The Voyeur Next Door (16 page)

“Seven. Are you patient?”

I considered that a moment. “I am controlling and domineering. I like to think I’m fair, but with this, with you, I would be patient.”

“If I told you I have over two hundred questions on my list?”

The corner of my mouth lifted. “Do you?”

“Possibly.”

I chuckled. “I would be fine with that. I prefer you ask me everything now and get comfortable with me before we go too far and you find this isn’t what you want.”

“Fair enough. What number were we at?”

“Eight.”

“Right.”
She cleared her throat.
“No inviting your friends over for fun time.”

Maybe laughing at such a reasonable remark wasn’t the best way to assure someone of your seriousness, but I did.

“I promise,” I choked out at last. “No fun time for my friends.”

I heard her chuckle on the other end.
“A girl has to cover all her bases.”

“I completely understand.” I moved to the sofa and dropped into it. I took up my half eaten sandwich and took a bite. I chewed a few times. “Now I have some questions for you,” I said around a mouthful. “Unless you have more conditions?”

“No, I think we’ve covered the more important ones.”

“Have you done this before?”

“No.”
She answered so fast, I could have sworn she was on some gameshow.

“Do you work?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have children?”

“No. Do you? I should have added that to my questions…”

I chuckled. “No, no children. Are you with someone in any shape or form?”

“No, my last relationship was four years ago. He was my first and only to date.”

That perked my interest.

“Why? Did it end badly?”

“Um…”
She sucked in a deep breath.
“Kind of. I told him I wanted more … kink, and he thought it was too much.”

“What kind of kink?”

“Nothing crazy, light spanking, maybe minor bondage. I’m not hardcore into that kind of stuff, but as I mentioned before, he was very into missionary.”

“Mm,” I hummed, remembering all too well. “Do you drink, smoke, or do any sort of drugs?”

“Occasionally, mostly socially, no, and definitely no. You? I swear I should have let you ask the questions first…”

I chuckled. “A beer on the weekends, occasionally during social gatherings, but not normally. I used to smoke, but I quit about six years ago and no, no drugs. Never even tried.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?”

“Hmm…” I felt myself blushing and was almost glad she wasn’t there to see it. “It’s been a while.”

“Months or years?”

“Definitely years.”

“Why?”

I looked down at the sandwich still in my hand. “My last relationship ended very badly.”

“Tell me?”

I could choose to ignore it, tell her I wouldn’t answer. But honesty was a big part of building trust and she had a right to know why I set the rules the way I did.

“Her name was Regina,” I began slowly. “I met her in college. She was the one who turned me onto the lifestyle.”

“You mean…?”

I drew in a deep breath and held it until my lungs hurt. “Yes.” I blew out the air in a rush. “We were both eighteen, but she had been going to sex clubs since she was sixteen via a fake ID her then boyfriend had given her. She was crazy. Wild and full of life. It was impossible to resist her pull when she got excited about something.

I knew she was different the first time we had sex. She wanted me to tie her down and spank her. I had never hit a girl in my life and I was … horrified, but a part of me was also intrigued. So, I spanked her, once, lightly on the ass. To my … amazement and teenage delight, she came from that. After that, I got bolder. She taught me new things and each one was better than the last. We started going to clubs together and making friends with others who were in the lifestyle. But the deeper we got into it, the more destructive she became. The changes were subtle, but I should have seen them.” I paused long enough to drop my sandwich piece back into the plate, rub the crumbs off my fingers on my thigh and get to my feet. “A few years after college, we moved in together. I loved the idea of having her so close.

With Regina, there were no hard limits. There were no red lights. She was into anything and everything, the dirtier the better. She had no threshold for pain and I refused to act on the level she needed. I think that was what pushed her to turn to my two best friends, and I let her. I figured if it was the only way she could get what she needed, there was no one I trusted more to give it to her. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough with her. Even between the three of us, she was still hungry for something none of us could give her.

She left.

There was no note, or explanation, but we knew why. I went looking for her, but she had disappeared underground, deep into the clubs I refused to go to with her. Two years later, we got news from her sister that they found her body in the sewer. She’d been hung up from the pipes, naked, cut up, stabbed, raped, and beaten to death.”

“Oh my God!”

I rubbed a shaky hand over my face. “That was three years ago. I haven’t been with a woman since she left. Not because I loved her, which I did, but because I don’t know if I can trust myself.”

“Are you still in that lifestyle?”

“No, and I never will be again.”

Ali

I woke up the next morning with a weight settling on my chest. The predawn hour was a faint, white light spilling through the terrace doors and coloring my room a pinkish gold. I sighed and turned my head in the direction of my clock. There was no real reason for it. I knew what time it was. But I stared at the blinking, red numbers and thought about Q and our conversation the night before.

We’d hung up shortly after his confession about Regina. I could tell from the tone of his voice that talks of her had drained him and I hated that I had pushed him to relive those days. My chest ached with the knowledge that there was nothing I could do but stare at the space that separated us and long to pull him into my arms. Part of me wondered if he would have been upset if I went over, if I just showed up at his door and said screw it to the mystery and the kink and the secrets. But I knew it wouldn’t go over well. If he had wanted me there, he knew he only had to ask.

Nevertheless, everything in me hurt for him.

Feeling the world dragging at my ankles, I tumbled out of bed and headed for the shower. I dressed, had breakfast, stuffed several granola bars into my purse for lunch and then did something I normally didn’t do in the mornings: I checked my email.

It had been weeks since I logged in. I had to rub my temples a few times to remember what my password was. But I managed to get on with only two error attempts.

Aside from five thousand junk mails and a couple of emails about my student loan payments having been received, there was nothing about potential employment. Of the hundreds of applications I’d submitted over the year after I got out of university, not one had returned my email. Thank God I hadn’t waited on them, or was in dire financial restraint. But if there was anything my mother had taught me, aside from never wear spandex, it was to always have a backup plan when it came to money. Mom was on her fourth husband, Albert something fancy pants, whose family was richer than the husband before him. He kept my mom happy by keeping her fabulously wealthy and by doing so, he would never see the other end of a divorce table.

Only, I wasn’t into marrying for money. My luck came in the form of a generous inheritance my father had set up for me to receive—as per the divorce settlement—once I turned twenty-one. That didn’t include the six figure child support payment he made to my mother monthly until my eighteenth birthday, which I never saw a penny of. But despite the existence of my pot of gold, I had refrained from touching any of it. All through university, I had worked every minute I wasn’t studying. I lived on nothing but granola bars and water for months and tucked every penny away for the three months I spent doing nothing. It had been grueling and painful, but I had done it. I didn’t touch my inheritance until I moved back and got my apartment and even then, I had barely made a dent in the numbers. I hadn’t touched it since.

While I could live comfortably on my father’s money, I had gone to school for a reason. I had spent hours studying and beating my brains in for more than to become some trust fund baby. Plus, in a lot of ways, that money always felt like a bribe.
Here’s several thousand dollars, just leave me alone,
which was basically what my father did after Mom left him. I hadn’t seen him since my sixth birthday. Just before the cake was cut. Just before my mother served him.

It was a warm and fuzzy memory.

My inbox was empty of anything important, save for an email from Lena asking how I was. That was a sure sign that it was the second Tuesday of the month. That was the only time I ever got word from my sister, which served us both just fine. My excuse was because I hated texting and emailing, but I preferred emailing over texting and phone conversations over both, and Lena hated anything that reminded her of Mom, which included me.

Our relationship had always been something between two acquaintances. While we shared a mother, we did not share a father. Hers was husband number one. Mine was husband number three. But that wasn’t the reason we both broke out in hives when were were forced to socialize.

Lena, despite her many attempts, was a lot like Mom. She was about image, about perfecting oneself to become socially acceptable. I was about staying hidden behind enormous clothes and even bigger glasses. Lena considered that unacceptable. Our monthly emails were just her way of appeasing her conscious.

I sent her a quick note back, telling her I was fine, everything was good, and that I found a job. All the basic stuff. I didn’t mention Q. She wouldn’t understand. Plus, I wasn’t sure how to bring that up in
acceptable
conversation. So I opted to leave it out.

I hit send and closed my laptop. Then I grabbed my purse, my keys, and walked to work.

Earl greeted me at the office door, his brown eyes shining with excitement.

“There you are,” I said, jogging up the steps. “I was beginning to think you abandoned me.”

“Shuffle board,” he said. “Took my lady friend for a weekend getaway.”

I feigned mocked outrage. “You have a lady friend? I thought I was the only one.”

I did a quick glance around to make sure Gabriel wasn’t nearby and listening. Last thing I needed was for him to think I had dirty intentions towards his grandfather … again.

Earl chuckled. “He’s not here yet,” he said. “But I was hoping to talk to you before he arrived.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not going to offer lunch and then escape again, are you?”

He had the decency to grimace. “I thought it would benefit the two of you to have a little one on one and clearly it worked, because here you are.”

I edged around him and stepped into the office. I took my purse off and dumped it into the bottom drawer of the desk and kicked it shut.

“The only thing you managed to do was get him a free bath in my iced tea.”

He winced again. “Went badly, huh?”

“Just a tad,” I answered with a sigh. “Your grandson has a very unique talent in pissing me off.”

Earl patted me lightly on the arm. “Go easy on him. He’s had a rough few years.”

I started to ask what that meant, but he went on talking.

“Anyway though, that isn’t why I’m here. What are you doing Sunday?”

I frowned. “Uh, I don’t know. Why?”

“I told Lydia, Tammy and Gabriel’s mom, that I would invite you over for Sunday dinner. It’s nothing fancy, just the family. She wants to thank you for helping Tam with her costume.”

I felt myself visibly pale at the thought of meeting the parental unit. I had bad luck with those. Mine hated me and the one time I met Tony’s they hadn’t liked me either. Apparently his mother hadn’t thought I was …
pure
enough
for their precious son. If only they had known he’d been my first, whilst I had been his fifth. But it hadn’t ended well and, to date, had been the most awkward dinner of my life, which was saying something since I spent my childhood listening to my mom telling me how fat I was over meals.

“I don’t know, Earl…”

“Please?” He gave me big, innocent brown eyes that were impossible to resist. “I promised her I would and she’s already got her heart set on it.”

“Damn it, Earl!”

“I know, I know! I’m sorry. I should have asked you first. But what do you say?”

I sighed. What could I say?

“What time?” I grumbled.

“Be there for five.” He fished into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “There’s the address and Lydia’s number in case you get lost.”

I raised a brow. “Not if I can’t make it?”

He chuckled. “I know you won’t do that to me.” He squeezed my elbow. “Thank you again, darling.”

“I can only stay until six,” I told him. “I have to be home after that.”

Earl shook his head. “You’ll be in and out.”

“Okay then.” I picked up the office phone and dialed the voicemail. “But you owe me!”

He chuckled and started for the door. “I’ll see you there. Oh! Gabriel’s here.”

I turned away to punch in the access code to get into the messages. In the background, I could hear Earl talking and the scuff of boots as Gabriel climbed the stone steps. I jotted down the first message into the calendar; some woman who wanted her transmission looked at. I was in the process of getting her number down when I made the mistake of glancing up.

The phone hit the desk with a deafening crack that made Earl and Gabriel jump. I didn’t notice. I was too busy gawking at the mythological god that had stepped into the office.

“Holy…” I couldn’t even think of a proper sentence to finish that.

The beard was gone. Not just trimmed, or buzzed down to stubbles, it was
gone,
leaving behind smooth, taut skin and lips … oh, dear god, his lips were just … orgasmic. Full and lush and firm … I wanted to do dirty things to them. Then he’d gone and combed all that thick, silky hair back from his gorgeous face and I was weeping. Only the tears were running down my legs in streams of hot arousal. Jesus, the man was delicious. And he was staring back at me with that ever present scowl of his.

“What?” he muttered.

“What … what happened?” I barely managed.

“I shaved,” he said like I should know this.

“Uh huh,”

I couldn’t stop staring and I was pretty certain my jaw was somewhere at my feet. I mean, I had known he was good looking, but damn the man cleaned up real nice.

“You’re making me uncomfortable,” he mumbled.

“Uh huh…” I mumbled stupidly.

Cheeks darkening to match his deepening frown, he stalked past Earl and disappeared upstairs.

Maybe it was the fact that Q had me all kinds of horny most of the night, and the fact that I hadn’t had a man in four years, but I actually wanted to jump Gabriel. I wanted to rip off his clothes and feast on all those beautiful muscles. I wanted him to slam me into the nearest wall, hike up my skirt, and fuck me like the existence of his cock depended on it. I didn’t think I had ever been so aroused. I sure as hell never thought it would be over Gabriel. But I wanted him like my body was on fire and he was a firehose.

“The door has a lock on the inside.”

I jolted at the intruding voice. I had forgotten all about Earl, but saw him now, grinning at me as he shut the office door behind him.

My face burned until I was sure my skin would melt off. I hurried over and yanked the door open, more to stave off the temptation than to prove I wasn’t going to follow through with my lusty urges.

It wasn’t until midday that I realized I didn’t like Gabriel shaved. In fact, I hated it. I missed his face bush and only because shaved Gabriel flustered me like a virgin on her first night of deflowering. Every time he walked into the room, I dropped whatever I was holding, walked into walls, or suddenly and inexplicably forgot how to speak. Words that I was usually so good with, came out in garbled mumblings that made no sense even to me. My face would heat up to temperatures I wasn’t sure were safe and I won’t even start on how tight my nipples would become, or how hard my clit would throb, or how I was ready to cry at how much I needed to come.

By six o’clock, I had toilet paper wedged between my fun box and my soaked panties to staunch the flow of juices from running down my legs.

“Hey.” The object of my frustrations—sexual and otherwise—stepped into the office, holding a greasy lump of circular metal with small rods jetting out of it. “Can you call the scrap yard real quick and ask if they have a wheel bearing for a Dodge Ram?” His boots scuffed against concrete as he shifted closer.

Grateful for something to do that didn’t require speaking, I punched in the number and waited for someone to pick up.

They had the piece and promised to have someone bring it down in the morning. I relayed the message to Gabriel before climbing out of my seat, careful not to look at, or touch him.

He was still standing there watching me when I jerked my purse out of the desk drawer and straightened. His gray eyes were contemplative and steady, the sort of look that made me nervous, especially since being in that room with him reminded me of the previous day and the sensation of his hands on my jaw. His touch had been so hot, so firm and unyielding, and the way he’d moved to claim my space had done incredible things to my insides. Every inch of me had silently willed him to end what he’d started, to kiss me, or better yet, follow through with his promise and put me over his knee. The mere thought had stolen every rational thought and left me lightheaded and breathless.

“What?” I asked, holding my purse to my midsection.

He shook his head slowly. “Just trying to figure you out.”

I frowned. “I’m not all that complex.”

“Are you sure about that?”

I dropped my gaze, the power of his attention too intense to maintain for long.

“I need to go,” I whispered. “It’s six.”

“What happens at six, Ali?” The quiet question was tainted with a dark undertone that made me painfully aware of just how small the office really was. The fact that the question was followed by a slow, forward step only intensified the situation. “Is there a boyfriend waiting for you?”