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    Life With Nano
    Life With Nano
    Life With Nano
    Ebook95 pages1 hour

    Life With Nano

    By M.R. Leenysman

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    About this ebook

    David Sparhawk is a college sophomore and a part-time apartment manager, of a dilapidated New England multi-family building. During a fight with his biotech CEO father, he is exposed to experimental nanites. They transform his body first, then his sex life, and those of the women around him. Then the real truths come out....

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherM.R. Leenysman
    Release dateJan 6, 2017
    ISBN9781370380732
    Life With Nano
    Author

    M.R. Leenysman

    M.R. Leenysman is a 50+ widower who discovered, after his wife's death, that he enjoys writing erotica. He hopes you enjoy the products of his imagination.

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      Book preview

      Life With Nano - M.R. Leenysman

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      End Matter

      Life With Nano

      ~~~~~

      By M.R. Leenysman

      Copyright 2016 (Revised 2018), M.R. Leenysman

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      ~~~~~

      BAM! BAM! BAM!

      The noise woke me, sort of. Or maybe the headache did and the noise gave just that extra push into unwanted consciousness.

      BAM! BAM! BAM!

      ‘Oh, dammit!’ I thought. ‘Which tenant now?’ I groggily pulled myself out of bed, pulled on shorts and tshirt over my briefs and staggered into the kitchen to reach my apartment’s door, the source of the damned noise. Sophomore Year was over, and maybe I had a little too much rum and coke the night before in celebrating my last final, trying to forget what the next day was. I didn’t think so then, but that morning, for sure I was regretting it. The clock in the kitchen read 7:10 AM. Dammit, I had planned on sleeping in. Or sleeping it off. Whatever.

      I pulled the door open, just as Sofia Flores, from the apartment above mine, was about to pound on it again, so instead her hand swung into the opening, and she couldn’t pull her hand back in time to avoid a glancing blow to my left arm.

      Oh! Excuse me, Mr. Sparhawk, I didn’t mean to hit you, she said, looking afraid that I’d get mad. After four months in the building, she still seemed to think I had the authority to evict her, when I was really just a glorified handyman and collector of rent checks for the investment trust that actually owned the small five-unit building and let me stay there rent-free as a part-time apartment manager. It was about the only thing I could thank my father for recently, since he had set it up, as a director of the trust. Of course, it benefited him financially in that he now didn’t have to pay rent on an apartment or for a dorm room while I went to college, even though he could easily afford either one. More about my Dad in a little bit.

      As for the building, itself, it was what New Englanders call a multi-family dwelling. Really, it was just a big 19th century house that had been subdivided at some point into apartments, in a haphazard way. None of the units had exactly the same layout, but in each there was a kitchen and two more rooms which could either both be bedrooms or one bedroom and a living room. Then a bathroom would attach to any of those three rooms. Mine attached to the kitchen, near the doorway to the room I used as my bedroom. Except for the bathroom door, there were no interior doors between the rooms.

      There were two apartments on the first floor, two on the second, and one down in the basement, along with a utilities room. Mine was the smallest, and the largest was the other first floor apartment, currently vacant because its rent was highest. The oddest part of the whole place was there were some remnants of an old heating vent system, that wasn’t used any more after the installation of electric baseboards, but it remained in place and unfortunately for all of us, it conducted sound really well. Like an intercom system you couldn’t turn off. I had clearly heard the fight that led to Sofia breaking up with her boyfriend a month earlier, for example. And most of their sex in the time before that, too, as I’m sure she heard mine with my girlfriend. Ear-buds and headphones were a necessity, both to block out the noise from the other apartments, and to keep from making too much of my own.

      I took a breath, before saying, De nada, Sofia. And please, call me David. What can I do for you this morning? I hadn’t learned a lot of Spanish from my mostly Puerto Rican tenants in the time I’d been their apartment manager, but I had learned that little phrase of forgiveness. I knew from earlier conversations that Sofia had been born and raised in Massachusetts, had no real accent, but she still used the occasional Spanish phrase, and I’d picked some up from her and the other tenants. I’d chosen German as a language in high school, which helped me with Spanish not at all.

      It’s the toilet again, David. It’s been running for an hour. I’ve tried jiggling the handle like you said, but it’s still running. Can you come take a look at it? After the noise that came through those old vents, the second most common complaint from the tenants was the age of the plumbing and fixtures. But I knew the rent was cheaper than the newer apartment complexes in town, so ‘you get what you pay for’ fit this place to a tee.

      Okay, let me get my shoes, and I’ll meet you upstairs. I closed the door, and walked from kitchen to bedroom to living room to pull on my sneakers, and grabbed the small toolbox that I’d put together in the past year on this ‘job’, and made my way back through my apartment door and up the narrow flight of stairs that led up to the two upstairs apartments.

      Just as I reached the top of the stairs, the door to 2B opened, and one of the Vega sisters, who shared that apartment and just one queen bed, came out onto the landing. I said, Buenos noches, Maria Angela. Her fraternal twin sister was Maria Clara, so you couldn’t just call either one Maria by itself. Yet, they didn’t want to just be called by their middle names, either. I thought of them as ‘The Marias’.

      She chuckled, and rolled her eyes, then said in her lilting accent, "Gringo, ‘buenas noches’ means ‘good night’. You want to use ‘buenos dias’ in the morning. Heh, I thank you for trying, but I understand English just fine, David. You don’t need to speak Spanish for me or my sister to make us feel welcome, and I doubt Sofia needs it either."

      Sofia said from behind me, at her door, "Maria Angela’s right. I was born and grew up here, and my parents chose to speak only English around the house so my

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