Thursdays are for Revenge
I sleep like the dead.
Or I should be since Thursdays are my day off.
My phone has been beeping all morning and I want to throw it out the window. I’ve spent the last hour tossing and turning, trying to fight the rage building inside me at what my damn neighbor pulled last night. I’m not going to be shocked when I look at my messages and see the station bitching me out for what happened. I was supposed to be entertaining Novahope until super freak next door insulted Stake and threw me over his shoulder.
I should have told him to go suck it then and there, gone back inside and done damage control for me and the station, but instead I let my shitty day and the booze catch up to me which had me feeling emotional. It didn’t help that just before he came barging in my house I had just gotten off the phone with my pesky mother with her tacky threats about me going home or my father coming and dragging me home.
In every call, she’s made remarks about visiting me and that scares me even more. My mother would drop dead if she saw how I was living—a regular home in a regular non-gated subdivision. She knows nothing outside of her royal castle. Not to mention, when I had Daddy write the check for the house, I may have sent him a photo of some fancy place I had pinned on Pinterest, instead of the small little bungalow I’m currently living in. It’s not that I wanted to lie, but my parents don’t understand. My mother would have me sleeping in my pearls if she had a say. The way I dress would be unacceptable and she’d have her tailor over here in a flash, measuring me for chiffon gowns and organza suits. I just want to be me. And not them.
My day got even worse when I got to work and Daryl told me someone was trying to buy the station. When I asked who, and the name of my father’s investment company rang through the air, I wanted to murder someone. There was nothing I could do without my father having a hand in it. Going as far as purchasing the place I work shouldn’t even surprise me. I’m sure if the sale goes through he’d just shut the entire station down, giving me one more push to come home.
And to top it off, my neighbor thought he could jump in and tell me how I should let people handle me. Talk about not minding his own damn business. I wanted to smack the narcissistic smile right off him.
Who cares if he was kind on the way home? Even though the silent game isn’t really considered being kind, but in this case, him not talking was doing a good justice for me.
I spent the ride repeating to myself that I had no interest in him whatsoever. Even if my body was still tingling at the way his hands were gripping my hips, his fingers brushing against my lower lip. There was only one way to explain the weird vibes my body was sending it.
And it was that I had lost it.
When we finally made it home, I jumped out of his car, which still smelled like—no shocker—a new car, and stormed off. I opened my door, slammed it shut for dramatics, and then slipped on the still wet rug from earlier. If I wasn’t so damn butt hurt, literally, at how he got me back from the taco incident, I would’ve stormed right back over and laid into him. But I knew I had bigger plans of revenge for him.
My phone beeps again, making it the billionth and one time it’s gone off. A loud, overdramatic grunt sounds up my throat. “Lord help me, because I don’t look good in stripes.” I throw myself across my Egyptian cotton, Serbian goose, down comforter. The fluffiest comforter known to man. I take a moment to snuggle my face into my best friend, then reach over and grab my phone. With one eye open, I start to scan through my missed texts.
Big D: You swipe right with your neighbor last night? Call me.
Big D: Girl, you better rein in your neighbor. You lying naked next to him still? He needs to back off. He called the station and put in a complaint.
“What the fuck?” I fly forward, sitting up in bed.
Bossman: Call me RIGHT NOW!
Big D: You’re lucky I love you for all the fires I’m putting out for you.
Big D: Girl, your boytoy’s gotta get checked. He be claimin’ sexual harassment and
B-man ain’t happy. Might wanna have a chat about that before you do the walk of shame home.
Big D: Novahope is still doing the concert and the pre-show interview. You’re welcome.
Bossman: You better have a good reason for what went down last night.
Big D: Don’t hate on me, but I did what I had to do. Love you, girl.
Bossman: Daryl told me about your womanly issues. Take the time you need.
Womanly issues?
Sexual harassment?
I’m going to KILL WILL!
I throw myself out of bed. A calmer person may put on pants before storming outside and across the lawn, but not me. I am livid!
Taking my closed fist, I bang on his door until I hear movement inside. My mind is flooding with every single threat and insult when the door opens.
“You fucking jerk! Who do you think you are? You called my work and placed a sexual harassment complaint?” I’m seeing red. And through those red shades my eyes see a man, covered in muscle. And the reason why I see all this muscle is because he’s standing in front of me in only a pair of black boxers.
“That’s all you have to say to me? Not a thank you for saving you from a creep who was practically molesting you in public?”
My red shade turns to a deep maroon. We’re talking like blood red. Exactly what is about to be spilled when I rip his head off. “That creep was my client. It’s my job to flirt with him. Show him a good time!”
He folds his arms over his sculpted chest. “So, it’s your job to be assaulted?”
Oh my God!
This guy is off his rocker.
“I wasn’t being assaulted, and for the record, no one asked you to get involved.” My foot is tapping like a madman. I don’t know what to do with my own hands. I go from crossing them over my chest to fighting not to lock ‘em into his hair, tug him out of his house, and kick his ass on his own damn lawn.
“So, let me get this straight.” He takes a step closer to me. “For a job, you allow strangers to touch you in ways only your man should? It’s okay for them to hang on to you like this?” He unwraps his arms from his chest, placing his hands back to my hips, just like last night. “It’s completely okay for a man to put you on his lap and let your tight little ass rub against his dick?”
Jesus, what?
I know he just said dick.
I know it’s my turn to reply.
Maybe tell him to go take his own dick and fuck off, but my lips won’t move.
They want to part, suck in air, but I’m experiencing some sort of malfunction. My brain is stalled at the fact that his hands are still on me. The word dick on repeat in my head doesn’t help either. My eyes suddenly drop down past his chest. Two, four, six, yep all abs in place. My eyes don’t stop there. His black boxers lie low on his hips, no doubt failing at hiding his morning wood. And, Jesus, I knew the guy was big. Like impressively big. I wonder if he has to tailor his pants to fit the big guy—
“See something you like?” His voice breaks the debate in my head, and I quickly pull my eyes off his goods.
“Ew, no! Seriously, Wonka? I wasn’t looking at your junk. More like your dirty floors. Geez, clean much?”
His eyes light up in shock, followed by a distraught, garbled sound coming from his throat. I knew that would do it. He lets me go, which, not gonna lie, bums me out, to inspect his floor. “My floor is not dirty. I just washed it yesterday. You could eat off this floor.” He’s still looking down, and I’m standing there waiting for him to drop to his knees with a magnifying glass in search of dirt.
“Whatever, just stay out of my business, got it?” I begin walking back to my house when he calls out to me.
“Is it also your job to run around the neighborhood exposing yourself? I’m sure the HOA frowns upon people walking around half naked.”
I quickly look down, remembering, with no time to dress, I ran out of my house in my bra and underwear. And just to make the vision worse for me, better for him, I’m in a thong.
I throw my hands over my chest, then try covering my ass. Knowing I only have two hands, I decide he’s already seen it all and make use of what I got by raising my middle finger and flicking him off.
“You shouldn’t let men you don’t know touch you like that,” he states again while I walk with pride, chin high as can be while shaking my bare ass at him.
I turn to him while continuing to walk backward. “And why’s that, Wonka? Men love girls like me. Nice and easy.” There’s a fire that flashes in his eyes. And it kinda turns me on. Why am I suddenly tempted to go back and let him have his way with me? I know he wants me. Morning wood doesn’t last that long. I’m willing to admit I want him too. But sometimes two people just can’t get along long enough to play nice. Which also seems to turn me on even more. Rage-filled, heated, passionate, nail scraping, biting, choking sex. Jesus, having hate sex with my neighbor would be super-hot.
“Did you want to say something else to me, Lilith?”
Yeah, I just fucked you three times in my head. “Nope. Gotta get home and call over some random guy so he can take advantage of me. Lots of hair pulling and biting. Maybe tie me up. Use me and abuse me.” I smile and turn, knowing his wee wee is shooting through his pants. If he wants to call me a hussy, telling me I let guys take advantage of me, then so be it. I’m gonna make sure he regrets not being the one to do so.
I’m back inside, this time more careful not to slip on the rug. I really need to get someone in to dry this shit. I grab for my phone and shoot out a text to Daryl that I took care of the neighbor.
I’m struggling with which emotion I should allow to take the stage. Anger is definitely in first place right now. Who does Will even think he is, getting in my business like that?
But then there’s shock, joy, and surprise at how he tried to avenge my honor. He doesn’t even like me, but felt it’s his duty to make sure I was being treated with respect? Little did he know if he attempted anything close to those things Stake with Novahope was doing I’d be all over it.
There is no denying all the built-up tension inside me. I’ve always secretly had a thing for my crazy neighbor. Mind the mouth, I’ve always been attracted to him. I blamed it on the fact I wasn’t getting any, so my brain and vagina were probably starting to panic and take anything they could get. Therefore, whenever the neighbor would come over complaining about something, I’d just tune him out and pretend he was saying other things to me.
It would start out like, “Stay off my yard or else…” But then my mind would go dark and all I heard was, “Or else I’m gonna take that tight little ass of yours and make it mine, spank you raw until you’re begging for my cock to be in you.”
Yeah, I know. I really need to get some.
Maybe Daryl was right. I need to get the app, swipe right, and have some random sex. It’s that or end up doing my angry neighbor. And I’m not sure that’s the answer. He’d probably file harassment charges on me before I got halfway across his lawn and I’d finally be packing my bags.
I refuse to let him win.
Even if my vagina thinks a little neighborly finger bang would really be a nice truce.
I decide to hold off on waving my white flag. My sexual needs aren’t in danger of being extinct at this time.
Just as I decide to head to the bedroom and take care of my horniness myself, a knock on my front door sounds. I peek out the window, knowing if it’s Will, I’m going to run and grab my shaving cream. Instead, I see a cute, young fireman. Which reminds me… That jerk! I look out my side window to see Will still standing on his porch. He seems to have put some pants on, thank God. Someone needs to call the HOA on him and that big ol’ thing he’s scaring small children with.
“Coming!” I shout as I run to my room and grab my pink silk robe and a set of handcuffs in my nightstand from an old Halloween costume.
Then, I answer the door.
“Hello, Miss Hamilton?” the cute fireman addresses me.
I smile like the polite little innocent girl I am. With my voice as low as can be, I say, “Okay, listen, this is what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna say a few things I don’t really mean, and then I’m gonna jump on you. You need to just simply not drop me and walk me into my house. Got it?”
His eyes go wide as saucers. “Excuse me?”
I don’t give him time to tell me no. I start to yell, “Thank God you came. I’m super horny and really need someone to fuck me into tomorrow. Use these on me too.” I jump on the guy, who looks horrified. Thankfully, Will can’t see his face by the angles of our porches.
He catches me as instructed and I dangle the handcuffs behind his head. “Have your way with me, Mr. Fireman!” I then whisper in his ear, “Okay, you can walk us inside now.”
Just before we’re out of sight, I turn to the house next door and shout. “I’m so glad to have such a concerned neighbor! My aching vagina thanks you for the call!”
And inside we go.
“Full house,” Hank, aka Mr. Fireman says, laying his cards on the table.
“Dammit! How are you so good at this!?” He’s beaten me four times in a row. I drop mine and stand. “Want another virgin Manhattan?”
“No thanks, Lil. I should probably get going.”
I look at the time. I’ve kept him kidnapped in my house for almost three hours. I bribed him to stay the rest of the afternoon, but he told me the chief would start to wonder why he never showed back up at work. After walking inside, I had him drop me and apologized for my childish behavior. I confessed that my intentions were solely based on making my neighbor jealous. Then I tried to talk myself out of what I’d just confessed. Was I trying to make Will jealous? I just wanted to show him he had no claim on me. But did he? My cobwebbed vagina wanted him to. And why did I want him to validate what he thought of me?
I wasn’t really a hussy who allowed people to touch me without my consent. It was my job to flirt with clients. I was a head DJ for WXOJ, Morristown’s most popular radio station. We had bands come in and do live shows all the time. We took them out and it was our job to make them happy. Did I get the occasional ass grab and proposition? Sure! Did I ever take anyone up on it? Never. I had lines too. And I never crossed those. It also helped I was never without Daryl, who was a whopping three-hundred fifteen pounds. I had a built-in bodyguard everywhere I went.
Either way, Hank got me to start babbling about all my troubles regarding my neighbor. When I was done, he had checked all the detectors, confirmed they worked, and come to the conclusion that I, in fact, wanted to be with my neighbor.
He was high.
Or maybe I was.
Wanting someone and wanting to be with someone were two totally different things. Sex, yes. Dinner dates and sharing a straight edge ruler while we cut his grass perfectly together? No. I told him he didn’t like me and the only pussy he’d probably ever get was that damn cat he had. We both got a good laugh out of that and then spent the next two hours playing cards. I served us up some lunch, then once it hit one in the afternoon I made us some drinks. Him a non-alcoholic, of course, because he was on duty.
But it was getting late and I couldn’t keep him holed up in my house forever.
“Do you think he’s stewing over there, thinking we’ve been having animal sex for the past three hours?” I ask, pouring a shot of whiskey, followed by a dash of sweet vermouth.
“I’m not sure. I think all the yelling and moaning you did out your window was a good touch. You don’t think he’s gonna call my boss, though, do you?”
I offer him a pfft sound and say, “No way.” When in fact I should be saying, “Probably, sorry. Do they offer a nice severance at your work?”
Hank leaves and limps just as instructed when walking down my porch. Will is nowhere in sight, which sucks because Hank really did play the part. He almost fell down the stairs moaning how sore he was.
To no avail, I go back inside and enjoy the rest of my day off. Come dinner, I look at the time and like clockwork, I hear the dragging of garbage bins being hauled down the driveway next door. This also reminds me that tomorrow is garbage day. And every garbage day, the neighbor throws a hissy fit because I put a measly few bags in his bins. I’m not even sure why he cares. I don’t ever have enough garbage to haul those oversized bins to the curb. Not to mention, I’m tiny and they weigh more than I do. It’s also not my fault the neighborhood has raccoons that insist on always pushing his trash over and tearing through my bags. Or his bags. Technically they’re his since they’re in his bins.
The more I drink, the more I realize how much Wonka, the tight-ass neighbor, calls and complains on me. Didn’t his mommy and daddy teach him that tattling was wrong? That’s like kindergarten 101 stuff!
When it strikes close to midnight and I’ve started seeing double, I grab all my empty bottles and head out my front door super ninja style. Since I’m incredibly sly when I’m totally canned, I line up the bottles right in front of his bins, creating a cute shape, and run back inside my house giggling like a school girl.
I set my alarm for earlier than I need to be up so I can call Waste Management and make a complaint on my messy neighbor who doesn’t know how to properly recycle.