The Haunted Mansion

Mister Right?

While climbing up the stairs, I could feel his breath deep into the skin of my neck. His hand was helping me from time to time, finding its way on my waist and giving me a little push here and there.

It took my dumbass hands 5 entire minutes to find the keys to my apartment. I was frantically looking after them in my bag. And no sign of them.

Hey, I think your...- he said to me, visibly nervous. But I decided in glory to cut him off. Please- I spoke while raising my left palm towards his face. I can find my keys, ok? They are my keys and this is my apartment.

Oh... ok, then you wouldn't mind me telling you that your KEYS are in the right pocket of your dress.

Holy mother of God and... I froze. What the hell was I doing? It was like my body didn't want to react in front of him, almost trapping me next to him for as long as possible.

Sorry- while my face was all red and puffy. I apologized and like a wounded hero, I opened the door.

I like the decore. It's quite nice and the view of the park from this living room is everything.

Well, mister designer, what can I say? I...

You can stop being so sarcastic for once and at least offer me a coffee or something. You know, the one where I drink it with my mouth and not my clothes.

I started to giggle. We both did. The memory of our meeting down in the street was epic.

Ok, I'll go to the kitchen with my bags and I'll get started on those cups of coffee. In the meantime, please make yourself at home.

Now's the time to inform you that I don't even know his name. All I know is that we are in the same class, and our paths have crossed here and there, but nothing serious.

Michael Bolton he said his name was, after chatting for a split second. Weird how he knew my name right from the get-go. A strong appearance, leaving traces of masculinity everywhere he would go. Those eyes and a perfect physique, well, at least for me. In my eyes, he was perfect.

And now, he's taking his shirt off...

There's a huge coffee stain on my shirt. I assume you have a washing machine or something here. I can't go out like this.

Ah..... yeah, sure... I'm... let me have it and....

My heart was pounding like 200 miles per hour. I approached him and took his shirt into my hands. I'll go finish what you started in the kitchen- he said while fading away.

Ok, his abs and such clean, chocolate skin... My mouth was all watery. We spent the next hour and a half talking about our passions, while the washing machine did its thing. I found out that we share the same dream: to become respectful architects and interior designers. Then, all of a sudden our mouths somehow found one another, tired of talking and it was time for.... s**t.

The annoying little bip of the washing machine interrupted us. I took his shirt out, smelled it, knowing that my perfume was now on it and I reached out to give it to him.

Do you mind helping me put it on or not?

I'm sorry what?- I was perplexed. Instead, he smiled and grabbed me by the waist. Then, I caved in. Maybe our minds weren't on the same path quite, yet our bodies could not get enough of each other.

In a blink of an eye, he tore apart the little dress I had on and left me vulnerable, stripped-down of secrets in front of him. He caressed my shoulders, kissed them gently and I wasn't going to fight what was about to happen. We gave in to our feelings on the couch sitting in the living room.

His kisses, nice and slow, my hands running through his bitter dark locks and my nails digging into his back. After that, he grabbed me tightly to his chest, kissed my forehead, and froze for a minute, an hour or it might have been an eternity, I don't even know to be honest.