Page 39 of Unruly
“What’s up?”
He’s gripping a towel around his waist, completely bare-chested, his skin damp. “Um, there’s a problem in the bathroom.”
“A problem?” I set my coffee down and follow him into the bathroom. Water is spurting from the shower head in all directions, splashing the ceiling, walls, and floor. “Shit. It’s done this before.”
Reaching under the bathroom cabinet, I find the duct tape and wrench I keep here for just this situation and get to work.
“I’ve complained to the landlord three times about this but he won’t replace it.” By the time I get the situation under control, I’m drenched. I sit on the toilet, laughing and dragging my hand through my now wet hair. “Hell of a way to start the morning.”
“Is it my fault? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, it’s just an old building.” I take him in from head to toe. “Did you finish?”
“Finish what?”
“Your shower?”
“Oh. Um, not really, no, but it’s fine.”
“It should be okay now.” I reach over and twist the handle to start the water again. It flows mostly in the right direction this time, with only a tiny stream shooting against the tile wall.
“There you go.”
Farnsworth nods, gazing at my chest. Is he noticing how the material clings to my skin or how the water made my nipples harden?
“I’ll be quick,” he says.
“Take your time. Believe it or not, the hot water holds up here.”
“Good to know.”
I slip from the bathroom, resisting the temptation to stay put and see what he’s got going on under that towel. Ordinarily, a night like last night would’ve ended with finding someone to hook up with, but the older I get, the less interested I am in random men and meaningless sex. Not that I know what meaningful sex is like, but it’s gotta be better than the alternative.
This dry spell has made my dick pretty trigger happy though. Doesn’t take much to get me worked up, and seeing an attractive man in nothing but a towel will certainly do it.
I rub my swelling cock briefly, but then I shake my head to dismiss the thoughts and head back to the kitchen for my toast.
It’s been cooling for several minutes and the appeal of it has worn off. No reason to eat it if I’m not even excited about it or hungry, I guess. Instead, I pad back to the living room and plop down on the couch, scooting the blanket over before the urge to lift it to my nose and sniff it takes over.
There’s a hint of something floral clinging to the material, but I’m not sure exactly what. It’s light and soft but still has a masculine edge to it. Whatever it is, it’s really fucking nice.I didn’t notice Farnsworth smelling like that yesterday, but I wasn’t exactly focused on it either.
I hear the water shut off, and a few minutes later the bathroom door opens and Farnsworth steps out dressed in a dark gray suit with a baby blue bowtie. His hair is back in its vintage style, and he looks fully comfortable again, not at all like he did in jeans. Interestingly though, the thick stubble on his jaw is still present. I like it.
He walks toward me confidently, straightening his cuffs. “I was thinking; we should research the Wolcott family and see if there are any descendants. Perhaps they are the cause of the haunting.”
“Good plan.” I get to my feet. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to get ready.”
“No rush.”
“There’s more coffee in the kitchen.”
He nods. “Thank you.”
Hmm. Back in full professional mode, I see. That doesn’t exactly shock me, I guess. I haven’t known the guy long, but he’s not the most chill person I’ve ever met.
In the bathroom, I peel out of my clothes and hop under the shower for a quick wash. My cock is still at half-mast, interested but not committed to anything in particular, and while I could probably jack off and handle it, I hold back. I’d rather wait for true inspiration.
The image of Farnsworth in his towel with his skin wet flashes through my mind again, but I shake it away. We have work to do.
