by Karen Ferry
I don't want to come off as desperate when I'm out clubbing, but am I subconsciously doing just that?
I'm an easy-going person; I like to have fun, I love meeting new people, and I try not to let any hardships bring me down. Or I never used to, anyway. But a lot can happen to a person through the course of a mere three months. Whereas I used to be very confident and comfortable in my own skin, I now feel lost and lonely.
Am I, perhaps, slightly naïve? I don't know. I don't have a deep, dark secret in my past that holds me back from wanting love to pierce its arrow into my heart. I'm not really a complicated person. What's so wrong about wanting to find love? Sometimes, I get the feeling that it's kind of taboo to not be complicated in any particular way in the modern society that I live in – that being ready to meet your soul mate at an early age, wishing to jump head-first into love, is regarded as ‘strange’. Why is that? Surely, it shouldn’t be so hard to find The One that will sweep me off my feet? And yet, it is.
My thoughts have taken on a really negative turn, and I turn to Morgan. I’m just about to wake her from her slumber when I hear the lock on the front door across from my bed being turned.
What the fuck?!
I barely manage to throw my duvet over both Morgan and me when the door opens. Inside walks the most handsome - and sloshed - man I have ever seen. Well, and a woman, but my eyes don’t really take her in; they are too focused on the man. He looks older than me, tall, and built like a line-backer; his longish, dark-brown hair covers his eyes as he stumbles inside, so I can’t really see them. He’s wearing a white, button-down shirt that looks to be worse for wear, and he has a leather jacket turned inside-out covering it. His dark-blue jeans are frayed at the knees and kind of dirty-looking.
I frown and yell, “Hey! Who the hell are you?!”
The stranger’s head snaps up at the sound of my voice, and he narrows his eyes at me when his drunken gaze meets my angry one.
“What the fuck?” he slurs, tilting his head at me. “I live here! So the question should be: who are you, and what are you doing sleeping in my bed, and…” He pauses, taking in Morgan who has woken up and is looking at him with a bemused smile on her lips.
“Well, well, well,” the man mutters, and a slow, sexy smile forms on his lips. “If I knew there was a party going on, I’d have been home sooner,” he mumbles, completely ignoring the woman firmly attached to his arm.
I roll my eyes at his not exactly hidden innuendo while Morgan chuckles beside me.
“Hello, handsome.” She greets the stranger and leans her body closer to mine, resting her head on my shoulder. “I doubt we have room for you.”
I know that Morgan likes to tease, and I don’t have to wait long for it. Her mouth starts nibbling on my arm, and her right hand trails soft circles on my upper-thigh, which isn’t covered by the sheets. I’m all for public displays of affection – in fact, I thrive on it – but I don’t need the distraction, or the tingling in my lady bits caused by her ministrations at this very moment when I’m trying to concentrate on why there is a stranger in my apartment.
He looks oddly familiar, though…Where have I seen him before?
The man groans as his eyes narrow in on Morgan’s hand trailing up my leg, and I clear my throat.
“Okay, it’s clear there’s been some kind of mistake here, so would you please tell me who you are, and why you have a key to my place?” I ask him.
His head snaps up.
“Like I said, I live here,” he answers. His voice seems more demanding now that it’s lost some of its drunken slur.
I frown, so confused, and take Morgan’s hand in mine to still her movements.
“But this is Garrett Thompson’s apartment…”
“Yes,” he interrupts me, taking a step closer to my bed. “I am Garrett Thompson. Care to tell me who you are?”
I feel as if my eyes are about to pop out of my head. I’m completely taken aback by the fact that the man I was supposed to rent this place from for another three months while he was away on business is standing before me.
“You’re Garrett Thompson?! But…”
He huffs and shakes his arm free of the blonde standing beside him, who looks mighty displeased with me. A flare of annoyance hits me in my stomach, and I have the sudden urge to stick my tongue out at her as if I were a child. I manage to contain myself, though, and instead gather the sheet around me. Once I’ve tucked it properly around my naked body, I stand up and quickly walk towards Garrett, who’s looking more and more as if he’s sobering up completely.
I stop before him and reach out my arm as I introduce myself.
“My name’s Suzanne Christensen – Suzy – and this place was supposed to be mine for the next few months. There must have been some kind of misunderstanding…”
For a few seconds, Garrett stays silent, merely looking at my outstretched hand, and I’m beginning to feel like quite a fool for waiting for him to shake it.
Finally, his eyes meet mine, and just as I’m about to let my hand fall, he grabs it in his. But he doesn’t shake it like any normal person would; he just holds onto it as his hard stare bores into mine. I have trouble suppressing the shiver that is coursing through my body when I take in the coldness in his brown eyes. Brown is meant to be a warm colour, but his aren’t. They seem lifeless somehow.
“Well, we need to figure this mess out, don’t we?” I break the awkward silence and tug my hand free of his before I turn to smile at Morgan. The displeasure on her face puzzles me, but I ignore it for now.
“Darling, do you mind getting dressed and heading home?” I ask her.
She frowns at me.
“I’m not leaving you alone with this guy,” she snaps at me. She then quickly leaves the bed, completely ignoring the fact that she is stark naked, and stomps towards us.
I shake my head when she’s standing before me. “I’ll be fine.”
“Fine?! Suzy, you don’t even know if he is who he says he is!” She jabs a finger at Garrett, and I can’t help but overhear the arrogant male chuckle coming from him. I glance at him only to become annoyed when I find that he’s smirking at us, arms crossed, and I narrow my eyes in annoyance.
“Excuse us for a moment, please,” I tell him, and take Morgan’s hand, dragging her arse with me to the bathroom that’s adjacent to the huge walk-in closet.
I lock the door behind us and grab my robe hanging on a peg.
“Morgan, you don’t have to worry so much about me.”
She snorts and I turn around to face her as I put on my robe.
“I beg to differ, hon. I mean, just look at him – drunk off his ass, and with a woman in tow?!” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes at me. “I’m not leaving you.”
I close the distance between us and kiss her briefly on the lips, my hand resting on her cheek.
“I promise I’ll text you later when I’ve figured out what to do.” I give her another peck on her mouth but move away when her arms come up to embrace me.
“We don’t have time for that,” I chuckle as I wink at her.
She sighs and puts a hand on her hip, that southern attitude of hers clear.
“Mind grabbing my clothes for me?” she asks, smiling cheekily at me, and I hurry back to the bed where all our clothes are strewn about.
Garrett is in the kitchen, and if my deduction skills aren’t lying to me, I’d say he’s having a somewhat heated discussion with the woman he brought with him. He is standing with his legs spread a bit apart, hands fisted at his side, and he’s leaning the upper part of his body towards her, like a lion about to pounce. His hair is longer than I first noticed, and it looks soft as silk as it hangs down his back.
Quickly, but quietly, I gather Morgan’s clothes in my arms and go back to the bathroom to hand them to her.
“Come out when you’re decent, okay?” Worried about the woman in Garrett’s kitchen, I don’t give Morgan a chance to reply before shutting the door in her face. I half-walk, half
skip, back to them, an anxious spark in my stomach.
Lord, I hope Morgan’s wrong.
I turn the corner, and the woman is no longer in the kitchen with Garrett. I’m not altogether sure of what to do when I see him in almost the same position as I left him in – his head hanging down, and his eyes shut tightly. There’s an angry set to his mouth, and while I should probably leave him be, we need to get this mess sorted out.
“Look,” I start as I walk closer to him. His eyes spring open at the sound of my voice. He turns his head and I try to ignore the way my stomach dips when his cold eyes meet mine.
“I’m sorry, but I was under the impression that your apartment would be my home for six months, not three. That’s what the agency said when I signed the lease.”
His posture relaxes slightly, and he nods at me, a thoughtful expression in his eyes.
“It’s my mistake, not yours,” he says as he removes his jacket and begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. When he bares one arm, I gasp slightly at the sight of the open-mouthed dragon tattoo covering it. I look away when his gaze narrows calculatingly at me.
Ignoring the state of my heart rate that just picked up – I always had a thing for guys with tattoos – I secure the belt on my robe just for the sake of having something to do.
“To be honest, it slipped my mind that you were staying here when I made arrangements to leave San Francisco,” Garrett says.
I want to curse at his thoughtlessness.
What kind of person would forget that his home was rented out?
I open my mouth to ask him that exact question, but Morgan stepping out of the bathroom, now decent, interrupts my train of thought. Briskly, she walks towards me, and I smile apologetically at her.
She glances coldly at Garrett when she comes to a stop beside me, and for the first time since I met him, some life seems to come alive in his eyes as he smiles crookedly at her. If I knew him better, I might be able to understand what that smile means. However, I don’t, so I’m left with more questions about this puzzling yet gorgeous piece of male hunk in front of me. I’m just about to tell Morgan goodbye when she hooks an arm around my neck and pulls me in for a short, but panty-melting kiss.
When her lips leave mine, she smiles warmly at me and says, “Text me later, yeah?”
I nod once, speechless for once. This kind of PDA is usually not her style.
Without another word, she turns away, completely ignoring Garrett, and a few seconds later, the slightly forceful sound of the front door being shut reverberates through the apartment.
Feeling a bit dizzy still – Morgan definitely always knows how to dazzle me with her mouth – I shake my head a bit and look back at Garrett. Despite the current situation, I’d almost forgotten all about him.
Focus, damn it.
“So…What do we do now?” I ask him, crossing my arms.
He remains silent as he leans against the kitchen counter, his gaze taking in my body in one slow movement. It leaves me a bit uneasy, actually, but I raise my chin, straightening up further as I refuse to let him intimidate me.
He frowns at me when his eyes meet mine. “How old are you?”
His question throws me off kilter at first, but I quickly clear my throat. “Twenty-four.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but his frown deepens further, and he sighs slightly.
“Pity,” he murmurs, leaving me even more confused. Before I can ask him to elaborate, he goes on. “I’ll call a hotel nearby and book a room.”
“Oh…for three months?” I ask him. That must cost a fortune.
He grimaces at me and pushes away from the counter.
“No, that would be a waste of money,” he answers and turns to the coffee machine behind him. His back to me, he opens a cupboard to grab the coffee beans. “I’ll make arrangements to stay at a friend’s place for the remainder of your stay, but I probably won’t be able to get a hold on him until tomorrow.”
I take in his back and watch, almost mesmerised, as the outline of his muscles become visible with each move he makes around the kitchen.
“Okay,” I murmur, distracted, and he turns to look at me briefly.
“Do you want some coffee?” he mumbles, and I nod quickly at him.
“Yes, please.”
Garrett nods once and falls silent again.
I’m just about to point out that it’s actually my coffee, but I bite my lip and hold my tongue. It’s probably not the best idea to antagonise the man whose home I’m in. For all I know, one wrong word from me could result in him kicking me out.
Not really sure of what to say now that we’ve settled on the course of action, I look down at my bare feet. My robe barely covers my thighs, and I don’t want this stranger – because that is what he remains to be – to get the wrong idea.
Even if my libido seems to have taken a fancy to him already.
“Errm – I’m just going to get dressed,” I mutter and turn away. Tucking some strands of my blonde hair away from my cheek, I pretend to not feel his eyes on my back as I leave him alone.
What an afternoon.
Quickly, I gather my clothes and head towards the bathroom.
I WATCH MY UNWANTED tenant until she has locked the door to the bathroom.
Fuck me.
I take a deep breath, my senses unable to ignore the floral scent that lingers in her wake. As warmth starts to spread in my dick, I groan.
“Shit,” I whisper, wishing that I could yell in frustration, or punch a hole in the wall next to me. Instead, I reign in the temper rising in me. The last thing I need right now is this woman – this young woman – to come running, looking at me in fear with those grey eyes of hers.
“Fuck, man, you’re losing your mind,” I whisper, rubbing my tired eyes.
The alcohol in my body is beginning to ebb away, and a faint throb of discomfort is having a field day in my temples. I know that coffee will be the perfect cure, of course, and I stare at the machine in front of me, willing the antidote to my hangover to get ready sooner rather than later.
The anger that was dulled by the whiskey is clawing at my insides, and it only strengthens as thoughts of Donna – the fucking cunt – invades my headspace once more. Of all the luck in the world…
There I was, at my favourite bar, just around the corner from my apartment, having the best time trying to get into the pants of a busty blonde, when she sat down beside me and interrupted my plans for the night.
Today’s date never ceases to get easier for me, and I have accepted that it never will. But did it have to be made even more miserable by the presence of her?
Apparently so. Karma is a bitch, always biting my ass. In my case, Karma is called Donna Winthorpe. If I could, I’d move to San Francisco on a permanent basis, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let her drive me away from the city that has been my home all my life.
New York saved me when I couldn’t save myself. When all my happiness disappeared and I wasn’t fit to be around anybody, least of all my own family; when the light gave way to darkness, and I got close to giving in to it for all eternity.
I’m not a sentimental man – except when it comes to this great city.
In need of noise and people? I go to the nearest subway and head downtown.
If I want quiet and solitude, Central Park is the perfect place.
And best of all? If I want to find an easy target to fulfil my sexual needs, I only have to take a cab to my cousin’s joint, The Vault, to get my dick wet.
Simple. Easy. Convenient.
A necessity to a man such as myself.
Unclenching my hands resting on the countertop, I reach for the coffee and force my thoughts away from my nemesis. Immediately, they veer off to my gorgeous tenant.
Suzy.
Shaking my head, I curse silently.
Only twenty-four years old. So young. Way too young for a man pushing forty to have the kind of thoughts my dick has at the moment. I blame the lack of a hard fuck f
or this. If I were in the right frame of mind, I’d never even contemplate the fantasy that is currently running on repeat in my head.
But those lips of hers…they were made for sin.
With a low groan, my dick begins to rise to the occasion, and I pour my first cup of the day. As the warm liquid runs down my throat, I close my eyes and lean my head back, momentarily content. I sigh, unable to ignore the throbbing in my dick anymore. I grab it in my right fist through my jeans and squeeze, hard.
“Oh, my,” a breathy voice interrupts me. My eyes fly open, and I turn my head sharply to find Suzy staring at me, mouth almost hanging open, her eyes fixed on my hand covering my hard-on.
This does not please me.
Quickly, I walk past her and head for the bathroom. I need to get back in control, and there’s only one way to do that.
I slam the door shut and unbutton my jeans. Freeing my cock, I jack off to the fantasy of Suzy on her knees before me, collared and willing to please me.
Because that’s how I like my women.
I stand there, looking at the shut door, and it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out what Garrett’s up to just now.
When I saw him rubbing that pretty impressive bulge in his pants, I couldn’t keep my silence. It would have been too weird if I’d just remained frozen, waiting for him to get it on in front of me; but a small part of me is rather disappointed that he left.
Mentally slapping my cheek, I walk slowly to the bar, grab a chair, and sit down. His coffee is sitting on the countertop, the steam rising slowly, and I shrug. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste, so I reach for it and inhale the aroma before tasting it.
As I nurse the delicious drink, I wonder about my landlord, if that is even what I should call him. Why is he here? He’s somewhat older than I first thought, but it’s hard to tell with the long hair and the beard covering his features. I don’t usually get all gooey by the sight of a man, or maybe I do, but this one has me very intrigued – and kind of horny. There’s an air of coolness to him, and while the coldness in his eyes made me slightly apprehensive at first, the heat in them I glimpsed just now makes me wonder if there’s more to him than meets the eye.