by CJ Hawk
I finally took a deep breath and figured I could chalk this up to the fact that I was not officially thirty until Wednesday, so I could get the stupid twenties shenanigans out of the way until then. Because once I was officially thirty, I was going to grow up, somewhat. I was going to buy a new car, volunteer for the needy, put more money in savings instead of charging more on my credit card bill, or at least try. I was going to take a class or two in business management; not through the community college like my mom insisted, but through my work's job enrichment program, which, by the way, was free. I was going to knock my lousy common sense of my twenties out of the ballpark and be a more mature thirty-year-old woman. Yup. That was what I was going to do.
As I lay on my floor, staring at my ceiling, two thoughts crossed my mind. The first led to the second. My neighbor. He was my first plan. I conjured up his looks that were still fresh in my memory and thought of how strong his hands looked to match the muscles that rippled on his chest. I wondered how those strong hands would feel on my body and what color his eyes were. Not that it was important. The rest of him was so sexy I truly was not going to be fixated on the color of his eyes. Then I thought about my birthday cake. It was going to be my emotional substitute for losing Steve. Not that he was mine to take; ouch, that hurt finding that out a bit too late. However, I wanted some leftover cake to eat, sober... perhaps while catching the next naked show of my neighbor.
Chapter Three
The day was cloudless, and the sun had heated it up to a nice warm seventy degrees so far with an expected high in the eighties. I dressed in my 'let's go to the bar' jeans, since everything else was dirty. I put on a purple lace bra to encase my size C cup girls. They were always happier in something pretty. I did not have a single pair of underwear left that was clean, unless I wanted to wear my thong underwear. That, I usually saved for fun date nights, like I use to have with Steve. That thought caught a hitch in my breath. I threw my shoulders back, my head high and dug in my closet for a top to wear. I picked out a purple Colorado Rockies tee shirt I liked to wear to the ball games I went to with my dad. I slipped on my matching purple flip-flops. I like to color coordinate my casual clothes, so sue me, besides, my mani-pedi, required flip-flops.
I grabbed my overstuffed, oversized laundry basket, a roll of quarters, and headed for the basement laundry room in my apartment with its industrial sized washers and dryers, three of them. I had a plan to get my delicates, my whites and my darks done all at the same time.
The elevator was taking forever, and I did not want to carry my laundry basket down in flip-flops. I did that once and spilled laundry on the stairs in front of old man McCarty. That was not a good idea. He about had a heart attack at the sight of my bras and underwear spewed out in his doorway. I guess if I had not made such a god-awful sound, he would not have come out of his apartment to find all of it sprawled out in front of him like a lingerie display.
I set my basket down and got my cell phone out of my purse. I texted Marion that I was good now. Laundry day and pedicure, and I was good to go. I did not mention the cake. I would save that for a girl's night out moment, along with the news about the naked neighbor, my singing in my apartment drunk, and the slipping on spilled drink moment. I would be sure not to leave out my mom's message because Marion always had a way of making me see things in a less hurtful perspective. It helped to hear it from my best friend any ways.
By the time I slipped my phone back in my purse, the elevator dinged, and when it opened, I was not prepared for who would be inside of it. There, staring down at his phone was my neighbor. He looked up, just as I wanted to run back inside of my apartment. He stepped out, said good morning, grabbed my laundry basket and made a casual note that it must be laundry day.
I stood there feeling awkward and then while he was holding the elevator door open for me to step inside, it started to ding an alert. "Better hop on in before it breaks down again." His smooth sexy voice matched his body, and I was in some serious womanly trouble. I took a step inside and feigned a smile that did not match how I felt. I felt some serious sexual vibes, and my nerves were not up to the task this morning. Then he said something that was so romantic I whirled around like a ballerina, internally any ways. "Although, being stuck in a broken-down elevator with someone like you would be alright."
Of course, the first thing I said to him, but more out loud to myself, made absolutely no sense to him as I let it come out all breathy and unbelievable. "You're eyes are blue. Light blue with a hint of green, but you look Hispanic." Perhaps my comment sounded prejudice, yet I was anything but. It was just after sneaking a peak at him naked, I had envisioned him with dark intense eyes; eyes that I wanted to roam my naked body. I had to get these sultry thoughts out of my head as we were standing in a very enclosed space.
An awkward smile crept across his face as the door began to close behind us. He hit the button for the basement as I just stared into his eyes. I could easily get lost in them. Everything about him said Latin bad boy yet his eyes, they were so soft and colorful, so innocent looking. Then he said something, and I shook my head back and forth quickly to clear the daydream I was in. I looked down at my laundry basket in his hand, perched on his hip. He is strong. His muscles rippled from the sleeve of his tee shirt. I cleared my throat as I looked back up into his eyes and spoke as if a frog was in my throat. "Come again?"
"My mother. She's Brazilian heritage. My father is part Hispanic, part Swedish. I guess you thought otherwise." As he said it, a seductive smile spread across his face, and I felt a nervous reaction coming forward.
I laughed and touched his arm that was holding my basket. I felt his skin under my hand and a tingle in my tummy. I was in big trouble. So I did what any sensible woman would do at a time like this, I babbled all the way to the basement in the slowest moving elevator ever invented.
"No. I mean. I didn't know what you were. Or should I say who you are. Were. Whatever. I just caught a quick peek of you undressing before you showered, and I guessed Hispanic. I also guessed your eye color to be brown or black. Either one. Either one is ok I guess. Although your eyes are spectacular in color. They're not blue. They're not green or blue green. They are like their own special color. Intriguing. Sexy. So any ways. I saw you. Undressing that is. Oh God. That sounds terrible. Like I'm a peeping-Tom. But I'm not." I let my hand touch his arm again. It was irresistibly drawn to him or touching him at least. I felt I was being pulled in like some magnetic force, uncontrollable force that I was not in any shape to reckon with, so I let my hand linger while I laughed with a giggle, and then I did what I did best while he stared at me with the sexiest of smiles. I babbled on.
"So. No. See. The apartment across the alley. Directly, across mine. That would be yours now. It has been empty for a while, and then I noticed a light the other day. Then I got busy getting ready for my family birthday party, and well; I don't know if you saw anything unusual at my place last night but let's just say the party did not go well."
The elevator door opened, and he motioned for me to go first as he made a statement quite clearly and with a sense of pride. "I have my mother's eyes."
I stepped out and headed down the hallway to the old and dingy laundry room. However, it had three brand new state of the art washers in it, so I was not one to complain. When I stepped aside to turn and look at my new neighbor, I thought for a second his eyes had been trained on my ass. That's a good sign. A good one indeed.
Rein it in Amber. I mentally hollered at myself. However, a bit of it might have muttered out of my mouth. My sexy new neighbor looked at me with his head cocked sideways and a soft 'what' exited his lips that were so kissable I wanted to devour them right there.
"Oh. Nothing. I was thinking. Did I say something?" I questioned as I watched him set my laundry basket on the long folding table in the laundry room. I was mesmerized by his muscles, his skin, which had this mocha latte color that I wanted to drink every last drop of. His height was a few inches taller than me,
and his demeanor had a sexual flirtatiousness to it that made me want to do something, anything flirtatious or sexual to let him know I was interested.
"So it was your birthday yesterday?" He turned and looked at me, but for a fleeting second, his eyes gazed at me up and down. His gaze caused my internal furnace to kick up a few notches. Then he looked away to something off to the side and smiled while bringing his head down and looking back up to meet my eyes with his head tilted. It was sexy as hell and over-the-top flirtatious move, and I wanted to strip him down and get familiar right next to my laundry basket. I did a mental head slap and realized my hormones have been in overdrive lately.
I felt sexually caught off guard. My flirting game was usually spot on. However, he did things to me that caused me to feel so flustered and silly that I just stood there staring at him.
"How old are you now?" He was asking me as I gauged his age in his late twenties, possible thirty, but he had excellent skin and a youthfulness to his looks. Then again, so did I. I wondered, should I lie and say 'oh it's my twenty-fifth birthday'? Before I could wager lying about my age against the truth and what the advantages could be, his eyes mesmerized me with a look, and he spoke up with a teasing flirtatious voice.
"Let me guess." He joked with me as his eyes traveled across my body again. "Twenty-six?"
"Thirty." I practically blurted out. So much for keeping him guessing or making him think I was younger.
"Thirty? I never would have guessed. You look much younger." He smiled and took a step forward putting himself right in my space. "Mason Montahue, by the way." He put his hand out to offer a handshake, and I blurted out.
"My birthday, real birthday that is, isn't until this Wednesday. It was just a family thing." Then I grabbed his hand, shook it super-fast, and let go. I was officially all twitterpated over a man whom I had seen naked, and now that he was right in front of me, the sexual dial a meter had shot way past overloaded. I had no dignity left to my game. I was smitten, and flustered; I was not sure how all this might play out.
"Nice to meet you Amber Jones. I'm the new superintendent for these buildings for the next six months. That is, until I can prove to my father that I know what it takes to be on the inside running things."
"Your father? Montahue Properties. The Montahue Properties that has billboards all over the city and manages, like, hundreds of properties. That Montahue?" I was in awe.
"One in the same. My family has run this business since before I was born. I got my degree and managed a few buildings but my dad said as soon as I turn thirty, he would consider me for a CEO position. I've got a year to go, but had to take this position for six months. I guess he wanted me to show him I am still good with my hands." He said good with hands like it was a sexual connotation, or perhaps, I just took it that way.
Then it dawned on me. I had never said my name. I wasn't thinking stalker or creep, but more like he already knew the tenant's names. I turned my head sideways, looked away from his sexually compelling eyes, then looked back, and spoke up with a note of seriousness. "Mason? How did you know my name?"
He chuckled and then reached up and touched my face, putting a loose strand of hair behind my ears as he looked into my eyes. "You got called on last night. From your neighbors. Apparently, your singing hit a high note and a few thought you were getting killed. They called me, asking me to call the cops, but since I already had a front-row view of what was really going on... well, by the time I made it over to your apartment, you were already passed out on your bed."
"My bed. Naked? Or was I still dressed?" My eyes were so wide and with a full on straight stare as if that would make a difference to his answer.
"Naked." He said it so casually. Then what he did next sent me into a permanent tailspin of chaos. He pulled my head up to his with his fingers under my chin. I watched his lips open slightly as he lowered his head down to mine, I watched his eyes soften, and then he kissed me. No tongue or pervert kiss either, just a soft sensual kiss that sent me into overload. When he pulled back and stood before me, a few solid muscular inches taller than me, his presence in the decent size laundry room just took up the entire room.
"Happy Birthday Amber." His voice held a sultry sound to it as his eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree. "I hope you get your wish." Then he walked right past me and out of the room leaving me there in my own cyclonic tailspin.
Chapter Four
My fingers could not have texted Marion any faster. I got in a few minor details before I forgot I still needed to apologize for my outlandish drunk birthday behavior. So my fifth text simply read, 'By the way. I am so sorry. Your suckie BFF.' I knew she would forgive me. I was known for these short outbursts of crazy. She had a few of her own over the years. We always forgave each other, and that was why we would forever be best friends.
I wasn't sure if I had even congratulated her on her mention of being pregnant last night after my drunken stupor was in a full-blown episode, so I sent a sixth text. It simply read, 'CONGRATS!'
I was dancing around the basement laundry room, texting Marion, knowing that she had mentioned that she had a massage and hair appointment this morning, and as soon as she had her phone in her petite little hand, she would be laughing at all the texts I was sending her.
I decided texting Bethany was my next must do. She did not usually text back while at work, but I was sure she would be smiling while reading everything I needed to text her. I knew she would need the laugh after last night's adventure.
It was as if texting both my sister and best friend helped me burn through the excess energy I felt after that sweet gentle kiss Mason left me with.
Somehow, between all the texting, I got all three washers full with my laundry started. Then I floated out of there and back up to my place to grab my purse. My mani-pedi appointment was for in half hour, giving me just enough time to swing by the bakery and perhaps that cute new lingerie shop that had just opened up next to the nail salon.
Three hours later, my fingers and toes looked sparkly. I chose a pink glitter polish. I picked out two matching bra and panty sets, one in deep red and one in a navy blue from the new lingerie shop. Both very sexy and both with the utmost intention of showing Mason while on me then letting him take the lingerie off me. My small cake, chocolate with raspberry filling, white cream cheese frosting, was on order for me to swing by tomorrow after work to pick up. Maybe Mason would want to join me in a little private celebration. My mind was reeling from the kiss and doing an internal fantasy of what if and who he is. Montahue Properties is a big deal. He would be a great catch if I do say so myself. My mother might actually be proud of me on this one, well, there is always a first for everything.
I turned the street corner to the front of my building, walking from where I had to park off street behind, to see Marion leaning against her Silver Audi A6 with a huge smile on her face. "I haven't seen you so happy in, I don't know how long. Tell me. Is that smile from just a kiss or did you already fully recover from Steve?"
I ran up and gave her a huge hug while smashing my lingerie bag. When I pulled back, she grabbed the bag and peeked in. "I'm going to say that you are fully recovered from Steve and making plans for the hottie in your building. Your texts were strange. He's the super?"
I grabbed her arm and started to drag her up to my door of my apartment building. She turned and hit the remote lock button for her car, and we started to laugh as I told her everything. The cake left in the cab. The drunk singing and possibly naked show I put on for him. The waking in the middle of the night to cry into my pillow wondering how I got naked and in my bed. Then the naked peep show he provided me, and in turn, my holey underwear gig. The slipping on the spilled drink. The message from my mother. The ride down the elevator and by the time we made it inside my apartment, I had given her the brief overview in a super-fast babble language, hoping she caught most of what I just said.
"However, enough about me!" I practically shouted with excitement. I quickly turned it ba
ck to her and wanted to know about the pregnancy. How far along? Was she feeling ok? I began questioning her so fast that I had to wonder if it was excitement over the pregnancy or excitement about Mason - or perhaps both?
"So, oh my God, tell me when did you find out? How far along? Are you having morning sickness? Is Carl's mom already bothering you for the second kid?" The last question got a huge laugh out of both of us. We both knew that Carl's mom had been bothering them for kids before they were married. However, Marion had her reservation shortly after being married when she realized a large portion of Carl's friends, and his coworkers, all had been struggling with marriages. She was petrified to start a family until she was sure. I knew. I knew that Carl loved her and did not care that she came from a broken family that was struggling more times than not. I knew that Marion's self-doubt came more from her upbringing rather than from the fact that she was an incredible person both inside and out.
We sat down on my couch facing each other, and Marion took a deep breath while rubbing her belly. I watched in awe as her brown eyes lit up and her long brown hair seemed to have some magical halo around it. She seemed to have transformed into this heavenly figure right in front of me, that, or I was imagining what it would feel like to be pregnant. "Well." She started out on one long slow breath. "I am approximately six weeks. I suppose I could have chosen a better moment to tell you, I had actually planned to tell you on your birthday, but you needed a distraction." She paused and looked into my concerned eyes. She didn't know it, but I was truly wondering how bad was I at the restaurant, considering I didn't even remember her mentioning it until I started texting her while doing my laundry? She continued on when I did not say anything. "I've had a little morning sickness, but mostly it was kind of a surprise. Remember that trip to the Bahamas that Carl took me on for a work-related trip. Well, we got a little crazy, and I forgot to pack my pills. We decided not to worry. If it happened, it happened. I think secretly he has wanted me barefoot and pregnant for years now, but I've been so... well, apprehensive. I still feel as if I don't always fit in with his family, his co-workers." Her tone held questionability.