Page 13 of At Your Door

I’m not giving in to this bullshit today. She’s already in my home. Isn’t that enough?

I clear my throat and raise my chin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and even if I did—which, as I said before, I don’t—I still wouldn’t use it.”

She’s fully grinning now. “Righhhht, well, maybe you should some time. You seem a little… uptight.”

I shouldn't give her the satisfaction, but I can't help it—my eyes widen, and my jaw drops completely. However, she doesn't wait for a response; she just walks out, letting the door close behind her.

***

I spent the rest of my "day off" feeling stressed. I know I shouldn't care; I really, really shouldn't. It was just a stupid comment, but fuck.

“Uptight?”

Really?

"Everything Griffon said keeps replaying in my mind. The thought of her thinking I'm just some boring, sexist, rude prude makes me want to rip my hair out."

Yes, I may be a bit boring and sort of prudish, but I’m definitely not sexist. I really don't want her to think I’m rude. Honestly, I’ve been called half of those things my whole life—partly by Eleanor—but something about this situation feels different.

It feels like she won whatever stupid game this was. As I proved right, I was exactly who she thought I was. She seemed so satisfied to tease me, yet unsurprised or unimpressed as if it were too easy.

Holy shit, El was right. She does think I’m just some stuck-up bitch from next door that she can mess with for entertainment.

She already knew what she was doing when she started talking to Griffon in the first place. And now, especially after they seemed to get along so well together, I know I can’t tell her what Griffon just said to me without her freaking out over the fact that I didn't say anything back.

So, I sat on the couch for hours, letting my mind rake through idea after idea. It wasn't until later that day that I finally managed to get back up and try to eat something. As I start to make my way toward the kitchen, something out of the corner of my eye stops me in my tracks.

When I turn to face the same brown box that’s been haunting me, the only thing I can manage is, “Fuck.”

I don't know why it's taking me so long to get comfortable. It’s my own bed; this should be easy for me. It’s not a big deal—millions of people get off every day. So why is it so hard to just “fake” it?

After some much-needed mental encouragement (aka box wine), I pushed myself back to my bedroom and lay in bed. I brought the box back with me just in case I needed some uhh… props. But now that I’m here, this all feels stupid and silly.

Am I really about to fake an orgasm to piss off—or impress—my neighbor?

Is that even what I’m actually doing? Because at this point, I don't know if this will annoy her or just embarrass me further.

But as soon as I hear the echo of Griffon's front door closing, I swallow back my fears. I don’t know if it’s the liquid encouragement, but for once, I decided to take the risk.

My eyes flutter close as I attempt to focus on the sound of her footsteps. Earlier, when she emerged from my bathroom, I couldn't shake the image of her walking up behind me, her hands gripping the sink on either side, closing me in completely. I could almost feel her chest rising and falling against my back, and the sensation of her breath on my neck felt so real that it put me in a trance.

Like now, when I hear her bedroom door open, my legs instinctively begin to spread. I’m lucky she can't see me, considering I'm wearing nothing but an oversized tee shirt. But that doesn’t seem to help my brain; it feels like the wall between us is made of glass, leaving me feeling completely exposed.

It doesn't stop my back from arching at the sound of her walking around her room. This is all getting so real so fast. But I’m completely gone now. My mind has escaped my body, and it feels like every inch of my skin craves to be touched.

My hands roam over my body, but it isn’t enough. Frustration builds within me as I tear off the old shirt, leaving myself completely naked.

I don’t even notice I’m vocally whining until I suddenly realize the footsteps have stopped.

It’s completely silent on the other side of the wall. I almost stopped myself, but the thought that she could be listening kept me going.

Before, the thought of her listening to me cum made me want to run away and hide, but right now, I’ve never felt sexier.

I don't know if I’ve ever actually feltsexy. Of course, I’ve masturbated before. I’m a grown woman. But this–this is completely different. I’m used to simple—nothing crazy, nothing surprising.

This is all new to me, including the ache between my thighs. As I reach down to let my hands find my already wet heat, I can't help but let out a gasp.

I can hear Griffon’s bed move under her weight as she gets into it, and my fingers immediately start working. This is the quietest she’s been. Even when she’s alone, I hear every creak from her bed frame as she tosses and turns.

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