Chapter 6
As we walked into my house, a slight burst of embarrassment flushed over me. No one ever visited my house, and for good reason; it was a disaster. I had all the woodwork from the entire downstairs pulled off the walls and strewn throughout the house. It was like an obstacle course to make it from one room to the next.
“I apologize for the mess, I’m restoring the house and it’s quite the process.”
He just looked around and took in the old home. The house’s Victorian style was somewhat original in Missouri during the time period. I wanted to restore the home to its original splendor so it could be put on the historical society register.
The home had been built in 1910 by my grandparents and then passed down to my parents. It was a huge part of this town and I didn’t want anyone coming in years from now and trying to tear it down. Plus, I didn’t have anything better to do with my time. There was only so many pictures a person could take before they needed to spend some time on a different hobby.
“Don’t apologize, this house is beautiful.”
Something about the way he said that caught me off guard. It seemed like the first truly sincere words I had heard from him. He was in awe of my old house. I turned back to glace at him, but he didn’t see. He was too busy looking at every detail of the woodworking on the floor as well as the paneling on the walls.
“Thanks, are you an admirer of old homes?”
Then just as quickly as his genuine talk had appeared, his crude language reappeared.
“I’m an admirer of your ass,” he said as he walked past me, taking an especially long glance at my backside.
“Seriously?”
“Oh, I’m kidding. Yes, I like old houses. I love the idea of tearing apart an old building and putting it back to better even stronger than it originally was.”
I walked toward the stairs and just as I took my second step up, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back toward him. He was right there, standing on the bottom step as I turned to face him. My body was still not at his height, but much closer than before. There was something in his eyes that I couldn’t have described, but I now know was pure lust.
He moved his lips swiftly to meet mine and it was a good thing he let his hands hold onto my hips. I likely would have fallen over from the wobbly nature of my knees. I hadn’t expected a kiss. Yes, I had wanted one, but it was such odd timing that I wasn’t prepared.
My mouth opened to let him in. His tongue searched me for pleasure. The kiss was gentle at first, but the more I moved against him the harder he pressed against me. He wasn’t about to give up on kissing me. Finally, I gave in.
My arms moved up to his neck and wrapped around him. I had not kissed a man in over a year and this was no ordinary man. His body was that of a sexy god. Yes, a sex god. That was the best way I could describe him. There were chiseled muscles at every corner of his firm body.
His tongue had skills that the rest of my body longed to enjoy. I could feel the rush of wetness as the physical reaction of kissing him shot throughout me.
“I had to kiss you. I’m sorry, but it had to be done,” Chris said as he released me.
I stood there in a daze for a moment, pondering the kiss that had just knocked me out of the park. This man could kiss, that was for damn sure.
“Yeah, well should we get you some painter’s tape?” I said as the flush red of my face burned to cool down.
“Yes. Let’s do that. Is it upstairs?”
He started to take a few steps up the stairs before I grabbed him.
“Oh no, you don’t. You’re not going up to my bedroom.”
“Why not? You don’t trust me near your bed?”
His eyes burned into me and I couldn’t help but lick my lips. They wanted to feel his again, but I resisted.
“No. You stay here.”
I held my hand out to stop him from coming up the stairs while I went to find his tape. I had been painting in my bedroom last so I quickly grabbed it.
“Hey, did you know this chandelier is about to fall?”
I looked at it as I walked down the stairs. It looked fine to me.
“It’s been there for almost one hundred years and sturdy as could be. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I can fix it for you if you’d like. Maybe take it down so you can clean it before reattaching it?”
“Alright,” I said as I handed him the tape.
“How old is this house? 1900?”
“Close, 1910. It was built by my grandparents. It was one of the first houses in the city.”
“Any you are restoring it? What else do you do with yourself?”
“Oh nothing, I just stalk my neighbors and sand wood.”
I cringed at the words when they came out. Why did my mouth work so poorly? Certainly that sounded really sexy. Yes, I’m your neighbor and I’m going to stalk you now. Ugh!
“You can play with my wood, no stalking necessary,” he winked.
Geeze what was it with this guy? He seriously could turn anything into sexual innuendo. I rolled my eyes and laughed at his joke.
“Well, what do you do for a living?”
At this question, he instantly clammed up. The sparkle of desire in his eyes disappeared and he turned cold. The change was so abrupt that I was completely thrown for a moment. Nothing about him seemed to even like me anymore, let alone desire me.
“I’m going to get back to my painting. Have a good night,” he said and then swiftly left my house.
I watched through the window as he made it back inside his home and I wondered what it was it that I had said. I just asked what he did for a living. How was that so bad?
Chapter 7
He was so hot and cold. It was hard for me to figure him out. One minute he was seductively kissing me and the next moment he turned cold as ice and walked out of my house. I had never met anyone that could change their personality so quickly. I kept my eye out for Chris each day as I did yardwork or left the house for errands. But I never saw him coming or going. I never saw a car outside, but he certainly could have been parking it in his garage. The old houses in Bain all had detached garages that sat behind our homes, which made it very difficult to see exactly what was going on or if someone was home at all.
Day after day passed and again I didn’t see Chris. It was baffling. What on earth could he do for a living that he could be in Bain anyways? Most of the people who lived here were retired, worked for the local school or were independent like myself. We were over an hour from St. Louis and there were plenty of nicer small towns within a closer distance.
I had to stop letting Chris fill my mind. My photography exhibit was getting close and I still needed to go through my pictures and choose the final set of photos. I knew there was one last photo I wanted to get out in the woods, but I had to wait for the moon to be at just the right location.
I made my way to my garage, where I had made my dark room for developing my pictures. As had become a habit, I glanced over at Chris’s house to see if it looked like he was home. No car outside the garage and no lights on in the house. He certainly did not appear to be home.
Developing my pictures was one of my favorite parts of photography. There was just something wonderful about doing the developing yourself: setting the paper into the chemicals, moving the photo paper from one tub of fluid to the next; I loved it. I ached to get my hands dirty and develop some of the prints for my upcoming show.