Chapter 9
Nora
I pull out my phone and call Nadya, desperate to tell her everything.
“Hello,” she answers, and from the groggy sound of her voice, she’s still in bed.
“You sound chipper. How was Mr. Nice Butt last night?” I ask, using the nickname she’d given the man she took home.
“Pretty fucking fantastic. I didn’t stay the night, but we did the deed three times.
” Nadya proceeds to explain in great detail her sexual exploits from last night, leaving nothing out.
Honestly, sometimes I’d rather she didn’t go into such detail, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate being able to live vicariously through her.
It also helps to provide me with some fantasy material for when I’m feeling horny.
I might not be interested in being intimate in real life, but I’m all for the fantasy and getting myself off.
“Anyway, he’s taking me out tonight to see a band in the East Village,” she finishes, pulling my thoughts back to the conversation.
Damn, there goes my plan of hanging out with Nadya.
I literally have no other friends, and there’s no way I’m calling Mike and suggesting we hang out.
It would give him the wrong impression. I guess I’m just going to have to pretend to go out and stay quiet in the hope that my hot new neighbor won’t notice I lied.
“Sounds fun. I’m impressed he’s succeeded in becoming more than a one-night stand. Good for him,” I gently tease.
“Don’t get too excited, you know me, I never turn down free tickets to gigs,” Nadya replies. “Anyway, what’s up? You sound bright and breezy, I don’t know how you don’t get hangovers, it’s not fair,” she says, and I can picture her pouting like a child.
“Just lucky. But guess what, someone’s finally moved into Josef’s place.”
“Ooh, a new neighbor. Have you met them yet? What are they like?” Nadya asks eagerly.
“I bumped into him in the hallway when I was coming back from the store,” I say, relaying how my bag had split, and he helped me pick up my stuff. I deliberately leave out the mention of how I was ogling his junk, Nadya would have a field day with that one.
“Is he cute?”
“He’s more than cute, he’s super-hot,” I reply with a sound that falls somewhere between a frustrated groan and a longing sigh.
“Oh my god, tell me everything!” Nadya squeals, and I launch into a long description of what he looks like and answer her probing questions as she dissects the entire encounter.
As I anticipated, she approves of my decision to pretend to be busy tonight. “You could come to the gig with us,” she offers.
“Hmm, what would be worse, being caught in a lie by my hot neighbor or watching you tongue wrestle Mr. Nice Butt all night?” I reply with a laugh.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” she wheedles.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell her, both of us knowing I’m more likely to be inclined to hide on the sofa in silence reading all night than go be a third wheel in a busy club.
We chat for a little bit longer before saying our goodbyes, and with nothing else to do, I curl up with the book I’ve been reading, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath.
I’m keenly aware of the irony that I’m reading a book where the protagonist goes mad in part due to society’s expectations that she remains a virgin, and resentful of the fact she can’t embrace her sexuality the way men can.
Esther would be disappointed in me not exploring my sexuality now that women can, or perhaps she wouldn’t give two hoots, she’d just be pleased that women have a choice either way.
Perhaps I’m going insane worrying about my virginity.
After years of being completely uninterested in sex, within twenty-four hours I’ve now encountered two men who sent my pulse racing and had my body physically reacting.
I’ll never meet the man from the club, but my new neighbor is going to be hard to avoid, especially since I’ve been stupid enough to agree to dinner next weekend.
I can’t concentrate on reading, my mind is too worked up thinking about Max next door. I resolve to take a long shower to try to figuratively wash away the thoughts.
I’m just rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when I hear someone knocking. Hurriedly, I wrap a towel around myself.
“Coming!” I call out, my hair still dripping as I pad toward the door.
I open the door and, to my surprise, find Max there. Even more surprising is the fact that while he still has on those same sweatpants, he’s removed his t-shirt, revealing the impressive abs that had been only hinted at before.
I flush, immediately conscious of the fact that between us, there’s only one item of clothing. I clutch the towel around myself tighter.
“Max, what are you doing here?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you while you were in the shower. I was just making dinner and realized I didn’t have any salt. I was hoping you might have some I could borrow,” he says with an apologetic smile.
“Do you always cook half naked or is this some sort of contrived seduction technique? Though isn’t it sugar that the neighbor asks for?” I say dryly.
“Says the woman answering the door in a towel,” he quips back, his eyes hungrily surveying me.
He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the energy radiating off him without a single point of contact between us.
For a brief, insane moment I contemplate dropping the towel to the floor and letting him ravage me.
He pauses for a moment, knowing full well the effect he’s having on me and that I only need to say the word for it to happen.
I gulp, biting my lip before shaking my head slightly and regaining my senses. “You’re the one who knocked on my door, remember? I’m not the one who came over to borrow something half naked.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Fair point. I spilled some sauce on my top while I was cooking and kinda forgot that I took it off. So, do you?”
For a moment, I completely forget what he came here for and my treacherous pussy throbs in approval at the idea that he’s asking if I want him to come in and rip my towel off.
“D- do I?” I stammer, cheeks flushing and my breath quickening.
“Have any salt?” he says, a small smile playing across his lips as he notices my obvious reaction to him.
“Oh, yes. Hold on!” I squeak, heading to the kitchen.
Luck is not on my side when it comes to appearing cool, calm, and collected in front of him today as I realize that the salt is located in a top cupboard that I cannot reach with one hand holding onto the towel.
“Um, sorry, I can’t reach with only one hand. Could you?” I say lamely as I struggle.
“Sure,” he replies, and I startle, realizing that he’s followed me into the kitchen and is standing near me.
Before I can react, he’s behind me, effortlessly reaching up and grabbing the salt.
I feel the firmness of his chest brush against my bare shoulder, and it sends shivers down my spine.
Despite getting what he came for, Max doesn’t move for a moment, standing behind me just a whisper away.
I turn around, ignoring the fact that my body yearns to bridge that gap.
“Look, you’re hot and all, I won’t lie to you. I don’t know what game you’re playing or what you’re trying to do, but this,” I say gesturing between us, “isn’t gonna happen.”
He smirks as if I’ve said something funny before leaning in closely, whispering in my ear, “You’re lying right now. I see how you react to me, how your body knows what you won’t admit yet. But I’m a patient man, I won’t touch you until you beg me to.”
I can’t help myself, my head tilts back as he pulls away, lips parted, almost desperate for him to kiss me. Despite giving me exactly what I asked for, I can’t help feeling disappointed when he pulls back, removing the intoxicating closeness between us.
“I’ll leave you to finish getting ready for your night out,” he says, his eyes dancing as if he knows I lied earlier and have no intention of going anywhere. “Thanks for the salt,” he adds before heading back to his apartment.
I watch him leave, noticing that his back is as tattooed and muscular as the rest of his body.
I don’t want him, or any man for that matter, but my body seems to have other plans.
My pussy is slick with need and my mind is flooded with thoughts of what it would have been like if I let go and gave in to my desire in the moment.
Well, I guess I’ve found a new fantasy that I’m going to work my sexual frustrations out thinking about.
As long as Max stays as just that, a fantasy.