What is her name again? Fuck. I need to remember this kind of shit.
She’s utterly gorgeous, long dark hair and a body to die for, athletic and shapely. She may be just what I need to unwind.
No complications, hard and fast.
“Let’s go, Christo,” she says in her sexy accent.
I smile against her lips. “Let’s.”
I’ve got a lot of stress to work off tonight. I hope you’re in the mood for pain, baby girl.
She takes my hand and leads me toward the door. I wave at Basil and Bodie on the way out, and Basil rolls his eyes in disgust and Bodie laughs.
Told you.
We walk out onto the street hand in hand, and my eyes drop down the length of her body.
She’s fucking hot, all right, wearing a skintight black skimpy dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.
What is her name?
“Cab?” I ask.
“No, I live just around the corner.”
“Okay.” We continue walking hand in hand.
“You know, the moment I saw you tonight, I knew I had to have you,” she purrs.
I smile at her delusion. “Really?” I play along.
We turn the corner into a street. It’s cobblestone and dark. Uneasiness falls over me. This is fucking sketchy.
Stop it.
I stay silent as she chatters on and on. Not that I’m complaining; her accent is fucking luscious. We arrive at a door, and she unlocks it while I feel her up from behind. I pull her hair to the side of her neck and lick her there. I bite her earlobe and feel the goose bumps scatter up her neck.
My cock throbs in my pants, and I feel a little more like myself.
The door opens, revealing a winding timber staircase, and I peer up.
Huh?
“This way,” she purrs as she begins to take the stairs. I run my hand over her behind as she walks in front of me, and then I slide her dress up over her ass so I can get a full view.
The muscles contract as she takes each step. We fall to the top floor, and our lips lock.
We kiss. Her eyes are closed, and mine flutter open as I try to focus in the room lit only by a lamp.
What in the world?
There are weird pictures all over the walls, a million things hanging from the roof. Baskets and fake animal heads.
Wait . . . are they real?
I pull out of the kiss and step back as my eyes wander all over the apartment. I put my wallet down on the table by the door as I try to get my bearings.
The walls are black. There are flags and animal skeletons, skateboards, surfboards, a wall that’s covered in graffiti. A huge bong pipe thing sits front and center on the coffee table.
Dear god.
Alarm bells begin to ring in the distance.
There’s purple shag pile carpet and in the corner a freaky-looking giant rocking horse that stands taller than me.
I swallow the lump in my throat . . . as I look around.
It’s so cramped in here; there’s enough furniture to furnish ten apartments. What is this godforsaken place?
I’ve stepped into the house of horrors.
“You like my house?” She smiles.
“Yes,” I lie.
Focus.
Just get to the business, I tell myself. It doesn’t matter what her house is like.