightly cracked medicine cabinet that clung to the wall and spoke to the mirror- I can make this work, then returned to Mr. Scott's unit, signed the 6 month lease and paid his deposit and initial rent. "Water and gas are included but you get your own electricity and phone or internet, and no WiFi", Mr. Scott declared. Ivan left with keys to the front door, the mailbox and his apt, returning to his new place and walking off the dimensions to determine placement for a bed, maybe a chair and suitable chest of drawers, maybe a bar stool and light bulbs. While the ceiling lights, 2 over the large area and one over the kitchen row, were adequate, they were bulb-less. He left to assemble some supplies, etc. It would be Monday for the cable provider to connect his service. He'd phone his folks once he was settled in.
It was on his trek down the stairs that he noticed soft jazz music at apt #E (one front apt); at #F he heard a female soloist doing her speak and sing practice, he presumed and as he hit the 1st floor wondered about the stairs continuation down to a basement area. He looked about and realizing this was his building now, he would explore. He found a row of 20 lockers lining two walls, each tagged with the corresponding apt # above the door. Some had padlocks, others were lockless. The rest of the open space had 3 long rows of fluorescent lights and at the opposite end of the basement, saw 5 washing machines in a row and no dryer. Two had Out of Order signs on the lids, on closer inspection the remaining 3 looked in decent repair and order. He pulled his phone out and added a clothesline to his fix-up list. It was while he updated the list that he heard the same female voice coming down the stairs. As he turned, he saw a lean redhead, about his height carrying a basket of clothes, crowned with a box of powdered soap.
She hardly acknowledged him and as she loaded the washer, then spoke into the air "you must be #L?" She turned and looked for understanding and an answer. "Uh yes, Ivan, Ivan Markilev, #L" he spoke and held his hand out tentatively to her. Ignoring his hand, she replied, "Katia Somers, with an "O" and one "M" #F." She continued humming her tune, shoved the quarters in the machine slots, shook Ivan's hand and remarked, "they're old and slow, take about 30 minutes each" then passed Ivan and disappeared upstairs. He stood stunned by the event. She was pretty enough he thought, with her build, he'd have figured her a dancer perhaps. Her bright green eyes were dazzling however. And he made his way back upstairs to the front door of #14, out onto the sidewalk, then paused and looked up again at his new digs. Tossing the keys in midair and catching them, he noticed the sun was at high noon over him and the heat rained down in full force. Once again, he tugged the phone from his backpack and typed FAN on the list.
Ivan at 20, was decent looking, no model, but had a tight, lean torso and broad flat chest framed by sinewy muscles. The musculature continued the contour of his abs, hips, butt and legs. What the musculature didn't reveal was that Ivan was a "grower, not a shower" and beginning back at age 15, had discovered the benefits of having that attribute, arch out of his jeans as he hardened up. His older brother Michael was built similarly, but played sports and was beefier, though having the same attribute and would often relay stories to Ivan of his locker room times after a game in the showers. At 17, Michael had a thick 8+ inch uncut dick when hard that was veiny and always shot mega loads of cum. The pair of brothers often had shoot outs to see who could launch cum the farthest. And though 2 years younger, Ivan had a healthy 9" dick with a huge uncut head, though a leaner shaft than his older brother, but his shooter delivered gobs at a distance that was often hard to match. Ivan learned early on that his "shooter" was good for cash. Both Ivan and Michael had cold black hair and dark blue eyes with heavy eyebrows and 5 o'clock shadows. Neither had any chest hair but had fair amounts of pubes. He headed to the hardware store he'd seen 2 blocks away. He knew his mom had packed 2 each plates, bowls, mugs, glasses and silverware, a pot and a skillet so he didn't need any kitchen stuff which let him head to the items that were missing and get back to the apartment. He knocked on Mr. Scott's door, who answered just as abruptly, and asked to borrow a ladder to replace the light bulbs, which evidently the previous tenant had removed, while suspecting Mr. Scott of being the culprit. Loaded with a small step-up ladder and his other fixtures, he made quick work of the bulbs, and hanging the curtains at the double-wide windows, before returning the ladder to Mr. Scott and thanking him repeatedly. Then back at his apartment, he unpacked his backpack and suitcase before placing some of his new purchases in the space. He raised one of the windows and noticed a sparrow sitting at a nest site, though no eggs were evident. Ivan watched the bird sit, chirp some then fly away before returning to the same nest. He wondered how long the bird had used the nest and recalled the sparrows back home that would build nests, raise their young and disappear until the following year. He spread the several rugs he'd purchased about and used one to seat the pallet of linens he would use as a makeshift bed until he could buy a bed and other larger items. He flicked the fan on high and the whirling noise lent some comfort and cooling to the space. Ivan stripped, lay back and got into a slow edging J/O session that he made last an hour before blowing his wad across his lean torso.
He woke two hours later, hearing people arriving home from work and climbing the stairs as well as kids playing in the alley space between his building and the one behind him. He glanced out, the sparrow was again at the nest but the sun had moved west and more of his unit was cast in shadow now. His skin was sticky from the mass of cum that had dried by this time. His pubes were scratchy from the dried slick. Ivan's dick had once again retreated to normal size as he stood, crossed to the bathroom, pissed, washed his face and made his way to the kitchen to make a can of soup and down some crackers for supper. After supper, he phoned his folks, relayed the details of the apartment and the things he'd found at the hardware store. He had the weekend to get a mattress, perhaps find a chair and table. His mom interjected and said they'd drive in and all would go get some furniture and would bring his bro to help with the lifting and carrying. Ivan seemed to settle down after the meal and phone visit and actually was looking forward to their visit tomorrow. He and Michael might even get a chance to christen his place with a cum launch game....Sitting at the window, he flipped open his laptop and found someone's WiFi and selected a porn site to visit. He soon lost the signal and fell asleep sitting beside the open window, where the fan was drawing in sounds and night breezes across his nude body.