Shameful Things

Tires screeched. People screamed out in the distance. The concrete jungle they called it. It definitely wasn’t far from it. Everyone from mobsters to Wall Street financial advisors had a tendency to act out of sorts given the right motivation, but I was not a city girl. Not in the least. I trudge to the corner store and back to my hole in the wall daily, not blinding myself with the trivial lights and smells. Has it been hard? Yeah. Where I am from, houses are spread out over miles and the smell of fresh cut grass could free the most anxious souls. “Excuse me. Spare some change?” A homeless man jutted his white styrofoam cup in front of me and, as usual, I waved him off. Speaking or interaction with anyone has never been my strong suit, but that transaction makes me hasten my pace. There were more than a few strange people involuntarily flaunting their mental illness near my apartment. I reached the store and raised voices startled me. The store owner and his son were arguing again. Eyes down. Mouth shut. He was a lazy twenty-something-year-old who occasionally left the store unmanned. None of my business. I moved to pick up my normal stuff, Little Debbie snacks, a couple cans of fruits, and a package of firm tofu. Now the scary part. Looking towards the register, I understand the process and the need. I don’t want to though. Why must they make me clear my throat or speak and interrupt their tiff? By the time I reached the counter, the young man was storming past his father. Good. I placed my goods in the metal ditch, and waited for my total. Once I pay, I shove the items into my small bag. “You should lighten up on those snacks. What are you 280, 300?” His words were sharp. “Thank you.” I responded in kind. How else should I respond? It wasn’t the first time he shared his opinion. He always noted that I had a beautiful face and he would welcome me into his family. I don’t want Ahbib, sir. I mean I’m not cut out for any Indian family, right? Between gluttony and extensive tattoo work, in lieu of therapy, I am not made for relationships. Every thunderous step along with the rubbing of my thighs in previously loose jeans echoed in my thoughts, unable to focus on anything other than negativity. I wasn’t meant to be in such a jungle. The moment the corner of my building caught my eye, I started to jog. I squeezed my eyes shut, excited that I survived my quest. “Watch where the f**k you are going!” a deep angry growl, and a large muscular chest, jerked me from my celebration. “Sorry!” I profusely apologized. “Keep it moving, Chunky!” Of course. Why would he understand that accidents happen? I waved my key card over the pad. f**k my life. A decision to be a better me eludes me as the elevator dings and I elude the stairs. I lived on the fifth floor, where only two apartments existed. They were more expensive and it afforded me access to the roof. I may be a country bumpkin of sorts, but one thing I excelled at was making money from the comfort of my bed. I got off on my floor and noticed there were boxes in front of the apartment at the end of the hall near the stairwell. Another new tenant. They never stayed very long. The landlord was not only eccentric, but he took his time fixing appliances that were under his contract. In the five years I’d lived there, over ten tenants had come and gone. I grabbed my door knob, allowing myself to linger longer than I should. Home. My living room or library was filled wall to wall with books. I don’t have a TV, only a large round chaise and a coffee table. This was my happy place. “Oh s**t!!!” A loud voice came from beyond my door. So loud I was awakened from my sleep, after hours of reading and eating junk food. I set up staring into the darkness of my apartment, debating on cracking my door. I normally prided myself on not worrying about others, but if this person yelling was my neighbor, it was possibly in my best interest to at least look. When I opened the door, I saw what looked like hair on the edge of the top step. Did they fall? I took a deep breath, and I did the dumbest thing I could think of. I walked out to help. As I approached the stairwell, an overwhelming large man’s body covered the flight. He had to be at least six and half feet tall. His shoulders were broad and his ass tight. “Sir? Are you okay?” I inquired. I gently nudged his body, looking for any signs of trauma or blood. Before I could poke at him again, he pushed himself back and stood. He’s…..gorgeous! “Oh..It’s you chunky!” He’s also drunk. I stood watching this demigod, as he pulled his towering body to the third step below me. “Move b***h!” This voice. He moved his hand up, attempting to physically move me out of his sight. I quickly moved to avoid his touch, and my breath caught in my chest. His body went falling backwards. I reached out to grab him, pulling his form fitting short from his firm chest, then leaned back with all my weight. He’s heavy! Our momentum carried him forward and my footing continued to let me fall backward. As he fell towards me, his eyes closed in slow motion and a gut-wrenching panic set in. I’m going to be crushed! I braced myself as his body crashed down on top of mine. “Help! Wake up!” His chest laid on the side of my face. I could hear his heart beating. The rhythm was soothing. For a brief moment, after struggling, I noted the size of his n****e that I could feel on the edge of my nose. His waist was wide, parting my legs in a butterfly fashion. While one of my feet was pinned under his thigh, the other rested on the stone hinge of arses. I had finally calmed down, that was all I could do. I feared losing the small passage of air that was filled with the musk of his armpits. This was one of those times being a little over five feet tall would be the literal death of me. I paced my breathing then I heard the door to the stairwell open. “Help!” I muttered. Petite ankles came into my sight. “Please help me.” I repeated. “What am I supposed to do? I’m smaller than you.” “What?” Confusion clouded my thoughts as tears filled my eyes. The person entered the apartment, closing the door behind them. A long stint of silence followed, as I worked not to lose the little light that I could see. This man was dead asleep. How could he sleep in such a position? He took a deep breath and exhaled foul alcohol-infused fumes. When he shifted his hips, I worked to free my foot. As it came loose, the position I laid in only turned up the temperature in that hallway. His balls were large and if he wasn’t erect, his p***s made my imagination run wild. I hadn’t been with a guy in fifteen years, and this man’s lofty body was making me regret it. Everytime he moved, I wanted to moan harder. Hahaha. I’m crazy. I could barely breathe and my arms and hair were pinned under his body, and all I could think about was allowing him to have his way with me. My saddest reality set in. I was lonely. I missed true human interaction but I also feared it. “Please wake up!” tumbled from my blubbering lips. I wanted to go home. I wanted to pretend that those feelings that I felt under this gorgeousness did not exist. They weren’t meant for me. I tried to stop the water work, but that moment felt like my last.