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I’m a caveman again.
Me Bryce, her Zoe.
Her ass is lucky I didn’t club her over the head and drag her back to my place. Seriously lucky. I can feel my primordial identity taking control of my modern sensibilities and refusing to let things slow down. No, it pushes me towards mankind’s first instincts.
Take what I want and fuck the consequences.
Zoe’s steps noticeably slow as we enter her apartment building. When we reach the landing, she’s all but stopped any forward movement.
“Zoe?” I ask quietly.
Shaking her head, she walks to her door and inserts the key. “You have to forgive the mess… I’ve been really busy at work and the maid hasn’t come by in a couple of years.”
“Couple of years?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Well, more like ever,” she says as she pushes the door open to the living room.
Looking around as I enter her apartment, I smirk. It really isn’t that bad, but I can see she’s obviously not happy with the state of things. She instantly goes into cleaning mode, swiping up the bras and shirts that are scattered randomly about the living area.
“I just need a minute!” she says nervously as she grabs an orange thong and its matching bra from the floor.
Jesus. I need to see her wearing that just so I can pull it off with my teeth.
My eyes zone in on her, following her as she flits around the room, and ignoring most of what’s around me.
Her hair is falling out of her bun and my fingers itch with the need to pull it down. Clench it in my fist and pull her into me. My god, just the thought of her breasts smashed against my chest as I try to bury myself inside of her permanently…
Shaking my head, I decide I need to rid myself of these sexual thoughts that keep flooding me with carnal passions.
If I don’t, I’m going to look like a jackass standing in the middle of her living room with a raging hard-on.
Finally turning my attention to what’s around me, I notice that her apartment is small and almost claustrophobic in comparison to mine. I truly think the whole of her apartment could fit inside my living room. There are things all over the place—pictures, magnets on the fridge, and well-used pillows on the couch. All the things that I don’t have in my apartment, and its… homey here. Cozy even.
It has smells and sights that go beyond the sterile, unappreciated place I call home.
“How about some TV or Netflix?” Zoe asks as she finishes up, hastily shoving dishes into the dishwasher.
“Did you just ask me to Netflix and chill?” I ask her with a smirk.
“Umm…” Her eyes widen as she looks at me. “Yes, but that was more of a…”
Walking towards her, I ask, “A what?”
“Trying to fill the awkward void? I mean, I know we both want this to go somewhere, but it’s not like we even know each other… I mean, what if you only like watching reality TV shows?”
She smirks at me as she points to the couch. “You go to the couch; I’ll get us drinks. Beer, water, or juice?”
“Water,” I say as I approach the couch.
Just before I sit, I notice a white fluffy ball of fur blending in with the light upholstery.
Reaching my hand down, I lightly scratch the cat behind her ears. She emits a low rumbling purr before standing up and moving her body to where she wants my scratching fingers to go.
“From how absolutely beautiful you are, I’m going to guess you’re a—” I start to say, before Zoe’s voice cuts in from behind me.
“A spoiled rotten princess,” she says with a soft, loving voice.
Turning to Zoe, her eyes are full of affection for the cat, and she looks happy that the little furball is accepting me. Good thing too, I think. I’ve never had a pet as a child or adult. Too much work in my parent’s eyes, and now I just wouldn’t be able to keep up with one.
Too many cities and too much time on the road.
Turning my back to the cat, I look at Zoe standing in the little space between the kitchen and the living room. Her blue eyes mesmerize me, peeking out from the dark strands of hair falling into her face.
She’s so beautiful it’s almost breathtaking, like I can’t think straight enough to breathe just staring at her.
“Zoe,” I say quietly as I walk towards her, my hands clenching tightly as I try to keep them from just reaching out and grabbing her.
She may have been right when she said it’s quite possible she isn’t pregnant yet, but that keyword in my mind is yet.
At first, she smiles at me in confusion, then a look of apprehension enters her eyes.
Raising the bottle of water in her hand, she asks, “Thirsty?”
