Page 7

Chapter Seven

Mikah

I cannot believe I came on my door. I’m such a clean person and keep all my things in order. When I jerk off for videos, I set things up beforehand, so I don’t make a mess. Or at least the mess is contained. I set it up in a way that it looks like a mess to the watcher, but on my end, it’s a simple clean up. But this? Holy shit, this was something else. Something I am not proud of. A weak moment that I don’t ever want to think about again—even if it may make me a lot of money.

I saw Dominic when he got home through my front window. Saw that guy follow him into his house. Saw them in the kitchen for a short time and walk out the back door a moment later. Maybe I should feel bad for spying, but if Dominic didn’t want me to see into his house, he should shut the fucking curtains.

I continued to watch while they were outside, and I knew what was going to happen before it did. I’ve never seen him out there with a guy before, and I don’t know how I knew, but I had a feeling he was going to put on a show for me. Initially, it pissed me off. How fucking dare he? Why the hell does he think I care? But then I got hard over it, and well… I went with it. Figured I could use it. Something new and fresh on my page. So, I did.

I set up my camera, walked by a few times to make sure he noticed me—he did. Then, with my camera angled just right to see what I was doing, I watched him get sucked off and jerked off to it. It was hot. I was pissed. But not for the reasons I should be. I wasn’t mad that he was being disrespectful, out in the open like that. No, I was mad that someone else was sucking his dick. I was jealous. And that’s stupid. Really stupid. Because I have no reason to be jealous of him. At all. I don’t even like him. He’s hot, and maybe we’re going to make a video together, but that’s it. There’s no way he and I will ever be anything other than neighbors who can’t stand each other who made a sex video for money.

Yet… I haven’t come that hard in a long time.

Except for the shower.

Which is really fucking bad because I was thinking about him that time, too. I think I need to get laid. I need to get my mind off my stupidly hot and annoying neighbor and whatever weird obsession I now have with him. Sure, he’s always been there, and I’ve always watched him and argued with him and what have you, but now? I can’t stop thinking about him. And that’s ridiculous.

After I came all over my sliding glass doors that usually don’t have even a streak on them, I ran off because all I felt was shame. I ran right to my camera, but not to shut it off. Which makes this situation so much worse. I was in a clear enough head to get the good stuff. I had to zoom in on the cum on the glass, of course. Make sure it was obvious what happened. Then I ended the video. I waited a good twenty minutes before I went back to clean the door, and I was so thankful he was gone. And maybe, because there is something seriously wrong with me, after I cleaned the window, I ran to the front of the house to see if that car was still in the driveway.

It wasn’t. Which was a relief.

Now, I’m on my computer to edit the video. It’s a quick one since there aren’t many points I’m facing the camera. When I’m done, I upload the video to my website and let people know it’s something new and not my usual stuff. I title it Watching My Neighbor Get Head. The views blow up quickly, and I get a ton of comments with people sharing melting emojis, hot emojis, telling me they came to it, they’d love to be my neighbor, and all sorts of things that are ridiculous to say to someone you don’t know.

But damn. Who would have thought they’d like that so much? Maybe I should swap up my stuff a little and do more like this… even if he isn’t there. They’ll never know that.

Before heading upstairs, I remember the card he left with his number on it. I haven’t touched it. It’s been beside my door since he left it there three days ago.

I need to give him an answer about his offer. I should do it sooner rather than later, before he changes his mind. If I take too long, he’ll likely add in another stipulation or straight up deny me just to be a dick. Because that’s who he is. It isn’t hard to tell he’s a control freak.

Snatching the card from the table, I head upstairs to get ready for bed. I get down to my boxer briefs and crawl into bed, settling into my modest queen-sized mattress and pulling my fluffy comforter over me. I put Dominic’s number into my phone under Asshole Neighbor. And even though I should go to sleep, I send him a text instead.

Me: What are the other terms?

I stare at the phone, waiting for a response and get one quickly.

Asshole Neighbor: And here I was hoping you’d want to sext.

Me: No thanks. Answer the question.

Of course he would say something like that. He can’t just let what happened go. Why would he do that? But also… why would I?

Asshole Neighbor: One photoshoot. Two videos. Get me the info for BTL—contract, terms, etc. I’ll work on a contract for the video for my website.

Me: That’s it?

Asshole Neighbor: Let’s talk tomorrow at breakfast. I’ll make you a veggie omelet and meatless sausage.

Me: Are you making fun of me?

Asshole Neighbor: Would I do that?

Me: I happen to like meat for all my meals .

I regret sending that the second it goes through. Why am I flirting with this guy?

Asshole Neighbor: Good to know. I’ll have it ready. Be here at eight.

I sigh, pissed at myself for having no self control. I need this money; I really need this money. So I keep telling myself that I’m doing it for the money.

The blissful moments when you first wake and everything is good and calm disappear too quickly. I’m smacked with the reminder that I have to go to the asshole neighbor’s house for breakfast so we can discuss terms that I’m probably going to disagree with—but will do anyway because I’m a desperate fool.

Before getting out of bed, I send another email to this stupid support team on the security app, wondering why they haven’t gotten back to me yet. I already called my bank and they’re looking into it. I’m not sure if there is anything else I can or should do.

Opening my curtains, I see my neighbor’s are still drawn. It’s nearly seven, and he asked me to be there at eight. Maybe I’ll be early this morning, to throw him off guard. Catch him before he’s finished doing what he needs to do. Bet that’ll piss him right off. I shower and get dressed, then go downstairs to feed CP.

I fill the time with going through emails, watching the news, and drinking tea. It’s 7:45 when I leave my front door and head over to Dominic’s house, which takes all of thirty seconds.

I ring the bell, and to my dismay, he opens the door with a wide grin, looking fresh as if he’s been awake for hours.

“You’re early today. That must mean you’re taking this seriously.”

“Of course I’m taking this seriously,” I snap.

I woke up in a bad mood, then felt better knowing I could get one up on him, and here I am, my mood soured once again thanks to this jerk off.

His grin somehow grows, and I ignore how good he looks and step inside.

“Breakfast isn’t quite done yet. Omelets don’t take long. Why don’t you have a look around and make yourself comfortable while I finish up?”

He goes left into the kitchen area and I go right, into the living room section of the house. I won’t sit on that couch, but I guess I could walk around. Maybe learn something about this guy that I can use against him. Something that’ll help me get one up on him.

When I round the corner into the area behind the living room, I’m shocked at what I see. Hanging on the center wall behind the stairs are frames. One is filled with coins, one with stamps, and one with sports cards. I step closer to get a better look, and off the top of my head I have no idea what these things are or what they mean, but considering they’re hung on a wall and being shown off, I can assume they’re worth something.

So, he’s a collector. Not much I can do with that. Not unless I find shrunken heads or used underwear. I move across the room and browse a bookshelf. Again, don’t know much about these things, but they look like—

“First editions.”

I turn to face Dominic, who is walking toward me. His swagger is… annoyingly distracting. The fact he’s in sweatpants only makes it worse.

“All of them,” he adds. “Cool, huh?”

“Uh, sure,” I say.

“Sure?” he gapes. “Some of these books are extremely rare.”

“That’s… nice.”

He huffs, reaching in and pulling out a book. “This is a first edition signed copy of Charlotte’s Web.”

“That’s the one about the spider, right?” I ask.

He slow-blinks. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m not much of a reader.”

“They made a movie.”

“Don’t like those either.”

I will not admit that the reason I don’t know much about it is because, growing up, we didn’t have a TV or electricity half the time. I had a library card for a short time, but one of the books went missing and I owed the library money that I couldn’t pay off, so I wasn’t able to get more books after that .

Truthfully, I did enjoy reading, and maybe I’d even enjoy it now too, but it’s one of those things that brings me back to my childhood and causes me anxiety. Instead of trying to work through it, I push it down with the rest of my trauma.

He slips the book back onto the shelf. “Okay, well, food’s almost done. Do you want coffee?”

“No, thanks,” I say, following him into the kitchen. I stand back and watch as he puts together our omelets. He has everything set up in little dishes and works so flawlessly as he cooks. How does he do that?

“So, you buy a lot of things?” I ask, not sure why I’m making conversation. I don’t like him.

He smirks. “I like to collect things, yeah.”

“Isn’t that pointless?”

“Isn’t having a cat pointless?” he asks.

I don’t bother answering, because yeah, kind of. Especially mine because he’s an asshole.

“Do you have any tea?” I ask.

“Oh, so you’re one of those. Should have known.” He points to a cabinet by the sink.

“I’m going to ignore that comment.” I rummage through the cabinet that is in complete disarray and find a crumpled box of green tea in the back. I pull it out. It’ll have to do.

“Might be expired,” he says.

I pull a bag from the box, noting it looks fine. “I’m sure I’ll live.”

“Hope so. I need you to get 100k.”

“Looks like you have that in books alone,” I comment, going to his coffee machine and helping myself. There’s an option for single serve, and it allows me to do just hot water.

“You don’t like to collect things?”

“I don’t like to waste money on things that don’t matter.”

“That explains a lot. You grow up poor or something?”

I grit my teeth, snapping the top of the machine shut after pouring in water.

“Oh, right,” he says. “We’re not getting personal. Sorry, I forgot.”

Five minutes later, we’re sitting at the dining table. I can’t believe I’m here again. Sitting at his table for a meal, no less.

“So, this is what I’m thinking,” he begins, picking up his large mug of coffee. He takes a sip before continuing. “You can dictate how the photoshoot and video shoot for BTL go. That’s your thing, you handle it. I’ll do whatever you want, except bottom. I don’t bottom; that’s a hard no.”

My stomach does a little flip. Something about him being all growly about that is hot.

“Go on.”

I cut a piece of the omelet, trying not to moan when I put it in my mouth. How did he make this taste so good?

“The video we do for my website, I want more direction on. I won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable, but it needs to have my vision. I’m going to put it up on my website, behind my pay wall, of course. You’re free to do the same. We each only get what we make off it. You get none of my royalties from my page, and me none of yours.”

“That sounds fair.”

I cut another piece, already halfway done. If I’m not careful, I’m going to become obsessed with this food. It’s better than Clara’s.

“I thought you’d think so, which is why I already have a contract drafted up.”

I huff out a disbelieving laugh.

“Wow, you’re on top of things, aren’t you?”

“I like money. So, there’s only one more thing that I want from you before we start signing shit.”

I put my fork down and sit back, meeting his gaze. I knew there would be something. He’s not the type to let sleeping dogs lie, and all this is way too easy.

“What’s that?”

One side of his mouth turns up in a smile. “I want lifetime access to your page, including all back posts and bonus materials.”

“What? Why?” I blurt out, surprised at what he’s asking for. That isn’t even close to what I expected him to say. I’m not sure what I expected, but something so simple? Doesn’t seem right. He has to have an ulterior motive.

“Curiosity,” he answers with a slight shrug.

Curiosity? Seriously? That’s all he’s going to give me?

I think about it as I watch him watch me. There can’t be any harm in giving him access to my page, right? It’s just another sub. I mean, he’ll see all the stuff I put up, but if we’re making a video together anyway, it’s not like my dick will be any surprise to him. I don’t see there being an issue with this. Which is the weird part. If this is so easy, so simple, why does he want it? I guess it doesn’t really matter, because I need this. I’d have done something that could cause me a problem for the sake of the money.

“Fine.” I pick up my fork and keep eating, because even though he’s annoying, this food is delicious, and I don’t want it to go to waste.