Page 15 of Man Cuffed
“Pfft!” I wave away her objection. “Finish your dinner. Besides, you’re just walking a mile in my proverbial kicks. It’s like thiseverynight, and some of the daytime hours, too. Just wait until the finale.”
I get up and head for the kitchen to bus my plate. The sound of Hot Cop’s lucky girlfriend grows even louder.
But I don’t hear his voice this time. That’s unusual. Where are his gruff commands? The manly grunting? And then the panty-dropping moment of silence before his satisfied moan?
And—sue me—I miss it. That voice stars in all my dirty fantasies these days. I don’t even feel guilty, either. If he didn’t want me to hear, he’d keep it down. He’s lived here longer than I have. He must know how sounds carry.
Then his girlfriend starts barking. Actually barking. Cassidy and I look at each other, wide-eyed, and then bust out laughing.
“Oh, wait!” I say, barely being able to speak. “That’s an actual dog. I think.”
Cassidy surprises me then. “Let’s go find out for sure!”
I look at her for a beat. This is not the Cassidy I’ve grown to know and love. Cassidy is a rule-follower. A good girl. Then I notice that her hair is starting to come out of its topknot. And her cheeks are flushed. This is drunk Cassidy. All hail drunk Cassidy!
“Okay, let’s!” I agree.
* * *
Five minutes later,they’re still going at it. Which is good, because that is how long it’s taken me to convince Cassidy to strap on my old rock-climbing gear. I’m holding the pulley system with a carabiner. The plan is that I’ll hold onto her, secured with climbing gear, while she leans out as far as she can around the divider. With the binoculars, she shouldjustbe able to see into the apartment. If the windows are open.
Please, lord, let them be open.
“Oh, I don’t know about this,” Cassidy says as I check the straps.
“Shush. Drink this. It’s Courage Juice.”
“It’s wine,” she says, clearly not fooled.
“Whatever. It’s Friday night and this is the most exciting thing to happen in either of our lives sinceAquamanhit the theaters.”
Cassidy nods. It’s go time.
“Climb over the railing now,” I whisper.
She puts a foot on my folding chair and lifts herself up.
I might be officially drunk right now, but it’s okay because I’ve secured the climbing gear around my own body. I have so many questions. Did Hot Cop get a dog? Or are they doing a little bit of role play? And why is he so quiet?
Wait. Maybe the girlfriend is home alone? Is there such thing as a barking vibrator?
Ew.
“Cassidy,” I whisper. I’m in a deep lunge and Cassidy is slowly leaning over the balcony. “Cassidy!” I try again. I’m straining all my muscles to hold the rope in exactly the right position.
She’s carefully focusing the binoculars. When Cassidy is on task, there’s little that can distract her. Not even earthquakes or orgasms, or both.
“I can see them!” she whispers back. But it’s one of those stage whispers that’s actually incredibly loud. Drunk people aren’t subtle.
“Is it just her?” I ask. This lunge is starting to burn. I really need to work out more. Or at all. I give a little more slack on the rope.
“Nope. There’s two of them! And hooooo boy!” Cassidy gives me the thumbs up.
I have never wanted to see anything so badly.
“Your cop friend is really skinny,” she says. “Or is she a giant?”
“What?” My cop...my next-door neighbor is not a small man. He’s huge. I imagine all of him is huge.
