There are over 70 thousand apartment buildings and over a million residential apartments crammed into New York City's 300-square miles. One may say it was the low, yet still ridiculously high, rent at The Mare's Nest that drew her in. Or the fact it...
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"LISTEN TO THE WIND BLOW, watch the sun rise. Run in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies." Harry sings through the clamor and clank of his latest project. His voice is angelic and smooth. She closes her eyes for a moment to soak in his baritone vocals before knocking on the painted wood. Already unlocked, the door swings open.
She finds him standing shirtless, a ratty flannel swung over his shoulder. Grease streaks down his toned abdomen. He runs his fingers through his brunette curls in frustration, gripping tightly at the scalp before letting them loose on the top of his head. He stares at a KISS pinball machine, a new conquest of his, and steps forward to mess with a fan of frayed wires.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Harry curses at the machine, staring at a vintage manual. "Red to blue. Blue to green. Green to yellow. Why the fuck aren't you working?"
Mara clears her throat, already several steps into the super's apartment. The sound grabs Harry's attention. "I'm sorry to barge in. The door was unlocked."
"Mara," Harry turns down his boombox and swings the flannel off his shoulder, putting it on but leaving it unbuttoned. Sweat shimmers between his pecs, down to his belly button and back up across his glistening cheekbones. The sight is breathtaking. "Everything okay?" He wipes his forehead with his forearm.
"What?" She finds herself lost in the sight in front of her. "Oh... yeah. Everything is fine. My dishwasher broke down and is making all kinds of noise. Water is spilling everywhere. Not sure what to do. Seemed a little bit too urgent to put in a formal maintenance request."
Harry looks Mara up and down, from her loose, untied combat boots, to her snug men's boxer shorts, and up to her more formals blazer and white button-up. He smiles to himself. With anyone else, such a look would have been quizzical but with her it's appropriate.
"Of course. It's due for some work anyways. I'm sorry that happened." Harry pulls at the bottom hem of his flannel.
"What do you have here?" Mara intrudes. She walks over to the broken pinball machine. She remembers playing games like this when she was little. The glass removed from the top, Mara is mesmerized by the detailed art and metal intricacies of the obstacle course inside. "Wow," she whispers. Leaning against the frame, she's startled by the machine suddenly turning on.
LICK IT UP. LICK IT UP. OOOOH YEAH. IT'S ONLY RIGHT NOW.
LICK IT UP. LICK IT UP. OOOH YEAH.
"I guess all it needed was your touch," Harry scoffs, walking to the back of the machine to unplug it, halting the music. "I'll go take a look at the dishwasher." He puts his screwdriver into his toolbox and heads to the front door with his kit in hand.
