I was standing in the cramped, humid bathroom of my basement unit, the steam still swirling around us, when the sudden sound of a heavy footfall echoed from the adjacent apartment. Then came a voice, thick with the gravelly slur of a man who had spent his evening drowning himself in cheap lager—a distinct Southern accent that cut through the thin walls like a jagged blade.
"Hey! You lazy broad! Where the hell are you?"
The woman, whom I knew only as Jessica, let out a sharp, audible gasp. The playful confidence she had displayed moments ago vanished, replaced by a frantic, wide-eyed panic. She scrambled off me, her damp skin slipping against mine as she snatched her sheer silk robe from the floor. She fumbled with the sash, her hands shaking so violently she could barely tie the knot, an
