The sound echoed through my empty apartment and into my waiting ears. I bounded to my feet, realizing Francine was here. Nervously I adjusted my tie and decided on taking it off. I popped open my collar, exposing a little of my bare chest.
"Um...coming!" I said, but it came out more of a croak.
I jogged over, tripped on a pair of shoes in the process, and threw open the door.
A woman that was definitely not Francine was waiting outside the door.
"Oh my," she whispered.
"May I help you?" I asked. She snapped out of her trance.
"Oh-uh I think...um....I got the wrong door..."
"Oookay. Good day." I started to shut the door, but a foot blocked the door.
"What?" I snapped, rather than asking politely.
"You can call me Gerry," she said, smiling like an idiot and with a weird light dancing in her eyes.
I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose. It was then I noticed the red tinge to her cheeks and how messy her hair and clothes were. It dawned on me: the woman was drunk.
"Goodbye," I said seriously but couldn't shut the door again, because the woman- or rather Gerry- had lunged at me. I saw the lust in her eyes and backed away fearfully.
"Excuse me madam-"
"You can call me Gerry," she growled.
I bit my lip to keep some choice words to be thrown in her face. This woman was intoxicated, and didn't know what she was doing. I had to be gentle with her.
She crept forward like a predator stalking a prey.
And I was the prey.
I backed up until I was touching the back of my bed. Then I scrambled on.
Bad mistake. And a very stupid one.
The woman crawled on the bed quickly. I saw her hand reaching for my jeans.
"No....no..." I said frantically.
I held up my hands to hold her off when suddenly she slipped on my silk bedding. It happened so fast, I didn't have time to think. She landed hard on me , pinning her body on mine when a figure appeared in the doorway. I had forgot to close the door. It was Francine. And she looked like she was about to burst into tears. Then she shot me a glare before running away.
"Fr-Francine!" I shouted desperately.
"Oh. Was that your girlfriend?" The woman asked sluggishly.
I gritted my teeth and ran after Francine.
* * * * *
"I don't want to talk to you." Francine sniffed and wiped her bleary eyes with a slim hand.
"But I do. And you have the right to know what really happened. Francine." When I said her name, she lifted her head and looked at me with those breathtakingly blue eyes.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," I choked out, feeling tears of my own ready to escape. "I love you."
For a second there, I caught a glimpse of her giving in-then it was replaced by one of determination. "I don't."
The tears welled in my eyes and spilled out. She looked surprised. I don't usually cry.
"Please." It sounded more like a beg.
Francine stopped crying and straightened her shoulders. "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore, do you get it?" She was starting to scream now. "My world is falling apart and not just because of you! I-"
I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her passionately. Our lips moved in sync like it was automatic; we had done this so many times it just feels so right and familiar.
Her plump wet lips moved down towards my neck and then to the opening of my shirt. I stared at her. Her eyes were closed, tears streaming down her delicate face. I held back sobs and pulled her closer. Together, we stood there, hugging, and crying silently.
YOU ARE READING
Starting OverMystery / Thriller
Colette was kidnapped at the age of 15...and the memories of it still lingers even after she'd been rescued. Then she grows up after a while and is desperate for a job to survive at the age of 21. She finds one-but the boss is the same boy that had...