My pregnant neighbour

I am a single male in my late twenties, who has a really good job and therefore really hardly any time for relationships. I’ve got plenty of money to visit expensive brothels regularly, but I find myself doing that less and less all the time. It starts to get boring after a while, because it’s all so predictable.
I live in a high-priced apartment in a big city and recently I got new neighbours. They were couple in their mid-thirties and they politely introduced themselves to me. He was a businessman named Arnold, she was a housewife called Paula, who was pregnant with their first child. They seemed friendly enough folks, but I didn’t pay much attention to them. I like to be by myself and usually have as little to do with my neighbours as possible.
A few weeks after my new neighbours had moved in next to me, I came home one Wednesday night at about eight ‘o clock. I had a day full of meetings behind me and felt rather tired. I switched on the TV, grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and dropped on the couch. While I was zapping through some channels I wondered what I was going to have for dinner. Would I simply put a TV dinner in the microwave or order a pizza? Before I could decide, the doorbell rang. Annoyed, I got up and walked to the door. I opened the door, expecting to find someone there who wanted to tell me about Jesus, but instead I was facing my new neighbour Paula.
“Hello,” she said, “would you perhaps feel liking having a cup of coffee with your new neighbour?”
I didn’t know what to say, because she kind of caught me off guard with this invitation. Like I said I had as little as possible to do with my neighbours. My neighbour noticed my hesitation and said, “my husband is away in Scandinavia on a business trip and I’m bore to death. I could use someone to talk to. But if you don’t feel like it, just say so. I hope I’m not being too forward.
“Oh, no,” I answered automatically, “not at all. I’ve had a rough day today and I could actually really use a cup of coffee.”
“Good,” she smiled, “I just made a fresh pot.
I grabbed my keys, closed my front door behind me and followed my neighbour into the apartment next to mine. I followed her inside and noticed that the accommodation had been decorated tastefully, but rather conservatively. A lot of wood and leather. While I was looking around it seemed to be more like the house of couple in their fifties or sixties than people in their thirties. My neighbours’ decoration was their business however and I didn’t pay any more attention to it. My neighbour invited me to make myself comfortable on the couch and a moment later she joined me with two steaming mugs of coffee. “How do you take your coffee?” she asked. “Black,” I said. “That’s easy,” she smiled and put one of the mugs in front of me on the table.
While she was standing in front of me like that, I took a good look at her and concluded she wasn’t unattractive. She was a bit large and somewhat sturdy, which was now accentuated by her big round belly, but absolutely not plump or fat. She had a face that wasn’t overly attractive, with fairly common features, but definitely not ugly.
Her long, straight hairs were bleached and her body looked quite good, which I could see rather well since she was wearing a low-cut red summer dress. She had nice long legs and quite large breasts that were so cheerfully moving around in her little dress that I got the impression she wasn’t wearing a bra. While my neighbour took a seat in a chair opposite me I looked a little better, in the least obvious way possible and I could clearly see her nipples through the fabric of her dress, convincing me she really wasn’t wearing a bra, which I found pretty arousing. I had never found myself attracted to pregnant women before, probably because of my loathing of children, but now I was sitting here face to face with this somewhat scantily-clad, well-rounded pregnant woman I noticed I was starting to get turned on.
We took sips from of coffee and spoke of trivial things.