He stealthily opens the latch of the door and prepares to close it behind him with a very slow movement, trying not to make any noise, so that the lock doesn't get stuck and he has to pull the door to be able to close it. He succeeds. He lets out the air he holds in his lungs and goes to the stairwell of the building to put on the shoes he is holding in his hand. He trots down the stairs while he grabs the tie he is wearing loosely around his neck, puts it in his jacket, and checks that he has everything in his pockets, wallet, keys, coins. He takes out the piece of paper where she wrote her phone number. He crumples it up to throw it in the first trash can he finds.

One more. One less.

As he drives home, he thinks about what he will write down in the notebook on his bedside table: 79: Amy, 23 years old, TITS. He met her at Groucho's. Missionary. No preliminaries. Boring. NO.

No. He won't call her again even if he has a two-hour boner and is sick of jerking off. He feels euphoric again. It always happens to him when he manages to seduce a woman and get her into bed. He feels like a champion. The manliest of all men. Women are so easy, and he's so irresistible, and that's why his life is complete even though he has a shitty job as a paper salesman, and his sister berates him over and over again for the way he treats women.

"Oh, like you don't do the same with men, Saint Larissa."

"At least, I try to maintain a relationship with them. The problem is that the men I come across are all jerks. Just like you."

"Maybe the problem is you."

"No. The problem is them and you. You just use women."

"I don't use them. I give them what they want." At that point he touches his package because he knows he's going to make her mad. He loves his sister, but he's sick of her lecturing him about his lifestyle.

"You're a pig."

And so, always.

Before he enters the doorway of his building he looks at his watch. It's twelve o'clock at night. He can still have a beer before going to bed. If he goes to bed at one o'clock, he can rest for six and a half hours. Seven, if he showers now and not in the morning. Enough not to fall asleep on the job.

He lives in a ten-story apartment building, with eight apartments on each floor. That's a lot of neighbors all at once. Some he knows by sight but others he doesn't, so he's not surprised when he first sees a girl with curly hair waiting for the elevator. She certainly doesn't come from a party, despite the time. Her attire and hairstyle are very conservative. He can't imagine any girl dressed like that in any bar. She looks like she's coming from mass. He greets her as he approaches her and the elevator dings as he reaches the first floor. She doesn't answer. She looks at him a little startled, though, and can understand why. Getting on an elevator with a stranger is not among the advice a mother gives you.

"Are you going up?" He tells her with the best smile he can force to reassure her, as he opens the elevator door. She looks inside the elevator and turns her head slightly to look at the staircase behind her. "Or if you prefer, you go up first and I'll wait here." He motions for her to come in. She does.

When the door is closed, she opens it again. "I'm sorry. Come up if you want."

"Are you sure?. I don't mind waiting," he says without going in. Because he'll be all you want, but he's not going to consciously scare any girl. And this girl seems so shy and so polite, that she'd surely rather go upstairs with a stranger who might put her in danger than think she's been rude to him. She nods, and he finally gets in.

They both go to hit the button with the number eight on it at the same time, and so they realize they are going to the same floor. She stands in the corner, and he puts his hands in his pockets and rattles his keys. In another building, with another person or at another time, he would talk about the weather and start a conversation, but he sees her so huddled in the corner, trying to get as far away from him as possible, that he decides to remain quiet. When the sound announcing the arrival of the elevator on his floor sounds, he opens the door for her to step out. He sees her head across the hall quickly.

"Good night."

She looks at him for a moment

"Good night," she replies in a very low voice before quickly opening and closing the door behind her.

As he enters his apartment, he notices the mess in the kitchen - he was planning to clean up today, but since he got lucky at the bar, it will have to be tomorrow, or the day after - he forgets about the beer and heads straight for the shower. He can still smell Amy's perfume on his body. He doesn't dislike it, but he has to move on. He turns on the faucet and lets the water run over his head and down his back as he leans against the tiles. His shoulders and arms ache and he thinks it's from straining tonight on a mattress that's too soft. He should have turned them over when he thought about it, so he wouldn't have made all the effort, and he could have enjoyed Amy's big tits a little more. And he goes from thinking about Amy's tits to his new neighbor's tits. He hasn't even noticed them, and he usually always does. When he meets a woman, he looks at her eyes -if the looks are longer than socially acceptable, he knows he has a chance-, the lips -preferably full-, the face in general -she must be pretty, he's not for experiments-, the tits -like any man, he likes them that don't fit in his hand-, and if he has the chance, he looks at their ass -round and well set. With this girl he hasn't done any of that. All he manages to remember is a frightened face and pursed lips. Well, that must mean you shouldn't think about her anymore. There's nothing remarkable.

That night he dreams of her, making out in the elevator. When he wakes up he tries to remember all the details, but he no longer remembers his neighbor's face. He still resorts to that dream when he masturbates that morning.

------------------------

He doesn't dream about her or think about her again until he finds her a couple of weeks later opening her mailbox. For once he has come straight home from work because the headache he has is killing him. He needs rest above all. He's been going to bed too late, drinking too much and eating poorly for three days straight. His body is telling him that enough is enough and he loves his body very much, so that's what he plans to do. He's even considering skipping work tomorrow and thus stringing together a long weekend.

He wasn't planning on checking her mailbox, but he takes advantage of the fact that she's there and goes over. He doesn't have to prove anything to her, in fact he doesn't even know her name, but he has this urge to talk to her and let her see that at least he's a good neighbor.

"Hey, hi." He walks over with his key to open his mailbox that he hasn't looked at for at least a week.

She glances at him for only a moment from what she can see out of the corner of her eye as she picks up the stack of bills piled there.

"'Hi,' she replies as she looks down at the one letter in her hand, and says nothing more as she heads for the elevator. He hurriedly closes his mailbox and follows her so as not to miss the opportunity to get on with her.

"You're new here aren't you? I haven't seen you before." He pretends to be disinterested as he looks over the letter from his bank more than he should.

"Yes. I moved in recently." Silence again as they wait for the elevator to come down from the tenth floor.

"I'm Jim, by the way - Jim Halpert." He places the letter he's looking at under his chin, so his hand is free to offer it to her as a greeting.

"I'm Pamela.... Pam." She shakes his hand briefly and they hear the sound indicating the elevator has arrived. He holds the letter under his chin as he opens the door for her.

"I think we're neighbors."

"Yes, I think so." She smiles at him for the first time and he finds it the most beautiful smile he has seen in a long time, because it transforms her whole face and he can see the beauty behind the serious gesture and the outdated hairstyle. He catches his breath for a second taking it in.

"I mean.... I know we're neighbors because the other night, we went up together.... But that we are neighbors-neighbors.... From the same floor....I live across the hall.... Apartment 8H." He has no idea why he can't coordinate his speech with what he wants to say, but he really has gotten very nervous. So much so that he drops his letters on the floor of the elevator. "Wow. How clumsy."

He bends down to pick them up and so does she. By the time the elevator reaches their floor they have managed to pick them up. She opens the door and hands him the ones in her hand.

"You have a lot of letters," she tells him when she hands them to him.

"Yes." Jim sighs and gives a crooked smile "My bank loves me very much. He keeps writing me."

She laughs briefly, and he is filled with satisfaction at having made her laugh. In fact, he is quite thrilled. He looks at her white teeth, her stretched lips, and feels slack in his legs

"At least you have someone who loves you."

"Just for my money."

Another laugh and her heart stops for a second. This girl is something else. This girl brightens your day with her laughter. This girl has something that has nothing to do with her body. He remembers his sister Larissa's quote. "If you want to meet an interesting woman, close your eyes so you can listen to her."** It's possible this is what she's referring to, though she hasn't said much, and he's wide-eyed.

"Good night." She says goodbye to him and turns back toward her apartment. Jim is unable to move his body toward hers and watches her walk away. He feels like she's still talking to him. He wants to invite her for coffee, or dinner. He is eager to stay by her side and for her not to say good night to him..

"If you need anything... anything at all.... Salt, coffee... conversation...”. He insists that she not leave.

She looks at him as she reaches into her purse for her keys.

"I'm right there." He points down the hall without taking his eyes off her. "Apartment 8H."

"Thank you." Her response is polite, but Jim has the feeling that he has overdone it and has become overconfident with her. She hasn't looked at him again, and has closed her door while he was still in the hallway. She thinks he has frightened her again.

He finally heads for his door, and snorts regretfully at being too obvious.

His headache is gone.

----------------------

Saturday noon, as he drives home from his rain-interrupted basketball game, he stops at a red light and sees her. She is loaded down with shopping bags and has no umbrella. She walks briskly as she tries to take shelter under building ledges. She has clearly been caught in the downpour just as he and his friends have been and if she is walking home, she still has ten minutes left in the rain and getting wet. To him it seems senseless and he feels the need to take her in his car. When the light turns green, he pulls up to her and honks his horn. It only makes her walk faster. Then he rolls down the passenger window and shouts her name. She turns around for a moment but can probably only make out someone's blurry face behind the water-filled windows. Then he has no choice but to park on the side of the road and get out of the car.

"Pam...Pam!" She stops again and looks at him. there is a gesture of recognition toward him, but she says nothing. She has wet curls plastered around her face, and he gets such a sense of vulnerability that he runs up to her to grab her bags and force her into the car. "Come on, get in the car. You're going to get soaked."

She hasn't even noticed that he has taken the bags from her, so even if she didn't want to, she has to follow him. She stares at the side of the driver's door as he shoves his groceries into the trunk. "Get in!" Jim orders her. She opens the door and sits down.

When he gets in the car, he apologizes.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, but it's just that you were getting soaked." He puts on his seatbelt and turns the steering wheel to pull out into traffic.

"Yes. I'm sorry" she breaks away from the seat and gathers herself as much as she can squeezing her arms and legs against herself. "I'm going to get your car wet."

"I don't care about the car," he says smiling at her. He cuts off the sentence there because he is about to tell her that what he cares about is her.

"Thank you," she says shyly.

"You're welcome. That's what neighbors are for." They smile at each other, but he has to avert his gaze to the traffic, and she turns her head and looks out the window. Silence falls inside the car.

Today he has hit the jackpot because he manages to park in front of the door of his building. Outside it is still raining even harder than before and neither of them is carrying an umbrella.

"Here's what we're going to do. You run up to the gate and I'll get the bags out”.

"No need, Jim." It's the first time she's said his name, and he's glad that she remembers it and also to say it as softly as she has. "You've done enough bringing me along."

"Please" he implores her, and it's enough for her to say okay, open the door and run to the building.

When he arrives laden with the bags, she is waiting for him with the door open. She tries to take the bags from his hands, but Jim dodges her, steps forward and heads determinedly for the elevator. She follows him as she sighs.

"Wow, I never thought a person could eat so much," he says bringing up all four bags at once, showing their weight. "Don't you have a car?. This stuff weighs quite a bit and the grocery store is far away."

"No. I don't have a car yet."

Jim raises his eyebrows because he can't imagine why someone wouldn't have a car in the year 2006.

"Wow. Well that's... weird." He can't think of a better word "How do you get around, how do you get to work?".

"At the moment, I walk or take the bus."

"Is that why so much shopping all at once?".

"You're very perceptive." She winks at him, and he loves it so much, he smiles his best seductive smile. Rehearsed in front of the mirror many times.

He walks her to the door of her apartment, 8A. He doesn't remember who lived there before, he thinks it was a forty-something looking recently divorced man he only passed a couple of times in the doorway. He's glad the divorcee has found a new home.

She opens the door, but doesn't let him in. Now she grabs her bags and takes them into her apartment herself. He stands in the doorway waiting for an invitation or a complimentary tea, but when she returns she doesn't give the impression that this is going to happen, because she places her hand on the door frame, in a clear sign that she is going to close it as soon as she says goodbye.

"Thank you so much, for everything. I owe you one." She says.

"Sure. Sure." He can't think of what else to say and says goodbye rather discouraged.

As he enters his house, he slams the door shut. He hopes she heard him.

That night he goes hunting.

-------------------

Jim meets her again exactly seven days later at the same time. His routine and hers seem pretty gridded, because he's back from his basketball game and she's back to being loaded down with shopping bags in her hands. And for a second he thinks this is getting old. Doing the same thing every day and not expecting much more from your day to day life. It would have been a good idea to go home with Mark to play playstation and drink beer all afternoon. That would have broken up his routine and he wouldn't be debating in the doorway whether or not to go inside to meet her. He is somewhat resentful of her lack of cordiality with him, though he knows she was not obligated to anything, and that good neighbors are there to help and not to demand rewards after a good deed. However there is a guy with her. He's a tall guy like him, but much stockier. He follows her very closely, they seem to be walking together but she doesn't look at him for an instant. They're waiting for the elevator, and for what it's worth he's going up with her. Jim the hero, to the rescue.

"Hey," he waves. "We meet again."

"Hi," she looks sideways at him with a somewhat alarmed look that he doesn't distinguish as such. He thinks she's still scared of him. The guy behind her stares at him, and Pam repeatedly calls the elevator button, as if to get it to come faster. There must be a neighbor with an open door on some floor.

"Shopping again and no car?", Jim wipes the bead of sweat running down the side of his face with his forearm. "You're going to grow muscles in your arms." Jim smiles at his pathetic joke, but she doesn't, in fact she bites her lip hard as she looks at the numbers lighting up on the elevator board, to see if it's finally coming down. Jim tries again. "You know, I could give you a ride. I don't mind. Then I'd do the shopping too."

At that moment the hand of the guy who has been at all times watching the interaction between them, places itself on his chest and pushes him.

"Hey, man, you're not fucking her!".

Jim looks him in the face, surprised by his aggressiveness, but doesn't react. Pam turns around and steps between them to separate them. "Roy!"

"What! Don't you see what he's up to?" He looks at her angrily and then back at him. "Leave my girlfriend alone!".

"I'm not your girlfriend! She screams as she pushes him, but fails to move him an inch from where he's standing.

Jim has been confronted too often by jealous boyfriends of their girlfriends, when he's mistakenly approached one of them at a bar or a party, to know that this never ends well, and that he has every chance of getting an open-handed slap from the guy in front of him. So he raises his hands in surrender.

"I don't want any trouble. I was just offering to be a good neighbor." He backs away as he looks into her horrified eyes. He turns to the stairs and will have to walk up eight floors after two hours of playing basketball. Great.

"Yeah, that, beat it!" he hears the guy shriek, but he keeps climbing the steps. Not that he's a wimp, but he's got plans tonight with Katy, and he's not looking forward to arriving with a black eye or a broken tooth.

-----------------

He is getting ready to go out. He's meeting Katy at 6 p.m. and as far as he knows, her plan is for him to pick her up at her house, take her to dinner at a restaurant that's at least clean, and then drinks before ending the night at her place. The plan he has in his head starts and ends with her in bed.

Katy is his friend with benefits. They do this from time to time, seeing each other and fucking when neither of them have other plans. She's very beautiful, and she has a spectacular body and he loves to worship it. And she lets him. He knows she wishes she could have something more with him, but what he can't stand about her is how shallow she is. He has a co-worker, Kelly, who is just the same. All they can talk about is gossip, beauty products and TV shows he can't stand to watch. But at the moment the reward he gets from having to listen to her is worth it, because she does things in bed that other girls don't even dare. He thinks they're great together, but only in bed.

He's carefully laying out his clothes on his bed to match them. Katy usually always gets dressed up when she goes out with him, so he reciprocates. He's just gotten out of the shower and has his towel tied around his waist as he leaves wet footprints on the parquet floor of his apartment. He doesn't flinch when her doorbell rings. He doesn't like to be late for his appointments and doesn't plan to answer the door. Whoever it is will leave. But when it rings again insistently, he has no choice but to open the door. He's not having a party in his apartment, nor is his music loud, so it can't be his next-door neighbor, the one who's always calling his attention to him for anything. He peeks through the peephole in his door and is surprised to see Pam. He opens the door before she leaves. If it were anyone else he would hide somewhat behind the door, but in this case, perhaps to mortify her a little, he shows himself as he is, half naked and barefoot and with the door wide open so she can get a good look at him.

"What a surprise," he says with a wide grin. He loves it when she looks at him with a startled look and then immediately averts her gaze down the hall "What brings you here?".

"I'm sorry, I don't know if this is a good time." She gives him a sidelong glance as she covers half her face with her hand.

"As good a time as any, unless you have your boyfriend hiding somewhere to yell at me or hit me," he says as he peers down the hallway. She takes a step away when she senses his nearness.

"He's not my boyfriend," she says with exasperation.

"Okay," his tone makes it clear he's not buying it.

She sighs and looks down at the floor, he thinks directly at his toes. He wiggles them for her to see.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier." She takes a deep breath and hugs his waist, still not looking at him "You've been really nice to me and you didn't deserve it....". She stops talking and he gets the feeling she is going to cry. He wants to stroke her arm, comfort her somehow so she doesn't end up crying because then he won't know what to do.

"It's okay. No problem.... I didn't even remember anymore. It's not the first time I've had something like that yelled at me." He says in a conciliatory tone.

He falls silent when he gets the feeling he's said too much, even though he meant it as a joke.

"Really?" Her eyes sparkle, but she puts on a quizzical smile as she looks up at him.

"Well.... NOT the same-same thing...you know.... that thing about me wanting to...." He's not going to say it. He shuts up because they both understand. "Anyway, don't worry about it.... and I'm serious about going shopping with you. You just have to let me know the day before."

"Okay. Maybe I will." She says already walking away from the door.

"Okay. Anytime. Or if you want, you can come in and I'll get you a beer." He waves his hand, inviting her in. She says nothing, but stares at him. "No?"

She shakes her head, slightly. "I'd better go." She points with her thumb down the hall.

"Perfect." He's made her nervous. She's looking at him more than usual. He loves it. His smile shines a thousand watts.

"Good night, Jim." She says finally turning her head to give him one last look. This time she doesn't look at his face. This time she looks at his entire midsection. And that tickles his belly.