Neon Lights

SEVEN

Alexander Moon Ga summoned me to his room. It was the first time I heard him let anyone into his room while inside. It was night, almost ten past midnight, Sundays meant the rest of the staff had left.  Sunday also meant I had no classes and planned to get my sleep in. Studies and my duties kept me up, running a household is no joke- especially one that required this much care.

He was standing by his window. He was always by a window, this time shirtless with a towel hanging low on his hips. It was- quite the view, for lack of better words. I stood dutifully by his door, waiting. I didn't need to announce my presence. I rarely did. He sensed it.

"Clara May" no trace of the disheveled man in the couch "any plans?"

"A date with my bed in a few sir"

There was a smile there. I didn't see it. I knew it was there. Somehow, in private, I smiled back.

"There's a sweatshirt, somewhere in the closet. Bright colored. Has a space print"

Can you help me find it is the part he didn't say. I'll let you help it is what I allowed myself to hear. Nodding into the bright lights, I moved instinctively to where I knew his closet to be. There were no sweaters. Ah shit.

"Anything else, sir?" His closet was- interesting. Monochrome neutral suits in colors so close to each other they could be the same, shirts and the farthest he got into variety was his long sleeve t shirts and linen pants. It was, dead at best. Like the rest of the room. Like the rest of the house- devoid of personality, so empty.

He let me work in silence, Alexander Moon Ga wasn't the type of man that felt the need to make people comfortable. He oozed confidence like that, albeit cosplayed, and he was convincing with it. I could count on one hand the number of times I saw it glitch, and even then he had it back in place so fast its almost like I'd imagined the thing.

I found it almost quarter an hour later. A pretty thing, cyan with minimalistic space print of an astronaut and what had to be the moon. It was funny, to picture a man like him in that, and wildly adorable. It looked old, had a few washes to it, and even for him a little oversize. He was leaning by the wall, facing my general direction when I walked over, pushed it gently into his waiting hands. A moment skipped. His fingers lingered over my palm- like they had earlier when I brought him to his room. The old kitty like skittish reaction to touch was replaced with this- lingering touches and private breaths. I wanted to move. I didn't.

"A beautiful thing"

He swallowed against the intrusion, gracefully let my fingers go. I held his eyes as I placed it front side up on his arm. He breathed against it, loaded and unanimous.

"What do you think is the cheapest looking pair to it?"

Oh.

Nothing, actually, he had the options of a prince- the stitching would give it away. It was there, below his words- help me- and I was helpless against it. I left him to it to pull out, another quarter hour later,the only option he had- dark blue faded jeans that were so obviously painfully designer a blind man, no pun intended, could see through them. They did pair nicely with the sweatshirt, though, and the only street looking pair of tennis shoes I could find.

"You had nothing scheduled tonight" I'd know, I wrote his schedules "something I need to add?"

"Could you, turn around?"

"I'll be in my room, sir. Let me know where to, and what you need. Preferably before you leave."

"You're coming with" the sweatshirt sat comfortable over his chest, such a beautiful contrast to his pale skin, such a weirdly new way to look at him "find whatever in your closet matches this. We are going out"

Uh. No we are not.

"Ah. I'll be in my room , Mr Moon"

I rushed out before he could get another word in.

__________________________________

He was in my room, again, by the door and I seated by the edge of my mattress. It was, weird, we were rarely in each other's rooms like this, in each other's spaces like this. It was something I didn't want to read too much into. His posture, relaxed. Hands into Jean pockets. Sweatshirt adorably over his chest. His scent- the earth and tobacco and musk. I was ovulating. I had to be. This wasn't safe.

"You're not ready"

I looked down to my white shirt black pants self proclaimed uniform. My workday ended at ten thirty, the clock read eleven. I could allow myself out of them. Then I'd slip into my pajamas and get the sleep I so desperately needed.

"I will not be getting ready, Mr Moon. I hope you have all the fun you need, truly, but I'll be staying. Talking of which, where are you going? With who? I need to-"

"Get ready, Clara." It was the first time I heard the authority in his voice. It was. Sexy. Yes I was definitely ovulating, "I give the orders in this house. You have twenty minutes, Clara May"

My work day was over, that hung by my tongue, and actually your mother gives the orders in this house. I'm bound to her, not you.

"Mr Moon, may I speak freely?"

"When have you ever been unable to, Clara May?"

"You're disguised, that's easy to see. I mean no offense by this but it's a shafty work of it, people don't recognize you by suits they recognize you by" you. By the way you are "that aside, I'm not allowed to be seen with you in public. That I'm even an acquaintance of this household should never be on blast. I'm not sure what you're up to, sir, it's your life. The most I can do is keep security on toes. What I can not do is have my face next to yours in pictures. Your mother can not have that, for the sake of the family legacy and image. You can not have that for the sake of your future. I can not have that, at all" He didn't react, at all " you underestimate the power you have, Mr Moon. Even if you succeed in your incognito journey a face like that on a body like that will definitely get you attention. Sooner or later someone will join the dots. The point of focus will not be you. It will be the five three black foreigner by your side. I'd rather not"

He was smiling. He was smiling. A full on smile, dimple and all, smile lines over his cheeks, eyes twinkling with, something. I arched a brow. He ran long fingers through his mane of hair.

"Mr Moon?"

"You underestimate my power, Ms May. Ten minutes"

He left my room with it, that smile so open, so wide, so sincere. I had to be ovulating. It had to be that.