Page 2 of My Italian Roommate

“No, I wouldn’t know. I don’t have fans,” she shakes her head.

“I think you’re wrong about that,” I mutter and watch as a tiny smile emerges on her lips.

“Close the door and take your shower, Mario. There should still be plenty of hot water.”

Her words stun me. I was sure she would tell me to put my clothes on and get the hell out. Maybe, just maybe, she’s considering the idea of letting me stay. That’s good because there’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight.

“Are you sure?” I ask her.

“You’re standing naked in my bathroom doorway. You have a clean towel. Go ahead and take your shower. You smell like a mechanic's shop.”

“Thanks,” I nod and slowly close the door between us.

I lean against the shower wall and let the warm water splash against my chest. I close my eyes and all that I can think about is the vision of this girl, naked and vulnerable, staring at me with those big, blue eyes. I reach down and try to relieve the throbbing desperation between my legs.

This girl’s got a crazy hold on me, and I don’t even know her name. As I stroke my stiff dick, I tell myself that there’s no way I’m leaving this apartment. I don’t know how I’m going to convince her, but I need her to let me stay. How else can I get close to her? How else can I make her mine? I don’t just want to fuck her. Although, yeah, that’s pretty much a given. But… As crazy as it seems, I think I want to marry her.

2

THE NAKED MAN IN MY BATHROOM

MALLORY

Idon’t know how or when but I know one thing for sure, I’m going to kill my brother. I’ll have to attack while he’s sleeping because I wouldn’t stand a chance if he was awake. Or, maybe I’ll just hire someone to kill him. No, that’s probably a bit too extreme, but still, I told him that my professor sprung a last-minute assignment on me and that I canceled my trip. I told him I was going to stay home, but yet, one of his friends just threw open my shower curtain while I was head and shoulders deep in shampoo.

If it’s not humiliating enough to be standing here naked, I’m staring out at his naked body, and I can’t seem to stop! He’s older for sure but ruggedly handsome with big biceps and cut abs. Beneath that six-pack hangs the biggest package I’ve ever seen. I had no idea they came that big, and it’s getting bigger the longer I stare.

His hands are rough and I imagine what they would feel like on my skin. He’s a big guy, tall and wide, with a chiseled jaw and handsome face. He looks like he should be on a billboard. Wait, have I seen him on a billboard? He looks familiar. Well, his face does anyway, and I’m sure that if I’d met him, I wouldn’t have forgotten him.

He tells me he races cars, in the sexiest Italian accent ever, and it starts coming back to me. Oh my God. He’s Mario Marcetti, the Formula One guy. He’s been in commercials and on late-night talk shows. I remember my brother, Steve, practically jumping out of his chair and screaming, “Hey, that’s my college roommate. He’s a great guy.”

He must be a great guy—if, by a great guy, you mean he hasn’t pulled out an ax or tried to molest me yet. I toss him a towel but it flies right over his head, and I’m humiliated when my boobs bounce from the overhead toss. He saw it. Hell, he watched it and I watched his eyes darken. Oh, God.

He tells me that my brother offered to let him stay here and I almost tell him, “Hell, no.” I don’t say it because not only is he super hot but there’s something about him. I know he won’t take advantage of me…even if we met naked in the bathroom.

Do I really want to send a hot, famous guy like him away? I mean, in spite of all the nudity, he’s been very polite. He has a nice smile, too, and somehow, in a weird way, I feel very safe with him so I cover myself and tell him that he can take his shower now. He looks so confused that I wonder if he’s decided not to stay here after all. Why does that thought feel like a disappointment to me? I’m actually a bit relieved when he nods and closes the bathroom door.

Shit, my makeup is in there and my hair is sopping wet. I’d like to look more like a girl and less like a drowned rat by the time he comes back out. I suppose since I’ve already seen his body in full detail, I could creep back in there and grab my brush and make-up bag. I’ll be so fast that he won’t even notice.

I turn the knob and slowly push the door open. It doesn’t squeak but the rush of cool air that escorts me through it catches his attention. He pauses mid-grunt. Has he been working out while showering?

“You need something?” comes from behind the shower curtain. His voice sounds weird. Hoarse and deep.

“Sorry, I just need to get something from the vanity,” I shout back.

I linger a moment or two longer than necessary. I glance at myself in the mirror and see the huge smile on my face. It’s like looking at a familiar stranger. I haven’t seen it in a long, long time. I could listen longer but I better get my ass in gear. I have to make myself presentable before he finishes.

By the time he comes out, bare-chested with a towel wrapped around his waist, I’m fully dressed with my hair up and a face full of makeup.

“Sorry, I left my bag out here. I need some clothes,” he looks down at the towel before bending over the chair that holds his suitcase. I’m sure he’s hoping that the knot he tied in the towel will hold but my face turns red as I try to peek under it.

He collects a tee shirt and some shorts and moves back into the bathroom. As the door closes, I let out the breath that I’ve been holding the whole time he’s been in the room. I don’t know what to do next. My apartment is tiny and my couch isn’t big enough for anyone to sleep on.

If he stays, he’ll either have to sleep on the floor or in the bed with me. I gaze over at my queen size bed. It isn’t the biggest but we could probably both fit with minimal to no physical contact. The question is how do I propose that this man sleep in my bed with me without giving him the wrong idea?

3

OUR FIRST NIGHT TOGETHER

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