The good neighbor 2 - Is she still sexy?

 ”To come in,” she replied and pushed her way past Vincent,

catching him off guard and too surprised to stop her.  He

followed behind her as she walked past the kitchen and

into the living room of his small apartment.

     “Ah, a minimalist,” she commented, looking around at the

bare walls and lack of furnishings.  Only the table and one chair

remained in the room.  “Very Spartan.  I like that.”  She

looked up at him.  “Shows a strength of character.”  She nodded

as if confirming something to herself.  “Mind if I sit down?”

     “Yes.”  Too late.  She lowered herself to the floor even

as he spoke and came to a rest in a cross-legged position. 

     “You’re not being much of a host,” she complained.  Vincent

gaped at her.  “You haven’t offered me anything.  I’d like a

glass of water, please.”

     Stunned, Vincent turned and made his way into the kitchen

through the fog of the situation.  He needed time to think.  He’d

never dealt with such a situation before.  He gathered his

thoughts while allowing the water to run, testing its temperature

with his finger.

     This Janet was a reasonably good looking woman, mid-thirties

he guessed, no longer slim, but with a nice enough figure.  She had

her longish brown hair pulled back and clipped with a barrette at

the back of her head, exposing her face.  A good face, he thought

as he allowed the glass to fill with cold water, nothing

extra-ordinary about it, but a good face with a nice smile.

     Vincent walked back to the living room and handed her the

glass.  She hadn’t moved.  He glanced to the table, to

the envelope and the dish-towel, and grimaced.  What was he

doing?  He’d have to get her out of here.

     He looked back at her, but Janet sipped at the water,

making no attempt to make known her purpose in appearing at his

door.  He’d have to prompt her, he decided.

    “So, you live here and just decided to go visiting?” he

asked, forcing a smile to his face.

    “No, I don’t live here,” she replied.

    That surprised Vincent.  It was cold outside.  He took another

look at her.  She wore a flannel shirt, jeans and runners.

That was it.  Not even socks.  How could he have ever thought her

a JW?  What *was* she doing here?

     “You said you wanted to talk to me.  Talk, then.”

     “Please sit down.  I’m getting a sore neck looking up at

you.” 

     She smiled at him again and he cursed her under his

breath.  Nevertheless, he sat, uncomfortably, on the floor.

She was much more limber than he.  He’d have to exercise more,

he thought, then almost laughed out loud at the incongruity

of that last thought.

     “Okay.  I’m sitting.  Talk.”

     Janet nodded, yet made no attempt to begin.  Vincent

waited, knowing, somehow, that she was gathering her thoughts,

putting them in order.  Finally she looked up at him.  He waited,

expectant.

     “Sometimes I wonder.”  He heard a hint of desolation in her

voice.

     Vincent waited, but nothing more came.  The the unreality of

the situation struck him and shook his head.  He returned his gaze

to Janet and noticed that her eyes had that far away look in them.

     “Sometimes I wonder if I am still pretty.”

     Vincent made no attempt to respond.  She wasn’t really

talking to him at all.  He somehow doubted that she was even

aware that he was in the room.  He felt like a character in

“The Twilight Zone”.