My face freezes on the screen mid-sentence as I pause the video, putting my laptop down on the sofa and stretching out my neck. That familiar feeling of guilt crawls into my gut at hearing my own words parroted back at me. It sinks its sharp claws in as I rub my eyes, trying to figure out how to backpedal on the world I’ve built around me. While celibacy didn’t hurt anyone, my message of using the energy gained from avoiding the pursuit of women became twisted online. The comment sections took on a life of their own aspeople looked beyond my actual commentary and invented context that suited their own ideals.
I should just delete the fucking lot.
Disappear from the online world.
And pay your bills with what?The thought had me lifting my laptop back onto my knees with a sigh.
I almost wish that one of the women I bring home would do a kiss and tell and tear my world down for me. At least the choice would be out of my hands.
Typing my password in, I log into my email and click through, deleting the spam, sifting through offers for podcast sponsorship, smiling at the video of a cat riding a robotic vacuum that Gran sent.
The sun dips outside my window, lost behind the towering Victorian buildings which line the street, each stone facade rimmed with dying orange light. Abandoning my laptop, I raid my kitchen on the hunt for something to eat. The shelves in my fridge sit practically barren—a half tub of butter, some withering carrots, and a couple of past-the-date eggs.
Damn it.
While the food delivery app on my phone tempts me, I resist the instant gratification in favour of a protein shake. The meal replacement tastes like chocolate-flavoured cardboard, but it saves me from ruining the day’s two-hour gym slog. Being a lying fuck about one pack of my life is bad enough; I have to have some willpower somewhere.
Chugging down the protein-filled goop, I spy the one remaining cookie hardening in its polythene bag.The edge is a touch too brown, and I can’t help but smile at the memory of Maggie baking them for me. She always looks like a terrified librarian. Not my usual type at all. Confidence is sexy, regardless of the specifics of the person behind it. My type varies greatly, but it pretty much exclusively includes women who are sure of themselves, especially since Lisa. Lisa had been sweeter. Shyer. Geekier.
And she’d crushed my soul.
Maggie sends out vibes that spell trouble, like a cute but spiky little monster.
With a grimace, I finish my shake and deposit the container in the recycling bin. I should go back and finish my editing, but I’d rather poke myself in the eyes.
A shower first.
The shower leads me to sit on the edge of my bed, wet and towel-covered, and to procrastinate. Avoiding having to listen to my stupid voice for the rest of my evening. Flopping backwards, I stare at the ceiling, watching the fan lazily turning overhead.
A noise catches my attention. A soft little murmur. From the street below? No. It’s closer.
Sitting, I pull myself closer to my headboard, craning my head as the muffled noise increases.
A whimper. A delicious, throaty moan.
Maggie.
‘Oh, you’re a dirty girl,’ I whisper, imagining her on her bed behind the wall, touching herself. Or maybe she had another person in bed with her?
Listening feels wrong, but I can’t help but indulge inmy curiosity. Her whimpers are the only ones I can hear, and I decide she must be having a bit of solo fun.
What kind of man would she even go for? If it was even guys she liked…
Probably someone smart. Smarter than me.
Something that feels an awful lot like a bubble of envy hits me. Which is ridiculous, because I don’t even like the weirdo next door.
Tell that to the tent beneath your towel.
Only a creep would listen to their neighbour getting off. I should go back to work and leave her to it.
I press my ear to the wall, fisting the head of my dick.
Her moans quicken, and I swallow down the guilt, timing my strokes with each of her sweet sounds. I let my mind bring up a picture of her, imagine stripping her of her big, baggy sweatshirts and discovering what lies beneath. I imagine those sultry moans in my ear as I slide into her.
The tip of my dick swells, growing wet with need as she gasps behind the wall, losing herself in fantasies of her own.
My breath stutters as I follow her, chasing her crescendo. I think she’s close, her bed softly thumping the wall as her heated noises increase. My balls tighten, my hand sliding over the head of my cock as I eavesdrop on her pleasure.
