Page 23 of The Man Upstairs

“You should get to bed,” he said. “I’ll just get you some water.”

“Thank you.”

Even now, in the height of underlying tension, he was still trying to take care of me. He disappeared for a short while, then came back and presented me with a glass. He kept at arm’s length, aiming for a casual smile that didn’t match up with his stare.

“Goodnight, Rosie.”

I didn’t want to say goodnight to him, but the words came automatically.

“Goodnight, Julian. Thanks for rescuing me. Again.”

He closed the living room door behind him as he went. My heart was racing, and my stomach was fluttering, and I dithered on the spot like an awkward teenager, even though I wanted more than anything to tell him I wasn’t. I was an adult, not a little girl. I’d been trying to behave like an adult my whole life – taking care of Mum as well as myself.

I opted to take a shower, since I still stank of the pizza house. He wasn’t lying when he’d said about the bar of soap and the shampoo. Both supermarket budget, but I didn’t care. I wondered what he was doing as I scrubbed myself. Was he thinking about me? I’d deliberately avoided locking the bathroom door. On purpose. Just in case.

The living room door was still closed tight when I headed back to his bedroom. I towel dried my hair, still damp and naked when I opened his wardrobe. His selection of shirts were all white, and they smelt like a combination of him and fabric softener. He had one more suit jacket hanging there, and a selection of coloured ties. A few pairs of trousers, and one pair of jeans. A couple of token t-shirts, and a navy-blue jumper. Nothing much.

I opened the drawer at the bottom, too heady to avoid snooping. He had posh patterned socks, and some boxers. Nothing major. But wait. There were some other things in there… things I caught sight of as I fumbled through his socks… what the–

Marker pens and rope. A strange place to put them. And more. Three big dildos and a string full of beads. And some photos… wow, fuck. Some actual printed out photos of a girl with blonde hair, her hands bound up over her head. In that rope. A dark shade of red. I ran my fingers over it.

She hadslutscrawled on her chest in marker pen, and one of the dildos jammed tight in her pussy, and she can’t have been much older than me. Nineteen, tops.

Shit.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

I stumbled backwards, slamming the drawer closed like an invader, because I was one. I sat on the bed, still naked with my heart racing, feeling like I should be embarrassed, or intimidated, or squicked out, but I wasn’t any of those things. Blame it on romance novels, or imagination, or my own dirty fantasies, but I was curious. More than curious. I was needy. Excited.

I wanted to be the girl in that photo.

I took a swig of water from the glass on the bedside table, and I thought through my options.

It’s not your mother I’m going to be wanting, Rosie, it’s you.

Maybe this would be my only chance. Maybe after tonight it would be eyes down in the hallway again for the rest of time. Julian didn’t seem like he’d be inviting me up here for coffee unless I really needed him. I’d likely get pushed away like my mother.

Now or never…

I could do this, or I could try to. I could seduce the man upstairs and behave like the girl in the photo. I could do it. I could be that girl. I’d heard plenty of story heroines attempt it and come up trumps. Why not me?

It’s not your mother I’m going to be wanting, Rosie, it’s you.

I hoped he’d meant it.I hoped I had the courage to find out.

I put on one of the shirts from his wardrobe, making sure I left a few buttons undone, and then I scooped my pizza uniform up into my arms, taking a breath as I headed in his direction. I pushed my glasses up and closed my eyes as I opened the living room door. Now or never…

He was sitting on the chesterfield with his eyes on the blank TV screen, and a shot of whisky on the coffee table. His eyes were still dark as he looked my way, and he swallowed as I appeared before him.

“I was wondering if I’d be able to do some laundry? I’ll need this outfit for my shift tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Of course, yes. I have a washer tumble dryer.”

I knew that. I’d seen it.

He got to his feet, and I wished I was brave enough to look down at his crotch. I knew my nipples must be showing through his shirt fabric.

“Here, let me take that,” he said, and I handed him my bundle of clothes. “I’ll make sure I have them ready for you in the morning.”