If I’m not mistaken, she looks disappointed when I put space between us, the cold air from the open window consuming the warmth our bodies created for that brief moment.
In response to the saddened look in her eyes I inform her, “Well, then it’s a good thing I’m a gentleman.”
“You’re a murderer.”
“The two are not synonymous.”
When I head back to the window I’m not the least bit surprised when she stops me. “Wait.” Her voice carries a hint of worry. “You’re really going back up there?”
“Sure am.” Proven by my left leg which is already out the window, planted on the fire escape landing. “Want to come with me?”
Noelle’s shock only lasts for a second before her curiosity takes over. This is a test, I think she knows it, and I think she’ll pass. But I’m testing to see just where she lands on the scale of morally gray. If she was really black and white, she would have tried to find a way to alert someone about me already.
I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’s very stealthy and she’s already done something to protect herself like record our conversation or send a secret message.
But I don’t think that’s the case. I think she wants to know more about me, I think her curiosity outweighs her sense of self-preservation.
Those gorgeous eyes flit from me to the open window then back to me again, taking my breath away each time she looks at me.
“Let me change into something warmer.” Well it’s a double edged sword, I guess. She’s stepping into my world for the night, she passedthe test.
But she’s changing out of those tight little pajamas that make it hard to concentrate.
On second thought, maybe it’s a good thing she’s changing. I need to be alert when I’m working.
Noelle returns a moment later in winter pants, heavy snow boots, and a thick pink coat. Seems like a bit of overkill since we won’t be outside long, but ok.
I love how feminine she is, from the pastel coat to her delicate pajamas to the way her blonde bobbed hair frames her face. Something about the way she carries herself and embraces all the “girly” sides of herself is wildly attractive. She’s demure, that’s the word for it. Demure and feisty at the same time. But with a mind that fascinates me if she’s willingly going into an apartment where she knows a dead body is waiting.
We’re going to retreive the dead guy’s heart, for fuck’s sake. The majority of the female population would cower at the idea. But not Noelle. She throws on her ladylike pink coat and big girl boots and follows me up the fire escape to find Frank’s severed heart.
What more could a man want in a woman.
As we pass Mel and Rex’s window, they make it painfully obvious they’re still in the throws of passion. Their moans ring out like the carol of bells.
“Yes, get the rabbit,” Mel pleads.
“Where’s my cockring?” Rex replies.
“Oh god,” Noelle groans.
I steal a glance over my shoulder at her and grin. “What’s the matter? You can handle conversations about murder but not the sounds of two people getting freaky?”
Noelle looks affronted by this accusation. “No.” Yeah, that doesn’t sound convincing. “They’re just doing itall the time. I can’t count the hours of sleep I’ve lost since their bedroom is right above mine.”
“I think someone’s jealous.”
“Of Rex and Mel?” She scoffs but there’s no merit to it. “As if.”
“Real convincing,” I tease. I like seeing her all riled up about this. It’s cute. Also makes me wonder how long it’s been for her. “There’s nothing wrong with two people having wild crazy sex on a regular basis. Don’t hate on their intimacy just because you’re in a dry spell.”
I’m watching my hands as I scale the final ladder to the landing outside Frank’s apartment but I hear the audible pop of her lips parting and her jaw dropping just before she scoffs again.
“I–you–you don’t know anything about my life. For all you know, I could have a rotation of men coming through my apartment every night.”
I thought killing people was fun, but getting Noelle all hot and bothered might be my new favorite hobby.
“If you were as sex positive as you claim to be, you wouldn’t be so offended right now.”
