She’s a means to an end.Nothing more.And she’s also a perfect way to lose focus if I give into it.
But the way it’s going, I might have to start banging my head against the marble wall to stop thinking about her.That’s an even bigger problem than her not coming out to see me.
Time moves the way it usually does when I’m at a post like this, just watching some door.It moves slowly, like river mud, growing nastier and more congealed with every minute that passes.The shapes in the marble are once again showing me only bad images, only omens of failure—guns, the grim faces of my dead relatives, crosses and doors that are forever closed.
The voices of the women stop and still Goldie doesn’t appear.
Eventually, I can smell the dinner they’re eating—some sort of roast with potatoes.Then even that fades too and still she’s nowhere.
I’ve been battling the urge to burst into the apartment and find her since her voice disappeared from the living room.That urge is a physically painful need by the time one in the morning rolls around, and I finally give up all hope that she’s coming.
She’s probably sleeping by now, curled up in her soft bed, covered by her soft blanket, her soft hair spread out like a field of gold across the soft pillow, no doubt.I can see it all so clearly in my mind I might as well be standing right next to her, watching her sleep.
And suddenly, it’s impossible not to make that a reality.
The apartment is quiet.And dark, I see as I open the door.If anyone catches me entering, I’ll say I heard a noise and went to investigate.
The living room smells faintly of a ladies’ perfume and more strongly of mint.A dark hallway that’s barely lit by the light coming from the tall windows in the living room leads to where I assume the bedrooms are.More scents mix here, all sweet, all girly.Roses, vanilla, something sweet I don’t recognize.
I have no idea which of the four doors here is Goldie’s room, but I still find her sleeping behind the first door I try.Blame my curse.This would not be going so smoothly if ruin wasn’t playing a big part in it.I should be worried about that, but I’m not.
Goldie’s lying almost exactly the way I saw it in my imaginings.White bedding.Golden hair.Bare legs and arms, her ass barely covered by the skimpy sleep shorts she’s wearing.They seem to glow in the city’s lights coming through the window.My cock grows hard just imagining pulling those down, let alone all else that would follow.
I step into the room and quietly close the door.
When I turn, she’s sitting up, her eyes wide open, the covers pulled up to her chin.
“Am I dreaming?”she asks, sounding like she’s genuinely not sure.
I could tell her yes and she’d probably believe me.
Instead, I walk over to her, shaking my head.“You didn’t come out at all today.And I had to see you.”
If she starts screaming now, I’m screwed.Dead probably.But I would still do this, still be standing right here, even if I had a do over.
“We can’t see each other anymore,” she says, still sounding like she’s talking to a dream version of me and not the real thing.
“Why?”My voice is too loud.I’ll wake everyone else up.But there’s no controlling how this unfolds anymore.It’s out of my hands.
“Because my father doesn’t want me to.”
I walk over to her and run my hand down the side of her face, the feel of her skin against my fingers electrifying and the most soothing thing I’ve ever experienced at the same time.
“Is that what you what too?”I ask.
She leans her face against my palm and that’s all the answer I need.
“No,” she whispers.“I want to be with you all the time.”
I brush my thumb across her lips, because I want to feel those words in my hands, not just hear them.She sighs and lets the blanket fall away from her body.
I could lay her down and do anything I wanted to her body right now.She’d let me.She’d love it.The idea of doing it, the vision in my head, feels like something I’m already doing.
“Then you will,” I say.“Soon.”
I let go of her face and she grabs my hand unwilling to let me go.
“Kiss me,” she sighs.
