I glared at the broken elevator every time I passed it, cursing my landlord as I hauled another box up to the tenth floor. I wasn’t necessarily out of shape, but the workout made me seriously reconsider my new apartment. Not that I expected Mr. Savi to gleefully refund the outrageous deposit I just handed over. Finding an apartment downtown wasn’t expected to be easy, but after a month of being a choosing beggar, I knew this would be the best I could find.

An old 1930’s hotel converted to living quarters after sitting stagnant for thirty years, my new building was everything I wasn’t looking for. With outdated windows, the draft never fully dissipated, the radiator as equally inadequate. I prayed pests weren’t an issue, but there was no way I’d be that lucky.

Relishing the knowledge I was on my last trip, I dropped the last box at my front door, ignoring the rattling protest of dishes within as I used the shoulder of my shirt to wipe the sweat from my forehead. One minor silver lining seemed to be that I mostly had the top floor to myself.

Consisting of one small hallway, only mine, and another apartment directly across the way occupied the loneliest part of the building.

In the two days since I’d been given keys, I had yet to see my neighbor.

I decided things could be worse, shoving the box into my living room with one foot and locking the door behind me.

I stood under the weak spray of the showerhead, pretending it was loosening my tight shoulders. Unable to muster the energy to shave my facial stubble, unpack, or even eat, I toweled off and passed out on my bed.

I slept like the dead. It was rare and wonderful. Until about 2:30 in the morning.

Awakening to the vibrations of nearby music, my stomach growled in tandem, refusing me further rest. I groaned, laying on my mattress that sat directly on the floor.

"Fucking hell." So much for quiet neighbors.

I pulled on gray sweatpants and got to my feet, turning on the dim light bulb that hung loose above my kitchen.

"Fucking hell," I repeated when I opened my fridge, nothing but condiments staring back. After yanking a slice of bread from the bag on the counter, I devoured it, making my way across the room and opening my front door.

The dark wood hall was lit with old amber fixtures, all quiet but the music that slipped under the door across the way. A golden light shown through the crack, intermittently disrupted by the shadow of someone walking around.

I couldn't care that I was shirtless as I knocked on this stranger's door. Seconds passed, my eyelids threatening to close, when finally, the person inside answered.

I blinked, instantly more awake.

"Hi," she smiled. Her shorts were tiny, hugging her rounded hips, a plain t-shirt stretched across her braless breasts. 

"Hi." Immediately after I spoke, I remembered why I was there. "I'm trying to sleep, your music-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone had moved in," she claimed.

A chill I couldn't explain ran up my spine.

She stepped back to turn a knob on a nearby stereo, something so old Sinatra's voice crackled as it left the speakers. Her small apartment was quaint, as rustic as mine, white linen over the windows, the aroma of a candle burning.

"I'm sorry again, I’m usually up late-”

“Yeah, just keep it down,” I interrupted. Then added, “please,” before turning, tired as a dog, and heading back to my apartment, leaving her in the doorway.

"Jack, are you listening?" Charles interrupted a reverie I didn't know I was caught in.

"Yeah, sorry."

"I need that story by the fourteenth," he repeated, knowing I wasn’t tuned in.

“Yeah, I’ll have it done by then.”

“Don’t let me down.” He spoke as if I hadn’t. I could feel his anxiety seeping through the phone.

“I won’t, I’ve been working on non-stop.” I tried to sound reassuring.

“That’s my other line, I gotta go. Call me if that piece doesn’t work up.”

Click.

I sighed, setting my cell beside the pattern of wet rings left by the repeated placement of my condensating glass. Charles seemed more on edge than usual. I hoped I wasn’t adding to it. Finding an apartment was stressful enough without the deadline for my newest article, let alone disappointing my boss.

Admittedly, even I was becoming irritated with myself as I stared through my laptop screen, the right words evading me. The coffee shop was dark, the gray, drizzling clouds outside blocking any natural light, filaments above yellowing the room.

My phone buzzed again. Expecting Charles, I picked it up, relieved when I took the extra second to check.

Brian. Brian. The name flashed at me. I hit ignore.

Deciding I’d had enough of society, I slid my computer into its case, tossed back the last of my coffee, and headed out into the foggy twilight. The sound of tires on wet asphalt soothed me, the overture of a calm storm following me the three blocks home.

I shook the rain from my hair as I jogged up the stairs, the OUT OF ORDER signs taped to the elevator taunting me on each floor. When I got to the top, my eyes went straight to her door.

The amber hallway was quiet, no movement or noise coming from her place. I felt bad for being so curt the night before. Fatigue was beginning to feel like a personality trait; hardly an excuse to be an ass. I needed sleep, though even after consuming a TV dinner, I stayed up, rereading my notes.

At midnight, she woke. A slight creak in the floor carried through the structure, my apartment so silent I could hear the building breathing. A short time later, quiet music followed.

It wasn't until ten minutes went by without a word added to my draft that I realized how distracted I was.

"Fuck. Just go talk to her," I chastised myself, rising from my seat.

Before I lost confidence, I knocked on her door. This time the music lowered before she answered. Just a sliver at first, the door opened, one blue eye peeking up at me before I was graced with the rest of her face.

“Sorry. Too loud?”

I smiled. “No. Actually, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have been so rude last night."

She gave me a once-over, contemplating her reply. "It's okay. I shouldn't have been so loud, I just didn't know anyone else was up here. I mean, I thought I heard noises from your apartment the other day, but never saw you. Assumed this place was haunted."

"It wouldn't surprise me if it was," I said, casting a cursory glance down the dim hallway. Finally, she smiled back, the same grin that invaded my thoughts all day.

"Well, apology accepted. I'll try to keep it down."

"Thanks.” I didn’t bother telling her last night was an unusual lapse of my usual insomnia. “I'm Jack, by the way."

"Scarlett," she introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you." After a moment, I took the social cue to excuse myself, but when I turned for my door, her presence lingered.

"Hey… would like some coffee?" she offered. I turned back. "If you're trying to stay up, that is.”

"I don't want to impose."

"It's not imposing if you're invited."

I absorbed her every nuance--the slight tilt of her head, the tiny arch of her brow--as I feigned an internal debate. 

"If you insist.”

She stepped back to allow my entrance.

Being inside her place was like being inside her head. It was obvious she lived alone, the atmosphere feminine, intimate. Many items decorated the room, though it wasn’t untidy.

"Sorry for the mess," she apologized anyway, shutting the door.

"I've seen scarier," I assured her.

"I have the feeling you're being polite."

"The truth isn't always polite. This case was just a coincidence."

She glanced at me as she reached into a cupboard, retrieving two mugs. "You must favor honesty. Let me guess… you're an artist."

"Journalist."

She nodded in understanding. "The artists of the political world."

I considered her comment. "Hadn't ever thought of it that way. I'm usually so pressed on time I don't get to enjoy the process of writing."

"Is that why you're still up?" She handed me a steaming cup.

"It is. I have a story due next week."

"Playing hooky, then?"

"Don't tell my boss," I jested, making her quietly giggle.

"Your secret's safe with me."

I watched her put a cup to her mouth, letting the hot liquid touch her lips. She was dressed ever so slightly more modest tonight; an oversized sweater with skin-tight shorts, though this time they covered her ass. 

"So, Jack. What’s your story about?” As she spoke, she began walking toward a table by the window, small and round with two chairs, one upon which she sat.

“Murder conspiracy,” I replied, taking the seat opposite. Her brows went up.

“Really?”

“Yeah. At the Fledman Building a few months ago.”

“Who was the victim?”

“A girl. Woman in her early twenties.”

The air around us was eerie, matching the macabre topic. Scarlett noticed.

“Well, I hope you make your deadline,” she said to dispel it.

“Thanks. Trying to do the story justice.”

“Admirable. Have I read anything else you’ve written?”

“I work for the local paper, there’s a few in there from me.”

“Sounds like you’re being polite again. I bet you’re a great writer.”

I shrugged. “Somedays I wonder why I put up with the politics of journalism, but… every profession has its politics. And I have a penchant for telling the truth.”

“I like honesty in a person,” she said, curling up on her chair. Fuck, this girl was beautiful.

“Same,” I responded before taking the first sip of my coffee. It was the best brew I’d had in a long time. Even the shop down the street didn’t compare.

I felt her eyes on me. Glancing up, I held her gaze.

“What about you?” I eventually asked.

“What about me?”

“What do you do?”

A devious smile spread across her full lips. “I guessed your profession. I wonder if you can guess mine.”

“Whether you guessed correctly is debatable.”

“Semantics. Are you afraid you’ll offend me?” Scarlett challenged.

I grinned. “Alright.” Looking around the room, I searched for clues. When my eyes came back to her, they moved to her bare legs. Her knees were at her chest, shapely thighs disappearing below the table.

“You work with kids.”

She smiled with teeth. “What kind of work?”

“Teacher.”

“What grade do I teach?”

“… Middle school.”

“Elementary,” she corrected. I shook a fist for my incorrect guess. “Great detective work.”

“Thank you.”

“What gave me away?”

“Demeanor more than anything.”

“Is that your way of saying I’m too nice?”

“Tolerant. I was an ass yesterday, and you still invited me into your home.”

My words caused another moment of stillness.

“Should I not have?” she whispered. Her eyes were intense under her lashes, and despite her response, unafraid.

“I’m really glad you did,” I answered, voice low.

Several days later, I arrived home for the night, dragging my feet up nine floors. It was late, past eleven, though I knew Scarlett wouldn’t be awake just yet. We’d been sitting together every night since that first day, talking for hours. I hardly knew her, yet was completely comfortable with her.

I was never comfortable with anyone. The distinction was noticeable.

I was also becoming unreasonably attracted to her. Every night, her body would demand my attention behind form-fitting lounge clothes, her smile more inviting each minute. Yesterday, I had a hard time keeping my eyes on her face and not the shape of her nipples; visible through her tight shirt.

Each time I left her, I’d lie in bed and stroke myself, slow and hard until I came. This girl was driving me mad.

As I sat in my kitchen, wondering if I should stay away from her, she knocked on my door. The clock read 12:02. She was a few minutes early. I had to will myself not to get a hardon before I answered.

The sight of her rendered that futile.

“Hi." She smiled. I knew right then that staying away would take restraint I wasn’t sure myself capable of.

“Good evening.” I grinned, leaning against the door frame.

“I thought I’d drink tea tonight instead of coffee. If you’re interested?”

“I’ve never had tea,” I confessed, and her eyes widened.

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Would you like to?”

“Absolutely.”

She laughed. “Alright then.”

I shut my door and followed her. In the tiniest shorts she’d worn yet, her plump ass strained the seams, peeking from the bottom. I discreetly adjusted myself in my pants, salivating at the sight of her skin, the shape of her. I pondered the motive of her constantly revealing attire. She was nearly naked the first time we met, but each night after, she could have chosen less exposing threads.

“Scarlett?”

“Yes?” she asked, preparing a kettle.

“Why are you always up so late?” After getting to know her over the week, I still hadn’t asked.

“It’s a curse. I can’t ever stay asleep more than a few hours.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I mean, if I sleep, then get up for a while, I can go back to sleep for another few hours. But I can’t ever stay asleep long.”

“Why?”

She shrugged her shoulders with a purse-lipped smile. “I don’t know. I’ve been to a doctor. They said because it doesn’t negatively affect me, I’m fine. It’s just… the way I am.”

“That’s… enviable.” She didn’t look sleep-deprived.

“And what about you? You say you’ve been working on your story non-stop, but lately, you've been staying up with me.” 

“Great detective work.” She grinned at the recycled words. “I’ve just uh, I’ve had insomnia for the last few months.”

“You didn’t say that when we first met,” she accused, “I thought you favored honesty?”

“I thought you did, too,” I retorted.

“What am I not being honest about?” Her teasing tone held some sobriety.

I walked around the counter toward her. As I drew closer, she set the kettle down, eyes never leaving me. I loved the way her mouth was always on the verge of a smile, her face the quiet, restless moment before daybreak.

“If you want me to fuck you, just say so,” I uttered.

Her breath left her as if I’d stolen it. “That’s a very bold statement.”

“But not untrue.”

“What makes you think so?”

I was an inch away. “It’s in the way you move. The things you wear. How you look at me.”

Her chest heaved. “You’re hard,” she whispered when I closed the distance between us.

“Only for you,” I confessed, and without another word, we kissed.

Scarlett wrapped her arms around my neck, my hands splayed at her back, pulling her hard against me. Pin out, the teetering grenade between us finally dropped, detonating. We moved like waves in a restless sea.

“I want you to fuck me,” she breathed.

Lifting her onto the counter, she pulled off my shirt, my hands tugging and tossing her shorts. She was bare beneath. As she fumbled with my zipper, I yanked her shirt up to her collar bones, grabbed her breast, and put a hard, pink nipple in my mouth. When she gasped, I grew unbearably hard.

The waist of my boxers shoved down to my thighs, I guided the head of my cock between her spread legs, humming when I found her warmth already wet. I pushed my way inside, neither of us able to wait.

I’ll never forget the noise she made the first time we connected. My engorged head opened her up, shaft spreading her with every inch. I had to pull back and start again, not once, but twice before I was buried to the hilt.

“Ohh fuck,” she moaned, nails on my shoulders.

Hard and fast, I pumped deep into her tight pussy, thumbing her clit as I sucked on her neck. Scarlett reached down for my hips and encouraged me, her approval making me soar. She was tight as a fist, gripping me with luscious arousal as I moved within her.

When she moaned my name, I stopped, holding myself as deep as I could go. 

“Jack,” she purred again.

“Fuck, I love that,” I growled, biting her neck. She held her thighs open wide as I ground myself into her, one hand at her back, the other groping her chest. “Keep talking,” I demanded.

“You feel so good inside me, so big,” she breathed. “You didn’t say you were this big.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Oh fuck,” she sighed as I pulled and pushed once more. 

“You are fucking perfect,” I groaned just before licking her ear.

“Tell me how you really feel,” she jested with a smile. I answered anyway.

“I feel like I never want to leave this spot. You’re all I fucking think about.”

She searched my face as she panted, our pace now slow and steady. I hoped being so candid wouldn’t backfire, but it was a little late to take back words.

“Such honesty,” she said, “… keep talking.”

I smiled. “You’re more beautiful than I imagined, and I’ve been imagining this all week."

“Oh really?” I nodded. “Details,” she demanded.

“What do you want me to say? I’ve been jacking off every night thinking about this?” I pushed into her with emphasis.

“Only if it’s the truth.”

“Oh, it’s the truth.” She kissed me.

“What else do you think about?”

“Giving you whatever the fuck you want.” She moaned. “Tell me what you want, Scarlett.” My lips were on her neck, my thrusting becoming passionate again.

“I want to feel your tongue,” she whispered, and I immediately withdrew. The countertop put her at just the right height for me to kneel before her and devour her pussy.

I kept her thighs spread, coating her folds with my saliva, sucking and tasting her just-fucked slit. She had one hand behind her, propping herself up, the other holding my head, pulling me into her. She gyrated her hips to match my excitement, moaning adorable noises as I hummed against her.

I flicked her clit, shoved my tongue into her pussy, licked up and down, from her very center, around her outer lips. Without permission, I went even lower, my wet tongue circling her ass. 

“Holy fuck!” she squealed, brow cinched together, pure intimacy on her face.

She never once told me to stop. I tongue-fucked her every hole, shoved my fingers inside her, played with her g-spot, with her ass. She took it all, enthusiastically responding to my every touch. She was moaning so loud I wondered if those on the floor below could hear. Not that I worried. I almost wanted the world to know I was fucking my gorgeous neighbor.

Suddenly, she went rigid, fisting the end of the counter.

“Jack, oh my god,” she choked, revealing she was nearly there. I sucked her clit harder, thrust my fingers against her sweet spot, listened to her breathing increase until she held it; on her precipice.

Just as she moaned aloud, I stood up and pushed my cock back inside her.

“Oh my fucking god! Don’t stop!” she begged as I fucked her with intense intention. I watched her face as she came around me, the ‘o’ of her lips, the disassociation in her eyes. I was rough, fisting her hair as she humped against me.

“Damn, Scarlett,” I groaned, her spasming muscles milking me. I slowed, instantly deciding I wasn’t done with her. She began to slow in response, shivering as she tried to catch her breath. “That was fucking beautiful,” I commented, nipping her bare shoulder, the straps of her tank-top drooping around her arms. She shivered again.

I held her face and kissed her, breathing in her whimpers. When I pulled her off the counter, cock still buried, she didn’t question it, legs coming around me.

I found her room easily, the delicate bed my destination.

“Yes, there, yes,” she mewled.

“Right there?” I asked, just to hear it again.

“Ooohh yes!” she exclaimed in soprano.

Face pressed to the bed, Scarlett's hair sprawled against the pale comforter, the pillow under her hips positioning her ass in the air. I knelt behind her, admiring the view as my cock disappeared into her, over and over.

“Fuck, you’re tight this way,” I approved. She was tight every way. My dick loved her.

We’d been in her bed for the last hour. I massaged her, licked her thighs and pussy, her stomach and breasts, fucked her as she asked; harder, deeper. When she came again, I started the process over. I didn’t make a third circuit before she became so ravenous she straddled me.

Scarlett rode me hard, tightening herself on me every time I threatened to slip out. I nursed her breasts as she rolled her hips on my lap, fucking me at her leisure. The faster she went, the more it excited me, until eventually, I took control again.

The cushion of her ass against my pelvis was intoxicating, her cunt puffy and blushing from everything I’d done to it. She cried out as I mounted her higher, strokes getting longer as I fucked her from behind.

“Oh shit, that’s deep,” she cooed.

“Good. I want you to feel me here tomorrow.”

The next expletive that left her mouth was laced with unyielding bliss, eyes finding me over her shoulder. I stared back, hearing her every thought; how curious it was that we fit together so perfectly; how absolutely satisfying our contact was; the pleasure astronomical. It was physical chemistry. Mutual emotional endearment. For everything we took, we gave, every touch as soft as it was possessive. The way she would fist the bedding and suck my fingers. How I’d pump hard into her while kissing her skin.

We were made for this.

Leaning on my arm, my other hand reached around her front, down between her legs to play with her clit while I penetrated her.

“Yes,” she urged, humping my hand.

“You like that?”

“Fuck yes,” she moaned again, grinding harder.

“Are you going to come again?”

“God, yes!”

I pulled out. Flipping her onto her back, I filled her again before she could articulate a complaint.

“I want you to look at me while you come,” I explained, lowering myself until her full breasts pressed against my bare chest. Scarlett did as she was told, looking up at me as I moved steadily within her, staying buried so her clit could rub against my pelvis.

“Come with me,” she breathed, hands in my hair.

For me, this night wasn’t about my pleasure. I derived satisfaction from pleasing her. Would have done anything she asked, wanted nothing but to devote my mouth and cock to her every desire. I’d held my release for the sole purpose of ensuring her gratification, my stamina for her unrivaled.

Now that she was asking for mine, it made me want nothing more than to give it.

“You want me to come?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it, Jack, please, come with me!”

“Ohh Scarlett,” I groaned.

“Fuck me, yes, yes, harder! Oh god, I’m gonna come!”

Our maintained eye contact made the moment infinitely more personal.

“Fuck, Scarlett!” I moaned, burying my face in her neck as I thrust harshly into her. She screamed, scratching at my back, her pussy contracting around my throbbing dick. Our climax surpassed the atmosphere; sharing an otherworldly experience. Like getting high on the universe.

I felt my hot cum pool inside her, our combined orgasms making her slick as fuck, though she stayed tight as a vice.

“J-Jack,” she stuttered.

“I love when you say my name,” I panted, slowing at last.

I felt her smile against my neck. “Jack,” she repeated with ecstasy.

I put my mouth on hers, kissing her long after our rhythm finally ceased.

After giving my final draft a third read-through, I sat back, lacing my fingers behind my head. I took a good breath for the first time in… well, eighteen hours if I were being honest. 

The night before was playing in my head like music in a supermarket. All-day long Scarlett saturated my thoughts, little else able to distract me. Images of her pleasured face filling my vision, the memory of her moaning stuck in my ear. Curious if she still felt me between her legs like I'd intended.

When there was a knock at my door, I startled. It was too early for Scarlett to be up, but I rushed to answer it anyway. Freezing on the spot.

Brian, my brother, stood on the other side. His eyes were big, lips pressed together. 

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” he retorts.

“Because I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Why?”

I glared in response, too angry to speak. His eyes softened. 

“Let me come in.” Peace replaced rage in his voice. I didn’t budge. “Please, Jack,” he leveled. After a long moment, I turned into my apartment, leaving the door ajar. Brian stepped in after me, closing it.

“How’d you find me?”

“Wasn’t that hard.” His hands were in his pockets, tense as he drew further.

“Why do you look so upset?” I asked, irritated. “I’m the one who should be angry.”

“Why are you angry with me, Jack? Tell me. If you’re so pissed off, tell me, so I can fix it.”

“Why are you here?” I snapped, standing with my arms crossed.

“Why are you here?” Brian shot back.

“I live here.”

“No. You don’t, Jack.”

My brows came together. “Yes, I do.”

“Who’s your landlord?” He spoke as if he expected the answer to be a lie.

“Why the fuck do you care?”

“What’s their name?”

I sighed, exasperated. “Mr. Savi.” When I spoke, an odd look settled into his features. Resigned almost. Afraid.

“Do you have a neighbor?” Brian barely spoke above a whisper.

A chill I couldn’t explain ran up my spine.

“... Yes.”

He swallowed hard before asking, “What’s her name?”

My vision shimmered, Brian’s face becoming clearer. I shook my head, feeling his eyes hook into my soul. His expression cracked, heartbreak consuming restraint.

“Jack… She’s gone.” I shook my head harder. “Jack, listen to me.” Brian stepped forward, put his hands on my shoulders. I kept shaking. “Listen to me, buddy… Scarlett is gone, okay?”

“Don’t you say her name!” I shouted, pushing him off me and running for the door. I crossed the hall in one stride, not bothering to knock as I entered her apartment, knowing she'd understand.

What I found inside broke me.

The large space that held the living room and kitchen looked like it had been left in an oven a few hours too long. Black marks licked up the walls, the charred fixtures flaking smoked plastic, furniture either in piles of ash or on its way. I couldn’t breathe.

Was the last week a fucking dream?

Brian caught up to me.

“What happened?” I begged. “When did this happen?!”

“Months ago, Jack,” he tried to say soothingly.

“What? No, I was here yesterday…” My heart started thrumming, my shirt suddenly uncomfortably restricting.

“Mr. Savi called me,” Brian explained, “he thought he saw you around the building recently. How long have you been staying here, Jack?”

“I moved in a week ago!” I yelled, not sure what was real anymore. "I've been here, working on my story, Charles needs my story-"

“Jack -” Brian grabbed me by the shoulders once more, trying to get me to look at him. “It’s alright, listen to me. You disassociated again, okay? You don't work for Charles anymore. You haven't since June." I tried to push him away, though the panic made everything impossible. I didn't like the way he spoke to me like a cornered, wild animal. "Mr. Savi isn’t the landlord, he’s the head of maintenance. This is the Fledman Building, you used to live here. You were dating Scarlett across the hall when her apartment caught fire. Remember?”

I felt like I wanted to tear my skin off, my body overheating. ‘No’ I mumbled over and over.

“You asked her to marry you,” he said gently.

“NO!” I screamed, crumpling into a pile on the blackened floor.

Memories of a past life flooded back to me.

Conflicting with the moments I’d lived over the last few days.

I still had the scratches on my body from her hands the night before...