Chapter 6: The Real Fun Begins

My brain short-circuited. One second I was basking in the warm glow of my perceived safety, the next I was face-to-face with my living, breathing nightmare. My first instinct, the only instinct, was self-preservation. I slammed the door.

Or, I tried to.

Her hand shot out, a blur of red-painted nails and pale skin, stopping the heavy wooden door dead in its tracks. It was like hitting a brick wall. “Now, now,” she purred, her voice a low, amused rumble. “Is that any way to treat a neighbor?”

With a strength that belied her slender frame, she pushed back, forcing the door open and stepping inside before I could even think to retreat. She kicked the door shut behind her, the loud CLICK of the deadbolt echoing in the sudden, suffocating silence of the apartment. I was trapped.

“Having some fun time, are we?” she asked, her green eyes gleaming with a predatory light as she looked me up and down, from my disheveled hair to my bare feet.

I just stood there, my mouth hanging open, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I was a statue made of pure, unadulterated terror.

“Oh, don’t look so scared,” she said, her voice a mock-soothing coo as she circled me, a shark assessing its prey. “I’m not going to bite. Not unless you ask me to.”

She stopped in front of me, her smile widening. “You know, I have to say, I’m impressed. Most boys your age are fumbling around with cheap magazines and their own pathetic imaginations. But you ... you’re a man of action. A man of... taste.” She gestured vaguely towards my room. “Although, the production value could use some work. A little too ... vanilla for my liking.”

My face burned with a humiliation so intense it was almost physical. She had seen everything. She had heard everything.