Chapter Two
Artemis
Great; a crazy neighbor isexactlywhat I signed the damn lease for.
I sigh heavily and throw my purse onto the floor near the front door and head for the small kitchen area. It’s gonna take a good stiff drink to bring me down from my shitty day, but I opt for coffee instead. I’m a bit of a coffee fiend and that’s the one thing that always helps me settle, which, in all honesty, is for the betterment of society.
I reach under the sink and grab my saucepan and fill it with hot water. I sigh again when the faucet sputters at first then gives up and just dies.
This is fucking ridiculous.
This place blows and I can’t exactly knock on someone’s door and ask for water of all fucking things. I mean, I could, but I’d rather make my slumlord work for the money he gets out of my bank account every month. I drop the pot into the sink, the angry clattering sound echoing my feelings at the moment, and go back to my purse. I’m pretty sure that’s where I left the phone, though I could be wrong. I never know where the damned thing is, and it’s always on silent, so actually trying to call it from the house phone would be pointless.
I find it in the small pocket inside. The light is blinking in the top right corner, but I just double tap the screen to life, and swipe away all of the notifications. I don’t care to deal with anyone other than Mark at the moment because he’s the only one that can get me out of the Great Coffee Drought of Apartment 6C.
I decide to send him a text message because I’ve learned that the bastard doesn’t like to answer his phone. I’ve also learned that the easiest way to get him to crawl out of his creep cave is to sway him with a little something, something, but I never deliver. Last time I was here, he was showing me the apartment, and he tried to get a little handsy, so I grabbed my pocket knife and threatened to chop his balls off. Something tells me that he was all about it. Whatever floats his boat, I guess.
It will most likely be an hour or so before he even bothers to answer my message, so I go back into the kitchen and hop up onto one of the little bar stools I use as a chair. One of the legs is shakier than a crackhead going through withdrawal, but it is sufficient enough to hold me up.
Since there is nothing better to do at the moment, I decide to open up Pornhub and see if there are any new videos worth watching. I have my tastes of what I watch on there, and there are honestly only so many times I can watch Batman parody porn just to see the Joker fuck.
I scroll through the top-rated videos, the new videos, and even the categories, but I find myself going back to Old Faithful. I type in my usual search and click on the video. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even get off to it anymore, but there’s just something deviously naughty about watching him “cheat” on Harley Quinn and always wishing I was one of the sluts he was pounding away on.
I set the phone down on the countertop and cross my arms as I watch the scene unfold. I roll my eyes at the cheesiness of it, but then remind myself that someone like Mr. J deserves more respect than an eye roll. And off they go! Blowjobs, fingerfucking, alternating chicks, and here I sit; drier than the Sahara Desert. I guess it’s to the point where either I just appreciate the artistry of what they’re doing, or my sex drive has officially run off somewhere too far for me to even find it anymore.
I really need to get laid.
The video is just about over when my phone screen lights up, interrupting the money shot.
Weird.
“Yeah?” I ask gruffly into the phone.
“Can it wait ‘til tomorrow?” Mark asks tiredly.
“No, it fucking can’t. You get your money from me and, just like everyone else, I deserve to have some damn water running in this place,” I spit back.
“What’s in it for me?” he asks in something I can only describe as a piss poor attempt to be seductive.
“Rent.”
“Hm.”
Silence. He was obviously waiting for something additional, but I wasn’t going to offer him anything. Not today at least; today was a day for coffee and Batman porn.
“Alright. If I come over, can you at least wear something see-through?”
“Mark, if you come overright now, not only will I wear something see-through, I may let you touch me too,” I reply through grit teeth. I hate having to play the barter game with him, and hate even more that I have to play a little peep show game with him to get my damn water on, but I really didn’t have anything better to do anyway.
Not to mention, Mark’s not exactly hard on the eyes, he’s just a fucking creep.
“On my way, little goddess,” he says quickly before disconnecting the line.
I really hated when he called me that. Hated it with the fire of a thousand suns, but I’ve heard worse jokes about my name than that.
My mother was something of a mythology freak and when me and my twin brother were born, she named us after Artemis and Apollo. At least his name happens to be bad ass, I spend most of my time explaining that I’m in no way anything like my namesake, virginity included. However, if I don’t fuck someone soon, I may as well just start claiming to be.
Hopping off my wobbly barstool, I walk toward my bedroom. Even though I am celibate by force, I am pretty sure that I most likely had something I could show off to him. I pull open the drawers and fish around, tossing things out and to the floor, telling myself that I’ll pick them up later even though I know that they will most likely sit there for a few days.
This will have to do.
Holding up the black, lace see-through teddy, I walk toward the bathroom to freshen up. I figure I can spray something nice after a quick rub down with baby wipes to keep the scent of eau de freak at bay. Halfway through my wipe cleansing, I hear the door on the other side of the wall open and close. But what follows next is what makes me perk my ears up and listen carefully.
