It’s poised like a question, but she says it like she knows she’s right. Which…She is. Now that I know she’s sort of psychic,all of those odd questions she sometimes asks me now make sense. “Yes.” I hang my head.
“Well, we all have our proclivities. You could find much worse things attractive. Actually…” she paused and held onto my hand, stroking it with her thumb. “You’re ajanitor. I’m sure it makes your job hard… no pun intended.”
We share a laugh at the irony. And it’s welcome–it dispels the worry I had about her reaction. I’ve not exactly had great experiences telling people about this part of me.
Claudia’s face turns a little sombre as the joke dies down. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did it happen?”
“That part I don’t know for certain, but I suspect it was my witchy ex who’s hell-bent on revenge for dumping him.” I lied at the end. I didn’t want to say it was he who dumped me. Or the reason.
“Gay men can be so petty, especially witches.”
We pause, and then she presses me about what has been going on in the office. I tell her about the first encounter with the bin-man yesterday, and today’s visit too.
“Whatever is following you in the office… it isn’t malevolent.”
I arch an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
“Just the vibe I am getting. He sounds powerful, and hot too… like some sort of bin ghost thirst trapping Adonis. And as if he asked you to kiss him!”
She makes him sound so delectable. Desirable. Like I said, she never makes me feel like I’m being judged.
“He is pretty cute. If ghosts had the internet, he absolutely would be aBinfluencer.”
Claudia snorts, and it makes me laugh along with her. “I don’t judge, but if your spectral boyfriend wants to manifest again and spend time with you, I say give him a chance. After all, you could do a lot worse. The men of the mortal realm areall bumbling, incompetent fools and lack any awareness of how unfunny they are and how utterly useless in bed they are.”
I nod numbly.Yes, they are.
The day passes uneventfully, and I finish my shift without a hitch.
In the locker room where I change in and out of my janitor uniform, I glimpse myself in the mirror. My hair is a mess, my glasses are grimy, and my face is flushed.
All day, I’ve done nothing but think of him.
This curse has wrecked my life. It’s cost me jobs and ruined any prospects of a relationship. It stains my dignity beyond anything bleach could remove.
But today?
I find myself smiling stupidly. For the first time in five years, someone finally said they might understand it. Might even fix it.
Even if that someone is a bin-haunting, smirking chaos spirit who thinks I amhandsome. The word rattles in my brain as I slip into my casual clothes. I walk out of the locker room and into the office again. Everyone had gone for the day, and it is just me, alone.
Across the room, the janitor’s closet creaks open, and my heart flutters.What the hell, even my pants tighten!Like a salivating dog from a Pavlovian response.
A familiar voice purrs, and that makes me smile. “I told you trash will find you.”
And there he is.
He’s out of his bin and standing on the floor. His bare legs, shiny with bin juice, are exposed from the jean shortshe wore, and this time he wasn’t wearing his flannel overshirt. His bin-juice-soaked boots leave stains on the carpet. A normal janitor would be livid, but me? I am nothing but an animal in heat at the sight of it.Of him.
The grin on his face spreads like an oil spill. His form flickers–he is no longer the completely translucent form he had been during the day. He is exactly how he had been when I first saw him. Not quite solid. Not quite ghostly.
Half a man. Half a trashy mess. And oh, so fuckable. Covered in bin juice. How is it possible that a spirit, man, whatever, dwelling in the bin has me so frazzled?
Fuck, I want this man more than I even know. My dick definitely does too; I can feel it pulsing and flexing, daring to push through my jeans. I shudder as it rubs up against the zipper.
Yes, I go commando. Ever since I had been cursed, I had gone through too many pairs of underwear and hadn’t really had time to keep up with my washing. So I just went without one day and never turned back.
“Ready to break that curse?” he asks, his eyes fluttering at me, coaxing me inside the janitor's closet.
