Page 7 of Room Twenty-Seven: Theirs to Punish

My cheeks suddenly feel like they’re on fire. I wring my hands in front of me. Cuddling doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. It would probably feel nice… really nice, but what are the chances it would stay at that? “You promise only cuddling?”

Pulling his right hand from his pocket, he places it on his heart. “I swear, cuddles only. No touchy, touchy!”

I giggle at the way he exaggerates the last bit. A sound I haven't heard in a while. “Okay then, you can stay.”

4

Luke

I can tellshe’s nervous. Even more nervous than she was earlier at the club, which is understandable. There are no bouncers here, no rules, no safe words. Just me and her alone in an apartment.

Her place is nice, considering the neighborhood she’s in. The buildings are old and most of them haven’t been taken care of like they should. Lilly’s apartment is not large, but it’s decorated artistically, making it inviting and cozy.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” she tells me. “Feel free to raid the fridge. Make yourself at home.”

I watch her gather some pajamas from her dresser before disappearing into her bathroom. I use the time to look around her apartment.

She has a lot of artwork hanging up, but no pictures of her, family, or friends. Canvases of all sizes cover her walls, but the one next to the door stands out. It’s the only one with bright colors. All the other paintings have a dark color palette and incorporate sad or melancholic images.

This one can only be described as happiness. Large zoomed-in flowers at the bottom of the painting and smaller trees at the top, along with the way the sun plays with the light and dark, make the image appear 3D. It’s so engaging it’s hard to tear my eyes away.

In the kitchen, I open the drawer she used to dump a stack of paperwork in. I’m not surprised to see a bunch of overdue bills, but I am a little shocked to find an eviction notice at the top. She’s in more money trouble than she led on.

I also take her up on the offer to raid her fridge. I find it almost empty. A lonely box of Chinese leftovers is the only edible thing inside. And her kitchen cabinets are not much better.

The bathroom door opens behind me. “Find anything good?”

“No, unless you hide some more food in a different cabinet, there is not much to find.” I turn around to face her. She wears flannel pj’s, she’s cleaned her makeup off, and her hair is up in a messy bun on top of her head. Even in this getup, she somehow manages to look hot.

“I told you, I’m about to move.” Her eyes are cast down. If I didn’t already know she was lying, I would have known now. “What do you do for work?”

“Well, right now, not much. I was a nanny for a few years but always wanted to be an artist. That’s why I moved down here when the kids I watched turned old enough to stay home alone.”

“Ah, so that’s what brought you to New Orleans.”

“Yes, this city is rich with history, art, and music. Perfect place for an artist.”

“So then, why are you moving?”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to move far. I still want to stay in the area…” She trails off, almost as if she’s trying to think of a lie to tell me. Why doesn’t she just tell me the truth? Is she too proud to admit it?

“You don’t have a new place yet?”

“No, I’m still looking.”

“What’s your budget? Maybe I can help you find something.”

“What’s my budget?” She repeats my question. “Hmm, like very low. Now that I didn’t go through with the arrangement tonight. I was hoping I would find a roommate when I got here, but no one answered my ad, so I got this place.”

I make a mental note to find the ad she posted and somehow take it down. She shouldn't have a roommate she found on the internet and knows nothing about.

“So that’s why you needed the money tonight?”

“Can we talk about something else? Or, even better, can we just go to bed?”

“Sure. Let’s go lie down.”

Hesitantly, she walks over to her queen-sized bed and slides under the covers. I slip out of my shoes and climb onto the bed next to her.

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