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After two minutes of browsing the internet, I finally find it.
One availability. Just one.
Fucking fate.
Instead of emailing and waiting for Belinda, the realtor, to get back to me, I dial her number.
“Hello?”
“Hello.” Applying my stern voice, I cut right to the chase. “I’m calling about the apartment for rent in West LA.”
“I have a few apartments listed in the area. Um, sir, it’s a little late, though.” I hear the TV in the background, sounds like aFriendsrerun. “Could I call you back first thing tomorrow?”
I twist in my seat, my eyes skating upstairs. A light flickers on in one of the apartments on the third floor, her silhouette appearing behind the curtains.
“No. I’m afraid it’s urgent.” Watching her window strengthens my resolve. “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Theo Wentworth.” Then I add, because the fucking title always works like a charm, “DoctorTheo Wentworth.”
“Oh, all right.” Just as I expected, her tone changes into a much friendlier one. “What property are you referring to?”
I rattle off the address of the building I’m currently stalking.
“Perfect.” A smile oozes into her voice. A given, seeing the one remaining apartment is on the top floor and the largest one in the building, hence the one with the highest rate. “Your family will love it there. Lots of space for the kids to run around and—”
“No family.” My clipped voice indicates my growing impatience.
I’m starting to get restless. Not from Belinda’s assumptions, nothing like that.
The woman I’m stalking practically calls to me.
Her shadow lingers in the window as she paces from one end of her living room to the other. As if she knows I’m here and begs me to watch.
I’m so fucking hard for her. I need to relieve the pressure. To come with the view of her doing…well, anything. Fucking breathing.
An impossible task if the realtor keeps yapping in my ear.
“I’m sorry for assuming, Dr. Wentworth.” Her TV is silenced. Noises of papers being pushed around fill the void it created. “I’m free to do a viewing as early as tomorrow morning.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
The woman’s dark silhouette stops pacing. She’s holding onto something square-shaped.
A book? A magazine?
“No?”
Whichever it is, it makes her stay in place. Waiting for me while I’m over here wasting time on the phone with Miss Too-Polite-That-She’s-Giving-Me-A-Migraine.
“No. I’m offering the highest bid on the place and paying it in full as soon as tonight.” As I’m speaking, I forward Belinda my email address. “Send me the papers, and I’ll have them signed and sent back to you. If any extra payments are needed, just bill me, Belinda. I plan on moving in tomorrow, so make it happen. Am I being clear?”
“Crystal.” More papers scuffling. Another cheer to her already saccharine, realtor-y voice. “I’ll have everything set tonight and will meet you there tomorrow at eight to give you the keys.”
“Thank you,” is all I say before I cut the call abruptly.
That took long enough.
“Fuck,” I hiss, freeing my dick from its constraints and fisting myself.
I’m stupid. Fucking reckless to jerk off in public. Though there’s no one driving by or walking on the relatively secluded street now, it doesn’t mean it’ll stay this way until I’m finished.
