Stolen and Seduced - Christine Pope Page 0,418

spewing exhaust and noise. To the west, the ten-block downtown boasts a Mayberry gleam. My apartment complex is one of the nicer ones in my small town, but that’s not saying much for Two-Circle.

Shifting in my deck chair, I wish for somebody to fuck. It’s crass, sure, but it’s honest. It’s be a while since I had a romp, and sometimes sex makes the world rosy… takes the edge off normal.

One apartment over, the sliding glass door opens and a cloud of weed pours out. My neighbor steps out and lights an old-fashioned cigarette. He’s wearing boxers and a dirty t-shirt, and his long, stringy hair needs to be washed. His expression brightens when he sees me. I haven’t heard his wife or baby around this weekend.

“Roxy,” he says. He glances at the shot glass and then the wine goblet. “Mixing boozes again?”

Shrugging, I bite back a grimace. “Maybe I like to live dangerously.”

His mouth twists, and he takes a step toward me. A movie blares inside his apartment. “Same, same,” he murmurs. “What are you up to?”

“I’m enjoying my singleness.” Lies.

He takes a deep draw and then blows a stream of smoke out his nostrils. “I’m having a party tonight. You could swing by.”

It’s no secret my neighbor wants in my pants. But I’m not a homewrecker. I do a lot of questionable shit, but it’s honest. Above-board. Consenting adults. With no secrets.

“Oh, damn, I already have plans,” I say. More lies. Every word. Maybe I’m not really as truthful as I like to pretend.

He drops his cigarette on the balcony floor and then stomps it out. He turns to go back inside, but he glances over his shoulder. He looks me over, taking his time, and his dick gets hard, tenting his boxers.

“Open-ended offer,” he says. “Wife’s gone until Monday. Baby, too.”

“Fuck off, creep.” I turn to stare at my wine glass, refusing to move or cringe or cower. It’s a free country, and his hard-on is his problem. No doubt I’ll hear him jacking off later.

Finally, he grunts and goes inside, and my shoulders relax. At least he didn’t pull out his cock and wank off right there. I don’t want to call the cops today.

I rub my tongue piercing against my upper lip, tasting wine and sweat. I don’t have plans, but I need some. My ex, Billy Bob, always says yes to no-strings booty calls, but he is so vanilla. And not just a little. It’s missionary position with him always, and butt stuff frightens him. Like, legit.

I take a long drink. When Billy and I were a couple, I sat him down one night, told him I wanted to experiment, and then requested his participation. The guy spent twenty minutes in the bathroom, panicking that I was asking him to fuck me in ass. That’s when I knew our relationship was doomed. Any other guy would have been excited, right?

Maybe I’m a freak, but I like what I like. Or at least when I want it. I’m always experimenting. Monotony is soul-sucking.

I lift my glass to the highway. Staying in Two-Circle for the duration of my life isn’t an option. I just haven’t figured out how to get the hell out of here. Escape is expensive.

My doorbell chimes, and I carry my wine in one hand. Then I grab the empty shot glass in the other, depositing it on the counter on my way to the door. With the sun going down, the temperature in the apartment is diminishing. Better not be the neighbor. I can’t spare sugar… of any kind.

But it’s Zette Dee, my purple-haired best friend, on the other side of the peephole. Her eyebrow piercings glint in the fluorescent light, and she’s grinning like mad. She’s got a new tattoo on her shoulder. It almost looks tribal.

I throw open the door, and she jumps inside and throws her arms around me. Wine sloshes out of my glass and splashes on my foot.

“Roxy,” she yells. “I missed you. Three weeks is too long.” Her studded cuff scrapes my skin, but it doesn’t hurt. She drops a sloppy kiss on my cheek. When she steps back, she points to the shot glass on the counter, and raises an eyebrow.

I nod, closing the door behind her, glad for her unexpected visit. “Help yourself. I bought the good stuff last week.” It was an unjustifiable splurge, but I was feeling extra. I’d have bought it if I’d known Zette was inbound, so it worked out.