fantasy, so I joined Alex in craning our necks to see who appeared from the hallway. I was more than a little amazed to see the woman who entered the common room and headed single-mindedly for the apartment door.
She looked like she had stepped out of a glossy magazine. Her clothes clung so tight you could see every inch of her exceptionally beautiful body. She was tall—taller than me by at least a head—and I could only gape at her silky smooth legs, which her short skirt scarcely covered.
The woman seemed so perfect that I felt positively hideous in comparison. Who had created this being? Some kind of porn god?
Whoever it was, he was most likely male.
I continued staring, taking in all the details. Her hair was a mess; individual blonde strands had come loose from her bun and were whisking back and forth in the wind of her motions. Her tan skin transitioned to a rosy pink in her cheeks, and her face seemed to be literally glowing.
You didn’t need much imagination to guess what she had just been doing with Elyas.
“Hello,” she said with a strained smile as she walked past us, the peanut gallery. After she had closed the apartment door behind her, I couldn’t take my eyes off the spot where she had last been. When I finally looked over at Alex, her eyes were as big as mine. We gulped in unison.
“Moving on from the topic of neurotic episodes,” I mumbled.
“Um, what was that? Some kind of Photoshop project?” Alex asked. “I’m hoping yes. Anything else would be too much.”
We each needed some time to recover from laying eyes on this divine apparition. Alex was the first one to shake off the experience, and she returned to dicing. I, in contrast, still felt strange. Until this moment, I had assumed Elyas wasn’t all that particular in his choice of women. Now I wondered how I had fit into his prey profile. I didn’t have the first thing in common with the woman who had just passed through. I doubted we were even members of the same species.
The idiot who could answer my question emerged from his room, shooting my mood even deeper into the basement. His approaching steps grew louder until he finally entered the living room, also with ruffled hair. He stopped for a second when he caught sight of me. Another one of his rakish smiles passed over his lips as he continued toward the kitchen.
Actually, my lucky streak hadn’t quite run out yet: he had clothes on. Only his belt, which was hanging off his hips from his casual jeans, was open. He had on a black T-shirt emblazoned with a large red number 69 across his chest.
Nice.
He sauntered barefoot over the laminate and leaned on the counter across from me. “Emely,” he said grinning. “I wish you’d made an appointment beforehand. Then you could have avoided that unpleasant encounter.” He glanced at the kitchen clock. “But you’re in luck: I’ve just gotten my second wind. If you want, I can squeeze you in quickly, between other engagements.”
I snorted and crossed my arms over my chest with a toxic glare. “Watch out, or my kneemight end up between something in a second.”
“Is that an offer?” he asked with a chuckle. “I’m open to any new technique you can teach me.”
“Anytime, any place,” I answered with a grunt. He got up from the counter, retrieved a water bottle from the fridge, and then took a seat on the counter where he had been leaning. I watched him drink, and then my curiosity about his T-shirt got the best of me.
“What does 69 stand for?” I asked. “The number of women you’ve slept with? The sexual position? Or your IQ? I’m betting on the last one.”
“How about centimeters?” he replied.
“How about you take your IQ with you and go take a shower?” Alex said, scoffing. “You and your stupid banter. Could you lay off for once?”
Instead of leaving, he drank some more water and kept giving me silent, intense looks.
I seriously wondered sometimes what was going on inside that silly skull of
She looked like she had stepped out of a glossy magazine. Her clothes clung so tight you could see every inch of her exceptionally beautiful body. She was tall—taller than me by at least a head—and I could only gape at her silky smooth legs, which her short skirt scarcely covered.
The woman seemed so perfect that I felt positively hideous in comparison. Who had created this being? Some kind of porn god?
Whoever it was, he was most likely male.
I continued staring, taking in all the details. Her hair was a mess; individual blonde strands had come loose from her bun and were whisking back and forth in the wind of her motions. Her tan skin transitioned to a rosy pink in her cheeks, and her face seemed to be literally glowing.
You didn’t need much imagination to guess what she had just been doing with Elyas.
“Hello,” she said with a strained smile as she walked past us, the peanut gallery. After she had closed the apartment door behind her, I couldn’t take my eyes off the spot where she had last been. When I finally looked over at Alex, her eyes were as big as mine. We gulped in unison.
“Moving on from the topic of neurotic episodes,” I mumbled.
“Um, what was that? Some kind of Photoshop project?” Alex asked. “I’m hoping yes. Anything else would be too much.”
We each needed some time to recover from laying eyes on this divine apparition. Alex was the first one to shake off the experience, and she returned to dicing. I, in contrast, still felt strange. Until this moment, I had assumed Elyas wasn’t all that particular in his choice of women. Now I wondered how I had fit into his prey profile. I didn’t have the first thing in common with the woman who had just passed through. I doubted we were even members of the same species.
The idiot who could answer my question emerged from his room, shooting my mood even deeper into the basement. His approaching steps grew louder until he finally entered the living room, also with ruffled hair. He stopped for a second when he caught sight of me. Another one of his rakish smiles passed over his lips as he continued toward the kitchen.
Actually, my lucky streak hadn’t quite run out yet: he had clothes on. Only his belt, which was hanging off his hips from his casual jeans, was open. He had on a black T-shirt emblazoned with a large red number 69 across his chest.
Nice.
He sauntered barefoot over the laminate and leaned on the counter across from me. “Emely,” he said grinning. “I wish you’d made an appointment beforehand. Then you could have avoided that unpleasant encounter.” He glanced at the kitchen clock. “But you’re in luck: I’ve just gotten my second wind. If you want, I can squeeze you in quickly, between other engagements.”
I snorted and crossed my arms over my chest with a toxic glare. “Watch out, or my kneemight end up between something in a second.”
“Is that an offer?” he asked with a chuckle. “I’m open to any new technique you can teach me.”
“Anytime, any place,” I answered with a grunt. He got up from the counter, retrieved a water bottle from the fridge, and then took a seat on the counter where he had been leaning. I watched him drink, and then my curiosity about his T-shirt got the best of me.
“What does 69 stand for?” I asked. “The number of women you’ve slept with? The sexual position? Or your IQ? I’m betting on the last one.”
“How about centimeters?” he replied.
“How about you take your IQ with you and go take a shower?” Alex said, scoffing. “You and your stupid banter. Could you lay off for once?”
Instead of leaving, he drank some more water and kept giving me silent, intense looks.
I seriously wondered sometimes what was going on inside that silly skull of
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