Page 16 of Callan

Really?

What about him dangling from her balcony?

Did he like that?

How is that right?

“It’s my phone,” I bark, swatting his hand away.

“Shush,” he says, pushing me away from my phone.

“Don’t you dare to shush me, or I’ll go straight upstairs and tell her husband you have fucked his wife for seven days straight.”

His hand turns to stone on my phone while I wrestle to unlock his iron grip, trying to peel off his fingers.

“How do you know he’s her husband?” he asks, realizing he’s propped on his elbow, his arm looped around my waist, my robe undone, my hard nipples adorning the peaks of my breasts visible through my sheer bra, not appreciating the cold in the slightest, and my legs open smack across the man’s bulge. His warm package is tucked right beneath my sensitive flesh.

The thought that my neighbor upstairs has played with his jewels makes me harrowingly aware of where I’m sitting.

Forget about my phone. I push up, and his man’s eyes go straight to the apex of my thighs.

My tiny sheer panties don’t leave much to the imagination.

“No boyfriend, huh?” he says, tipping his chin to the dark hairy patch gracing my pubic area.

I swallow hard, pretending I’m not offended.

“Not everybody likes an ice rink,” I retort, up on my knees, my hands busy tying my belt. “Give me my phone,” I demand.

“His tongue slides smoothly over the clit if the pussy is nicely trimmed.”

I turn still, my eyes locked on his as I process his words.

The man doesn’t tease me.

It’s not like he's flirting with me or anything.

Sprawled on my balcony with my phone clutched in his hand and his eyes pinned on my face, he appears to be trying to solve a boring puzzle.

“You haven’t had sex in a while,” he flings at me, unperturbed.

“Give me my phone,” I say, evading his eyes while pouncing on his hand.

Short of breaking his pinkie there is nothing I can do to make him release my phone.

“Okay,” I say in a strained voice. “You can have the damn phone,” I add, hatching out another new plan.

All I need is to pull up, walk inside, slide the door closed, and let him be. He will beg me to open the door and let him inside. And then I’ll get my phone.

Yes, he could go back to the railing and risk falling to the ground, but that is not my business.

He can do whatever he wants.

I don’t care.

I zip up but just as fast I meet resistance and fall back to my knees, his arm looped around me like a tight rope.

Forced to focus on him, I reluctantly shift my gaze to him.

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