19 comments/  75491 views/  95 favorites

Roommate Wanted

By: lazyways



Marie's survey of the kitchen was slow and methodical. As she scrutinized the room, she took a deep breath and a much needed break. She had washed all the dishes, mopped the floor, scrubbed the sink, waxed the dinner table, and organized the food in the pantry and fridge and freezer. And yet, the nagging feeling that she had missed something remained. Maybe she hadn't been thorough enough with the sink, she fussed. Maybe it needed the toothbrush treatment, she thought to herself, not without a little sarcasm, as she sighed and collapsed into a chair. She knew too well what was going on: stress had transformed into nervous energy, and here she was, obsessively and needlessly cleaning house. 

Marie's business wasn't doing as well as it once had. Antiques had never been particularly lucrative, but she had always managed, even been comfortable. She did most of her business online, but it had always been her dream to open a store, and that dream, for a time, had seemed feasible. Then things had taken a turn for the worse in recent months. She knew that it wouldn't be long before she might not even be able to make rent. She could figure out how to live frugally otherwise, but there was no way that she could work around her bills.

Although she rented the house, it had become her home, like an exoskeleton. She still had a lease to honor. More importantly, to move would be heartbreaking -- to leave behind the soft green carpet, the worn patterned wallpaper, its sounds as it settled at night, the way the light shone through its high, ornate windows. Moving just wasn't an option. 

Marie had lived alone for the past year and a half in this modest-two bedroom home in the country, with neighbors occupying houses just as beautiful on one side and a gorgeous lake on the other side. Not only was the house itself lovely, but the little lake was her private lake, part of the property. The landscape was peppered with trees and backgrounded by a mountain range. Marie had been especially fortunate to live so close to the city, which was only a ten-minute drive down a long, lazy road. She had luck and a generous landlord to thank for it. Now she would have to find a roommate to help her keep it.

Marie was desperate. She would have preferred living with a friend, but as a woman nearing 30, most of her friends were already married or shacked up with significant others. And if they weren't, they had their own leases to worry about. So she had done the unthinkable. She had posted an ad online. 

The ad asked for the usual: someone who was conscientious, quiet, and tidy. She had even thrown in "hygienic" for good measure. And she had expressed a preference for a female roommate. But the slew of bizarre responses had immediately made her rethink things. One woman wanted to know whether Marie was "pet friendly," as she owned five cats. Another had wondered whether Marie was sober, too, as she was a recovering alcoholic and coke addict. A third responder was 20 years old and wrote on behalf of herself and her 47-year-old boyfriend, who didn't actually ask but presumed it would be fine if the two of them moved in with her. Marie was overwhelmed and wondered whether someone was playing a trick on her.

So Marie gave her full attention to a brief and unassuming message sent to her by a man named Colin. Marie had learned that the shorter the message, the less peculiar the sender. He claimed to be quiet, respectful, a self-described "introvert," and easy to get along with. At that point, it was all she really wanted. So they set up a meeting and mini-tour of the house for the next day. 

Marie tried to imagine what it might be like to live platonically with a man. Aside from her father, the only men she had lived with were boyfriends. Would there be sexual tension? If there were, would it be too much for them? Would they find it too difficult to do anything but go at each other anytime they were home? Would their sexual relationship disintegrate after just a month and then find them living out some kind of Fatal Attraction-scenario made even worse by living in such close quarters? Or maybe her attraction would be one-sided, making it unbearable for Marie to live with him. Or maybe it would be his lust that would be unrequited, and he would attack her. And even if no attraction was involved, there were still the usual roommate concerns to fuss about, like whether or not they'd even get along.

The truth was that Marie didn't like change. She was neurotic, and she knew it. It was just that it had been too long since she'd shared a space with someone, let alone a stranger. She recognized that her fears were unfounded, irrational even -- plenty of her friends had lived with members of the opposite sex, and none of them that she could remember had spiraled out of control. And besides all that, she was pretty good at maintaining control. 

As Marie waited for Colin in the coffee shop the next day, she reminded herself of all these things: that she was being absurd, that situations like these were run-of-the-mill, and that she was just loathe to give up living alone. These thoughts reassured her, and she was glad that she'd showed up early, just a little before 2, to settle in and settle down. She'd felt it best to meet him here first so she could size Colin up before she brought him home with her.

And then Colin entered, a big, built man, shaved bald with a mustache and stubble. Marie's initial reaction was that sexual tension would not likely be an issue, and she sighed with relief. In terms of her usual type, Colin was a major departure. All her boyfriends and hook-ups had been thin, almost petite, with full heads of hair. The majority of them had been clean-shaven. "Boyish" was the word that came to mind. There was nothing boyish about the man who strode up to her. Marie rose to greet him. 

"Colin?" she asked. 

"Yes. Marie?" She nodded. She realized that he stood at least a foot taller than she did. For the first time, she thought that maybe a male roommate wasn't a bad idea after all, and that a man this size could serve as a pretty good security guard. 

Colin, however, regarded Marie with awe. She hadn't disclosed much about herself via their e-mails and he hadn't had the time to snoop around on the Internet, so he had imagined a much older, less attractive woman. But Marie was young, a little thing with thick, long, strawberry blonde hair that almost overpowered her. Her eyes were hazel and her skin fair and glowing. He shook her outstretched hand, careful not to crush her delicate fingers. Just as careful not to stare, he took a seat across from her. The cup of coffee in front of her was almost as big as her head.

"How's it going?" she asked easily.

"Oh, just fine. And you?"

"Going well. Do you want to get yourself some coffee?"

"Oh, no. I don't really do caffeine."

"All right." Marie raised an eyebrow. "It's your life." Colin laughed at this and relaxed a little bit. "So what do you do?" she asked. "I mean, what allows you to be out on a weekday afternoon like this?"

"I'm an architect. I used to do some of my work from home, but right now I'm actually taking some time off. What's your thing?" He rubbed his knees, hoping she wouldn't notice his fidgeting.

"My thing is running a business. Online antique shop." She steepled her fingers. "Architect, huh? What have you designed?"

"My last project included a skyscraper downtown. I guess the corporation saw that there was a little empty space in the city and decided to fill it."

"I'm not hearing a lot of pride. Is that why you're taking a break?"

"Something like that. Rethinking my priorities, I guess."

"Got it." Marie paused and took a giant gulp of coffee. She set the empty cup back on the table. She guessed there was no way of being completely sure yet, but to her, he didn't seem like a maniac. "You ready to take a look at this place or what?"

Marie led the way out of the coffee shop, but Colin reached over her to open the door for her. He brushed her side and the brief touch left him momentarily stunned. 

"Do you want to follow me?" she asked, turning to him on the sidewalk outside. 

"Pardon?"

"You know, your car follows my car to my house. Or if you have GPS, I could just give you the address."

"I'll just follow," he responded sheepishly. 

The place was almost as beautiful as Marie, Colin thought as he pulled into her driveway. Everything about it impressed him: the lake, the trees, and especially the English-style cottage. If he hadn't already been sure that he wanted to live here, there was no question now.

"I think it's great," he shared with Marie, who was at the front step already, patiently waiting for him.

"I do, too," she smiled. As he reached the porch, he felt like a suitor with his date. He couldn't tell whether it felt more like he was picking his date up, or if it was more like the sweat-inducing date drop-off. Either way, it was enough to make Colin tense up. 

He was not the only one aware of the weirdness of walking into the house together. Marie began to feel a little nervous about letting this stranger come inside, but she chided herself for worrying. She dropped her keys and set her purse down on a little table by the door. All the while, she kept her eyes on Colin, who looked at the house's interior as though charmed, wondering at everything. She had decorated almost exclusively with art deco pieces, and even the gold wallpaper was deco, with its simple, strong lines in an elegant pattern. 

Marie watched Colin as he inventoried the living room. Colin was dressed down, but he wore his outfit well. A heather gray t-shirt that actually fit, dark-wash denim jeans, charcoal loafers. There was a certain amount of skill involved in looking so sharp in an outfit so conventional. For a moment, she almost felt a twinge of jealousy. 

"This lamp is pretty remarkable," he mumbled, indicating a vivid orange lamp with a beaded curtain of fringe that stood at one end of the couch. He touched the beads with a tentative hand. 

"What's that?"

"Just commenting on this lamp. It's great." He turned to face her. "Sorry, it's been a long time since I've seen a woman's place decorated in a way I actually liked. If you don't mind me saying so."

"Not at all. I think that lamp is pretty all right myself. Wouldn't have bought it otherwise." She laughed, and he looked reassured. "Let's go take a look at the kitchen." Colin obediently followed Marie through an open doorway. The kitchen was decorated almost entirely in black and white, with accents of gold here and there. "And the bedrooms are through here," she explained, pointing to another open doorway that led into a hall. 

Colin couldn't decide how he felt about the bedrooms being so close together. He found himself wondering whether this was a blessing or a disaster waiting to happen. A distant part of him considered the possibility that he could get himself in a lot of trouble if he moved in with this woman. 

Marie turned to him. As if reading his mind, but only discerning his most innocent thoughts, she said, "Don't worry, we each have our own bathroom. Let me show you." Marie opened his bedroom door and walked into the center of the room. "I've already furnished this room. If you have a lot of furniture, though, we can work that out."

"Not a problem. The place where I've been living came furnished, too. Not much to move in."

"Perfect. Oh, and here's the bathroom." Marie pushed open a door to her left. "You have a sink, a shower, a toilet. All the luxuries of modern living."

He peered in, nodded approvingly. "So how many more of these little tours do you have to get through? If you don't mind me asking."

"You're the only one I've scheduled, actually. If the Internet is to be believed, 9 out of 10 human beings are totally insane. You're 1 in 10, or so it seems to me."

He had made up his mind, for better or worse. "If that's the case, when can I move in?"

***

Colin had finished moving in within a week of his first visit to the house. Marie was impressed, though she hadn't been quite sure about the rush. But he was as he had claimed: quiet, respectful, easy to get along with. In fact, she rarely saw 

The night that Colin had finally settled in, Marie received a note under her door. It was a Friday night, and she had gotten home late. She set her glass of water down and reached for it. It read: Making breakfast. It was signed with the letter C. She stared at it for a few moments, as though another message would reveal itself to her. But there was nothing more to the note, and Marie smiled and shook her head.

In the morning, Marie woke to the smell of food. Lots of food, and all the smells intermingled were so incredible, her stomach growled. She rolled out of bed and, having not washed her face before going to sleep, looked in the mirror, checking for any major makeup smears. She looked passably human, she thought as she pulled a robe on tightly over her underwear, then ventured out into the kitchen.

"Good morning." Colin looked up from a skillet full of eggs, peppers, bacon, and sausage.

"Good morning."

"Are you making us a coronary for breakfast?" Colin smiled and nodded. Marie glanced around the kitchen and saw that the waffle-maker was out on the counter with its "on" button lit up. She slid into a seat at the kitchen table and watched. Even the table was already set, and she absent-mindedly played with her fork. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion. I wanted an excuse to make as much food as possible. Preparing a breakfast like this for two makes me feel less guilty than making it just for me."

"Although your reasoning is selfish, I'm still grateful to you." 

"Wait until you've tasted it before you thank me." Marie forgot how much she loved the smell of a real breakfast. And she loved the sound of cooking, the sizzling and the scrape of the turner in the frying pan. Her breakfasts were always simple and fast: a bowl of cereal, a slice of toast, maybe a little fruit. The simpler the meal, the less likely she was to ruin it. Having a roommate competent at cooking would definitely prove to be an asset. "Done," he announced. She heard the scrape of the turner again as he divvied up the portions, pushing half the food onto one plate, the rest onto the other.

Colin gingerly set Marie's plate in front of her, then took his place across from her. Marie was famished and didn't bother to wait for Colin to begin. 

"This is great," she exclaimed through a mouthful of food. 

"Thanks." 

"How does one get good at this kind of thing?"

"This kind of thing? You mean cooking?" Marie nodded, and Colin smirked. "Well, I was a line cook for a little while in college. No formal schooling, but they taught me how to be decent at it." The two allowed for a long pause between them, Marie deep in thought, Colin enjoying his meal. Marie broke the silence.

"So, I never asked you about your temperament."

"My temperament?" Colin laughed.

"Yeah. You know, like when you're looking for a dog. You're always supposed to ask. You said you were a quiet guy, an introvert, but I don't know much else."

"Well, I'm laid-back. Very loyal. Not particularly aggressive, unless provoked. You?"

"Sharp. A little sensitive. High energy, I guess you could say. That makes me both a little neurotic and a little wild."

"In what sense are you 'wild'?" The question itself was inherently flirtatious, but made even more so by the little smile that Colin tried to hide as he asked.

"I'm not sure how to explain. I think it's one of those things you just have to find out for yourself."

"Jesus," he murmured, too softly for her to hear. "Can you at least tell me whether I should be worried? For example, 'wildness' isn't a euphemism for 'criminal,' is it? I never did see the garage. Is there a meth lab in there?"

"Nothing to worry about." Her laugh was generous and soothing to hear. "The only thing in the garage is antiques. Though the meth business might bring in a bit more money. You may have given me an idea."

"How did you get started with antiques, anyway?"

"I grew up with them. My mom loved them and would take me to antique malls every weekend. There's nostalgia in it, undeniably, but I like that all the pieces I sell have lived lives I can't even imagine. They have history. I love them more for their imperfections, I think. The dream is to open up a real store one day, but the way things are going, it's going to be a while yet." Marie seemed thoughtful for a moment, pushing her fork around her plate like a shovel. "What made you want to be an architect?"

"My dad was an art historian. He had tons of books on architecture. Whenever I had a moment, I was devouring them. I'd see stuff like Gaudi and wish I could create something like that myself."

"Gaudi is a far cry from skyscrapers."

"Exactly. Which is why I'm on vacation from them. Not sure where I went wrong. I think that I decided making a living was more important than being happy."

"May I ask a personal question?"

"Shoot."

"Why such a rush to move in? Was your lease up or was something else going on?"

"Oh, that." He sat back, resigned, plate clean. "I was still living in the house that I once occupied with my wife. My ex-wife. We've been divorced for a couple of years, and in all other ways I felt like it was in my past. So I was just done being reminded of that. Plus, it was in the middle of the city. Something about living here appealed to me, in the country."

"Were you thinking of her when you mentioned your dissatisfaction with women decorators?" Marie smirked.

"Ah! Well, maybe. It was a general comment, but she definitely had a thing for a more modern look, even futuristic. And she had the final say in all decisions, always. Sometimes I felt like I lived in the milk bar in A Clockwork Orange." Marie shuddered and gave him a sympathetic look. "Just not my thing."

"I'm glad the house suits you. And I'm glad we don't live in a milk bar."

"So." He looked at her squarely. "What's your deal? How long have you lived alone?" Marie was surprised by his bluntness, but she had been a little forward herself.

"I've been living on my own about five years now. I shared an apartment with a boyfriend before that, but it didn't work out."

"Do you prefer living by yourself? Am I an intruder here?"

"Yes. I mean, yes, I usually do prefer living by myself, but no, you're not intruding," she laughed as some of her tension eased up. "There's a lot of freedom in living alone, but there can also be a little loneliness, too." Her look became distant for a moment, but she caught herself and continued. "I don't mean to make you feel like you're intruding. I think with the right roommate, sharing a living space can be pretty gratifying, as long as you get along."

"I think we're going to get along just fine."

***

Marie was getting to like her new roommate, though he was undoubtedly shy. For the most part, he kept to himself, but he made their breakfast almost every morning, always offering up some new interesting fact about himself or uncovering one more facet of her, some hidden away thing he would have never guessed about her. For example, that she had been an art major and had considered a career in medical illustration, that she made her own beer, that she was a religious scrap-booker. For his part, he had wanted to be a detective before he'd discovered architecture, and he had gotten a tattoo of a Da Vinci illustration on his left shoulder in college. Marie, not typically a big fan of tattoos, had loved it.

One morning, Marie woke to find that there was no breakfast announcement under her door. She scratched her head and pulled on a robe. She was none too happy that she'd just have to make it herself and grumbled under her breath. He had spoiled her, she realized, feeling just a little embarrassed. 


Roommate Wanted, Apply Within



This is crazy, Cameron thought for about the umpteenth time during the half-hour drive from his current living situation to his new possible one. As he turned right off of the parkway onto the residential side-street leading into the very exclusive gated community known as Arbor Ridge Estates, his heart beat increased and his palms grew slippery with sweat despite the blast of cold air flowing from the Honda's A/C. 

He could still hear her voice during the short phone conversation earlier this morning. Last night he'd replied to her online want-ad seeking a roommate and first thing this morning as he checked his email he noticed a reply back from her almost immediately after he'd responded. Her message was brief but included a phone number to call her. And he did.

Her name was Samantha and she sounded nice enough on the phone, pleasant yet businesslike. Good, he'd thought, that's just what I need. This is just a business agreement, if we get along for the first meeting, not some lifelong friendship or anything more than that. Besides, she's probably not very attractive, overweight, and has all kinds of weird quirks. 

Now, just a mile away from the upscale community's front gate, Cam recalled the husky, demure, almost sultry deepness of her voice over the phone. He had to admit...it was sexy as hell! But still...he had to make this work—provided she liked him enough to want him for a roommate—because his current living arrangement was driving him crazy...

Sixteen months ago, his girlfriend of seven years (who had been engaged to him for the past year and a half; they'd been only months away from their frigging wedding, for Chrissakes!) confessed to him that she'd been keeping a deep, dark secret from him, that she was attracted to women and had been sleeping with her best girlfriend for the past three years. She'd fooled around with girls before in college but never really thought she might be a lesbian, until she slept with Donna. Hurt and confused, Cameron let her go because what was the point? He had all the wrong parts and it really wasn't worth fighting against something he couldn't change. Shelly wanted to stay in touch, be friends, and Cam tried for a while but ultimately it was just too painful, too difficult. 

Coincidentally, around the time his personal life had gone to hell, he'd been laid off at the paper. Sure, his dream of becoming an award-winning newspaper columnist was still attainable, but with the current economic climate and more and more newspapers around the country losing subscribers and cutting back, he realized his dream was slipping away. He also wrote and sold a few short stories, along with trying to finish a novel he'd started in college, but that wasn't nearly enough. Still, he picked up some freelance work for a local weekly free publication and worked another part-time job at a retail bookstore (the best he could find, since restaurants weren't hiring), but his income was not enough to keep his apartment. So, he'd managed to move in with an old friend from college who still lived in the area. Bryan was married now and had two kids, but they'd always kept in touch and even got together for barbeques on the 4th and other social events. Both Bryan and his wife, Penny, had been shocked at Shelly's secret life but welcomed Cam into their home, letting stay in their guest room for as long as he needed to, rent free. 

Which was very cool until Cam realized with dismay that they threw wild weekend parties twice a month, with the adults drinking way too much, openly smoking pot (with the kids around!) and the women sometimes going topless in the pool. Cam could've overlooked all of that, until late one night when a half-naked Penny came into his room, drunk and probably high, and asked him to fuck her while Bryan watched.

Though he'd been surprised but not shocked (Penny'd flirted with him a few times before), Cam politely declined, Penny pouted and left. He decided he needed to find other living arrangements. 

Cam saw the entrance to Arbor Ridge coming up on the left and slowed, turning in and stopping before the impressive brick and wrought-iron gate. An imposing uniformed guard stepped out of the small enclosed station and Cam rolled down his window. 

"I have an appointment at 11am with Miss Greene," Cam said, pausing for a moment to read the address he'd scrawled down on a scrap of paper. He didn't need to MapQuest directions since he knew where Arbor Ridge was located. 

The tall, hulking guard nodded impassively. He waved one beefy hand toward the gate and pivoted to head back into the guard station. A moment later the gate slid soundlessly open and Cam drove through.

Whistling under his breath, Cam surveyed his surroundings as he obeyed the strictly posted speed-limit of 20 miles per hour. He knew before how exclusive Arbor Ridge was but had never set foot inside the high brick walled community before. All the homes were large single-story or two-story stucco homes with red-tile or slate roofs, stylish and custom designed. Sprawling manicured lawns so green it made your eyes hurt if you stared too long, and almost every property had professionally landscaped trees and shrubbery accenting each and every dwelling. And what vehicles resting outside each garage (and they weren't many) all spoke of money and being financially well-off, whether it be a Lexus, BMW, or Cadillac SUV. ALL of the homes had large screened-in pool patios, most probably complete with a hot tub. Damn, this is living! Cam told himself with a serious pang of jealousy. 

Samantha's street came up on the right and Cam slowed, hitting his blinker, casually glancing over at a tanned woman jogging alongside the road, her dark brown ponytail jouncing along with her even stride. She was long and lean, wearing a navy-blue sports bra and matching jogging shorts; he made a point of not staring, but politely nodded and made his turn. He didn't know if she waved back or returned the friendly gesture.

The street Samantha lived on was a cul-de-sac and he spotted her house at the very end and he pulled into the empty driveway. Her home was one of the two-story models, a light tan color on the stucco with a spotlessly clean red tile roof. Whoever designed the landscape preferred the more Caribbean style, a lot of palms and plants that could take the heat and humidity of Florida. As he quickly checked himself in the mirror, he took a few deep breaths and got out. Why was he suddenly nervous? He'd dressed casually, nice jeans and a short-sleeved button-down shirt, but now he felt a little anxious pull in his gut. Cam felt self-conscious, but he knew this was simply because he was a little desperate here, but also because he was interviewing with a woman who obviously had a lot of money but seeking a roommate. Something was just a little bit off here, but he shook his head as he strode up the wide front walk and up to the covered alcove to the front door. 

Cam raised his right hand and was about to press the door bell when a voice behind him made him stop.

"You must be Cameron," said a familiar husky yet sultry voice. She sounded slightly out of breath and he knew Samantha was the female jogger he'd driven past just a minute or two before. Smiling, he turned to face her, extending his right hand. As his eyes took her in, he found himself momentarily speechless.

Samantha tilted a water bottle to her lips, swallowing deeply, her neck and face—as honey-brown as the rest of her exposed skin—coated with shimmering sweat. In the few scant seconds that she drank, and Cam remained silent (but still stupidly smiling, hand extended), his eyes quickly roved up and down her figure. Thankfully, her eyes squinted as she drank, not really fixed on him for the moment.

She was tall—he guessed maybe five-seven—and very lean, with long, tapering legs, feel encased in New Balance running shoes. Obviously, she kept in excellent shape because he noted her toned calves and thighs. His gaze roamed higher and her stomach gently undulated as she finished drinking, sweat trailing in thin rolling droplets down the slight concave of her middle stomach and over the hollow of her bellybutton. He quickly skipped his eyes past her breasts to meet her mildly amused and inquisitive gaze, but he could tell even with the sports bra that she had the perfect bust size (at least, in his opinion, anyway), not too big, not too small...just a wonderfully sexy handful. Most likely a 34C or 36B...but he was no expert. His ex had been short, petite, with tiny boobs and pale skin. The joke between them had been that even when she was 40 she'd still get carded. 

Samantha, however, was a full-grown woman, that much was for certain.

Finished quenching her thirst, she lowered the empty bottle and returning his smile, raised her own right hand to clasp his, firmly pumping it a few times. Her eyes, which were a dazzling shade of gray-blue, fixed on his and before she let go of his hand, something sizzled in that touch between them that lasted three seconds. 

Cam cleared his throat, his hand still raised to waist level as she pulled hers back. "Um, yes, I'm Cameron," he said with a slight stammer. "Or you can call me Cam." 

She laughed and walked past him for the front door. Her laugh was deep and full of mirth. "Cam, that's cute because I always tell new people I meet that I'm Samantha, but usually most of my friends call me Sam."

Samantha opened the front door and turned to allow him inside. "Perhaps we'll be friends, then?" She nodded, smiling, and Cam did his best not to stare. He muttered thanks and went into the house before her.

The foyer was large and tiled, the walls painted a creamy off-white. A small wrought-iron and glass top table with some sort of green leafy plant in a terra-cotta pot lay on it to the right, up against a wall partition. A hallway branched off to the left and opened up into a spacious sitting room of sorts, complete with a small dark leather sofa and coffee table with a similar wrought-iron frame and glass top at the foyer table. A few abstract-like colorful paintings adorned the walls. 

Sam led him into the front room and gestured to the inviting looking couch, which was a deep chocolate color. For a few moments as she walked past him into the room, his eyes glanced up and down her long legs, taking in the way her lovely calf muscles flexed when she moved. God, Cam, he told himself, stop gawking at her like some horny teenage kid eye-balling his best friend's hot Mom!

"Cam, make yourself comfortable, Cam," she said, "and I'm going to take a quick shower and then we can talk." She paused. "I doubt you want me smelling like a marathon runner, right?" She grinned at this and exited the room to go upstairs and wash up.

Honestly, she smelled great—her own natural musk combined with the saltiness of her perspiration was heady and nearly intoxicating—and he almost said to this as she left him. Good thing he opted to keep his mouth shut. For a minute or two he found himself fantasizing about what her nude body would look like and he felt the beginnings of an erection swell up inside his boxer shorts. Jesus, just stop it, Cam! Pull your damn self together or you'll scare off this obviously attractive but nice woman and ruin your chances of a possible great living situation.

Instead, he remained standing and focused on the room's artwork. His erection waned and shriveled back to its normal resting state. 

Right before Sam appeared from upstairs wearing nothing but a fluffy white bathrobe, Cam had been wondering if this was such a good idea. The house—hell, the whole upscale neighborhood!—was very nice and well-appointed and he hadn't even gotten the tour yet and he wondered what Sam would be asking for in the way of monthly rent. Probably a grand a month, at least!

"Thanks for waiting, Cam," she said, interrupting his thoughts and when he turned to look at her, he saw her in the oversized robe. Her tanned and freshly showered skin seemed to glow against the bright whiteness of the garment. She was barefoot and her toes were perfectly manicured. "I feel much better now. Can I get you something to drink? I just made a batch of iced tea and I was going to have a glass while we talk."

"Um, yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

"Be right back," she said, leaving him once more. "Have a seat and it'll be just a moment while I get our drinks." 

Sitting on one side of the leather couch, Cam smiled and after she was gone he thought: In nothing but a robe! Is she for real? Holy crap, this is playing out like some corny porn flick...

She returned two minutes later carrying two tall glasses of iced tea, garnished with sprigs of fresh mint. She handed him his glass and sat next to him, crossing her legs. Thankfully, the big robe covered most everything, the belt tied tightly so he didn't even spy a glimpse of her breasts. 

She sipped her tea and he did the same, and she faced him, placing her glass on a coaster at her end of the coffee table. "Now, Cam, tell me your story," she asked simply. "Tell me about yourself." 

"Okay, sure," he said, holding his glass and taking another swallow. The tea was strong but ice-cold, and the mint went well with it, adding a refreshing touch. "Well..." he said, and told her his story. He tried not to ramble on for too long, but as a writer he often would talk in detail (but not too much!) and kept only the necessary details pertinent to the conversation. Halfway through, Cam hoped he wasn't boring Sam, but she seemed genuinely interested, sipping her tea occasionally, and made a frown after he explained—maybe too much—about the failed relationship with his girlfriend-turned-lesbian, Shelly. 

"I'm sorry that happened, Cam," she said, her blue-green eyes shimmering with honest and sincere feelings. "I don't know you very well, but you strike me as a very nice guy and she should've been honest with you a long time ago. I have to admit to having a weakness for creative types, being an artist myself. I mostly paint and take artsy photographs. It is my passion, really, and also my business. I own a gallery downtown."

"Wow, that's great." What does she mean by 'having a weakness for creative types,' though? Cam thought, taking a long swallow from his glass. God, this was good tea! Not to mention sitting catty-corner from a very attractive woman who clearly seems interested in me...as a roommate, of course! But still...his mind did wander...and wondered if she did agree to take him in as a roommate how much it would drive him crazy having her prance around with that killer body. What if she brought home a boyfriend and he heard the two of them having sex in her bedroom? 

Getting ahead of yourself there, Cam, buddy!

"That's my whole sad but true tale, Sam" he said, flashing an easy smile. "Hopefully I didn't bore you too much with it." He chuckled.

"Not at all," she said, flashing him a dazzling smile. Her hair hung loose about her robe-encased shoulders, still slightly damp from her shower, but she could pose for professional modeling in his opinion. She was definitely easy on the eyes, even without makeup (not that she needed any!) and wearing a bathrobe. His mind began to conjure images of what that toned body would look like naked again...and he mentally forced himself from going there, unless he wanted to try and hide another hard-on as he sat on her couch.

"Would you like to know all about me?" she asked suddenly. "I'm sure you're wondering why a young woman like me owns a very expensive home in a very exclusive neighborhood."

Cam nodded. "Sure, I'd love to."

And so Sam revealed about how she'd gone to school to be a paralegal, and that was where she met her ex-husband, who'd been teaching a course at the law college. He was very charming and twenty years her senior, but a very attractive man. He'd also been very married. But they'd fell madly in love and he left his wife. After she finished school, she went to work for him at his law firm. For a few years they had been very happy and she asked him to give her a child. But he'd already had a son—in college himself—but he did tell her he'd think about it. Sam admitted to being a little naïve in thinking just because he'd married her that he'd want to have more children...but they were in love and wouldn't he want another one?

"In retrospect, Cam, all he really wanted from me was sex," she said simply, looking away and picking up her now empty glass. His was empty, as well. "Would you like more tea?"

His mind was still trying to imagine having sex with her day and night—not that he could blame the man for wanting that! But the deeply romantic side of him could relate to her disappointment. Often—even with Shelly, who never wanted kids—he fantasized about being someone's dad. 

"If you're going to have more, then yes."

Sam smiled and got up, retrieving both their glasses, and she lightly brushed his arm with hers as she left, which sent tingles jolting through his body...and making him harden again. Damn, this woman could be standing next to me and I would get a throbbing boner! Even the fresh scent of her body wash and shampoo wafting into his nostrils turned him on....or he could just be that horny and sex-starved, too.

Sam returned in minutes with two more glasses of iced tea. She continued her story as she set his glass down. 

"I'm going to be completely honest with you. I was a late bloomer, sexually, being raised Catholic by my Mom—my Dad wasn't a church person—and went to an all-girl's Catholic school. My first sexual experience was in college. And it wasn't all that great or memorable...but that wasn't to say that I didn't masturbate every day. Hell, I still do. Am I saying too much or making you uncomfortable, Cam?"

For a moment, Cam was speechless. He picked up his glass and sipped from it. Sweat popped up along his forehead even with the pleasantly cool interior of the room. His erection pressed insistently against the front of his jeans, the head of his cock grinding up uncomfortably against the zipper, even with the thin barrier of his boxer's. 

"Um, no, Sam, I'm just....surprised...you know...um, talking about this kind of stuff. But I'm good...you can tell me whatever you like."

Sam laughed, clapping her hands together. It was a wonderfully deep and throaty sound. "You're too cute, you know that?"

"Thanks, Sam."

"Anyway, my point of all this was to tell you that my former husband loved having sex with me, and despite the fact that I was fairly inexperienced at first, I soon came to love having sex with him, sex in general, and found myself becoming a highly sexual person. I loved the flirting, the teasing, buying and wearing sexy outfits for him, all of it. He was a busy man, and sometimes the stress and long hours at the firm could make it hard on a new marriage, but when we were intimate he was a very skilled lover." 

She paused, shifting her eyes to some spot on the floor. Cam knew a "But" was coming.

"Because he knew my art was my true passion, he told me I could take some money out of savings and open my own art studio or gallery. He hired a new paralegal and to be blunt, less than a month after she started working for him, he was fucking her behind my back, all while coming home to me and having sex with me in our bed." She looked up at him, the hurt still there in her eyes, but it was faint. She flashed a tight smile, brushing one hand through her thick dark-brown hair.

"Anyway, I found out when one of the partners there told me about it. Apparently, before my husband met me, he'd been cheating on his wife for years. I guess this guy felt bad for me but I also suspect he had a thing for me. Nevertheless, he helped me with the legal matters and it wasn't long before I filed for divorce and got a huge settlement. My ex had no choice. It was either that or I'd spread news about his infidelities around, not to mention how he seduced a young legal student while he was married before." 




Roommate Wanted, Apply Within



All Cam could say was "Wow."

"So don't fuck with me, Cam." Then she cracked a grin and laughed. 

"I'll keep that in mind!"

They chuckled together for a few moments until their laughter died down.

"Listen, Cam, I like you. I have already interviewed a few candidates over the past few weeks and you're at the top of my list. There's something about you, you're honest, nice, intelligent, and you're a writer, which while I don't know many that write or want to do that as a career, I find that attractive...and I think you're a very attractive man, as well."

Cam was speechless yet again. He cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean....I mean, thank you for that." He felt his face flush a little and also his dwindling cock grow erect...yet again. "I guess I'm a little confused..."

"I don't need to have someone live with me to help pay my mortgage, Cam. This was the house that my ex bought for me. Part of our divorce settlement was that I would get this house, bought and paid for. As well as a large sum of money, which I've invested smartly, plus, what I make at the gallery is just...extra money."

Sam paused, fixing her strikingly aquamarine gaze onto him. Was it just his imagination or had the robe loosened a bit, giving him the barest view of her tanned cleavage...and was that the hard and erect tips of her nipples jutting out from under her robe? 

"Um, what do you want, then?" 

"I don't like living alone, Cam. Never have, to be honest. I have a bunch of friends, mostly people associated with my gallery, other artists, people like that. But I miss not having someone home when I'm here....but I'm not really looking for a relationship. My divorce was painful and I have trust issues. But I miss sex—but not with him—and I refuse to go out to bars and clubs to find a sex partner."

Is she going to say what I think she's going to say? Cam thought as sweat trickled in a thin rivulet down the left side of his face. 

"Cam, I want someone to fuck, when I want to fuck, and nothing more. Of course, if you're comfortable with this...and I'm not talking about a male sex slave here. I'm not opposed to having my roommate come on to me when they're horny, too. But I do have my rules...if you agree to this, naturally."

If he was aroused before, he was absolutely throbbing hard right now. He could barely believe what he'd heard...but it was true. Dimly, his writer's imagination conjured up some horror story about Sam being some psycho-sexual maniac hell-bent on exacting revenge on men, any man, since she was hurt by her ex....but he quickly dismissed that silly notion. Sam was being openly honest about what she wanted and he believed her....as achingly turned on as he was for her at this moment!

"Yes, I agree," he said. 

Sam smiled, the tip of her tongue snaking out to touch her top lip. "You don't want to hear my rules first?"

"I don't think I'll have a problem with them, Sam."

"Okay, well, in that case..." She stood up and unbelted her robe, letting it fall to the floor at her feet. She was, indeed, stark naked now, standing four feet away, with just a coffee table between them. Sam's toned and tanned body was just as glorious and erotic as he'd imagined, even more so, and he found his eyes drawn to her pinkish-brown nipples, protruding out hugely and pointing slightly upward. She was a goddess, as far as he was concerned. He tore his eyes away, forcing himself not to stare at the tiny silver ring piercing her belly button or the thin line of trimmed pubic hair leading to that sweet, moist juncture of woman-flesh.

"Do you like what you see, Cam? Its okay to look at my body...I actually love that. It makes me so wet."

Cam opened his mouth, which suddenly felt dry but he didn't want to take his eyes off her to reach for his iced tea. Finally, he managed a somewhat strangled "Oh yes, Sam, yes I do." 

"I'm glad...and do you know what I'd like from you...right now?" She stepped up to him, reaching up and places both her hands on his shoulders. That electricity again, sizzled, making his whole body thrum, his cock beg for release, for any kind of attention from her. 

"What?"

"I want you to eat my pussy, to be blunt," she purred, leaning in and not kissing him, but nuzzling her face and lips against his neck, the tip of her tongue licking up a droplet of his perspiration there, and Cam quivered at the gentle sensation. He moaned.

"I would love to, Sam," he murmured, his breath coming in shallow gasps as she continued to kiss and caress his neck with her lips. He looked down and saw her breasts and nipples only inches from him, and he could lift his hands and touch them if he wanted to...and oh, how he wanted to do just that!

"Mmmm, good, because while my ex was a bastard, he was good at oral sex and I sometimes like that more than a hard cock in me," she said in a sexy low tone. "Not that I don't love a hard cock fucking me, because I do. Who knows...you make me cum with your mouth and lips and tongue and I may let you fuck me with that nice cock you have there." Softly, but with slight pressure, she had slipped a hand to his crotch, squeezing. "Oh my, you have a thick one, too....just what I like!" 

Sam pulled away after giving him one more playful squeeze and lay back on his section of the couch, resting her head on the cushioned armrest. One shapely leg stretched out along the length of the sofa, the other placed on the tile floor. Her hands traveled seductively, teasingly, from her flat tummy to cup her breasts, thumb and finger of each tweezing her nipples, eliciting tantalizing groans of pleasure from her throat. 

Cam slid over closer, so that he sat between her legs and looked down at her pussy. Without thinking, he placed both hands on her legs just below the knee and slowly rubbed his way up to her muscled, firm thighs, her skin soft and smooth. She arched her back, hips wriggling.

Her pussy was beautiful, glistening wetly already at her swollen opening with her desire for his attention, his eager and hungry mouth. Her labia was a darker shade of flesh than the surrounding pubic area, the edges of her lips ruffled, full and fleshy, dark brown at the very edges. The smell of her arousal was heady, intoxicating and he couldn't wait any longer...and neither could she!

Cam groaned low in his throat to match hers and leaned in, his hands framing her pussy with his fingers, thumbs out, mouth opening and tongue delving into her, tasting, lightly at first, then slowly licking a trail from bottom to top. As much as it might sound like a corny romance novel cliché, Sam tasted sweet and musky. It drove him on—not that he needed it—and she hissed in pleasure as he began to work his tongue in an even rhythm over her slippery distended labia, flicking the tip over and around her engorged clit. 

"Fuck, Cam, don't stop! Oh yes!"

Cam didn't stop, as aroused as she was by what he was doing and knowing what he was doing was certainly being done very well indeed. His eyes slid up and saw the way her stomach undulated as the waves of ecstasy coursed through her, her breasts flattened mounds, capped by those luscious brownish-pink erect nubs, which he would soon know intimately as her pussy, kissing, licking, sucking into his mouth...

Her honeyed fluids leaked out copiously due to his deft actions, his tongue and lips moving faster now, urging ever closer now her impending orgasm, her clit popping out stiff and prominent like a third nipple. Sam's hands gripped his arms, her short, manicured nails digging into the flesh almost painfully. Her breath came out in short, sharp gasps as she chanted his name, along with "Oh God" and "Yes" over and over again. Cam thought about slipping a finger or two inside her dripping wet pussy but he didn't need to.

Crying out inaudibly, her whole body seizing up as if on the crest of a massive drop (which in a way, it was), Sam came explosively. She grunted, hips bucking against his face, her sweet pussy juice gushing, some of it dampening Cam's cheeks and lips, but he didn't care. He could feel his cock surging inside his jeans, the front of his boxers wet with his own pre-cum. She spasmed, quivered, until her cumming abated...

Cam leaned up, wiping his face with one arm, and reached for his glass and took long swallows. He looked over and saw Sam smiling up at him. She nodded at the bulge still burgeoning in his crotch.

"If you make me cum that way with just your mouth, you may not have to fuck me, Cam," she said, blowing him a kiss. "But I want to return the favor....take off your pants and sat down, my new friend and roommate."

Smiling back, he put down his empty glass, and did just that.

As the months wore on, Sam and Cam enjoyed many days and nights of intense sex. They tried and did it all, as much as two lovers could. Both surprised the other...and as is sometimes the case, deep feelings blossomed and grew strong between them. A month after Cam sold his first novel to a mid-level publishing house, he proposed to Sam and she accepted. Three months later, Sam was pregnant with their first of two children. 

Needless to say, they lived happily ever after...and the sex was better than ever. 



Roommate Wanted



Stepping into the kitchen, she missed the breakfast smells, the morning noise, Colin's silent presence. She opened the fridge and fussed, regretting not having gone grocery shopping the night before. Her search was unproductive, so she moved to the pantry and found a bag of potato chips, but just one handful and she felt sick. Marie decided now was not the time to be independent or to be brave, so she decided she'd have to make a trip to Colin's room and figure things out. 

Before she could even knock, Marie heard a ruckus beyond the door. She pressed her ear to the keyhole and heard Colin's voice, barely a whisper, and another sound, almost animal. Maybe he was watching something on his computer, she thought. She was beginning to feel uneasy about the whole situation. Maybe he was trouble after all. 

She rapped lightly and waited for a response, but there was none. Something thumped against the door on the other side, and Marie gasped. "Colin?" she cried out. "What's going on?" There was still no answer, so she tried the handle. It was unlocked. "Colin?" she asked again, opening up and peeking in, and there he was, standing just a few feet away with a bundle of fur in his arms, looking like a child who'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. There was a long pause, and Marie assessed the situation.

"Okay, look," Colin finally offered. "My brother found this stray, but he lives in an apartment with a tyrannical landlord, so I mean, what should I have done?"

"You have a brother?"

"I...what? Yes." Colin looked puzzled. "So?" The dog looked over at her then, its expression just as clueless. 

"That wasn't disclosed in the interview."

"What?" After a beat, Colin grinned widely. Marie crossed her arms.

"You could've just told me. Instead of trying to hide the thing in your bedroom."

"You're right. And I was going to. I was just trying to think of a strong pitch before coming to you about it."

"C'mere," she called to the dog and plopped down on the carpet. Colin let the dog drop to the floor and it ran to her, tongue lolling, tail wagging, snorting with brainless, unabashed excitement. It was a blond-colored mutt, matted and a little dirty, no more than twenty pounds. "Looks like he's got some terrier in him." 

"I've already named him Lyle. I figure there's no turning back, now that he has a name. I mean, we can change the name if you'd like, but I can't give him up."

"You won't have to." Lyle rolled onto his back and wriggled with pleasure at Marie's ministrations. "No, wait. You can keep him as long as you keep making us breakfast. How does that sound?"

"It's a deal."

"Glad we sorted this out." He waited a beat. "I actually had another deal I'd been wanting to discuss with you. You have a minute?"

"Sure." Marie sounded hesitant. The puppy was in her lap, rolling around, apathetic to their conversation. "What's going on?" 

"Oh, it's not serious. Well, not in the way you're taking it. I've given it a lot of thought, and I'd like to help you open up your antique store."

"What?" Marie gaped at Colin. "How do you mean?"

"Put a little money into it, help you get it off the ground. I've got more money than I know what to do with. It's going to be a while before I get back into the skyscraper business. I'd like to spend my money on something worthwhile in the meantime. Might be a few months before we can actually get going but I thought we'd start brainstorming now. If you're interested, that is."

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't mention it to you if I wasn't." Marie jumped up, sending Lyle into a panic, barking and running this way and that. 

"Oh, Colin! Thank you!" She gave Colin a hug, surprising him with this atypical display of affection and the sincerity of the embrace. "Why didn't you just open with this? There was no way I could've said no to Lyle. Hell, how could I say no to anything you ask me now?"

Colin felt a pang in his ribcage and a heat in his gut and wished that this were true.

***

A minute with Lyle was enough to convince Marie that she'd made the right choice. A week with Lyle, and she was in love. And Colin had her regretting ever doubting a roommate, ever doubting him. On her one-week anniversary with Lyle and her three-week anniversary with Colin, one of Marie's best friends called her up during her lunch break. 

"Marie! It's Rachel. How's it going?"

"Hi, Rachel. Just fine." But the dog yipped in disagreement at Marie, clearly miffed that her attention was not on him.

"Are you sure? What was that?"

"Oh! We got a dog. Just last week."

"You got a dog? Wait, who's we?"

"New roommate. Told you I was getting one. I guess I never gave you the update."

"You have been holing up in there for a few weeks. So what's she like? Do I know her?"

"No, I don't think you do, and he's very nice." 

"He?" It was impossible not to hear the sudden interest in Rachel's voice. She had been playing matchmaker for Marie for years, with disastrous results. "Is this a fling? We lose touch for just a few weeks and you move in with a boyfriend I've never even heard of?"

"He's not my boyfriend. Just a roommate. He moved in the day after we met."

"Cute? Single? Is the sexual tension insane?"

"He is single. Not my type, but yeah he's cute, I guess. Sexual tension is more than reasonable. Haven't caught a whiff of it yet, actually. Sorry to spoil the fun."

"Well, maybe Daisy will like him. She's been in heat lately. She's insufferable."

"Isn't she always?" Marie responded dryly. One of their well-meaning friends had befriended Daisy, and now she was just a fact of life, even though few of them in their inner circle genuinely liked her. 

"Good point. We should all get together, though. Meet the new dog, the new roommate. Maybe this weekend?"

"Whenever works just fine for me. Just give me a heads up." She waited a beat. "Almost forgot to mention, I think he's going to help me out with my business. Maybe help me open an actual store."

"What?" Rachel exclaimed. "The dog or your roommate?" Even through the dryness, the excitement in Rachel's voice was evident. She had known Marie long enough to know just how monumental that was for her.

Marie's friends came over the next day, a Saturday night. Colin was in, hiding away in his bedroom, but Lyle, ever the extrovert, soaked up as much attention as the guests were willing to give him. 

"Where's the new guy, anyway?" Rachel inquired. Lyle was cute, but it was time to size up the new roommate. 

"I'll see what I can do about luring him out." 

Unsurprisingly, Colin's bedroom door was shut. Marie knocked lightly, apprehensive about his response. She'd mentioned that a couple of friends were coming over, but there were a few more than she'd accounted for, and there was no telling how he'd feel about it. 

"Hi." He opened the door wearing a cobalt blue shirt and faded jeans. The color of the shirt made his eyes look electric. 

"Hey. You should come out and meet my friends, if you're up to it."

"Friends? How many of them are there?" he asked, eyeing her skeptically.

"Well, six. Too much?" Colin sighed. "You don't have to. Just thought you might like to socialize a little. They want to meet you."

"Okay, sure. There is booze, though, right?"

"No doubt. Even I need a little booze to deal with them sometimes." 

Colin tagged along behind her. As they entered the living room, he felt all eyes on him. They seemed to be evaluating him. Four women, two men, he counted. And then there was Lyle, who bounded up to him, face bright with ecstasy as he sniffed Colin's shoes and tried not to pee with excitement. Colin watched as Marie strode over to the table to pour him a drink first thing. God bless her, he thought. 

"Guys, this is my new roommate, Colin McKinley," she announced. She returned to him with his drink in hand. He took it from her and raised it as a greeting. Pointing to the respective owners of the names, she stated, "This is Rachel, Daisy, Jack, Ashley, Rosa, and Duncan. Nobody expects you to remember all those names, though." 

It was Colin's turn to size up the guests. Ashley was tall and sullen, a solid blonde with Nordic features. She seemed to be attached to Duncan, who was handsome and olive-skinned and moved gracefully. He had the air of a dandy about him, with his black boots and corduroy slacks and fitted vest, his hair impeccable, no hair out of place. Rosa's complexion was even darker, her ethnicity difficult to pinpoint, with hair cropped close and simple clothes but with the bone structure and the attitude of a model. Daisy was a wisp of a thing, the kind of girl who talks with her hands, and a voice about an octave higher than it should be. She was speaking even now, during his introduction. Colin could see plainly that this was the kind of woman who other women found easy to hate -- but men sometimes couldn't see through. 

Rachel was the most eccentric of all of them, though. She wore a long, shapeless dress made of flowing multi-colored silks. Her auburn hair was tucked up into a velvet navy turban. "My new age friend," Marie confided quietly. "Well, she's not really a hippie, she just loves Stevie Nicks."

"Where did they all come from?"

"Mostly college friends," she shrugged. "Rachel was my college roommate."

It was Jack that he liked the looks of the least. He seemed older than the rest, smug. He was dangerously masculine, his jaw line impossible, his eyes a deep, almost unnatural green. His black t-shirt and jeans would have been boring, but the way they fit him suggested he was disciplined about his trips to the gym. Before he could ask Marie what the deal was with Jack, Rachel took him aside and Marie drifted away.

"Colin. Maybe Marie vetted you thoroughly, but now it's my turn. Hope you don't mind. I didn't even know she'd found a roommate until yesterday."

"I think I can take it. What do you want to know?"

"You single? Divorced? Gay?" He'd been expecting questions about whether or not he had a criminal record. Suddenly he wasn't so sure what she was up to.

"Divorced and unattached. And straight." He reddened despite himself. 

"Do you and Marie have a thing going?" Colin's blush deepened. 

"Oh, no. Does Marie know you're up to this right now?"

"She knows. At least, she expects this from me. I've been trying to set her up with someone for years," she explained. With some relief, he realized that she wasn't after him herself. Women did love to meddle in each other's love lives, he reflected. "Who could be a more convenient beau than a roommate? But I guess that's wishful thinking on my part. And probably not very wise wishful thinking, at that."

"Does she have a problem meeting men?" 

"Not in the least. Men flock to her, and they do crazy things for her. She just has a quality. Fundamentally, she's a good girl, but you can tell there's something a little crazy about her. The best kind of crazy, I mean." Rachel sighed. Colin studied Marie from afar, listening intently to Rachel's report, feeling a pang of jealousy and protectiveness as he saw Jack sniffing around her. It was enlightening to hear someone else's view on Marie. He had suspected as much himself. There was no way that she was his secret, his alone, although he desperately wished that she were. 

"Do her and Jack have a thing?" Rachel looked at him squarely in the face then, suddenly understanding that he didn't just want to gossip. Even if Marie didn't want him, he undoubtedly wanted Marie. She felt sorry for him. He wasn't her type. 

"Oh, no. It's not reciprocated. But she wouldn't be single a day of her life if she wasn't so damn picky." Colin was silent then, thoughtful. Rachel excused herself for a trip to the bathroom, but before she left, she offered, "What you're doing to help Marie with her business is wonderful. She appreciates it more than she knows how to express. I hope you won't think I'm being too forward, but I want to give you a little advice because I like you. If you want a shot with her, be kind, but be confident. Forward. Be a man. It's a fine line, but no woman wants a milquetoast, least of all Marie." 

As Rachel wandered away, Colin sighed. He thought he'd been discreet, but Rachel had known better. 

Colin had barely had a moment to breathe before Daisy was on him. She had a crazy look in her eye that made him wary and put him on his guard.

"Colin, right? I'm Daisy." She touched his arm and smiled. You've got to be kidding me, he thought. 

"Nice to meet you," he responded, sounding curt despite his best efforts. 

"How long you been living here? You enjoying it?"

"Just a few weeks now. I'd have to say I am. Marie is a good roommate, the place is beautiful."

"You, uh, into something with her?" Good Christ, these women really got to the point.

"No, just roommates. Didn't know her at all before I moved in." Daisy laughed at this, a forced, terrible laughter.

"I've never heard of something like that keeping a man away from a woman." 

"No, I guess I haven't either." He tried to smile but was almost positive he grimaced instead. He glanced over at Marie hopefully and managed to catch her eye. For a split second, her expression was unreadable. The expression that followed it was easy: amusement and sympathy. She shushed Jack and hurried to Colin's aid. 

"Hi guys. Daisy, could you come with me into the kitchen for a sec? I need some help getting more food together for everyone, we're just about out of snacks here." Daisy looked distressed, almost mad, but she complied. Marie winked as she passed, and he mouthed the words, "My savior." Colin figured there was no better time for him than now to escape back into his bedroom.

It was well past 3AM when Colin could no longer hear the chatter of guests. He put on a brave face and ventured out to find Marie. She was in the kitchen, up to her elbows in soapy water and dirty dishes.

"You need any help there?" Marie turned to him and waved hello with a delicate, sudsy hand. 

"I'm good, thanks. I may not be hot on cooking, but cleanup has always been relaxing for me."

"I owe you for rescuing me tonight." Marie couldn't help but laugh.

"I know a man in distress when I see one."

"Are you and Daisy close?" he asked as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. Although he couldn't see them being friends at all, he didn't want to put his foot in his mouth. 

"Daisy? Ha! Not likely. Ashley felt bad for her because no one liked her, so she took her in, so to speak. She's... emotionally stunted. Slutty yet child-like. I think she did a lot of drugs in high school, and they messed her up. Some guys eat it up. Guess she's not your type, though," Marie teased. Colin gulped.

"No, not at all."

"What is your type, anyway? You dating anyone right now?"

"Well, no. My type..." Colin hesitated and tried not to say, You. He liked petite, he liked her rosy coloring, her energy, even the nervous energy. Especially the nervous energy. He liked unusual. And more than anything, he liked beautiful. "I guess I don't have a type," he lied. 

"Anything goes, then?" 

"Hardly," he retorted, feeling defensive. "I'm just no good at putting it into words. It's hard to articulate chemistry."

"I understand. If you ever like any of my friends, just say the word. I'll try my best to help you out." His heart sank, realizing that she hadn't been asking for her own sake. This lack of jealousy was just what he'd been afraid of. 

"Are you dating anyone?" Colin strained, knowing the answer full well, but struggling with what to say. He didn't want the focus on him anymore, especially when all answers led back to her. Marie set down the platter that she had been washing and turned to him, resting against the sink and propping herself up on her elbow. 

"Ah, no. It's been forever, though. I get kind of worried about it, actually." She lowered her voice, as though someone else might hear. "Like, what if I forget what to do?" The human in him sympathized, but the man in him couldn't help but fantasize about what it might be like to help her remember all the steps. He watched her reach over to a platter she hadn't yet cleaned, one still half covered with food. She went for the gooiest brownie and ate it with relish, almost sensually. It made him feel a different kind of hunger. 

"It's been a long time for me, too," he heard himself tell her, gulping and looking down at his feet. "I haven't really dated anyone since the divorce. For a long time I walked around feeling like someone had socked me in the gut."

"Did she break your heart?"

"Nothing so dramatic. I just hadn't realized I'd married such a mean-spirited woman. I had a lot of hope for us in the beginning. We met in college and married young. I fell more out of love the more I knew about her. She cheated on me toward the end, and that was my wake-up call." 

"Jesus." 

"It wasn't all that bad. I mean, I was upset, but I'd already stopped loving her. And I imagine she'd stopped loving me, too." Colin looked up, his eyes back on Marie, who he now noticed had a smudge of chocolate on her cheek. "You have a little something..." He instinctively reached out to wipe the smudge off. He stopped himself just before he touched her and jerked back. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be a mom." 

"Don't worry about it. Would you get it for me, please? I'll just smear it around." The thought, the simple request, jarred his system. With exaggerated movements, Colin brought his thumb up to his mouth, licked it, and brought it to her cheek. It took him less than a second to wipe it off, but he let his hand linger. "Everything all right? What kind of mess are we talking about here?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," he explained, caressing her skin, "it's just that you got it everywhere. I don't know how you did it. How much did you drink tonight?" 

Marie knew better. She knew she should push his hand away, that she should take a step back. She knew she was going to get herself into just the kind of trouble she had been worried about. But his blue eyes were so vivid, so intent on hers. She still was just a little tipsy, she told herself. And it had been so long since a man had touched her, and what better way to help her remember than practice? 

Colin tilted Marie's head back and leaned in, his mouth skimming hers gently at first. Then his mouth was insistent, his kiss searching and full of want. He seized her waist, and Marie touched his chest, thrilling at the strength in his hands and the feel of the hard muscle she made out beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. 

Colin's senses were overwhelmed with Marie. The softness of her skin, her little moans. She smelled of cinnamon spice, tasted like red wine and chocolate. When he pulled back to look at her, her eyes were wide with surprise and misty with need.

As if on cue, Lyle bounded into the kitchen and flew at his masters, desperately licking their feet and ankles. Marie was the first to step back. The two had both become self-conscious and eyed each other warily. 

"Looks like someone woke up from his nap," Colin laughed weakly. 

"Well, I should finish up here." Marie stared at the dishes in front of her. She looked a little lost and a little panicked. Or maybe Colin was just projecting his own emotions.

"Sure. And I should get to bed. Goodnight Marie." Colin gave Lyle a friendly pat and hastened from the room. Marie frowned at Lyle. When she heard Colin's door shut, she gave the door a long wondering look. 

***

The longer Colin and Marie lived together, the more they found that their routines had synced. Neither of them dared to speak about the night in the kitchen. On the surface, it was as though nothing had happened. They had wordlessly decided never to speak of it. Both of them threw themselves headlong into a "sincere" friendship with the other, hoping that it would somehow negate their kiss or erase it from their memories. 




Roommate Wanted



They spent most of their days together, Colin cooking breakfast, Marie preparing lunch, and dinner becoming a kind of cooking lesson for Marie courtesy Colin. Although they never explicitly planned to do anything together, if one of them was watching something on television, the other inevitably became interested. Their nights were spent sitting across from one another at the kitchen table with their laptops, either silently working or writing e-mails or fooling around on the Internet, more often than not taking breaks to talk.

On this night, Colin had found Marie wrapped in a blanket on the couch, watching an old western. 

"May I?" Marie nodded at him without looking away from the screen.

"Just started." Colin plopped down beside her and leaned back. Marie had tucked a bag of popcorn under one arm, and she was digging for a handful. Colin eyed the bag, and she took notice and turned to him. "Want some?"

"If you have any to spare."

"Here," she offered as she held out a cupped hand full of popcorn. Colin saw the playful look on her face, heard the stifled giggle, and he grinned. He took her fingers with his and watched her face as he ate right out of her hand. In an instant, her playful look became one of surprise and Marie let out a startled laugh. 

Marie wasn't as shocked by Colin's action as she was the jolt of desire she felt as his mouth grazed her palm, the softness of his mouth contrasting with the roughness of his facial hair. The feeling was unexpected. Colin gave her a teasing half-grin, and Marie handed him the bag. But after about 20 minutes, she realized that she hadn't been paying attention to the movie at all and had lost track of the plot. She could think only of the touch and her response. 

Marie glanced over at Colin. He seemed unaffected. His eyes were locked on the movie, and she felt a twinge of dismay. Her mind raced; the images it presented her were unnerving. A picture of Colin touching her again with his soft lips and unshaven skin, exploring places beyond the palm of her hand. Marie reassured herself that the thought only came to her because it had been a long time since she'd last slept with anyone. The kiss had brought all that built-up tension up to the surface, and Colin was the closest man at hand. Literally.

Marie stretched out her legs, sank into the pillows, and laid her head on the arm of the couch. She curled up fetal position, with her feet close to Colin. 

"Why don't you stretch out?" Colin's voice was low and, over the gunfire on TV, Marie almost didn't hear him. 

"You don't mind?"

"Why would I?" So Marie uncurled, and Colin lifted her feet over his lap. But Colin hadn't really thought it through. He had figured it might be a pleasurable position with Marie so close. But he felt himself stir with her feet on his thighs. He hadn't had the forethought to realize that she might discern just how pleasurable he found the position to be. 

Gazing downward, he evaluated the situation. As it was, she wasn't close enough to him to recognize his arousal, but if she were to move her feet even an inch, he would be found out. Colin let his hands drop to his lap to disguise his hard-on. But the devil in him wished desperately for her to move, to rub her legs against him, to make contact and realize how much he ached, to turn to him with eyes dark with lust. 

Colin wasn't so fortunate. He glanced Marie's way, as though he might read her knowledge of his predicament on her face. Instead, he saw that the blanket had fallen to the side and her nightshirt had ridden up around her hips. Her legs were parted in such a way that he could see the crotch of her panties, a pale pink cotton. He could see the dark nexus where silky thigh met her warm sex. At least, he imagined that it would be warm, as he considered what touching her there might feel like, tearing that thin cotton panel away and sliding a single finger into the welcoming wetness, up to the knuckle. 

More than warm, he thought, it would be as hot as he felt now. He was so worked up that he felt like flame licked his skin. He thought of what it might be like to push her against the arm of the sofa, grab the hem of her nightshirt and pull it up and over her back, take her from behind as he bit her neck and fisted his hands in her hair. 

And so Colin had come to the realization that there were benefits to living with Marie, even if the two were no more than roommates, and even if, at the moment, this particular "benefit" felt more like torture. Not a day went by that he didn't spy some secret sliver of skin. And not since he had seen a woman nude for the first time as a young boy had he felt such excitement, such wild arousal. 

He memorized every glimpse of hip or flash of underwear when her dress rode up, a hint of smooth thigh when she crossed her legs in her robe, a crescent of breast as seen through a loose button-up shirt. Some mornings he was fortunate enough to find her in her bedroom, door left slightly ajar, working out in boyshorts and a flowing top. In certain yoga poses, the top rode up and afforded him a view of soft stomach or back with its twin dimples, skin dewy with perspiration. 

He assembled these snapshots like puzzle pieces, scientific in his care to construct a faithful vision of her in his mind, and this was the image that kept him awake at night. It was this image that made him wonder, and this image that made him ache to take her, to slip into bed next to her, to do a thousand unthinkable things to her. And still, what haunted him most was the ghost of their kiss, a hint of what could be. He brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a groan and tried unsuccessfully to turn his attention back to the movie. 

What Colin didn't know was that Marie's display was anything but accidental. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to do it. It might have been revenge for his electric touch, the desire he had awakened.

Marie studied Colin in profile. She suddenly felt as though she hadn't really seen him the first time that they had met. The basic details had been clear then, but the nuances had escaped her. His eyes were soft and blue, giving him a look that managed to be both kind and sensual, which were adjectives that applied to him as a whole as well, she now realized. His mouth was serious and full below the mustache. Without his mustache, he may have almost been considered pretty. No, not pretty, she thought. "Handsome" was just the right word for what he was. 

She shifted on the couch, uncomfortable with this new knowledge. Then she surprised herself by wondering what he might look like naked and whether he was as reserved in bed as he was around her. Maybe, like some men she had known, he was another animal entirely behind bedroom doors. 

When he turned to her and caught her gaze, his eyes were full of strange emotion. No one had ever looked at her quite this way before, and the best word she could find to describe it was "smoldering." The look simultaneously frightened her and gave her a thrill, as though he had read her mind. What she didn't know was that he feared she had read his.

"I'm going to get to bed," he announced.

"Goodnight." There was an unusual seriousness to his voice. A huskiness. She nodded and felt herself shrink from him and brought her legs up underneath her.

"Goodnight," she managed to return.

***

After that night, the tension in the house had reached a new level. After their first terrifying kiss, the two had tried to forget their encounter and struggled to be "just friends." They had almost pulled it off. Now, the closeness they'd once had was tenuous at best. Something about the night on the couch had left them even more frightened than the night they had actually touched. Each of them knew, whether or not they admitted it to themselves, that casual friendship was impossible, that they were meant to be more. So they kept to themselves in their respective bedrooms. They made an active effort to leave the house, whether for errands or for fun, to see their friends. Sometimes they stayed out for hours. 

Colin was washing up the dishes when he heard the lock on the front door rattle. He looked up at the clock; it was almost 2AM. Marie had left the house around 8PM, he remembered, and he'd opted to stay in, exhausted by hiding. Although she'd been scarce recently, Marie had never been this late. Worried, he entered the living room to watch her struggle with the door. Lyle, who had been sleeping soundly on the couch, rose to join him. After a few moments passed, Colin moved toward it and opened it himself. Except it was not Marie at the door. At least, it wasn't just Marie. She'd brought company.

"Hi," Jack said, startled. He was the last person Colin wanted to see, and he gave him a hard look. Jack had Marie propped up with one arm. Colin's face softened as he realized she was in bad shape. Lyle, who just now seemed to be waking up, barked and ran circles around them, but the men were too involved to take notice.

"What happened to her?" he pressed Jack, a hard edge in his voice.

"Had a few too many." He paused, an inscrutable look on his face. "Marie said you probably wouldn't be around."

"She was wrong." Jack looked perplexed, and something about this made Colin even more uncomfortable.

"Well, I'm just going to help her in." Colin stepped aside to let Jack carry her in. 

"This isn't really like Marie. I've never seen her have more than one or two drinks." 

"No, I guess it isn't. But, you know, we all have a bad day, and she's such a lightweight. She was stressed about work, you know?" Colin nodded his head at this, but his face had darkened. Marie, after all, had been happier than ever about the state of things, at least where her business was concerned. 

Jack had dragged Marie to the couch and was using it for support. She seemed to be murmuring something, but it was incoherent. As the scene unfolded, he felt a gnawing unease. Lyle had jumped up onto the back of the couch and seemed to be investigating tentatively, sniffing Marie and whining.

"Where's everyone else?"

"It was just me and Marie tonight. A kind of a date, I guess. Finally." Jack smiled congenially at Colin, but Colin felt anything but congenial. 

"How nice for you." Colin gritted his teeth. Jack nodded, and he lifted Marie's limp body like a new husband about to carry his bride across the threshold. "Do you think you're going somewhere?" Colin asked.

"I was just going to take her to her bedroom." 

"What makes you think that would be okay?" Colin took a long stride toward Jack and blocked his path. He leaned in close to her and smelled her breath.

"I can't even smell alcohol. What's the deal here, buddy?" He closed in on Jack, menacing. "We both know she's not drunk. Did you drug her? Have you done something to her?" Colin glared at him accusingly, then looked back at Marie. He shook her gently by her shoulders but she only moaned a little. 

"No, man, come on." Jack sighed as though Colin's interrogation was an inconvenience. "Just relax." 

"You're not taking her anywhere, okay?" Colin turned his full attention to Jack. Now that the situation was clear to him, he was furious. "You are going to leave her here, on the couch, and then you're going. Or else I'm calling the cops."

Jack scrambled for a solution. He had had plenty to drink and was doing his best to stay lucid. To top it off, he had taken some pills at the bar. He hadn't been entirely sure what they were; a friend had given them to him, and he'd accepted without a second thought. All he knew was that Colin shouldn't have been home. He was an obstacle to Jack's ultimate goal. A sober Jack might have concluded that Colin was just as built as he was, if not more, and recognized that his protectiveness might lead to action. Faded Jack opted to plead his case instead, some vague idea of brotherhood encouraging him.

"Look, man. Marie and I could have something good, she's just too damn thick to see it yet. You know how picky she is. And I get that you want her for yourself, but cut me some slack. I've been after her for years. This might be my only chance with her."  

Colin socked Jack. This surprised them both. Jack howled and fell backward onto the carpet, causing Lyle to let loose frenzied barks. He lifted the back of his hand to his bloodied nose and tried to push away the insistent dog.

"Jesus, man. Jesus. I think you broke my nose." 

"Leave, or I'll break something else." Jack was up on his feet and scurried out the door. And Colin was left to fume, then panic. He froze beside her. Marie was limp, stretched out on the couch, clothes wrinkled. His panic made him foggy. She'd be so upset to see the state of her blouse, her favorite. It only took him a split second to realize how idiotic that was, how stupid with anger and anxiety he was. In a brief moment of clarity, he made sure his keys were in his pocket, and then he lifted her up and walked out the door, almost forgetting to shut it behind him, leaving Lyle to watch and wait.

***

Colin had forgotten how frightening an emergency room could be. It was even worse at 4AM with no distractions and no word yet on how Marie was doing. He had to resist the impulse to ask the nurse every five minutes whether she'd had any news. The fact that the nurses hadn't let him accompany her had made him even more upset, but he understood why. To them, he could very well be the one who had drugged her. 

A nurse entered the waiting room and beckoned. He snapped to attention and bounded toward her. She ushered him into the hallway and led him toward a doctor. 

"You are?" the doctor inquired. 

"Colin McKinley. Her roommate. Is she all right?"

"She's going to be fine. Whatever it was, it doesn't seem like she ingested enough of it to cause any permanent damage. There was also no evidence of sexual assault. She's going to feel a bit under the weather for the next couple of days, but the worst is over." The doctor paused and sized Colin up. "So how did this happen?"

"She was on a date. The guy brought her home, didn't think I'd be around. It was pretty clear what his intentions were but I chased him off." Colin decided not to mention that he had also slugged him. The doctor nodded at this. Colin figured the heat was off him now, and that they might let him finally see her.

"Unfortunately, in this kind of situation, we're going to have to get the police involved. I hope you won't mind sticking around to talk to them."

"Not in the least," Colin sighed. The relief that flooded him was so overwhelming that his knees buckled, and he fell against the wall.

***

Marie was discharged around noon the next day. She was lucid and frightened. On the car ride home, she turned to Colin. "You have to tell me everything you remember," she ordered.

"Look, you're fine. That's what matters." 

"I have to know." Her voice had gotten quiet. 

"Jack brought you home. At first, I thought you were just drunk. He said you'd had too much. It didn't sit right with me. He tried to reason with me, thinking that I would understand, but I told him to get lost. Then I took you to the hospital."

You told him to get lost and he listened? I'd been trying that myself for years."

"I think the punch may have gotten the message across." 

"The what? You did what?" Colin cringed at the tone of her voice. She sounded incensed. But when he looked over, Marie was smiling. "I guess you're my hero."

"He said that you two were on a date last night." He knew he sounded accusatory, felt accusatory, but he was upset that she'd willingly go on a date with Jack, a guy who was an asshole and an idiot in equal measure. She was too smart not to have recognized that a guy like Jack could have something like this in him.

"Gross," was Marie's response. 

"What?" 

"I said 'gross.' I was out with a bunch of my friends, and he showed up. He said he just wanted to chat for a while, buy me a drink. I felt bad for him. He's been after me for forever. Never thought things would go like that, though. No one else did, either, 'cause they bailed and left us alone." Marie slumped back in her seat. "I feel like hell." Colin reached a hand out to touch her shoulder as he pulled into the driveway. He almost felt guilty for touching her. 

He helped Marie limp into the house, then into bed. After that, he saw very little of her. She slept for almost two days straight. She kept her door open just a crack, and Colin made sure she had water at all times and brought her meals and little snacks. Each time he entered her room, he watched for the rise and fall of her breath, then did his best not to stare. Lyle kept vigil at her bedside, growling softly if Colin came too close for comfort.

As time passed, concern had begun to creep back into Colin's consciousness, until the third day, when Marie finally came to. He could hear music playing softly in her bedroom.

"You doing okay? Do you need anything?" Colin stood at the threshold of her open door. 

"I'm actually feeling better. Just a little weak still." Marie sat up in bed and surveyed the room around her, which was messy by her standards. She turned off the music.

"Do you want a glass of water? Something to eat?" She looked up at him and furrowed her brow.

"A glass of water might be all right." With that, Colin hustled into the kitchen and returned with a glass already frosty from ice water. She pulled herself to the edge of the bed, legs dangling. Colin stood across from her, back against the wall. She took a tentative sip, then a long gulp, and set the glass down on her night table. "You don't have to stand so far away. I'm not in quarantine." She paused. "It's been a couple of days since I last showered, though." 

"Oh, I know," he replied with a gentle smile. "I just... I don't know how to explain it." Marie watched his face carefully, thoughtfully. Finally, she spoke. 

"I get it. But you weren't the one who put something in my drink. Right?"

"Right." Colin forced a smile. It was then that he came closer to Marie, then fell to his knees in front of her. Marie gasped and laid her hand gently on his shoulder. He stared down at his hands searchingly. It wasn't just Colin's concern for Marie or his blinding anger at Jack that wore him out and caused him to collapse: it was the realization that his lust for her ran deeper than he had imagined. His worry was not the worry of a roommate or even of a close friend. He was in love with her, and Colin was unsure when and how that had happened. The realization made him vulnerable. 

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. I think so. I'm sorry, I think it all just hit me at once. I haven't slept, and I've been worried. And pissed. I think I even feel guilty."

"Guilty?" Marie smiled at him like she might smile at a confused child. "Were you in cahoots with Jack?"

"No, just Catholic. But I do feel like I could have done more."

"You could have slugged him more than once. Just a suggestion." Colin nodded. The two were silent then. Colin leaned forward and Marie rested her palm against the side of his face as he laid his head in her lap. He settled his arms against her legs, his hands at her hips, the embrace more innocent than wanton. She traced shapes along his stubble, and he sighed. "I think you're taking this harder than I am, Colin."

"I should have asked you how you're feeling," he mumbled. Colin's hands tensed and he tightened his grip on Marie.

"This isn't some kind of weird come-on, right?" Marie teased. Colin blushed a little, but he raised himself to face her and laughed. 

"No, nothing like that."

"I'm just fine, Colin." And with a friendly rub of his bald head, she reassured him, "You don't have anything to worry about." But it didn't seem that way to Colin.

***

A little over a week later, Colin woke late in the night. He glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand. It was only 11PM. He wondered whether he should continue to struggle to sleep, but he knew his mind was too awake for that. Sleeping hadn't come easy to him for a long time. He'd worn only his boxers to bed, so he rummaged through a drawer in his wardrobe for a t-shirt and pulled it on. 




Roommate Wanted



He knocked gently on Marie's door. There was no response. He looked down and realized that her bedroom light wasn't on. Colin scratched his head and decided, much to his dismay, that she must be out. It was her first night out since the incident with Jack, he reflected. Things had been better between Colin and Marie, calmer, but there was still something missing. Their friendship was still not as it was, and he suspected this played a role in his recent inability to get a decent night's sleep. 

The way Colin figured it, he could either try to get back to bed and hope for the best, watch TV, or go outside for a walk. The latter seemed to be the most promising, the most likely to tire him out. He slipped back into his room to find a pair of shoes and shorts, then slipped back out to meet the night. 

Once outside, Colin shut the door behind him gently. The night air was thick with heat and the dissonant song of cicadas and crickets. He walked a little ways out, trying to keep his mind empty of thought, of all the fears that had been nagging at him. He watched the sky and spotted the moon and tried to remember whether it was waxing or waning. He looked back down and toward the lake.

And there was Marie, moon-bathing naked by the water's edge: skin glowing, pale as cream, shielded from the neighbors by a clump of trees but in full view of anyone who might approach from the direction of their house, as he so fortunately had. She lay on her belly in the middle of a big soft blanket. What looked like a robe was crumpled in a heap by her side. Colin's breath caught in his throat, and he stifled a groan. 

His mind was too clouded with lust for him to do much of anything besides wonder. In that moment, his first glimpse of her, he was young again, feeling stupid and reckless. Should he join her? Should he be the gentleman and go back inside, pretend he had seen nothing? His indecision pushed him to a third choice, which was to play the peeping tom. He crouched behind a shrub and listened to his heart pound wildly like a trapped bird inside his chest. 

After a few minutes had passed, Marie turned over. Colin's eyes skimmed her slim length. Her stomach was toned yet soft, breasts full, her nipples blush-colored. Why hadn't he tried seducing her before this? What had stopped him from sneaking into her bedroom at night, so close to his, to entice her into kissing him, into touching and tasting him? 

The divorce, his dissatisfaction with his job, had made him miserable, which in turn had made him meek. The change had been so gradual that he hadn't even noticed. He was just as unaccustomed to this new shyness as he had been blind to it. The man he'd become was a stranger to him, and, he worried now, he was no man at all. 

Colin couldn't stand watching her any longer. It was torturous. He returned to the house and paced on the porch, so distracted by the wanton images in his head that he didn't even hear her approach.

"Hey!" Colin spun around. Marie. She was wearing a robe now, at the bottom of the steps and making her way onto the porch. Then panic set in. He didn't have to look down to know that his hard-on was unmistakable through his boxers and thin summer shorts. She faced him now. "Oh," was the only thing she said as she glanced downward. For an endless moment, Marie seemed thoughtful, to consider the situation. "I guess you saw me out there." She caught herself. "Or maybe I'm flattering myself," she laughed mysteriously as she stepped closer. 

"No. It was you," he responded thickly. These were the eyes that had been on her in the kitchen, then again that night on the couch, she thought. 

Colin wondered how it was that she seemed so totally unfazed when he felt so rattled. But then, he realized, it had been a long time since he had seduced a woman. He had almost forgotten how to do it. As she moved toward him, he breathed deeply and drank her in. He reached out to touch the side of her face, sweeping her jaw with a rough thumb, a reminder to both of them of that night in the kitchen.

With a single step, Colin was on her, pinning her back against the side of the house. He towered over her, and Marie wasn't sure whether to feel safe with him or frightened of him. He took hold of her shoulders then and brought her into a tight embrace. The top of her head barely reached his collarbone, he thought with a twinge of something beyond lust. She felt him kiss her hair. He let his mouth stay there, smelled the delicate scent of her shampoo mixed with the scent of some faded floral she'd no doubt picked up from the side of the lake. He waited for a shove or a shout from Marie, but neither came. 

Marie's robe was tied loosely, offering Colin a glimpse of her bra. He flung one of the lapels to the side and inhaled sharply at the sight of her breast through a whisper of lace. The look on Marie's face was stoic and unreadable, her jaw set. He pulled at the fabric and watched for a reaction. When he saw a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, he tore the bra away, ripping it in half, and grinned with satisfaction as she gasped. He watched the gentle bounce of her now-bare breasts and saw that Marie's gaze remained steady on his face. She seemed almost defiant, and it pushed him over the edge.

Colin drew her head back and leaned down to kiss her. As she felt his lips brush hers, the pulse between them was so great that Marie felt her knees buckle, but Colin had let his hands drop to her waist and held her firmly. The touch was just as powerful for him but he had prepared for it, steeled himself against it. 

Marie brought his shirt up and over his head and tossed it aside. She let her fingers roam through the soft hair on his chest like a child trying to put a puzzle together, slow at first, then building confidence as she went. Colin closed his eyes and dragged his fingertips across her back. Her hands searched further down to the trail of hair along his stomach. The accidental brush of her hand over his shorts and against his erection prompted him to bend down once more for another kiss, this one deeper and rougher than the first. He wrenched the robe away from her shoulders and let it drop around her arms, trapping her. He hooked a single finger around her panties and pulled, which was all it took to rend the flimsy material in half. 

Marie's skin was flawless in the moonlight. He took all of her in and saw that she was better than the picture of her he'd had in his mind, every detail clear to him now. She was infinitely more perfect than he could have dreamed. He dragged her back toward him and reached one arm under her ass, the other around her waist, and lifted her up and against him. 

Colin didn't have to say anything. To Marie, the message was loud and clear: that he wanted her to feel the effect she had on him, every inch of it. Even through his shorts, there was no mistaking just how hard he was, and she thrilled at the thought of him inside her. 

With unexpected tenderness, Colin placed her on the wide porch railing. Without breaking eye contact, he unzipped his shorts and shoved them off along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, gleaming and big. He moved between her legs, and Marie gasped at the hot press of his cock suddenly against her stomach. 

A look of self-consciousness flashed across her face. She scanned their surroundings, to the trees and the mountains and over to the houses. 

"What if the neighbors see us?" 

"Lucky them," Colin responded with a grin. "You just thought of that?" He looked at her coyly. "You weren't thinking of it when you were lying naked next to the lake."

"How long did you watch me?"

"Long enough. But that wasn't all that did me in. I've been worked up over you for a long time," he explained. Before Marie had a chance to respond to this, Colin's mouth was on hers again, rough, demanding, almost feral. His hands fisted in her hair, and her hot breath came in gasps as she met the violence of his kisses with her own. 

Colin's hands were everywhere. Now that he'd memorized the way she looked, he wanted to remember the way she felt: the tiny waist, the swell of her ass, that velvet stomach, her firm breasts that pressed against him. 

Colin pulled away, his mouth red and wet. Marie watched him, looking just as defiant as she had at first. He brought a hand between her legs and brushed his fingertips across her lips, then let them slide into her, motionless for just a moment, then pushed them deeper still. She whimpered, and he answered her whimper by letting his hand fall to his cock. He eased the tip of it in, where his fingers had just been, feeling the sweet suck of her sex that urged him to push forward. 

"Oh god, please," she pleaded, grasping the back of his neck as though just the sensation of him being inside her might knock her flat. 

"Just wait." With one arm he brought her face to his and brushed his lips against hers, the hint of a kiss, and slid his free hand into the tight hot space between them. He massaged her mound, then moved farther down, so that his fingers traced a lazy circle around the button of her clit. She gasped and ground involuntarily against him. But Colin wouldn't allow her to take all of him, though he could feel how her muscles were working around him. The effect was maddening. He thought he could hear his blood boiling, but he refused to give in. He wanted to savor it. 

Colin's lazy circles began to tighten until finally he pressed an insistent finger against her clit, kept it still, then followed this sudden pressure with one quick, shallow thrust into and out of her. Marie moaned and bit her lip. "You're killing me," she panted and squirmed on the ledge of the railing, trying to close the distance between them, but Colin wouldn't allow it. 

"You're so wet," he murmured with wonder, ignoring her entreaties. His hand began to move again, his finger touching her lightly but directly so that her moans came quicker now. He delivered another abrupt thrust, bringing the head of his cock into her just a few inches deeper than he had the first time, and that was when Marie cried out. Colin covered her mouth with his, letting his tongue probe deeply, exploring her, enjoying every second of her pleasure, his mouth on her and the tip of his cock still inside her as she came. 

When it seemed like Marie had started to settle, Colin pulled away from the kiss. Her eyes flew open, and she looked at him curiously. He took her by the hips and lifted her away from the ledge, let go of his hold just enough so that her weight caused her to plunge downward. She impaled herself on him, and they moaned together. He held her, leaned back against the side of the house, and she brought her arms around his shoulders, using him as leverage as she began to work herself up slowly, letting gravity draw her back down against him. 

Colin's breath came in ragged bursts as he watched her move against him. The soft slap of wet skin against wet skin made him shudder. Marie leaned in to kiss his rough cheek, grazing stubble as she moved closer to lightly bite his earlobe. 

In the middle of his haze, Colin found himself in awe of her, in awe that he was touching her, inside her. She shone against him, unself-conscious in her movements. This was one more side of Marie that he felt he was just beginning to understand, that he had imagined -- but clearly hadn't known the half of it, just how sensual she could be. It made him love her more. The clarity with which he felt that his yearning for her went beyond the carnal startled him. 

Colin snapped himself out of the reverie. He turned them around then, pushing her back up against the side of the house so roughly that she gasped, and bringing her legs up and around him. He was back in control then, ramming her, breathless and blind with desire. His hands gripped her ass both to support her and for his own pleasure. He slowed his pace to lean down and take one flushed nipple into his mouth. 

With just one lick of the sensitive flesh, Marie cried out as she came again, digging sharp nails into his shoulders, drawing just a little blood. Her scream and the delicious squeeze of her around the shaft of his cock were enough to bring him along with her. After he'd spent himself inside her, he fell against her, their bodies slippery with sweat. His mouth was impossibly brutal on hers, almost punishing. His eyes were hot on hers as he pulled away. 

His legs began to buckle, and he drew them both down to the ground. They lay still in a heap there on the porch, bodies still humming, limbs tangled. 

After an interminable length of time, Marie finally spoke. 

"God. Do you think anyone saw us? It's so late, that's impossible, right?"

"I don't know. Pretty sure I heard a few cars drive past us. Sounded like one or two of them might've slowed as they passed to get a good look. I don't blame them."

"You're joking!" Marie looked, for a moment, her cheeks coloring. Then she saw Colin's smile slowly grow. "Oh, damn you." 

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure no one saw." And then, because he couldn't help himself, "I think we can be pretty sure they heard us, though." 

"Oh! Well, you're probably right. Too late now anyway," she sighed. Marie looked down, long hair falling around her face. Her bangs were still damp and stuck to her eyelashes. She blinked them away. Colin rose to his feet and offered her a hand. 

"Let's get inside." Colin leaned down and picked up Marie's robe. He helped her into it, gently easing each arm into the sleeves, even tying the belt around her waist. 

"I owe you some underwear." The regret on his face was painfully evident. 

"That's true. But I'd say it was worth it." Colin reached for his own clothes, slipping back into boxers and shorts. Marie waved a hand when he went for his shirt. "Who needs it?"

Back in the house, they stood in the hallway by their respective bedrooms and looked at each other uncertainly. 

"What do we do?" Marie finally asked.

"Who has the bigger bed?"

"Who has the cleaner sheets?" She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. 

"You win."

***

In the morning, Colin was the first to wake. They'd left the door open, and Lyle had sneaked in sometime during the night. He slept soundly at the foot of the bed. Marie was on her side, facing Colin, still asleep but stirring. He touched her lightly and her eyes snapped open.

"Good morning." 

"Hello."

"How'd you sleep?"

"Just fine." She stretched, arched her body, luxuriated. "Do you have any notes for me? Any breakfast announcements, I mean?"

"I could probably whip something up. Any special requests?"

"Anything you want," she answered dreamily. Colin rose above her and bent down for a quiet kiss. She relished the sensation of warm skin and breath against her face, the tingling scratch of his stubble. 

After Colin left for the kitchen, Marie savored her morning. It had been a long time since she felt so at ease. Lyle still slumbered at her feet, the sun was warm and illuminating through her half-open curtains. The feel of sheets against her bare skin made her rethink getting up.

Marie couldn't be sure how, but she finally gathered the strength to get out of bed. Force of habit caused her to slip a robe on. Lyle, deciding he'd rather not be left alone, trailed her out of the room and into the kitchen. 

"I wasn't sure what to make, so I just went with fast and easy. Toast, eggs, sausage." He turned now to explain further but was caught off-guard by the sight of her. Her hair was wild, eyes bright, skin soft and luminous. Her robe was open just enough to afford him a view of her skin, more than enough to awaken his appetite. She coolly ran a hand through her hair and took a seat. He grunted, remembered himself, and slid a full plate in front of her.

Now, outside of the haven of Marie's bed, the two were awkward. It was just catching up to them: how much things had changed, how much things would change, where that left each of them. There was no way either of them could even pretend to forget about the previous night. Colin joined her at the table with his own dish. 

He was glad, at least, that they were speaking. Yet now, when it seemed so important to say something, to say the right things, he couldn't think of anything. He kept his eyes on his food, letting them travel up to her every so often, then looking back down. It occurred to him that he hadn't heard from Lyle, but a quick peek under the table indicated that Marie was feeding him scraps on the sly. Colin glanced up at Marie, and she caught his look and smiled mischievously. 

"That dog is getting more of your breakfast than you are," he said, finally, clearing his throat.

"He could use it. He's still just skin and bones." Her attention was back on Lyle, patting him around his scrawny haunches. She looked back up at Colin. "See?" But the look on Colin's face was clear, so she sighed and fetched Lyle his bone. He grabbed it from her hands and ran like a dog possessed. Marie sat back at the table and smiled so sweetly at Colin that he felt it clutch at his heart. 

"I love you," he exclaimed unthinkingly, almost as easily as if he'd said it once already or even many times before. But he regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. And there was no turning back from them now. Marie let a glob of scrambled egg fall from her fork.

"You don't have to say that now." She laughed weakly, eyes widening. "That's what you say before you get what you want. To get what you want. You've already got it." 

"No, I mean it," Colin breathed, voice nearly breaking. "I'm as shocked as you probably are. Is it just me?"

Marie put down her fork. The amount of time it took for her to respond was agonizing for him. But it was the first time she had really thought about it. If she was being honest with herself, she had done all she could to avoid thinking about it. That she desired him was dangerous enough, it seemed. "No," she finally whispered. She rubbed her palms together. "I guess I do, too. I mean, I love you." Colin exulted in her response, but just as soon as he'd felt the jolt of pleasure and relief, doubt began to creep back in.

"What do we do?" He paused, swallowed. "Do you want me to move out?"

"What?" Marie looked even more surprised at his question than she had at his declaration of love. "No. Do you want to move out?"

"No." 

"Then that's settled. As for what we do now, I guess we do whatever we want to." 

Colin took their empty plates and placed them in the sink. He passed Marie on his way back to his own chair. Her robe was just open enough to expose the slim V of the smooth, perfect space between her breasts, and Colin felt something jump inside him. He stopped by her side and bent down for a tentative kiss. 

The kiss was, at first, searching, full of questions, almost shy despite what they'd already shared. Marie's hands reached for the solid line of his shoulders, then traveled to the muscled column of his throat. Colin's hands went from her hair down to the small of her back as he gathered courage and deepened the kiss. He pulled her in closer and closer until he finally lifted her up and around him. Marie's legs wrapped around his waist as her arms tightened their hold around his neck. 

Colin stood there for a moment, Marie encircling him like a child, mouths still locked, then smoothly lay her down on the kitchen table. His hands went to her hair, brushing it away from her face so he could kiss her forehead and temples, then her jaw, the dip between her collarbones. He gloried in finally finding the slip of skin between the lapels of her open robe. His lips glided down, seeking. Impatiently, he tore the robe open, and grazed Marie's nipple with his teeth. She gasped and wrapped her arms around him, bringing him nearer to her. 




Roommate Wanted



Colin couldn't wait any longer. He felt like he was overheating: Marie vulnerable beneath him, the soft sounds of her pleasure driving him crazy. He let his boxers drop, kicked them away, brought her legs up around him, and entered her with one deep, unhesitating thrust. Marie moaned and met his thrust with her own. She threw her arms back behind her and arched as she had on waking up just that morning, luxuriating in the delicious sensation of a man inside her. And not just any man, but Colin, she marveled. That it was Colin made all the difference for her, infinitely intensifying the thrill. 

Colin, for his part, couldn't remember a time when it had felt like this. The woman below him so uninhibited and present and sexy; a woman who, if it could be believed, had said she loved him. He bent down toward her to nip at her mouth, to kiss her again. She was his to kiss now: whenever, wherever, without hindrance. He grasped her ass and lifted her, burying himself deep in her as he felt the hot grip of his mounting climax. Marie's cries were muffled by Colin's kiss, but the sound, the thought of her going over the edge beneath him, sent him spiraling down into his own ecstasy. 

The impact of orgasm was blinding for both of them. They rode out their pleasure with vehemence until, unable to take it anymore, Colin collapsed on top of Marie, who was now motionless beneath him, silent but for her ragged breaths. 

"You okay? Did I crush you?" He raised himself up just enough to look down at her. 

"I'm fine," she grinned. "I like it when you crush me." 

As Colin rose, he lifted her up with him. He sat down at the table and placed her in his lap so that her left side faced him. He pet her hair with one hand and worked the fingers of the other through hers. 

"I think now's a good time to work out some of the kinks in our relationship," Colin declared, trying to look as sincere as possible. He had a feeling he couldn't quite pull it off. "Really talk about things."

"Oh, is that so?" Marie cocked an eyebrow. He bit back a smile. 

"For one thing, our communication could use a little work."

"You've got that right," Marie laughed. "And I, for one, think we could probably work on making it to the bed one of these days."

"The way I see it, we'll have plenty of time to hit all the furniture. I don't plan on going anywhere."